Disclaimer: Not mine.
When he didn't speak, she spoke for him. "You came to your senses. I get it." She arched her body against his, to get leverage to lower first one foot and then the other back to the ground. She did not remove her arms from around his neck, however, and his hands lay awkwardly at his sides, no longer needed to hold her up. Once absent a reason to grip her thighs, however, he felt he very much needed another. He did not back away from her, but held her gaze, his breathing slowly returning to normal.
She tilted her head slightly, and the corners of her mouth rose. Apparently he had not completely come to his senses… maybe he just needed some convincing. "It's a shame, though. You revealed to me just how hard it is for you to keep avoiding my advances… you broke your resolve… and you still didn't get to see me in anything less than what you saw this afternoon, in your office." She arched her body yet again, pushing off the wall and pressing her hips against his as she rose to standing and then turned herself around and leaned against the wall, her back now to him.
He watched her, his heart hammering hard again. Was she truly telling him to unzip her dress? She glanced over her shoulder at him, as if to ask him what he was waiting for, and without thinking about his actions he rose a shaking hand to the zipper and slowly unzipped it to the bottom, revealing the clasp of her bra and the waist band of lacy underwear. He drew a shaking breath as she turned herself around again, slipping the shoulders of the dress down her arms and allowing the silken thing to fall down her legs with more speed than he would have imagined.
He had not imagined Sara to be the type of girl to wear matching sets, though he considered briefly that she might wear different things to a wedding as opposed to work. His eyes roamed greedily over her body, as she stood vulnerable in front of him, unable to tear himself from something he had imagined so many times he could not now count them. The underwear were simple—white lace over solid, baby pink—the waist band the only stretch of fabric connecting the front to the back over her hips, a pink bow at the center of each hip. The bra was matching, a little pink bow in the center and at the junctures of cup and strap. He trembled and Sara stepped closer, her newly exposed breasts brushing against his chest.
"It's a new set… did you want to feel? I love how rough lace can be…"
A heat and a tingling had spread through his body, from deep in his stomach out to his fingers and down his thighs into his toes. He hesitated, and without realizing it, his breathing had sped up again, though he hadn't touched her since she'd pulled herself down from him. The tingling intensified as he thought about her legs wrapped around his waist again. He drew in a breath, loud and tremulous, and Sara smiled almost wickedly, quickly replacing that expression with one of innocence.
She leaned back against the wall again, leaving her hips out half a foot, within inches of his, and very slowly pressed her wrists together and raised them above her head, against the wall, as if she were restrained there. Something deep within his chest shook fiercely and finally broke when she dragged her tongue slowly across her top lip—his resolve. Before her tongue could finish its journey it was tangled up in his and his hands were dragging her back up, into his arms, those long, luxurious legs wrapping even more tightly around his waist, where the extent of his desire had become painfully obvious. She gasped and then moaned into his mouth as he pinned her to the wall by his hips and allowed his hands to roam over her body, squeezing and then finally tearing the lace from her breast to feel it in his hand. The nipple was hard against his palm and the entire breast was taut and uplifted—begging to be explored.
Without wasting a moment, his hands wound around her back and unclasped the bra with the skills of a master, tossing it aside almost disdainfully, and lowering his head into her heaving bosom. Her hips rocked up against him as soon as his tongue made contact with the aforementioned nipple, and she let out a moan that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and made his need suddenly too urgent to control—it was not in surprise or slight enjoyment, but absolute longing and pleasure. He toyed with it only a moment, and then drug himself up, his frantic eyes begging her to lower her head and acknowledge him. As soon as their eyes met, the communication was clear—he wanted to know where the bedroom was.
"Last door… on the left… in the hallway." He took her quickly there, careful not to bump into walls, and still managing to kiss, lick, and nibble parts of her chest intermittently until he reached the door and pushed her through it. He left the light off, moving more slowly now, to set her gently on the bed—across the wide way, rather than how one would sleep. She held onto him, so that he could not stand fully upright once he had laid her down, and his eyes caught hers again, questioning her unwillingness to let go. "Don't… get cold feet again."
And though that was certainly like him, Grissom smiled all the same—did she really think he had the strength of will to pull himself from her now? He'd finally had a taste of the temptress of half a decade, and there was no part of his body that wasn't aching for her. He dipped in more slowly, wanting to let the passion build, and kissed her again. His hands found her breasts and squeezed them gently, his thumbs running over her nipples until she moaned in his mouth and then he let his hands move down, tracing her silhouette, feeling the lace over her and gripping it to hitch her hips up, so that he could push himself against her while still kneeling.
