In the Cloakroom
A/N: Here's my entry for the GSR Smutathon at GSR Forever Online dot com. The challenge is to write about Grissom and Sara's first Valentine's Day after they became lovers. And it must be smutty. My prompts are: music, candles, wine, roses, red, boxers with hearts on them...and sausage, bubbles and night. I wrote this one a while ago. By hand. When my computer was in the shop and I was losing my mind! Hadn't published yet, so I fiddled around and added the prompts. Kinda long. Hope you like?
Rated: NC/17. GSR. Romance/Smut–why isn't this a category, FFnet? OK, Romance/General. Sheesh.
It was a party, no, a grand affair, with all the Nevada dignitaries with their trophy wives, the sycophants with their oily smiles, the rich and self-important with puffed out chests like ducks preening. Ostensibly in honor of Valentine, the patron saint of lovers, but really a chance for the men to show off and be envied by other men, and for the women to do the same, and for the singles to find each other. A must appearance for all, even for Gil Grissom, supervisor of grave shift. Sometimes politics could not be avoided. In years past he would have pleaded his caseload, or a fresh murder scene, anything, to escape the ordeal. The over-spiced hors d'oeuvres, the cheap champagne, the inane conversation–-Grissom had done and seen and heard it all before.
But this year, this blessed year, he had a good reason to attend. A girlfriend, his girlfriend, the incomparably lovely Sara Sidle, to be his date. He wanted to do her proud. Though their love affair was still top secret, though their eyes could touch and not their hands or lips in public, they could still be there, together and for each other.
So Gilbert donned his best bib and tucker and Sara, naked from the waist up, draped her long nymph arms around his neck and tied his red bowtie. He turned in her arms and kissed her with tenderness and gratitude and she smiled in his eyes. Gil let his softened eyes caress her body, but when he moved his head to take a pink nipple in his mouth and suck it, she laughed and thumped his chest.
"Not now, lover, we'll be late."
Undeterred, Gil dipped and sucked on one rose-colored nub and it hardened on his tongue. The rough surface of his tongue rasped across her pebbled aureola. Heat shot to Sara's groin and she gasped and slid her fingers through his thick silvery hair, cradled his head to her breast and let him. Gil sucked the nipple into his mouth, squeezed it between his lips, nipped it lightly and then ministered to its mate. He murmured his adoration of her body into that pillowy warmth as she moaned and stroked his head and broad shoulders. Reluctantly, Sara tugged Gil's face up. She ran her hands down his handsome bearded noble face and kissed him. The dance of tongues and lips continued until Grissom pulled his mouth away with a wet pop.
"You're right. We'll be late," he said with studied indifference, but for a playful twinkle in his eyes.
Sara giggled and pinched his cheek.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Gil. I love you."
"Love you too, dear. Happy Valentine's Day."
"Now shoo. I need to dress."
When she emerged from their bedroom he stood up in instant respect, thanking the benevolent deity of lucky men everywhere who had graced his life with such beauty and love.
Sara was in a dress of a previous century, a tight shirtwaist of silvery gray with tiny pleats that moved with her body and showed flashes of white. The top ended in a perfectly tailored triangle above the triangle of her sex. Gil's mouth watered and his dick twitched to life. Long sleeves and a row of small silver coin buttons led from throat to belly, with a soft grey skirt that flowed like water around her endless legs. There was black piping along her curves, that flattered her firm breasts, her long slender waist, and the roundness of her hips.
"Oh, my beauty," he breathed, and Sara blushed like a rose.
"I wanted to match that head of curls," she said teasingly. "Your hair. It's very sexy. Black and silver and white and grey."
Sara slid her hands down his crisp white shirtfront. "You look very handsome, Gil."
"I look like a penguin," he countered, and she laughed and smoothed his lapels and gave him a lingering kiss.
"Now go. I'll join you," Sara said, for propriety's sake and to give her time to finish her hair and makeup. Gil kissed her again and drove away bemused.
The Governor's Red Hearts Ball was in its beginning stage; guests mingling, their stilted conversations sounding like the cawing of a flock of crows. The band warmed up as waiters circulated with appetizers and flutes of champagne.
