A Box of Figs, A Jug of Wine and Thou

Disclaimer: Not mine. But they'd have a lot more fun if they were.

A/N: Thanks to Cropper and dreamsofhim for the beta work. Couldn't have done it without them. Also, there is a picture that goes with this. Since it isn't supported here you can find the pic at geekfiction or my website. Trust me when I tell you the visual aid helps a lot.

"Hold on, I'm coming," Gil Grissom muttered as he made his way toward the front door. A persistent ringing of the door bell had awakened him and he was still tightening the belt of his robe as he looked through the peephole. Recognizing the familiar brown uniform, he gave a sigh and opened the door. A few pleasantries later and he carried a box into the kitchen. He was just placing it on the table when a sleepy-eyed Sara Sidle wandered in and leaned against the counter.

"Who was that?" she asked, her voice still rough with sleep.

Looking around for a knife to slit the tape, Grissom replied, "UPS. I think this is your Fruit of the Month delivery. It is the first Wednesday of the month, right?"

With a sheepish expression on her face, Sara nodded. "Sorry. I forgot all about it. Maybe I should have it sent to the lab. That way it wouldn't interrupt our sleep."

Grissom looked at her and his eyebrow slid upward in a lazy question. "Do you think you could keep those vultures away from your fruit?" At the quick shake of her head, he added, "Don't worry about it. I was planning on getting up in about five hours anyway." Seeing her eyes narrow, he quickly added, "I was joking, dear. I won't have any problem going back to sleep."

Walking over to stand with her shoulder brushing his, she murmured, "Well, if you do just let me know. I'd be willing to lend a hand."

With a smirk and a quiet laugh, Grissom used the knife to slit the tape and folded back the flaps on the plain brown box. Inside was a Styrofoam cooler that was also taped closed. He lifted it free of the carton and placed it on the table. Once all the packing materials had been taken care of, he removed the lid and he and Sara stared in silence at the contents.

Finally, Sara said, "Figs. What do you do with figs?"

"Eat them?" he joked.

She laughed quietly. "I'm serious Griss. I've never eaten a fig. I don't have any idea what they taste like. I don't know if you can cook with them. Or what you would cook with them…" Seeing the bemused expression on his face her voice trailed off and she gave a shrug. "Sorry, I got a little carried away, huh?"

"Come back to bed and we'll worry about the figs later," Grissom said as he slid the top back on the cooler.

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Grissom had managed to work out a system that gave the couple two nights off together per month. His theory that having a shared day off at seemingly random intervals would allow them to spend some quality time together and still keep their secret had proven correct. September's first joint off day fell on a Tuesday. Grissom had also been off the night before and had spent a few hours while Sara was at work getting things ready to surprise her.

When she arrived home, Sara found Grissom in his office. Standing in the doorway she watched him as he finished reading something on the computer screen. When he looked up, she said, "Hey."

Standing, he moved to give her a quick kiss. "Hey yourself. How was work?'

With a shrug, she replied, "Slow actually. The best kind of night."

Giving her another, softer kiss, Grissom asked, "Are you hungry?" At her nod, he said, "Then go take a shower and I'll fix us something to eat." With a quick okay and a lingering press of her lips on his Sara departed to do just that.

Grissom wasted no time. As soon as he heard the bathroom door close he hurried out onto the patio and lit the grill. While that was warming, he carried the other things he would need outside. He and Sara had fallen in love with the house because of the huge elm tree in the backyard. There weren't many shade trees hearty enough to withstand the extreme Vegas temperatures. The one that he was currently spreading a blanket under was at least forty feet tall and provided wonderful shade from the burning Vegas sun. Once the blanket was laid out, he placed a plate of pumpernickel bread and creamy Havarti cheese slices, along with an ice bucket containing a bottle of crisp White Zinfandel on one corner. The final touch was the two wine glasses that he had dangled precariously from his fingers just a few moments before. Rushing back to the kitchen, he pulled the figs he had already sliced and skewered, along with the orange juice and honey glaze he'd made from a recipe he found online, out of the refrigerator. Working quickly he coated each skewer and placed it back on the plate. Then, plate in hand, he detoured through the living room and grabbed several throw pillows from the couch. He left the platter of figs beside the grill and hurried over to the blanket, placing the pillows in the center before stepping back to admire his work. Satisfied, he went back in the house to check on Sara.

