Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: This is AU! It is my first attempt at one - so be warned. It was fun for me to write and I hope it is fun for you to read. Many, many thanks to everybody who helped me with this. There are too many to name but they know who they are. They are all wonderful!
Grissom
The night is alive with the sounds of nature; crickets and frogs and cicadas singing to herald the rising of the moon. An owl calls and the sound is loud in the preternatural quiet of the woods. Cool air raises gooseflesh on my skin. The robe I am wearing offers little protection from the damp night air. The emerald fabric swirls around my ankles as I make my way down the hard packed dirt path. The branches of the trees tremble in the breeze and the dried leaves crunch beneath the soles of my sandals. Brambles tug at the hem of my garment, slowing me down. The moon is high in the sky, light filtering down to flicker over the trail, illuminating my way. The wind carries the smell of wood smoke and the faint sound of music. I am overcome by a sudden sense of urgency and my pace quickens.
The path begins to climb, angling off to my right through a stand of aspens. My footsteps beat a steady cadence, unconsciously matching the tempo of the drums in the distance. Heart pounding, I top the hill and there before me is the circle.
Sparks, from the bonfire, shoot high into the night sky. Supplicants surround the fire, their bodies swaying with the music. The drums are beating out a sensual rhythm; something low and throbbing, the sound of need. And over that is the high, reedy sound of a flute. The notes are sweet and pure, a distinct contrast to their companion.
Pulling up my hood, I pick my way down the slope and quietly make my way to the edge of the circle. Here I step out of my sandals, relishing the feel of the damp grass between my toes. I edge in between two men whose green robes are identical to mine. There is no jostling or angry looks. The crowd merely expands to accommodate my presence, absorbing me into the whole.
This night is special, significant. It is Beltane, May Day, the ancient Celtic celebration of fertility and re-birth. Tonight the virgins will offer themselves to a man or woman of their choosing. The vows of marriage will be set aside and the night will be spent heeding the demands of the flesh. I can feel the tension in the air and I liken it to the hum along my own nerve endings. Soon it will be time for the virgins.
Sara
Fear. Arousal. The two are twining inside me like snakes, threatening to overwhelm me. Drums, their heavy beat pounding in my throat, make my chest feel hollow and my heart ache with anticipation. I smooth my hands over my robe. It is diaphanous, my body almost visible through the sheer white material. I feel more exposed right now than if I truly was naked. As if the subtle hint of nudity draws more attention than bare skin ever could.
The air is cool here away from the fire and my puckered nipples push against the fabric, twin points of my innate femininity. One of the men is staring at my chest and I turn away, hiding myself from him. Doubts begin to plague me and I don't know if I'll be able to go through with this. My arms wrap tightly around my waist, trying to get warm and to keep myself from flying into a million tiny pieces as the nerves gnaw at my insides. We are silent now, waiting until it is time to begin.
The flute is playing, the thin notes rising and falling delicately on the breeze. Its song calls to something primal in me, something ancient. The new leaves whisper that it won't be long, that we are beautiful and sensual, creatures of the earth. Suddenly, the air is pierced by a sharp whistle. That is the signal we have been waiting for and as a group we stiffen, the import of what is to come washing over each of us. Then we turn and make our way into the clearing.
The people circled around the fire are androgynous. Their faces obscured by hoods, their bodies hidden by the flowing garments. They are differentiated only by color; red is female, green is male. I let my eyes play over them, hoping to find something familiar in any one of them. But nothing speaks to me as I watch them sway to the beat of the drums.
We each pass by the High Priestess, her white robe with its tartan sash shimmering in the dancing light of the flames. I watch, transfixed, as she speaks to each of my group. The men receive crowns of thin branches interwoven with mistletoe. The women receive entwined wreathes of daisies and daffodils. I murmur my thanks as she settles the flowers low on my brow, the ribbons trailing softly down my back.
Before I realize it, I am in the middle of the circle, taking my place around the fire. The night is still now, even the animals wait in hushed anticipation. The beat of the drums changes; it is lower now, more insistent and something within me responds. I can feel the excitement, the tingle of anticipation. This is the most important moment of my life. And instinctively I know that it will change me forever.