Grissom made his rounds, greeting the dignitaries and their wives and husbands, noting the toupees, the expensive suits, and the overabundance of cleavage and sparkling lumpy jewelry. He circled the ballroom thrice, until, his duty done, he could join the men and women who did the real work, at the bar.
There he found Jim Brass, with a paw around a whisky and soda. The captain crooked a finger and a matching tumbler appeared on the polished wood.
"Cheers," Brass said, and Grissom echoed and clinked and sipped with him, the conversation about this event not needing to be said. They sat in masculine silent companionship, until Catherine appeared.
"Damn, Gil, you always clean up nice." She laughed and he smirked at her. "Found another lady to tie your bowtie? Anyone I...?"
"Can I get you a drink?" Grissom said quickly.
"Sure. Wine spritzer...no, make it rum and Coke. It's gonna be a long night."
Grissom complimented her on her red dress and heels that made her as tall as him. The music began.
"Care to dance?" Grissom asked next and they twirled companionably, joking, and when Detective Vega offered the next dance, he thanked Catherine, bowed out, and politely cut in on David Phillips and his new wife. Grissom shot a glance at Sofia over the diminutive Nancy Phillip's head, grateful that the blonde had other men squiring her around. He did not want to be dancing with Sofia, in her low-cut dress and way too much skin, when Sara arrived.
And there she was, paused like a pearl-gray dove on a twig in the doorway, her eyes kohl-dark, lips glistening pink, just a hint of foundation smoothed across that perfect skin. Sara's chestnut brown hair was let down in natural curls, her long slender neck unadorned. Their eyes met from across the crowded noisy room and understood.
Sara circulated like a fearless fish in a sea of sharks and wet sirens draped on saltwater rocks. There was no jealousy or insecurity in her movements or conversation, nor in his, as their new love was strong and true and passion-filled.
Grissom danced with his admirers and she with hers until at last they dared to dance together. He ached to cover that glistening mouth with his and bury his face in her.
"I'm crazy in love with you," Sara whispered, and his hands trembled, his blue eyes looking surprised.
"Me too," he breathed back. A tap on his shoulder made him release that silk-covered skin, fingers that yearned to slide up those smooth naked legs and explore. Gil let the other man dance with Sara. For now. He admired her swaying hips and thought about those legs wrapped around his waist...the feeling of being inside her...Sara's face as she came...and he strode to the men's room to make some adjustments.
Grissom found his team at a table getting silly, Greg betting Nick on the number of bubbles in a glass of champagne, Warrick smirking at them and swapping dirty jokes with Catherine.
"Hey," Catherine said, her voice slurring a bit. "What do you call a truck full of dildos, just before Christmas?"
"What?" Warrick asked.
"Toys for twats." The men guffawed. Grissom shook his head, chuckling, and ordered drinks for everyone as Sara joined them.
"My, my," Sara commented. "Doesn't everyone look good."
"It's the candles," Nick explained. "Everyone looks better in candlelight."
"That's true. But this group always shines. We are one handsome bunch."
"To us! The prettiest boys and the handsomest girls here!" yelled Greg. "No, wait..."
they laughed. "Anyway, cheers."
"Cheers!" the CSIs echoed, happily clinking their glasses with one another. No one mentioned work. This was a night out and they were in rare form, laughing and telling crazy stories. Greg was teasing Nick about the way he pronounced "vehicle" when Grissom let his right hand slide along Sara's knee. She flinched, and shot a warning glance at him. His eyes were smoldering. Sara leaned across him to grab a cheese puff. Grissom let his fingers wander north under the tablecloth.
"What are you doing?" she whispered in his ear.
Grissom dropped his napkin and ran his hand down to her ankle and back up, fetching it.
"Getting you hot," he mouthed back. Growing bolder, he caressed the inside of her thigh. Sara's legs parted, seemingly on their own. God! How does he do this? Turn me to mush?
"Did I tell you how captivating you look tonight?" Gil whispered.
"Um hmm," Sara managed to say. His fingers were dancing in slow patient circles around the place she ached for them to be. She leaned across him to refill her glass of champagne and squeezed and stroked the obvious bulge in his trousers longingly. Leaning back, Sara smirked at him.
"Tease," he whispered.