She was standing in front of her dresser, wrapped in a towel, looking for something to put on when he walked into the bedroom. Taking a moment to indulge himself, he let his eyes wander up her legs and then across her smooth shoulders. Saying a quick prayer that the towel would fall, he said, "I thought we'd eat outside today."

Sara jumped and clutched at the cloth covering her. Whirling around, she gasped, "Shit! You scared me. You can't sneak up on me like that."

Lips tugging up in amusement, Grissom said, "I'm sorry. I thought you heard me." At the slight shake of her head he said, "Meet me on the patio when you're done?"

"Sure," she replied. "Give me five minutes."

Unable to disguise his excitement, Grissom said, "Don't be long." With that, he turned and left the room.

When Sara joined him outside he had just pulled the skewered figs from the grill and was wrapping the plate in foil to keep them warm. When he caught sight of her standing just outside the French doors, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide, Grissom motioned for her to join him.

"What's all this?" she asked as she walked toward him. She had donned a purple tank top and a pair of soft cotton shorts, leaving acres of skin bare to his gaze.

"Well, we never finished our conversation about figs. So I did a little research and thought I would try to cook them for you."

"And the blanket in the backyard?" Her eyes were suspiciously moist as she turned her gaze to him.

Placing a kiss filled with promise on her sweet mouth, Grissom said, "I wanted to do something special for you because you give me so many special things everyday." Grabbing her hand, he led her across the yard.

When they were seated on the blanket, Grissom poured them each a glass of wine. Sara took a sip, her eyes sliding closed in pleasure as she swallowed, and Grissom finally relaxed.

Picking up the plate of cheese and bread, Grissom held it out toward Sara. "Not exactly breakfast food but I think it will work."

Sara picked up a piece of cheese and bit into it. "Mmmmmmm. What is this?"

"Havarti. It's supposed to work well with the figs."

"Is that what you have covered up over there?" Sara reached out to lift the foil and Grissom grabbed her hand.

"Uh-uh. Those are for dessert."

With an impish grin, Sara asked, "Well if you won't let me see them your experiment can't have turned out that well."

"Oh no," Grissom said. "I'm not falling for that. You're not tricking me into letting you have one now."

Trying to look properly chastised and failing miserably, Sara said, "Tell me what you learned about figs. I know you have some little bit of trivia for me." He gave her an odd look and she continued, "You are nothing if not thorough."

Smiling, Grissom said, "In Greek myths, certain fruits were representative of the seed of life. They considered them symbols of virility and fertility. Figs were one of those. They were used in sacred temple rituals to signify the power of creation borne out of the sexual union of man and woman."

Sara's eyes gleamed as she looked at him and asked, "And what does that have to do with cooking?"

"Nothing," he said with a shrug. "But I seem to have developed an interest in the sensual side of things. So I've been doing some reading."

Sara's mouth twitched in an effort to control her laughter. Finally she managed to say, "You're telling me you learned how to…," her hand waving between the two of them. "From books?"

Laughing, he said, "No. But there are other ways to please a woman. I want to make sure I get that part right too."

Sara's gaze was tender when she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek and said, "That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Smiling at the blush on her cheeks, he said, "See, it must be working."

With a sweet smile, she said, "Tell me more, oh wise one."

He reached out and entwined their fingers, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand as he spoke. "Supposedly, figs were Cleopatra's favorite fruit. And the ancient Greeks would celebrate a crop of figs with ritual copulation."

"Ah," she said in her most serious voice, "now I get it."

"What?"

"You think that cooking figs for me is going to get you laid?" Her brown eyes sparkled with laughter.

"No, of course not." Grissom paused for a second before adding, "But hope springs eternal."