I join hands with the other virgins. Soon the Uilleann pipes join in, the haunting notes slipping through the night and wrapping around me like a cloak. The music drives us and soon we are moving, circling the fire. I am staring into the flames, allowing the ever changing colors to lull me. The heat is intense. Music and the murmur of voices recede and I hear only the blood pounding through my veins. After the third turn, we separate and now it begins.
The ground is smooth and my feet fly over the earth. I step and turn, my body moving and swaying. There are eyes on me; I can feel them like a physical touch. My skin tingles and I feel an ache begin between my thighs. I want to feel the air on my body. I want to be free of the confines set upon me by the robe and all that it represents. I am spinning, my head thrown back, arms raised in abandon when I suddenly feel a heat that has nothing to do with the fire. Turning to face the supplicants, I find myself pinned by a gaze so clear, so beautiful that the air leaves my lungs in a rush.
Grissom
My eyes are riveted to her the moment she steps inside the circle. There are ten virgins. The five males are young and muscular and beautiful, but of no interest to me. The first four girls are all lovely; blondes and redheads. Tiny, curvy, voluptuous girls, with porcelain skin and faces to make a man forget his name. Then there is the last one. She is older than the others and unlike any woman I have ever seen. Tall and slender. At least as tall as I. Her brown hair catches the light from the flames and throws off sparks of gold and copper and amber. Her face is arresting and her body is a dream. I can see the deep pink of her nipples and the lush darkness of her mound through the robe. My senses are on high alert and I feel my penis stir to life under the robe.
She spins and sways, her hips moving from side to side, her arms lifted toward the sky. The fire is behind her and I can see her clearly. The high breasts, the sweet dip of her waist, the flare of her hips and her never ending legs are backlit by the red and orange light of the flames. My mouth is dry and my heart is pounding. The air around me has turned to liquid and my lungs struggle against the weight of it. I want to run out and lay claim to her before she has a chance to choose another. She is the embodiment of my every fantasy. Unconsciously, I take a step forward only to have the man on my right place a hand on my arm and pull me back. There is a knowing smile on his face.
"Sara," he whispers. I look at him blankly and he adds, "Her name is Sara."
I nod and turn back to face her, repeating the word. It rolls off my tongue with ease. Now beauty has a name.
My eyes are locked on her, cataloging every move, every expression. Suddenly, her steps falter and I can see her chest shudder as she draws a shaky breath. Without warning her eyes find me and she returns my gaze. I feel myself blush even as I grow harder, responding to the knowing look in her eyes.
She then does something so unexpected, something so at odds with the formality of the ceremony that I reel with amazement. She throws her head back and laughs. It is the sound of pure delight. And under that is a current of newfound sexual power. She has seen the look in my eyes, the way my erection is pressing against the fabric of my robe, the way my body is leaning forward, as if reaching out for her, and she knows that she has me under her spell.
Sara
He is there. Right there in the crowd. Right there in front of me. And he is my destiny. I can feel it in my bones. His eyes are the color of the sky on a clear spring morning. Above his beard, his cheeks are flushed. His full lips are parted and his tongue darts out to wet them. I feel his gaze on me and it is more potent than the touch of a thousand hands. Such power in those eyes, in the set of his shoulders. My skin is on fire, my breasts full and aching and my most private place feels empty and wanting.
His big body is angling toward me as if he can barely restrain himself. His hands are clasped into fists at his sides, the fingers curling and uncurling. And there, between his legs, he is hard. I can see the outline of his erection as it presses against the thin cloth. Suddenly, I realize that I have reduced this man to his most primal self with just a glance. That knowledge thrums through my blood, making me giddy. Without thought, I throw back my head and laugh.
Turning, I make my way toward the center of the circle. I move slowly, swinging my hips, trying my best to entice him, to lure him. Without being able to see him, I know he is watching my every move. I can feel his eyes on me. I can feel the pull of his body. He is mine for the asking and I am his. I reach the edge of the fire and stop. My right leg is bent at the knee and I am posing for him, using my body to captivate him. I am breathless with the anticipation of what is to come.