She rocked her hips when she felt him, his erection a blatant distraction even through his pants, and then moved her hands down frantically, undoing his belt and pulling it out from his loops to rest on the bed behind her. Her deft fingers found the clasp then, and they slid down his legs without assistance. He broke the kiss, but kept eye contact, as he slipped out of his shoes and socks and stepped out of the pants now around his ankles. He moved himself back up to her, and then gasped aloud to find her hand waiting for him there, slipping him out through the hole and gripping him tightly, pumping him slowly. His head fell against her chest again and he lay there panting, unable to gather the strength to stop something that felt so unbelievable.
"Lay down." He lifted his head when she spoke, and after a moment, understood and moved himself to lay at the pillows, across the bed. She crawled up to him, pressed her lips to his in a searing kiss, and pulled the undershirt off as quickly as possible. She took her time then, kissing his neck and down his chest as his hands roamed over her body, delighting in that which he had only ever dreamed of. When she reached the waistband of his underwear, she gripped and pulled it down with enough force that he gasped again, partly from how turned on he was by her aggression, and partly because he was now completely exposed. She kissed his inner thighs until he thought he would explode from anticipation, and then flicked her tongue quickly and lightly across the tip of his erection.
His hips rocked up without his meaning them too, and his breath was suddenly caught in his throat. She repeated the motion, to the same end, and then dragged her tongue slowly up the length of him, from base to tip. He moaned and shivered, heat spreading across his skin again and building, liquid and burning, near the base of his spine. It was when she did this again that he lowered a hand and caught her face gently, pulling her up to him. Her eyes were distraught—confused and concerned that he hadn't liked what she'd been doing to him. It was quite the opposite.
"Sara, darling… you… you don't have to do this. I told you, I want to be with you, not the person you think I want you to be."
A slow smile crept over her lips. "I want to do this. As… long as you like it?" Her hand had snuck back down, unbeknownst to him, and she dragged a single fingernail lightly up the path her tongue had made a moment before. His "Oh god!" and moan were enough of an answer for her, and she dived back down, no longer teasing but taking him into her mouth and sucking, her tongue sliding up and down the base as she moved. He groaned, no longer even aware of anything else around him, his hips arching up and rocking in time with her movements. Fire raced through his body as the pressure deep within him built higher and higher. His hands reached down and tangled in her hair and he was moaning her name when he realized he was too close—he wasn't going to be able to stop in time. Before he could warn her, however, her mouth had pulled from him and the pressure decreased. His entire body shook from being raced to the brink and never sent over. He looked down at her, panting, about to apologize, when she took him in her hands again.
Using her mouth and her hands she brought him to the edge and back again twice more before he'd absolutely had it and pulled her up to him and then flipped them over so he was on top of her more quickly than she could grasp what had happened. She opened her mouth to speak, but he covered it with his own, and then pulled up. "It's my turn now."
He, too, started slow, moving his kisses across her neck and then down her body, spending a rather longer time at her chest than she had at his. She moaned softly at his gentle tugs and nips and her left hand searched for the belt she had left of the bed. Finally grasping it, she brought it up and over her head, looping it around one of the wrought-iron curving bars in her headboard and tucking her hands into the loop before pulling it tight. When she tightened it, the buckle hitting the iron with a clang, her hands became immobilized—unable to free herself the way she was bound. At the sound, Grissom looked up from kissing her stomach in alarm and, seeing her hands at the headboard, moved up her stomach to see what she had done.
His eyes narrowed in surprise. "How did you do that? …Sara, I told you that—" She interrupted him.
"Just because I do something beyond the bare minimums in bed doesn't mean it's for a bad reason. Grissom…Gil," She corrected, a smile creeping over her face at his look of surprise, "If we'd been on that Delta airlines flight, I would still have joined the Mile High Club—it just would have been because I sincerely couldn't wait 'til we landed to get my hands on you, rather than to hide myself… So please, just trust me?"
His eyes remained narrowed, the skin between his eyebrows wrinkled. She had the strangest urge to kiss the crumpled skin, and did so when his silence continued. "Now, didn't you say it was my turn?" She tugged her arms gently, to remind him of her restraints, and smiled wide when desire and amusement flashed simultaneously in his eyes. He kissed her quickly, biting her bottom lip as he pulled away, and moved back down to her stomach to continue where he had left off.