Noticing that her glass was empty he leaned over and grabbed the bottle, pouring more wine for them both. They relaxed against the pillows, nibbling on cheese and bread, talking and exchanging sweet kisses. The stately tree above them cast dappled shade across their bodies while a gentle breeze relieved the heat that would later become oppressive.

Finally, Grissom pulled the plate of figs up to rest between them. With a smile, he said, "There is one more thing you need to know about these before I uncover them."

"What's that?" Sara asked.

"Well," he hesitated, "some people believe that a fig resembles a woman's…um…genitals."

Sara snorted a laugh, and choked out, "Let me see." When he lifted the foil, her eyes widened and she gasped, "Oh my God. They really do." Unable to control herself any longer Sara began to laugh in earnest.

With a smile Grissom picked up a fruit and held it out for her. "Here try it. Tell me what you think."

Sara leaned forward and bit the fig in half. The flavors exploded in her mouth. The sweetness of the honey, the tang of the orange juice and the texture of the fruit combined to create an almost erotic experience. Swallowing, she leaned forward and took the other half from his hand, her lips closing around his fingertips in the process.

"You like?" he asked.

"I like," she replied. "Here you try." Sara scooped up a fig and held it out for him. Her eyes never left his mouth as Grissom leaned forward and bit the treat in half. The sight of his strong, white teeth biting into the firm flesh before his lips closed over it made Sara long for the feel of his mouth on her body. He chewed slowly, savoring the mix of flavors. With a quiet moan, he took the other half from Sara's hand and then licked her fingers clean.

They continued to eat the fruit, sometimes feeding themselves and sometimes each other. When he reached for the last fig on the plate and offered it to her, Sara placed her hand over his and said, "Show me."

Puzzled, Grissom looked at her and asked, "Show you what?"

Aroused and infinitely curious, Sara blushed and said, "I want to know what it looks like when you…um…when you…" Her voice trailed off and her eyes dropped to study a spot on the blanket between them.

Using a finger under her chin, he lifted her face so that he could see her eyes. "You want to know what?" he asked.

Sara closed her eyes and her words came out in a rush. "I want to know what it looks like when…yougodownonme."

"Wh-what?" he choked out.

Sara's cheeks burned in embarrassment. She pulled away from him, muttering an apology. She was half way to her feet when he grabbed her hand.

"Wait." Grissom tugged until she was sitting beside him once again. "I didn't mean it like that. I just never knew you would want to see…that."

With a shrug, she said, "You get to watch me when I give you a blow job." Her voice sounded petulant but she really didn't care.

Drawing in a deep breath, he said, "Well, you have a point. I guess I never considered that you would want to see what I'm doing."

She pursed her lips and nodded. Still avoiding his gaze, she said, "If you don't want to do it I'll understand."

"No," he said quickly. Laughing to dispel his nervousness, he added, "I think it's kind of…sexy…that you want to know."

"Really?" she asked, shyly.

"Really." Moving the plate, he patted the blanket beside him and said, "Come here."

Grissom sat up and Sara moved around behind him. Wrapping her arms around him and propping her chin on his shoulder she watched in fascination as he cradled the fig in his hand.

Glancing at her, he asked, "Do you want me to narrate? Or just demonstrate?"

Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, "I think a demonstration will suffice. If I have questions I'll let you know."

With a nod, he closed his eyes, raised the fruit to his mouth and inhaled. He loved the smell of Sara and that was always the first thing he did before burying his face between her legs. The aroma of the fig was exotic and earthy. He cast a nervous glance out of the corner of his eye and saw that Sara's gaze was glued to his mouth. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he used the tip of his tongue to run up the length of the pink flesh. Pulling back slightly he swallowed the juice. Moving in again he flattened his tongue and followed the same path. He repeated this action again and again, alternating between the tip of his tongue and broad, flat strokes. He changed the intensity and speed. Finally, he used his thumbs to open the center of the fruit and began to thrust his tongue rapidly in and out of the sweet cleft. The pressure of his thumbs along the sides of the fig forced the juices to run out and trickle down his chin. His lips were coated in the sticky sweetness.