The belt of my robe is knotted loosely and my fingers pluck at the cord until it falls open. With a shrug of my shoulders, the robe falls and I catch it in my hands just before it drops below the small of my back. I am so attuned to the man behind me that I believe I hear him gasp. I cannot stop the smile that flits over my lips. I want him breathless and aching for me just as I am for him. I stand there a moment, drawing out the anticipation for both of us, before I let the material slide over the slope of my ass and fall in a puddle at my feet.
Grissom
If Sara was a fantasy while she danced then she is a vision, a goddess, now. Her dark hair flows over her shoulders to just between her shoulder blades. The long line of her back draws my eye down to the sweetest, most perfectly rounded ass I have ever seen. And then there are her legs; long and lean and made for wrapping around a man, around me. The flames light her creamy skin and give her a glow that is almost ethereal. She must have been sent straight from Mother Earth just for me. Would that I were an artist so that I might capture her on canvas for all the ages to appreciate.
With a grace only the truly exquisite are born with, she turns and I suddenly forget how to breathe. My control, tenuous at best, slips a little more. She is watching me, her lips tipping up at the corners in a smile so knowing that it leaves me feeling naked. She is wet. I can see the dampness glistening in the curls covering her sex, the drops glittering like diamonds in the flickering firelight. Her eyes flutter closed and her hands slide up over her hips, across her slightly rounded belly and along her ribs, stopping to cup her breasts. She glides her thumbs over her nipples and I harden in response. Dropping her arms, she begins to move.
Sara
I am moving, walking toward the man with the beautiful eyes. I watch him and he watches me. I can feel the dampness between my thighs and smell the musk I am giving off. I hope the scent is appealing to him. I can tell by the way his gaze roams over my body that he is drawn to me. Feeling my own power for the first time, I am overcome by a sensual grace that makes my body fluid and without boundaries. I am filled with the desire to pleasure him. More than that, I want to be pleasured by him.
When I stand in front of him, separated by only a sliver of night air, I can finally see his face. He is beautiful. The lines around his eyes tell me he is older than I thought, but that doesn't matter. I only care about the heat and the promise that he exudes.
I am the first virgin to have chosen a partner. Perhaps I should be embarrassed or nervous, but I am neither. I am merely a slave to the magic of the night and the sweet ache of desire between my thighs. I hold out my hand and a ripple of excitement moves through the crowd.
"Will you celebrate this night with me?" The voice is not my own. It is lower, breathier. It sounds like the sigh of the parched earth at the start of a slow spring rain.
Staring straight into my eyes, he grasps my slender fingers and replies…
Grissom
"I would be honored, Sara." I see a flicker of surprise when I utter her name, but it vanishes so quickly I wonder if perhaps I imagined it. I love the way her name sounds. In my mind, I can hear my voice whispering it against her skin in the early morning hours, while the sun still sleeps and the moon grows tired. I want to say those four letters over and over until the earth swallows me and I am no more.
Her hand fits into mine so easily. No awkwardness or indecision in her grip. She pulls, tugging me into the circle with her. I follow without protest, gladly going where she would lead. My eyes never leave her face as she slowly backs toward the fire. Stopping, she clasps my hand a little tighter and for the first time I see trepidation in her face. It calms me to realize that she is as nervous as I.
My body responds to her – her scent, her smile, her long limbed beauty. I am beyond aroused. I want to touch her, feel her respond to me. But there is also awkwardness present. There are a hundred pairs of eyes pinned on us right now and I don't know how I feel about that. Always very circumspect in my affairs, I did not come here tonight with the intention of bedding a virgin. I expected to wander off into the privacy of the woods and engage in a little one-on-one celebration with a woman well versed in the art of sex. Instead, I am in the middle of this circle with the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, about to perform the most intimate of acts before an audience. And I know not a thing about this girl beyond her name and the color of her nipples in the firelight. It seems almost sacrilegious. I hesitate, letting my mind adjust to what my body has gotten itself into. I tug in an attempt to free my hand, determined to stop this insanity, but she tightens her grip and smiles. And I am no longer unsure.
I return her smile and pull her close, until her body brushes against mine. "My name is Gilbert."
Sara
He almost changed his mind. I could feel him pulling away and I held on tighter. Keeping him with me here in this moment was all I could think about.
