Prayers to St. Anthony, Chapter Four
By: Chauncey10 aka MSCSIFANGSR
DISCLAIMER: I'm just playing with them.
A/N #1: Thanks to JellyBeanChiChi for her hard work on this chapter, especially that pesky passage we worked so hard to fix. Also I had to make a slight change in chapter one, because of the ending. You might not notice it, but I felt it was needed for continuity in the story.
A/N #2: This is by far the longest chapter of the story. The reason for original rating of Mature finally becomes apparent in this chapter. For all those who don't care for smut, then you can skip this chapter; you might miss something important, but who am I to tell you what to do? For the rest of you pervs, me included, enjoy! :)
Chapter 4
Sara told Grissom of all the cases and anecdotes of the past several days, including an incident involving Ecklie and all he could think about was the skin beneath her right ear. He wanted desperately to kiss that spot and since they were in such a close proximity to one another, he thought it would be possible without disturbing the delicate balance between their bodies.
He felt himself become aroused by the sound of her voice. He heard her, he really did. He just didn't know what she was saying.
Sara felt somewhat ill-at-ease. She didn't know if she wanted to bolt out of the door as quickly as possible or move slightly to the left and be enclosed in Grissom's arms. The heat radiating out of his body should be outlawed. She kept chattering on and on about different things that had happened in the five days he'd been gone and she could tell he wasn't listening, so she decided not to speak anymore.
After several moments of silence neither of them really noticed, Sara looked up into his royal blue eyes.
He looked back with an intensity she didn't know he possessed.
"So, we need to go over the Andersen case before we recreate it, don't you think?" His voice felt like velvet against her skin before he pulled back from their close position and opened the file, spreading the photographic evidence all over his coffee table.
Sara hadn't said anything, she merely pulled herself up into a more upright sitting stance and took one of the photos into her hand and studied it carefully.
"Since this isn't really a real reconstruction of a crime scene, what do you think really happened?" Her voice soft, behind the veneer of her tough exterior.
He pondered her question for a moment before answering honestly, "I think they ate a poisonous dinner, had sex, then died."
She attempted to slow down her rapid heart rate before she spoke again. "Okay, that makes sense. Poisoned how?" Her tone had changed from flirtatious to pure business without a blink. She was proud of herself.
"Mushrooms," he deadpanned.
"Okay. Intentional or accidental?" He noticed her eyes, the irises were bright, he could almost see the neurons firing in her brain.
"That I don't know," Grissom replied. "But I thought we could determine that by the recreating their last hour or so."
Her heart stopped. Did he just say that he wanted to recreate a sex scene with me?
He was still staring into her eyes. The irises enlarged, then narrowed. Gil held his breath. Oh, no, I'm flirting with her again.
Sara jumped up from the couch, like she'd been scorned by a flame. When she almost tripped over the recumbent Hank, she leaned down to absently scratch along Hank's spine as he lopped along beside her as she headed toward the kitchen. When she opened the door for the dog to go out, she took a deep breath of the fresh air. Then she watched as he made his way quickly to a bush to relieve himself.
"He can stay outside for a while if you want to shut the door. He's got a house out there and I put fresh water in his bowl there, just before you got here."
Sara slid the door closed, slightly slamming it, then walked over to the kitchen area.
Grissom finally made his way into the kitchen, quietly enjoying the fact that she appeared to be making herself at home. He watched her as she picked up a fancy, high end knife from the butcher block and began to chop the shiitake mushrooms into small pieces. He watched as she apparently took all her frustrations out on the poor mushrooms.
"So, you said that you had a case a long time ago and you came to the conclusion our victims had been poisoned by mushrooms. Would you care to explain the old case?"
Grissom moved to stand immediately behind her. His voice sounded so close to her ear when he began to speak, "I was in Minnesota before I worked here in Vegas. I had been a coroner in LA for a time before that," he took a deep breath of the essence of Sara Sidle. "I was just starting out as a CSI, maybe only for a year or so. The police had called me in to look at a case of a dead migrate worker, who picked mushrooms for a living and through many a twisted path, the coroner, a man named, Wade Wilson, and I finally were able to ascertain that the man had died from the ingestion of a type of Amanita mushroom." He really wanted to kiss that spot, there just beneath his lips. He forced himself to continue with his story. "He ingested coprinus comatus mushrooms so it was determined that our victim died of from mistaking poisonous mushrooms for non-poisonous ones."
Sara made a face as she began to chop the red pepper.
Grissom then quoted, 'There are old mushroom hunters and there are bold mushroom hunters but there are no old, bold mushroom hunters!'
As Grissom spoke, he had moved closer and closer to Sara's body.
She didn't dare interrupt him, she was enjoying the feel of him so, so close, entirely too much.
When he finished his statement, his whole front covered her back, touching her. Both were very aware of the effect the other was having on their senses.
Sara continued to cut and chop the vegetables, making short work of the carrots as she sliced them like a professional cook. When she leaned over slightly to reach for the bok choy, she felt the distinct outline of his arousal against her butt. She froze for a moment, reveling in the moment.