"Oh, like you aren't?" she replied.
"What's with all the whispering?" Catherine demanded. "You two have a secret?"
Grissom whipped his hand away and coughed. Sara smoothed down her dress.
"No!" she answered quickly. "I mean, the music is kinda loud, that's all."
Catherine lost interest. "Warrick! Wanna dance?"
"Sure."
"How long until the awards?" Grissom asked Nick gruffly.
Nick consulted his watch. "About...an hour and half."
Grissom gave Sara a meaningful look and asked for drink orders. He started for the bar.
"I'll give you a hand," Sara offered, biting the inside of her cheek, and followed him.
The party was in full swing, music loud, people shouting, lots of groping on the dance floor, the bar crowded and no one paying attention to the couple standing at the end. Sara stood a little behind Gil and reached around and caressed his thickening cock.
"Vienna sausage, lady?" a waiter offered.
"No thanks, I'm good," Sara giggled, giving her lover a good hard squeeze.
Gil jumped and the man moved to another customer.
"It's obvious, isn't it? How much I want you, honey?"
"I can't wait to get you home," she answered, meeting his seductive look with her own.
"Why wait?" he said with a dangerous glint, an eyebrow quirked.
Sara considered, eyes and nostrils flared, and silently agreed.
"Meet me at the cloakroom," Gil said, his voice tight with desire, and took the tray of drinks to their table. Sara made small talk for a few minutes with the bartender and then slipped out of the ballroom to the cool and quiet hallway.
At the cloakroom counter, Grissom gave the attendant a fifty and told him to get lost for an hour, which he did without question. Giving the hallway another furtive scan, he lifted the hinged counter and let Sara go through. Their fingers linked as she backed, smiling, into the room full of coats and wraps and jackets. He locked the door.
At last they could kiss and stroke and give in to that aching desire. Gil kissed and sucked her neck as she tilted back and stroked his head.
"Sofia sneaked away with Vartann, did you see?"
"Did she?" Gil said, distracted, as he pushed up her skirt and caressed the globes of her lingerie clad buttocks. "She looked like a floozy," he added earnestly.
Sara chuckled. That spark of anger at the long-haired blonde and her blatant flirtation with Gil was long extinguished.
"You're the handsomest man here," she told him, letting her long fingers trail down his chest and body to his legs and cup his shapely ass. "And the sexiest."
Grissom groaned. "Modesty only enhances your beauty, my dear," he told her. "All those desperate women with their plastic breasts–and you stood out because you are lovely without needing to flaunt it."
"Thank you," Sara murmured, making short work to remove his black jacket, undo his tie, and unbutton his shirt and push it off. Gil was methodically unbuttoning each coin button and kissing his way down her body, unfolding her like a flower to his tongue and eyes.
Sara unbuttoned his tuxedo pants. "What's this?" she asked, delighted.
Grissom kicked his shoes and pants off and stood proudly, his white boxers with red hearts on them tented impressively.
Sara laughed. "Now it really is our first Valentine's Day."
"Will you be mine?"
"Until the end of time."
Grissom hummed in happy approval and pulled her dress off when she lifted her arms to help. Sara kicked off her heels and they grabbed fistfuls of coats and threw them in a pile, their eyes on each other's nearly nude bodies. Pressed together hipbone to hipbone, his thick shaft was pressed against her mound as they kissed hungrily.
Gil slid his hands up naked skin and unbuckled her bra, his fingers only fumbling a little. He sucked each breast as Sara pushed down the last barrier between modesty and naked glory and his erection bobbed free. He lowered her onto the pile of coats and dipped his head between her legs, nuzzling, with just a thin scrap of silk between his tongue and her sex. Sara whimpered to the movement of his head and pulled it closer against her, a shiver and a delightful tingling arising on her scalp. He pulled down her panties with his teeth, lightly scraping them down her slender legs and tossing them aside.
Piped in speeches echoed around them and they got louder and more passionate. The scents of cologne and perfume arose from the pile of coats of their colleagues.
In a flash of inspiration, Gil found a mink coat and dragged the furred sleeve through Sara's folds and across her erect clit.
"Oh GOD! Mmmm....Yes!," she cried, bucking her hips. So soft. It made her tingle and moan. He pulled it faster and the heat built.
