Thanks to Emmabean for the beta; thanks to Marlou for letting me be Bitchy McSnipe...
I burned to be inside. I burned to be with him, in him, around him. My entire body was a flame just needing to be with him knowing how positively amazing we could be.
His breath was warm on my neck that first night I took him into the cradle of my arms; for once I was allowed to take down his higher demons and help him find respite. It felt wonderful taking all that pain away for a few moments, knowing it was because of me that he rested his eyes.
His head, in the crook of my elbow was so heavy, leaden with despair that when his eyes started darting back and forth under his eyelids I could only hope that he was dreaming of something better. Perhaps he was reliving the day, wearing himself thin once more. Perhaps he was the one in that coffin, clawing to get out, get away, be free for once in his life. I couldn't tell, and speculating on it would only have upset me at the time and for some reason I knew he'd be able to sense that. He'd be able to feel the stiffness in my frame and wake up and he needed the sleep.
So I stopped thinking. I stopped thinking and let my fire burn out, my eyelids fluttering closed and I listened to him breathe.
He shifted in the night, turned in my lap and wrapped an arm around my torso and then awake, I tried so hard not to sigh, to keep my breathing light. It was impossible, that breath had been longing to escape and I was prisoner to it. Emitting the warmth of the sigh across his forehead, his eyes fluttered open.
Grissom tried to speak, but his face was buried in my stomach, nearly nuzzling my breasts. I couldn't help but take in the delicate beauty of his face as he woke, early morning gray filtering over his face. "So-" he began to mutter, but cut himself off as a tiny ghost of a smile teetered on my lips. Grissom smile too, a flicker of his lips against my stomach as he nuzzled further down into my warmth, stunning me in such a lovely way, allowing me to submit to his warmth without discord.
His sorry was reigned in because he knew, finally that he didn't have to apologize; he didn't have to apologize because I wanted him to sleep, I wanted him to speak to me about his woes and yes, I wanted to hold him, protect him and keep him; forever.
Sleep had pulled away the moment I had breathed upon him and though he attempted to reign it back in, he'd found the task quite impossible. He blinked up at me and I finally got to categorize the color of his eyes in the morning, much like I had for every hour of the evening at every high and low. They were steely blue and ended just beyond the brink of forever. Before I fell into imagining being inside that endless blue-gray I pulled my eyes away and recklessly, softly, ran a hand through his hair.
His expression changed from relaxed to confused. He wasn't confused at my action, that I knew. There was an internal battle raging in iron in his gaze; he was confused because he wasn't pulling away, quite the opposite. He was opening up to me. Petals of a flower slowly pulling away to reveal the sweet nectar inside.
Even then I smiled at my own metaphor; me, the nurturing bumblebee, gently taking away what I could from him.
His sigh matched mine in force and breadth. That snapped my attention back to his face. I wanted to smile, wanted to speak, but it was impossible with him sitting up and brushing his lips against mine. Surprise would have been an adequate response if I had cared to stop and think before I pressed my lips fully to his, my body quivering with the sheer serenity of the moment.
I could feel the push/pull of our combined despair as it slid away. It slid away with a fluidity matched only by him sliding a hand over my cheek and down over the shadow of the side of my breast.
He no longer felt heavy and frightened in my arms, he felt strong and sure and a part of me knew that he'd finally let me give that to him, that strength. After everything that had happened that evening, I was sure that there could be nothing wrong with that moment taking place. We were living, finally realizing what it meant to live... to live...
Kissing, it went on for long minutes. Wet sounds were magnified in the intensifying light in my living room and I couldn't have been happier to have him there with me, speaking to me through his languid kisses.
I felt like glitter when he pulled back; I felt shiny and new and like a million pieces scattered all over the floor, bright and beautiful. Grissom kissed me, just a peck, one last time and suggested he go home so I could sleep. We both knew that the distance would be good at that time, it would solidify in our minds what had just happened; so I watched him leave with a sense of contentment heavy in my stomach, like I'd eaten thanksgiving dinner and could only crave dessert.
The shower was warm and welcoming as it eased the pain out of my tired limbs. The dirt cascaded down the drain and I watched the water until it had run clear. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash all followed until I smelled like a sickly sweet tangerine. About to shut off the water, I paused and pressed my palms to the tile. Even in the steam and heat of the bathroom, they were cool and something broke within me. Quick, hot tears trailed down my cheeks as I sobbed, but happily. Nick was safe, Grissom was safe and my sanity had wobbled back into place after nearly a year of displacement.
A low click registered in my ears and I pulled away from the tiles, glancing around the dense opaqueness of the shower curtain. A figure, there in the doorway, waiting. "I came back," he muttered needlessly and I was frozen to the spot, wondering how to proceed with only a thin curtain of plastic separating my naked body from his eyes.
I didn't have to fret over action for long because he stepped forward and pulled back the curtain. He looked nowhere but at my eyes, finding them red and puffy and ripe with tears. And what he did then broke my heart: he stepped forward into the shower, shoes and all and gathered me into his arms, hugging me tightly. Breath escaped me and I was consumed with the full passion that this man felt... for me.
His lips found mine, and my tongue slipped out to seek his.
"I wanted," I gasped around his lips as the water coursing down between our faces. "I wanted you to work for it, for this, for us."
Grissom pulled back and laughed, full and throaty and real. Smiling, I ruffled his soaking hair and his lips fell to my neck. Make me a martyr to this wonderful thing taking place... "Oh honey, you have no idea how I've worked for this..." he mumbled into my skin, suckling the water from it desperately.
I wrapped my naked arms around his soggy frame, sliding over the wet fabric, wanting to feel his skin, but settling for simply holding him, comforting him once more.
I had never made love like I did that morning. There was so much mirth, we laughed more than moaned. It was awkward and slow and we spent hours just kissing in bed because we decided we could. The sheer heft of him inside me made me feel more complete than I'm sure I'd ever felt before.
He whispered it into my ear when he thought I was sleeping, that he loved me. He didn't want me to hear it, but I did. Rolling over, I pressed him to the mattress and loved him anew.
It was breathing, it was living, it was finally and forever.
And entering into the new day I burned like a million stars battling the sunlight silently as he rested beside me.