He kissed and sucked his way down her hips and then back up her inner thighs, his short beard tickling and scratching the delicate skin and making her moan under her breath and arch her back before he had even gotten close to touching her. As his mouth and gently fingertips trailed over her skin—avoiding at all costs the area he most wanted to explore—and her breathing steadily increased to a fevered pant, she thought idly how easy and natural it felt to be with him; she hadn't yet worried about how she sounded or looked or doubted his reactions to her.
His hands slid up her hips, his whiskers still tickling between her legs as he kissed most and more passionately towards her center. His fingers wrapped around the thin waist band at her sides and inched her underwear down, little by little, moving his mouth up to follow them down and stopping as she rocked her hips up again—a silent pleading to have her need satisfied. He slid the panties the rest of the way down her legs, keeping his face right above her still, and blowing softly on her. Her resultant moan was half a desperate whine, and then she was begging him.
"God… please, please touch me, please don't make me wait anymore…"
A single finger slid down her center, pushing just a fraction into it. She gasped and moaned out another "please," tugging now at her restraints, fed up waiting for him. He smiled, feeling himself harden further—if that were possible—at how much she wanted him. Without warning, he plunged his finger into her, pushing in and out fast and then adding another when it became clear she was more than ready for it. She was completely uninhibited in her desire—grinding against his fingers, rocking her hips up, and letting out a nonsensical stream of noises, unable to express the pleasure he was giving her. He slowed his fingers then, and a whimper escaped her lips, only to be silenced by his tongue flicking over her clitoris.
"Oh god! Oh god! Gil! Please, please, please…" Her words faded out into another stream of moans as his tongue flicked her again, and then working his fingers up to speed again. When he felt her tighten around his fingers, desperate for every last drop of pleasure, he lowered his mouth to her, sucking and licking her clit while his fingers pounded in and out of her.
A thousand sensations were sizzling across her skin, burning and tingling and making her tremble with each new wave of pleasure—she was so close, she was going to come any second—her hips froze and she tightened around him, bracing and praying for release. As soon as she froze, his fingers and mouth fell from her and were immediately replaced by the entire length of him burying himself deep inside her. The tremors picked up where they left off and without any conscious intention to, she was thrusting hard against him as just his presence inside her pushed her full force over the edge of her climax. He continued his motion, slowing down as her screams subsided, until she was silent and panting and so out of her mind she could hardly focus her eyes on him. When she did, he bent down again, kissing her lips softly and sweetly. He broke from her and unstrapped her hands quickly.
She looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest, delirious with pleasure—but not so much that she did not notice the smug look on his face. Between pants, she asked him softly, "What?"
A grin broke across his face that he seemed unable to control. "Just… a little proud of how easy that was. I've never made anyone… come…" Sara couldn't help but smile as the awkward phrasings fell from his lips, "quite so quickly." She rolled her eyes.
"You shouldn't be that proud. It took seven years of foreplay." But nothing could wipe the grin from his face and, once her breathing had slowed, he started moving inside of her again, gently rocking against her, his eyes locked on hers. Sara tried her hardest to keep her eyes open—it was intense and sensual and erotic to stare deeply into those blue eyes as they slowly built their pleasures up together. This wasn't just sex right now, no matter what Grissom decided to do about this night afterwards—this was making love.
Eyes locked together, even when they met to kiss, tongues trailing over each other and moans reverberating in the others' mouth, they rocked together in a perfect time with each other. They built off each others' movements and sounds, racing each other as each thrust became more urgent, bodies melded together. He pumped harder and harder into her as their breathing peaked and the fire across their skin burned its brightest and concentrated deep within them. Suddenly Sara let out a scream, her eyes closing in pleasure as her orgasm ripped through her, redefining pleasure and stunning all her senses into oblivion as she tightened around him, sending him into oblivion with her. They rocked together, screaming or silent, neither knew nor could tell, until every last ounce of energy had been spent and every tremor of gratification had been stilled.
He had collapsed against her body, breathless and boneless and unable to support himself a minute more. Her arms wrapped around him as her legs fell away and her fingers wrapped into the sweat-matted salt and pepper curls at the back of his head. After a moment, when their breathing had slowed, he reluctantly pulled from her and lay on his side, pulling her to her side to lie against his chest so he could wrap his arms around her too. She slipped her right leg between his and sighed deeply, her face buried in his chest hair, a warm air of satisfaction and contentment drifting sleepily around them. Neither of them spoke a word, nor even had the energy to think, as they feel deeply and soundly asleep.