His name is Gilbert. And he will not, or cannot, stop watching me. My body trembles under the weight of his stare. His eyes bore right through me, touching something that has never been touched before. I came here tonight to give my body in honor of the passing of the seasons, the bounty of the earth. Instead, I feel that I am offering up much more than simply my virginity. I am offering him my heart, my very soul. It is the price he is asking and I can deny him nothing.
We stand there for long moments, simply looking at one another. The fire is warm on my back. My nerve endings are singing with anticipation. I tremble with desire, with need. Vaguely, I hear the crowd as they begin to chant, urging us on. Instead of making me self-conscious, the idea of people watching makes me even more excited. There is a tingle low in my belly, a roiling need that responds to the pulse of their voices.
Gilbert hears it too. And I know the second the words register with him. His eyes darken and his chest heaves as he draws in a calming breath. His hand, still holding mine, tugs me in until I am flush against him. I can feel his hardness pressing against my belly and I freeze. Despite all my bravado, despite the desire burning through my veins, I have never been this close to a man before. I am no fool. I know what I am doing here. I know the act of sex is supposed to be beautiful, a renewal, especially on this of all nights. But right now, I am terrified.
I look up at Gilbert, hoping that he will not sense my fear. But then he takes a moment to study me, reading me like a book. He leans in close and whispers. "Just dance with me, Sara." My skin tingles as his breath washes over the shell of my ear. "We have all night."
Grissom
She is trembling, her eyes wide with fear. But she is also clearly aroused. It is a heady combination; her innocence and the sweet musk of her desire. I have never bedded a virgin, never held that gift in my hands. And, on top of wanting her, I feel something warm and tender bloom inside me with the trust she has placed in me.
"Just dance with me, Sara." I want to reassure her so I lean close and whisper in her ear. The fact that her hair and skin smell of lavender and sandalwood does not go unnoticed and I draw a deep breath, inhaling her essence. "We have all night."
Her shaky exhalation passes over my skin and my hardness twitches against her abdomen. I smile when she jerks in surprise. Then she glances up at me and I know she can see the truth in my eyes. She smiles with the knowledge of the ages. And the power shifts again.
Pulling my hands to her waist, she presses them there before trailing her fingers up my arms and letting her palms come to rest on my chest. My heart pounds, thundering beneath my ribs and for a moment I fear that it will burst from its cage. Her skin is like silk, warm and alive beneath my fingers. And I want to taste it, to feel it rub over my chest and thighs. I want to lose myself in the softness of her.
It takes a moment before I realize she is moving, her hips swaying gently. I begin to match her movements. Before long, we are in synch, moving our bodies to the music. Her arms slide around my neck and I can feel her breasts pressing against me through the material of my robe. I pull her tighter, my hardness pushing into her softness, letting her know how much I want her. My hands are on her, slipping over the smooth line of her back, cupping the sweet curve of her ass, holding her against me.
Her head falls back, baring the length of her throat to me, her hair falling down to tickle my hands as they rest on her buttocks. I nuzzle my face against the pulse that flutters in the hollow of her throat, letting my tongue taste her; she is honey and salt, life and death, heaven and earth. She is a force of nature and I am helpless against her. Reluctantly, I pull my mouth away from her and stare into her eyes. Her nod is almost imperceptible.
Sara
His hands are on me, the calluses rough against my skin. We move, our bodies fitting together as if made for that purpose. I tilt my face up to the sky, the magic of the stars and moon flooding through me, giving me strength, feeding my need. His lips and tongue touch me and the ache between my thighs intensifies, becoming almost painful. It is time. He pulls back to look at me and I do not want to wait another minute, another second. Acquiescing to his unvoiced request, I nod.
The chanting is louder now, demanding our attention and submission. The music changes, the flute and pipes grow silent and the drums slow as the mood shifts yet again. Vaguely, the faces of the supplicants register, their eyes avidly watching everyone inside the circle. They seem just as eager for this as I am, as he is. We are merely an extension of their base desires, an embodiment of their lust.
His hood has fallen down during our dance and I let my gaze float over his features. The dark curly hair, shot through with silver, the beard and those piercing blue eyes; he is the most handsome man I have ever seen. He smiles, and though his teeth are a little crooked, the imperfection just makes him all the more beautiful to me.