"Cite your source," purred out.
"The Minnesota Poison Control Center's website."
Grissom pressed against her again with a sigh before turning to the stove to turn the electric burner on.
Sara missed his presence immediately, the lack of warmth, the lack of the hardness that rested perfectly between her butt cheeks. She continued with the vegetables until all were sliced, diced or chopped as Grissom moved around the kitchen first looking for the wok and sunflower oil, then puttering around looking for that bottle of a good Italian red wine someone from a forensics conference had given him earlier that year.
When he had the opportunity to touch her, he did. Light brushes against her if he had to use his body to maneuver around her in the small space, lingering soft caresses if he used his hands. His soft beard rubbing any of her available skin. It felt right to touch her, here in his home. He couldn't remember the last time he'd invited anyone there. But he was happy with her there now, happier than he'd been in a long time.
For her part, Sara did everything to invite his touch. She was beyond aroused, bordering on a state of euphoria, as she tried not to let the implications of this reenactment cloud her judgment.
Sara found his beard to be soft as a down comforter as compared to the wiry feel she'd expected. She knew she was only here to help Grissom recreate the scene of a crime, but she did enjoy her part in the play.
The wok sizzled with the oil as Grissom threw in the vegetables and the spices. Sara returned his earlier favor and crowded him to the back, pressing her hard nipples into the muscles of his back. He lightly gasped as she skimmed a fingernail over the skin of his forearm as he stirred the food with his other hand.
Sara expertly opened the bottle of wine and allowed it to breathe as the food was cooked. She poured each about three-quarters of a glass, leaving them on the kitchen island.
Grissom placed the wok on the ceramic plate as the food cooled. He took a sip of the wine and handed a glass silently to Sara. There had been no need for words between the two of them and as they stared at each other, the need still had not surfaced. He grabbed a fork and stuck it into a bit of the stir-fry, then blew with his mouth to cool it.
Sara watched as his lips puckered above the carrot he'd snagged. She wished his lips were closer to hers, when unexpectedly he extended the fork to Sara's mouth, urging her to eat what he offered.
Gil inhaled sharply as she ingested the food. They began taking turns feeding the other or dabbling at the corners of the other's mouth with a napkin to remove evidence of the remains of the meal. They consumed the bottle of wine and ate the rye bread with fingers feeding the other. Grissom was the first to taste the other's skin. Sara was feeding him some bread, when her finger got in the way, he took the digit into his mouth and lightly sucked it.
Sara moaned.
Grissom grunted, "Mmmm."
Then the kisses started; the food forgotten.
Neither was sure who instigated their first kiss, but neither cared. They accepted the moment as it was. He pulled her closer, letting his hands roam the uncharted territories of his Sara. Her lips tasted of wine and vegetables, so he delved his tongue into her mouth. The certainty of what the two of them were about to do entered his mind. But his thoughts didn't stop him; they merely spurred him toward completion.
Sara took his tongue and mimicked the action of sucking it farther inside her mouth. Her brain told her to stop, but her heart and body told her otherwise. She pulled him closer, letting her own hands roam over his back. She recalled her glimpse of his back when he'd opened the door to her; her brain supplied the images, her hands explored the skin as she inched her way up into his t-shirt.
Without thought, Grissom removed his offending shirt, then allowed Sara to resume her soft massage of his back, as their kisses became more passionate. He backed her into the counter, pressing his need into her.
Sara moaned, again and it wouldn't be the last time, either.
He lifted her shirt to find she'd worn a burgundy colored bra, almost the same shade as the one in the crime scene photos.
She laughed when he removed it and with careful attention to detail, hooked an arm through the handle of his stove. She stood there waiting for him to notice that the two of them were shirtless in his kitchen.
Oh, he noticed and began kissing her again, while trying to divest her of her pants. He wanted to know if she had worn a matching set. He flicked his tongue across her collarbone as he looked down at her underwear, then Grissom nibbled his way down to her exposed breast in appreciation for her attention to detail.
She kicked her pants away, to free her legs. Mainly because Grissom's hands were roaming beneath her panties, squeezing and palming her ass. The wonderous nuzzling of his beard against her cheek had her fascinated. She wanted to touch him, so she began to unbutton his jeans. She hadn't noticed before, but he had worn button-flies and as each button was released, she got a better view of what Grissom kept concealed beneath his usual baggy pants.
Sara wasn't surprised by the fact he'd gone commando, she could not have been more surprised by anything other the fact they were about to conclude all these years of pent up sexual frustration they had suffered.
His penis sprang forth, as she took his length into her hand, pumping the shaft several times in slow succession.
Grissom's mouth covered her nipple, sucking and tugging with his teeth. Suddenly, Sara threw her leg up onto the counter and he was allowed access to her wet pussy through the leg of her underwear. The move startled him, but his hand instantly moved to the offering. The tip of his finger found her hardened clit; he circled it slowly making her moan all the more.