"So GOOD...ahh, Gil."
Sara shifted under him and grasped his rigid cock. She found a silk scarf and looped it around him, stroking, until the head turned darker red and pearls of pre-cum slid from the slit.
"Now. About that sausage," Sara growled. "I don't eat meat but..." and she took him in her mouth and sucked avidly.
"Jesus! Sara...Oh God...so good." Grissom dug his hand in her hair and squeezed his eyes shut. Her head bobbed.
"I won't last," he choked out. "I want to cum inside you."
He slid down her body and let his blind head bump until it slid inside her wet welcoming warmth. They stilled for a moment, looking deeply into each other's eyes, and letting that most sensitive skin feel its natural partner. Gil cupped her face in his hands and pumped his hips, arching his back and exchanging gasping open-mouthed kisses. His pubic bone rubbed against her erect clitoris with every deepening thrust. Sara squeezed around him. Though expecting it, the burst of her orgasm still surprised her in its intensity. Grissom felt her pelvic muscles ripple and tighten around his cock and the rush of hot fluid, and sped up. His thighs tensed and the tendons in his neck stood out. Their chests heaved. He buried his face in her neck and his spine flexed and arched as he pounded into her. Sara dug the pads of her fingers into his down-covered butt cheeks and pulled him in deep.
They heard voices calling for the coat check boy outside and stopped, breathless and smiling, until the voices tapered off angrily. Knowing their stolen time was ending, Gil turned her to her hands and knees and fucked her from behind, hard and fast.
"Cum for me, Sara," he gasped, his legs trembling. Sara slid her hand down and rubbed her clitoris to an explosive orgasm. At last he let himself go and blissfully spurted his cum inside his lover. Sara felt he heart soften as his member did. God she loved this man.
They kissed deeply. He pulled out and helped her to her feet, telling her how good she made him feel, how much and how well he loved her, and she did the same, both feeling that words could not describe how powerful an experience it was to join their bodies in such a way.
That they were in a semi-public place, as their friends endured the ceremony and droning speeches, ah, they could find such pleasure there instead.
A security guard looked up from his video screen and wiped his ejaculate from his hands with a wad of Kleenex. Sometimes it was good to be him, he thought, to watch such passionate lovemaking and such a pretty girl. Not just an empty coat room for eight boring hours. He ejected the tape and put in a fresh one, smirking, knowing he would jack off again at home, watching it.
It took longer to dress than it had to strip. They hurried when the undersheriff's speech ended and the introductions and announcements of awards began. Sara quickly inserted coat sleeves into hangers and Grissom ordered them by their numbered wooden tags and hung them up. Smoothing clothes and hair and slipping on shoes, they inspected each other one more time. Grissom opened the door a crack, turned back and kissed Sara, and slipped out and into the ballroom. Sara tidied and waited a bit and then returned to the table of CSIs.
Warrick's eyes were glazed with drink. Catherine was at the bar with Jim. Nick and Greg were thumb wrestling and giggling drunkenly.
"Where you been, girl?" he asked.
"Oh, I went out for some air," Sara answered. "Hot in here." If you only knew! "Is Grissom around?" she asked innocently.
"Think so," Warrick answered. "Hey. There he is."
Gil found a seat but within minutes he was called on stage to accept an award for his outstanding achievements over the past year. Grissom stumbled up to the stage, mostly blinded by the lights. He looked a little flushed but quickly donned his professional demeanor as he stepped to the podium.
"My team won this. Not me. Catherine Willows, Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, Sara Sidle, and the newly promoted Greg Sanders. I hope they know how proud I am of them all."
He sat back down to a round of applause and five delighted faces. Nick pounded him on the back and Catherine gave him a kiss on the cheek. Warrick and Greg shook his hand heartily and Sara beamed. Grissom gave her a ghost of a wink.
If their curls were even curlier from the sweat of their exertions, if their sated expressions and comfortable postures were noticeable, if the sex musk of their bodies penetrated the fug of others, if they breathed satisfied breaths and did not need to look to feel their lover's closeness, Grissom and Sara had earned it. They knew they would share a bed again that night and every night the fates granted them, until their dying day.
THE END