Silently, my hands find the sash of his robe and I begin to tug at the knot. My fingers are trembling, making the job harder than it would normally be. But I am determined. I want to touch him, to feel his skin on mine. My bottom lip catches between my teeth as I work on the fabric. Finally, the knot gives way and the robe slips open. My hands shake as I reach up and slip them beneath the material.
His body is perfect; not chiseled but solid. He is broad and I suddenly feel very small, very feminine. Not a feeling I am familiar with, but I like it. My eyes skate over his chest and down along his abdomen until they encounter his sex. Without the robe, his erection points skyward. I never thought about what it would look like, about what any man would look like. It is a dark red, almost purple at the tip, angling up from a nest of dark curls. His scrotum is tight against his body, the skin slightly wrinkled. It is magnificent and my hands itch with the desire to touch it. Just the sight of him makes me moan.
Grissom
I hear her moan and I am reduced to nothing more than an animal in rut. I shrug off the robe that has caught on my bent arms and, turning, spread it on the ground behind me. I turn back to her, pulling her close to me and press my lips to hers. She meets me half way, her lips parted in invitation. My tongue rushes in to tangle with hers. The first touch is like fire. An all consuming heat floods my veins and instinctively I know that she is the one thing that will soothe me. Her body is touching me from chest to knees and my skin burns at the contact.
Reluctantly, I pull my mouth from hers. She whimpers in protest and, though it seems impossible, I grow harder. Holding her hand, I urge her to lie down on the robe I have spread, lowering myself until I kneel beside her. My throat is dry and my hands shake as I gaze upon her supine form. I reach out and cup her cheek, letting my thumb graze over her lips, groaning when her tongue darts out to taste it. My hand slips along the column of her throat, over the smooth skin of her chest and gently, reverently, I cup her breast.
It fills my palm, a perfect fit. Her nipple tightens as I run my thumb over it and her back arches, pressing her soft flesh against my hand. I watch as her eyes darken. The sound of the crowd grows louder, ever more insistent. I want to take my time. I want to worship her the way she deserves, but the people are impatient. The ritual is incomplete without us. I move to kneel between her legs, spreading her thighs, gazing for the first time upon the ripeness of her. Her dark curls, damp with her sweet lust, hide the luscious pink of her sex. My body throbs in anticipation. I lean forward and kiss her once more, a gentle press of lips, before I settle my weight along the length of her.
My lips find her ear and my shaft nudges against the slick heat of her. "Relax, Sara," I whisper. "Just let it happen."
Sara
He is between my thighs, his body pressing me into the earth, and he tells me to relax. I would laugh but his length is rubbing against me and it feels so foreign and so right at the same time. I am very wet. I know this because he groans those words against my ear.
I concentrate on the feel of him; his broad chest against me, his lips against my ear, his beard on my cheek, one hand teasing my breast. My nerves are slowly being replaced by an ache between my thighs like none I have ever known. I want something that I cannot name. I am searching for something that I have never seen. The sensations are not unwelcome, but confusing.
One by one my muscles relax. The scent of the grass beneath me and the dark mustiness of the earth fill my nostrils. My nerve endings are singing with lust, my heart swelling with tenderness. Despite the circumstances, I have chosen this man to trust above all others. I never expected this, this sweet rush of emotion. Tears fill my eyes and I clench them shut. I am afraid to open them, to look at him, afraid he will see how much this means to me. I feel his lips on my cheeks, my eyelids, and realize he is kissing away my tears.
My arms wrap around his broad shoulders and my hips instinctively push up to meet his, sliding my cleft along his shaft. His breath hisses in as he answers my thrust with one of his own. As he glides between my lips, he brushes over a spot that causes me to jerk in both surprise and excitement. I cry out at the sensation and he groans in response.
He pulls away from my body and my eyes flutter open. There is a soft smile playing over his mouth as he silently answers the question in my gaze. His hand leaves my breast and I whimper, my nails digging into the firm muscles of his back. Fingers skate along my ribs, over my waist and the curve of my hip. He strokes along the outside of my thigh and, grasping my knee, tugs my leg up and over his hip.