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Naked, Sara lies on her back, looking up at the patches of blue sky through the leaves of the elm. Grissom is making love to her with gentle touches and soft sighs upon her skin. What began in a lust filled frenzy of hard kisses and flying clothes has morphed into an unhurried expression of need. Slowly, his hands run over her smooth legs in long strokes from her ankles to her knees and then further to the silky skin of her thighs. He places featherlike kisses over the flesh his hands have already mapped. With light pressure, he parts her legs and moves until he is settled between them.

Keeping his hands on her inner thighs, he uses his thumbs to part her sex. His mind recognizes the visual similarities between the fruit they have just shared and her body. Although the two may look alike, he knows nothing will ever be as sweet as his Sara. Reverently he bends his head, inhaling her scent, and buries his face in her folds. Setting a leisurely pace, he kisses and sucks at her swollen lips, filling his mouth with the taste of her. Sara's hips push against his face and her feet run up the backs of his thighs and over his firm buttocks in a silent plea for more. Still, Grissom holds back. He wants to savor this, the taste, the smell, the heat, everything. Sara's fingers brush against his hair as her hands roam over her body – gliding down her abdomen and through the curls covering her mound. Without warning, Grissom sinks his tongue into her heat; pushing in as far as he can, his nose bumping her clit. He feels her muscles clutching at him, drawing him in. Her salty taste and the scent of her musk flood his senses. Sara's words fall on the air around him as her hips lift to push against his questing mouth.

Sara fists her fingers in the fabric of the blanket. At some point her eyes have closed and the sunlight creates a kaleidoscope of colors behind her lids. Her hips find a rhythm that is older than time. She gyrates mindlessly against Grissom's mouth. Her head rolls from side to side while she quietly pleads with him for release. Her entire being is focused on the sensations emanating from the juncture of her thighs.

"Please…Need you…Griss…Oh please..," she pants.

Grissom can feel her thighs trembling. He can hear the sob of need in her voice. Releasing one thigh, he uses his fingers to find her clit. Gently rolling it, he thrusts his tongue into her and she is lost. Her body goes rigid, back arching, her hips grinding against him, her sweet juices coating his face. He relishes her orgasm, loving the way her muscles grasp at his tongue, pulling him into her heat. Continuing to plunge his tongue into her sweetness, he feels the contractions begin to wane.

Tugging at his curls, she pulls him up and captures his mouth with hers. She sucks at his lips and tongue while the juices on his chin smear across her cheeks. Grissom's hips are resting in the cradle of Sara's thighs. His cock is hard and insistent, nudging her opening and sliding against her engorged clit. His big hands hold her wrists against the blanket above her head and his hungry mouth ravages hers, his tongue pushing between her lips, demanding entrance. She can feel his groans as they vibrate through his chest. When he raises his head to look at her she is astonished at the raw need in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles.

Her voice trembles as she asks, "Sorry for what?"

His lids slide shut, hiding his midnight blue eyes from her. "Sorry that I can't wait."

Understanding his meaning, Sara shifts her hips until she can feel the head of his dick as it parts her lips. "Look at me." When his heavy-lidded eyes are gazing down on her, she says, "I don't want to wait. I want you in me NOW."

Her voice is low and demanding and Grissom's balls tighten in response. With a steady press of his hips he sinks into the wet heat that, at this moment in time, defines his entire universe. The breath leaves his lungs on a long moan as Sara's body consumes him. Her legs wrap around his waist and her heels dig into his lower back while her fingers thread through his and her pussy grips him like a tight fist. Grissom's head drops forward to bury his face against her throat as he begins to thrust.

Sara's eyes flutter closed. There is something incredibly erotic about being pinned beneath the solid weight of Grissom. She has never seen him like this; the possessive gleam in his eye, the tight control as he moves in and out of her body. The press of his thick cock fills her, stretches her, as her hips rise to meet his. The friction is exquisite as he pulls out until only the very tip remains inside her before pushing forward with rigid self-control until she feels the brush of his balls against her ass.

