In Dreams
Gil Grissom woke up but did not open his eyes. He lay perfectly still trying to recall every detail of a dream he'd had. He hated it when he woke up and couldn't remember his dreams, but knew that he'd had them. He especially hated it now. He knew he'd dreamt of Heather again; as he often did. And just like most of his dreams of her, this one was fading from his subconscious rapidly. His vague memories were like snapshots. They were images of her that faded too quickly from his mind and left him aroused and frustrated. His dreams of her were as illusive as the lady herself and the harder he tried to retain the memory of the dream the faster it faded away. This particular dream was different though. It felt so real that part of his mind argued that he could still feel her in his arms; still smell the scent of her in the air around him. The scent he was coming to love; orchids and vanilla. As he thought of it now, he could swear that the scent grew stronger and the retreating images in his mind suddenly rushed back in full clarity. Burning into his mind the way a lit match reacts to gasoline and sending a heated flash of desire into his loins so instantly that he groaned aloud. He could remember her eyes; impossible green, and filled with want .No one had eyes like hers. He could also recall wet dark brown hair, a bright red silk robe, her naked flesh, the feel of her body beneath his, the sound of a small whimper of pleasure that escaped her and then grew increasingly louder as she neared climax. He could remember it all and lust was beginning to make him dizzy, and then he recalled what has pushed him over the edge in his dream. He had been restraining his own release, waiting for hers, teasing the nipple of one breast with his tongue and lips when he felt her body tremble violently. She'd clamped down hard around his erection once and the relaxed herself slightly prolonging their pleasure, arched against him with as much force as she could and she began to make that soft high pitched whimpering noise in her throat. He had glanced upward, wanting to see those eyes of hers, wanting to know what he would find in their depths, and was shocked to see that there was a tiny trickle of bright red blood streaming from her lower lip. The wounded lip was caught between her teeth and as her orgasm grew in it's intensity she bit down harder. Grissom was powerless to stop the rhythm of their union nor did he want to, but he didn't want her to hurt herself. He reached out and firmly but gently touched her chin as the intensity of his own desire doubled. His voice was a ragged breathless whisper as he said, "Heather, Sweetheart, let go. You're bleeding." He stared into her eyes, while her body continued to shudder and move in perfect unison with his. He saw surprise in her eyes as she freed her lower lip from the vice grip of her teeth and then licked her self-inflicted wound. She tasted blood and smiled up at him and tightened her embrace. She pulled his mouth to hers to receive her hungry kiss and although he felt a small flinch come from her as their mouths met, she did not break the kiss. The faint taste of her blood in their kiss was what sent him spiraling into bliss as her sex clamped down around him again and he lost awareness of anything that wasn't her as he felt their white hot release.
When Grissom came out of his reverie, he was not surprised to find that he was sweating and almost painfully aroused, but as he opened his eyes for the first time since waking he was momentarily surprised to find that he was not in his own bed, nor was he alone. He was lying naked on his back in her bed, and she was sound asleep. He lifted his head slightly and looked down at their entwined bodies. One of her arms was tucked between his right arm and his body and her other arm was draped across his torso. His legs were tangled in the bed linens that they had pushed out of their way earlier, and her right leg was thrown over his belly. Her head rested against his shoulder and his free arm was draped around her hips. He marveled at himself as he realized that this time it hadn't been a dream at all. This time it had actually happened and what happened was a thousand times better than any of his dreams. Next he wondered how he'd slept so tangled up in her embrace. He would not have slept so well if he'd been with anyone other than her this way, and he knew it as surely as he knew his name. He wondered what time it was for a fleeting second, and then his brain said who cares as he continued to take note of his surroundings. He saw a garment bag from Neiman Marcus' hanging on the edge of the vanity mirror across her bedroom. There was a stylish dark blue evening gown inside the clear bag. He thought to himself she must have been shopping recently. She must have a party to go to. Oh I'll ask her about it later; for now who cares. He was with her and it wasn't a dream; that was the one and only thing he cared about at that moment. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and eased his head back on to the pillow. He tried to decide what he wanted to do more; go back to sleep just the way he was; all tangled up with her, or wake her up and do something about the fire burning in his groin. Before he could decide, she stirred in her sleep. After a moment she lifted her head and smiled down at him. As she did so she licked her lips, and when she found the bottom one sore she lightly touched two fingers to it. For a moment he knew by the look in her eyes that she was remembering what they had shared earlier that day too. He received another smile as she shifted her position and when his arousal became known to her as well she made the decision for him. Her sleepy smile became seductive and without one word she straddled him and set about making his dreams come true for the second time that day.