He uses his hand to guide his shaft to my opening. Gently, he rocks his hips forward, nudging against me as if testing for resistance. I tense, anticipating the pain others have described. And he stops. His hand once again finds my breast and his lips brush over mine.
"Relax, Sara. I would never want to hurt you." His mouth is on mine again, his tongue sweeping past my lips with a hint of possessiveness. "Give them what they want and I promise to make it good for you."
He watches me, his thumb brushing lightly over my nipple, until I relax beneath him. My thighs fall open and I lift my head, catching his lips with mine. Slowly, steadily, he pushes his hips forward. I feel him enter me, stretching me. And it hurts. I moan against his lips, my body tightening.
Stopping, he pulls back and looks at me. "Oh, honey, you are so tight." His gaze is tender and he watches me the way I always imagined, always hoped a man would. "We can stop. Just say the word."
I bite my lip, breathing deeply, feeling my body relax again. "No. I want this, want you." I smile even though I know he can see through my ruse. "Please, don't stop."
Inch by inch, he gradually rocks himself into my body. At some point, he buries his face against my neck. His body is slick with sweat, his arms and legs trembling. When he is buried to the hilt, he rests there, his breath ghosting over my skin. I am shaking, unable to think of anything except the feeling of fullness and the sweet pain that borders on pleasure. Vaguely, I hear the supplicants raise their voices in a cheer.
Grissom
Tight. Tighter than I ever knew a woman could be. She feels amazing. I rock my hips; slowly, steadily pushing into her, waiting for her to adjust before easing forward again. Just the feel of her clenching around me is enough to test my control. I bury my face in her neck, trying to think of anything except the heat of her, the softness of this woman. Finally, I am buried deep inside her, her muscles holding me in their firm grip. And I can breathe again.
I lift my head and look at her face. She has her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her brows are furrowed. I know that I have hurt her, despite my efforts not to. Silently, I curse myself. Then she smiles and everything changes.
"Okay?" I brush my fingers over her cheek. She nods. I lift my head and look around. Two by two the others are leaving the fire, moving off into the woods. I bend my head and kiss her sweet mouth. "Let me make love to you."
Confusion flares in her eyes. "I thought…"
"No," I cut her off. "That was for them. This is for you and me. Do you trust me?"
Her hands move to bury themselves in my hair and she pulls me down for a sweet kiss. It is the kiss of a woman, but I can still taste the innocence of the girl. "Of course I do."
I ease my hips back, slipping from her body. The air is cold against our heated flesh and we both shiver, sharing a laugh at the reaction. I move to lie next to her, propping myself up on an elbow. She is there, framed by the green of my robe, her hair tousled, her eyes soft and heavy-lidded. Her beauty steals the breath from my lungs.
"You are so lovely." I watch, transfixed, as she blushes.
I lean down and press my lips to her cheek, feeling the heat of her embarrassment. I linger there until she turns her head and touches her mouth to mine. The fire returns in an instant. We are both hungry, taking what the other has to offer in a jumble of lips and teeth and tongues. Her hands are on me, sliding over my chest and along my arms. Gone is the look of pain. It has been replaced by what I can only describe as wonder.
We kiss until she grows restless there beside me. We kiss until she takes my hand and brings it to her breast, arching her back as she fills my palm. Things begin to blur. I move over her body, tasting and touching her breasts, her shoulders, her delicate collar bones, the sweet curve of her belly. I run my tongue over the backs of her knees and along the curves of her hips. She is trembling beneath me, her fingers clutching at my shoulders, fisting in my hair. I nip at the skin of her inner thighs and she lifts her hips in silent invitation.
"Please." Her voice is ragged.
I raise my head. "Tell me, Sara." I slip a finger over her dripping slit. "Tell me what you want."
Her head rolls from side to side restlessly. "I…don't know. Just…I need…" The halting words end on what can only be described as a sob.
I press my lips to her stomach. "Shhhhhhhhh. I've got you."
Lowering my head, I take a second to breathe in her scent. She is spicy and warm and I know I will never smell anything sweeter. Now, I use my tongue, tasting her for the first time. As if from a distance, I hear her cry out, her voice an echo of my own excitement. Gently, I use my hands to part her lips and press my mouth to her. There are no words to describe the sweetness I find between her legs. And underneath that is something earthier. After a moment I realize it is blood, a testament to her sacrifice, and my heart clenches.