Grissom's skin is too tight. Every nerve is on fire. He wants to pull Sara's legs up over his shoulders and pound into her until he explodes. He wants to hold her down and grind his cock into her until she begs him for release. He wants to feel her muscles clench around him as she goes over the edge. With his eyes on her face, his hands holding her wrists and his balls brushing against the soft skin of her ass he pauses and whispers, "Tell me what you want, Sara."

She meets his gaze and in a voice roughened by desire, she says, "I want you to fuck me." Her words are punctuated by a calculated squeeze of her muscles around his cock. "I want to feel you come inside me."

Grissom hadn't thought it possible to get any closer to the edge without going over. That was before he heard Sara's words. Releasing her wrists, he reaches back and captures first one leg and then the other, bringing them up so that her hips are lifted and he can move without restriction. Bending down he kisses her, slow and deep, murmuring against her lips that he loves her. He begins to move his hips, the muscles of his ass and thighs bunching with the effort. Pulling back, pushing forward and adding a grind of his pelvis against her clit on the down stroke.

Sara is meeting him thrust for thrust, her nipples dragging against his chest as her breasts bounce from the force of his body slamming into hers. Her need for release is building. It is a tingling heat that ripples out from her center in slow undulating waves. Knowing her body and what she needs to get off, Sara begins to ask for it.

"Come for me," she whispers. Her voice is low and throaty. "So close, baby. Oh god I'm so close. Need to feel you. Love you." Her words are a litany of need whispered on the still morning air.

Her hands are clutching his shoulders, the short nails digging into his flesh. His arms are trembling, the muscles protesting the exertion. His skin is slick with sweat. His orgasm is a living thing sitting low in his belly, tightening his balls and making his cock throb with the need for release. When he hears Sara's voice he can't control his body's response. He is coming in long waves. His hips push forward, burying his cock deep inside her body. His head is thrown back, the cords of his neck standing out in stark relief as he calls her name in a tortured yell.

When Grissom buries himself in her, Sara begins to move her hips in short, quick strokes. She grinds her clit shamelessly against him as he screams her name. Her body clenches and she is falling. The orgasm ripples through her like an earthquake. She is trembling and gasping and begging for it to stop and to never end.

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Sara watched as Grissom tongued and suckled at the succulent morsel he cradled in his hands. With every stroke of his rough tongue over the smooth flesh she felt herself grow a little more aroused. Her hands trailed over his chest, finding his flat nipples through the material of the shirt he was wearing and teasing them to tight peaks. Eyes never leaving the sensual display, she licked at his earlobe and nuzzled just behind his ear. When he thrust his tongue into the juicy depths she moaned and began licking and biting along the column of his strong neck before wrapping her body around his and kissing the nectar from his lips and chin

Breaking their kiss, Grissom pulled Sara across his lap and ran his hands under her shirt trying to lift it over her head. Sara tugged the bottom of the tank back down and said, "What are you doing? We do have neighbors, you know."

Grissom shrugged and leaned forward to run his tongue over her throat. "Um-hmmmmm. But our neighbors work during the day." He pulled back and with a twinkle in his eye said, "Besides, I think David and Cindy would enjoy it almost as much as we would."

"Ick," Sara said with a shudder. "You mean the Caruso's. That man gives me the creeps. And have you ever noticed that he and Sofia have the same sunglasses?"

With a quiet laugh, Grissom continued to work his hands under her shirt. As his warm, rough palm closed over a firm breast she gasped and ground down on his thick erection. "Come on, Sara," he whispered, as his lips fluttered over her jaw from her chin to the sensitive lobe of her ear. "Just let me see you out here in the sunlight."

Sara gave a little murmur of assent and he slid the shirt over her head. Several minutes later, as Grissom inhaled the pungent aroma of her arousal before bending forward to kiss her sex, a delicious feeling of déjà vu washed over him and he smiled.