They continued kissing each other, mouth against neck, on lips, along the other's jawline, down the chest.
He assisted out of her panties, and she of his remaining socks. He leaned on the edge of the counter as Sara took his dick into her hand, masturbating him. He could only return the favor as they kissed, he reached down and caressed her, sliding a finger inside her wetness. They couldn't seem to get close enough; he edged off the counter and took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, swirling his tongue around the tip. Grissom swung her around and she instinctively threw her leg up on the counter again.
She guided him inside her in one thrust. Grissom grabbed her other leg and spread it out over his kitchen island. Sara Sidle was spread eagle on his counter top and he was fucking her. Life couldn't get any better.
Their bodies slammed against each other, the only sounds were skin on skin and moans of pleasure. Sara slipped her legs around Grissom's waist in order to pull him farther into her.
He loved watching her breasts jiggle as he plunged inside her again and again.
She loved the velvet smooth hardness of his cock as it moved across her g-spot.
The action slowed for a moment as Grissom lowered them to the floor, his hard penis still inside Sara's warmth. They pulled apart as Grissom lay down on the floor, pulling her sex to his mouth as she stood straddled over him. The sensation of his soft beard rubbing the insides of her thighs was almost too much for pleasure for her. But then he flicked his tongue over her clit. She ground down into him when she realized he had his dick in hand, keeping himself hard, for her. That's when the first orgasm slammed her, hard.
He had one hand on himself and a finger or two inside her and his tongue beating a rhythm against her clit. She tasted like tupelo honey. She writhed, while pinching her own nipples and running her hand through his soft silver hair. She came screaming not his name, but low pitched sounds that had never escaped from her in all her life.
He wanted to kiss her mouth, but he had to settle for the junction between her thigh and her honeypot as the spasms continued to rock her body. He lay down and smiled up at her, enjoying the view.
Sara then lowered herself onto his erect shaft as she leaned down to kiss the smirk off his face.
The 'oooof' sound he made when he was all the way inside her surprised him.
They began to move, together, tentatively at first and as the emotion and heat of the moment sped things up, their pace did too. Sara took the lead as she bobbled on his shaft as he lay on the floor with his eyes fixed on the woman on top of him. Their gaze never wavered as the friction between their bodies built. They slowed, languidly kissing before resuming a much faster pace.
He loved the heat that radiated around his prick as it moved inside her.
Sara loved watching him as she rode him.
She came once more.
Grissom felt the sensations on him and knew she was achieved another climax, he tried not to let himself reach the same peak. He wanted to be able to give her more pleasure, because he loved this new Sara, the one screaming his name as he fucked her senseless.
When she calmed down from her latest orgasm, Grissom deftly flipped her over onto her back, covering her body with his. The sweat dripped freely between them, as he slid down her body effortlessly. He let his body caress hers, Gil just wanted to touch each part of her. He moved back up and let his still hard erection rest in the juncture of her thighs.
"May I?" His words broke the silence between them since before the their meal was even finished cooking.
"Yes, please."
He surged into her, then slowly pulled out of her several times as he worked up his pace. Sara's legs managed to wrap around his waist to keep him in place as he pounded into her. Within minutes, maybe days, perhaps seconds, Gil could feel the pressure building in his balls, slowly making its way toward an eruption.
When Grissom came, the word "Sara" filled the kitchen in voice and tone he couldn't believe escaped his own mouth. He wondered if Sara recognized his cry of love and adoration in that single word, as she lay shattered beneath him.
Grissom rolled over nestling her on top of him.
"So, now I guess I'm dead," Sara spoke in an emotionless tone, not daring to look at him. She stared at the exposed radiator to her left, remembering that the Andersen's had a similar device in their apartment.
Grissom could't figure out what she meant. His silence and confused expression was the only clue Sara had to his state of mind.
"The recreation of the scene: I'm playing the part of the dead woman, Katie Andersen; you're Jason Andersen, remember? So, how did you get in the closet?" She prompted him.
"Sara, I wasn't thinking about the Andersen case just now and this wasn't about a crime scene. At least it wasn't for me." He hoped she understood that to him what they had just shared was a long time dream, not a crime scene reenactment.
Sara's eyes widened. "Did you just say..."
"Yes, this was us, not some reenactment."
"Oh, good," she said, obiviously relieved.
"Why is that?" Gil wondered out loud.
"I was afraid the best sex of my life," she paused, wriggling her eye brows, "was not for me or you, but for our jobs."
Grissom smiled and pulled her tighter to his chest.
"Rest now, Sara," he said as he prayed silently to himself.
O Holy St. Anthony, gentlest of all saints, miracles have waited on your word. I humbly thank you St. Anthony for answering my prayer and for helping me obtain that which I've desire for so long. I entrust onto you, this humble request: Never let me lose this. Oh, and I'm very thankful Sara is so good in the kitchen. Amen.
To be continued.
Reviews are deeply appreciated...:) One more chapter follows this one.