Before I have time to think about it, she is pushing her hips toward me, rubbing against my lips. I grip her thighs and hold her gently in place. I move my mouth over her, lapping along the length of her slit, tasting her in long, slow sips, savoring each flavor, each nuance. She is moaning now, her body reaching for release. I want to feel her come. I want to taste her pleasure. Carefully, I ease a finger into her. Then my mouth finds her nub and I suck it into my mouth.
Her keening cry fills the air, as she clenches around my finger. Her hands tug at my hair until I am certain she will tear it out. But I cannot stop. I pump my finger in and out of her as her muscles clench and release. Her sticky juices flood my mouth with the flavors of her. Together we ride out her release.
Sara
I never knew it would be like this. I feel as if my entire world has just exploded. For a moment, I became one with the stars and the moon, the earth and all her creatures. Every particle of my being expanded until my skin could no longer contain them all. When my mind screams that I can take no more, my body begins to reassemble. Slowly, one tiny piece at a time, I return to the present and the man who is resting his head on my stomach.
When I am lying limp and sated, he drags himself up the length of my body, stopping to place kisses on my skin along the way. Soon he is lying between my thighs, his hardness rubbing against my center. I can see his need in his hooded gaze. He nudges against my entrance and I open my legs wider.
I am so relaxed that this time it is much easier. But he still goes slowly. I can tell how much it costs him by the way he holds his breath, by the fine sheen of sweat on his skin. His weight rests on his arms that he has braced on either side of my head. His face is close to mine and I can smell myself on his beard. I want to taste it, to know what he knew.
"Kiss me," I whisper. He raises his head and starts to speak but I stop him. "Kiss me," I demand.
And he does. Soft and sweet. He tastes of something I cannot define. Something raw, primal and I know that I want to taste myself on his lips again. He pulls back and looks at me, his hips pushing forward a little more. I hold his gaze, watching the play of emotions across his face as he begins to slide in and out.
The fit, the friction is amazing. The pain from before is gone. While there is still soreness, it no longer appears to matter. All that matters is Gilbert. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his hips and he grunts his appreciation. He begins to move faster and his face finds its place against my neck. I try to match his rhythm, but I am not quite fast enough and it is sloppy. He does not seem to notice.
Suddenly, his strokes are faster, less smooth, and he mumbles against my skin. "Shit. Oh, Sara. So sorry."
His whole body stiffens and he pushes his hips forward, his thrusts shallow and erratic. And then I feel it. His hot seed pulses inside me, his penis throbbing and swelling, filling me until I am close to bursting. My hands slide down and grip his ass, pulling him deeper. His grunts of pleasure rumble up through his chest and explode into the night.
He collapses on top of me, his big body seemingly boneless. I run my hands up and down his back, loving the feel of his warm skin under my palms. With great effort, he rolls to the side, pulling me to him. His eyes are closed and he is breathing deeply. He is silent and I begin to worry that he has nothing to say. I try to shift out of his embrace, convinced that he is contemplating ways to get away from me. But he tightens his arms and his eyes flutter open.
Grissom
My body is spent. But my mind is spinning. When I feel Sara moving away from me, fear twists in my gut. I know she enjoyed herself, but I panic, believing that it was just that. Just physical. I look into her eyes and see my fear reflected there. Suddenly, I am feeling very exposed.
Brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, I find my voice. "We should get dressed."
She nods and quickly rolls away from me, but not before I see the glitter of tears in her eyes. We dress silently, Sara refusing to even look at me. When I have my sash tied, I move to stand beside her.
"Sara, look at me." My heart is racing and my hands are sweaty.
At the sound of my voice, she freezes. Not looking at me, instead staring into the remains of the fire. I use a finger to turn her toward me.
"Stay with me?" Her eyes widen and I hold my breath.
I see her swallow, her throat working convulsively. "For how long, Gilbert?"
"A year and a day." I smile at her, because I simply cannot stop myself. "Or forever, if you like."
Her lips part and she returns my smile. "Okay."
Taking her hand, I turn us in the direction of the path and home.