A/N: This thing has been messing up my head, for so long you wouldn't believe it. So in order to get order in the mess, up there, I had to get this cranked out. It took me only two days, or early mornings if you will, so I'm pretty proud of myself.

Summary: You all probably know that Sara wears a lot of Tank Tops, or at least a lot of sleeveless tops, that shows her bare arms and shoulders off. Now you often see Grissom and Sara standing close together, bend over something, so what if he, like most males, can't help looking while she's in those tops and he in all secrecy wonders how Sara's skin feels under his hands.

It might be a messy pile of words, but all that in order to get rid of this plot-bunny, so there wasn't time to get any order in the 'maybe' mess down there.

Disclaimers: I have never in my life owned Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle. That honor belongs to TPTB at CBS.

Of Sara, Her Tank Tops and Grissom's Insanity.

There were a lot of things about Sara Sidle that drove Gil Grissom insane. All one of the things was driving him insane in a good way, a very good way and never in a bad way. Her smile was one; her eyes were one, her intelligence was one too and the way she smelled. There were they way she walked and talked. There were the way she was so very attentive, standing so close that you could barely fit a piece of paper between her body and yours. That last one was the worst of those very good things that drove him insane in a very good way too.

That meant a perfect view to those shoulders of hers, to those arms of hers, and to that chest of hers she kept uncovered by wearing a lot of tank tops. Her skin was a mixture of paleness and freckles and the thought of that skin so close by, but couldn't touch, drove him slowly insane in that good way, and soon he was an addict to be close to her while she wore those tank tops, since that meant he got to see that skin of hers. It itched in his fingers, his whole being, to try to touch her shoulders and to run his hands down those arms of hers. He even dreamt of kissing that skin of hers, just placing the kiss of her shoulder, and just to get a feel of it under his lips. He suspected it to be silky and smooth. His investigator mind needed that experience, trying to feel and taste, gathering the evidence, before he could put his mind to rest. Not that he thought that one single simple sample would do it. He believed after a first taste and feel he would be itching to come back for more, like it wasn't enough.

He had almost had that overwhelming itch all over, right from he met her, but it manifested itself more clearly, when she came to Las Vegas, as a favor to him, helping him out and giving him the first glimpse of her, outside of that hotel, after not seeing her in a long time, standing there in the sun, wearing a tank top. It became more of an addiction when she accepted his job offer, gaining a spot on his team and therefore being around her all the time, as she would wear tank tops in the hot Nevada sun.

For years the only thing he could do was look, but definitely could not touch her arms, her upper arms and shoulders the more tempting parts, unless she was wearing an ordinary T-shirt or something other that covered her arms, whether it was a sweater or a shirt or something like it. As long as her upper arms and shoulders were covered, he could safely grab her elbow to steer her somewhere or turn her around to face him. Or to pull her into safety, as he did once, to hold her back from being run over by a car, while they were working on a case together. Her wrist had also been a safe spot, so that was what he held her by, as she asked him to pin her down, while working on another case.

But one day all that stuff of not touching was over, as he stood behind her running his hands all the way from her hands, over her wrists, passing her elbows to finally reach what had been forbidden places for him to go, before that very moments when he could finally feel her smooth skin under his hands, that before he lowered his lips to her shoulder, to finally taste that smooth pale freckled covered skin of hers.

Her skin, and how she tasted, was nothing he had never experienced before. It was magnificent. None other women, he had been with, had as smooth a skin as Sara. None of them had had a taste quite like Sara tasted. It was quite unique and he couldn't get enough of her. That was the night they finally professed their love for one another, and Sara telling him that it had been his hair that had done it for her all these years, more so when he grew his beard, so he allowed her to run her hands through it as much as she wanted. That went for both his hair and his beard. But just as he couldn't get enough of her skin, enough of touching it, she had a similar problem where his hair and beard was concerned.

Of course as he explored the rest of her body, the one that had always been concealed by clothes, he found more enticing soft smooth pale freckled covered skin. Not to forget a pair of legs, that went from her neck and down and was smooth as silk also. Her stomach was taut and smooth, with the most amazing belly button he'd ever seen.

But one other of the best things about exploring her was her kisses though. He could get lost in those. It almost was an out-of-body experience, since his head floated with dizziness. He nearly collapsed, when he finally touched her where her nerve center was, and he was sure he'd died when he finally felt her around him as he finally were inside of her, now that was his most favorite moment of touching her, when Sara in the act of ecstasy, called out his name. Not Grissom, but his given name Gil.

But the ultimate most touching moment were, as the cuddled after making love for the first time and told each other, "I love you."

A/N2: This really is ONESHOT, since I have too much going with three already and still needs updating. So I'm not going to continue this one.

A/N3: As I said it could be a giant mess and not that understandable. Please tell me what you think.