Author: Kika (aka unbound)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: One day I'm going to see if you really mean it when you say those things to me. (G/S)
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just having a little fun.
Notes: Feedback is greatly appreciated.
Thanks: To Anya for her encouragement.
***
"Don't you think it's beautiful?" Sara asks, staring at the sky over Beatty, Nevada. She's never been one for gushing over the beauty of nature but the scene, a mixture of burnt orange and blue as the sun begins to set, moves her in a way she can't even begin to explain.
Maybe the case really had affected her.
"It's not as beautiful as you." He replies unexpectedly, moments later. His face is turned away from hers as he looks down at the dusty sand and gravel beneath their feet.
His admission startles her. "You know, you can't do that and go on pretending nothing has happened." She says, her voice laden with a hint of despondency.
"I'm sorry." He says, which he is, but maybe not for the right reasons.
"One day," She whispers as she leans in towards him, her breath hot against his skin. "I'm going to see if you really mean it when you say those things to me."
The sensation sends a shiver down his spine and he shuts his eyes slowly, trying to regain control of the situation, but as she slowly closes what's left of the space between them and places her lips gently against his own, he loses all thoughts of coherency.
The feel of her body pressed tightly against his overwhelms him; he feels powerless to resist.
His lips move against hers tentatively - almost experimentally - as he brings his hands up to cup her face within his palms. He nips at her lips gently, the strawberry lip balm she uses making itself evident to his taste buds, as he rakes his fingers through her soft, brown, hair.
Softly, he pushes her body backwards until they fall against the hood of the car, her legs bending backwards as they hit the bumper. Gently, he grabs her by her ass and elicits a barely audible moan from her lips. He raises her onto the hood of the car and, with a hand on her shoulder, lays her body before him flush against the metal.
The steely night wind shifts around them, reverberating in the desert atmosphere, but all she can hear is his breathing. It's the only noise that matters.
As her towers above her body, Grissom looks down at her, his eyes boring into hers like a man possessed. In that single moment, she sees a side to Grissom she's never witnessed before but always knew was there - hidden deep within. He's almost feral in nature as he raises her wrists above her head, firmly holding them in place with one hand as his other reaches for her waist, his fingers dancing across her bare skin as they silently seek permission.
She's always wanted him to pin her down for real.
He unbuttons her shirt with his free hand, uncovering the white cotton bra beneath as she smiles back at him. Slowly, he dips his head, his tongue darting out as it traces an imaginary line down from the spot behind her ear to the valley of her breasts. His finger trails across the trim of her bra, pulling the fabric back slowly as he lays butterfly kisses against her breast before bringing her nipple into his mouth and suckling gently.
"Grissom…" She murmurs contentedly, arching her back against the metal. She feels the urge to run her fingers through his silver hair, pulling him ever closer to her.
Sara knows she could move - if she really wished to - but after such a long period of passiveness on his part, she's torn between relishing the feeling of how dominant he can be and how much she wants to return his touches.
When he finally pulls away, dragging her body up with his, they're both breathless. She looks at him, mischievously, as her hands begin to wander down his body, stopping at the waistband of his pants. Her fingers undo the button before tackling the zipper, pulling it down slowly. She slips her hand in, feeling how much he wants her over the fabric of his boxers.
"Sara…" He sighs, his hands stilling her own. He looks around nervously, feeling exposed in more ways than one.
She raises her free hand slowly, brushing her fingers lightly against his cheek in a soothing motion. "There's no one else here, Grissom." She whispers, the air brushing against the skin of his neck. "It's just us."
"I know," He breathes out, heavily. "I just imagined it being more…romantic."
Despite her reluctance to admit it, Sara knows he's right. She never dreamed their first time would be like this and a small laugh escapes her lips. "It's not like I imagined it would happen on the hood of the car either."
"I'm sorry." He whispers sincerely, moving away slightly as he pulls his zip back up. He knows the mood is broken.
She reaches out for his wrist, pulling him towards her. "You have nothing to be sorry for," She says before pausing, a smirk apparent on her features. "Well…for tonight anyway."
"I didn't plan for it to happen this way," He frowns. "I don't think the Nye County Sheriff had either."
"I won't tell if you won't." She replies, lightly.
For a moment, there's an uncomfortable silence, neither knowing what to say. It feels awkward, which belies the situation they were in moments ago.
"I'll drive you home." He says, finally, his words breaking the thick atmosphere.
Sara scoots to the end of the hood, standing as she buttons her shirt up. "Thanks." She replies, heading for passenger's side and trying the door. It's unlocked and she climbs inside without pausing.
A few minutes later, he sits in the seat beside her. She knows why he took so long.
"So, how did you imagine it?" She asks, nudging against him playfully as he puts the key into the ignition.
"I don't know." He says, resting back against the seat and pausing briefly to contemplate. "A dinner lit by candlelight. Classical music playing in the background. Some conversation… Perhaps I'm old fashioned."
"No," She smiles. "I like it."
There's complete silence as they both stare ahead through the window, the sun just visible over the horizon.
He turns to look at her for a moment, his hand reaching out to hold hers. "Come to my place." He says.
It's not a question.
End