Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: So... this chapter kind of took on a life of its own. It didn't end where I thought it would, but I like to let my characters tell me their story, so who am I to correct them? Hope you enjoy it.

Aaaand, once again, thanks so much to my amazing beta, Pati. My writing is so much better because of you.

Let me know what you guys think!

Chapter Twenty Two:

I opened my eyes, once again, to find Anni in my bed. Anni in underwear and a midriff-baring tank top, running a fingernail thick with polish over one side of my face. I blinked sleepily, and then remembered the night before and glanced over my shoulder uncertainly. Dr. Grissom, still with his glasses perched on his nose, was asleep behind me. I frowned and turned back to Anni, who grinned and whispered, "Did you finally fuck him?"

My eyes bugged and I gritted out a nearly-silent, "Shh!"

She giggled and, in my sleepy state, I only just realized that we were both in bed with Dr. Grissom, and she was the one wearing the least clothing. I was in sleep shorts and a t-shirt, and Dr. Grissom was in jeans and a polo. I felt my eyes narrowing without even meaning them to, and quickly changed them back to normal.

"No, I didn't. And just so you know, he's not really the type of guy to wake up to you in bed with us and think he's hit the jackpot. …He'd probably take off running."

She snorted quietly and rolled her eyes. "So he's gay? …Why's he in your bed, again, if you're not doing him?"

With a flare of irritation, Sara looked over her shoulder again and then whispered back, "He came over with Chinese food. We watched TV and cuddled and… kissed a little."

She raised a perfectly shaped, indignant eyebrow at me. "...No wonder he's not interested in a three-some. He probably can't get it up."

"Anni!" I scolded, looking over my shoulder in concern again. "…He… he can get it up just fine, okay? I've felt it, but… He just…" I stopped, because I had no idea in the world why things were progressing so slowly. He'd come over, bearing extra egg rolls and bottles of coke, and we'd sat on my bed with our backs against the headboard, watching MTV and eating out of the containers with chopsticks. I offered to change the channel, but he'd just smiled at me softly and said it was just fine. I hadn't put on make-up or dried and styled my hair, feeling much too exhausted, but rather had slipped into the shorts and t-shirt I was wearing now, and pulled my wet hair into a loose bun. I figured that if the man had quit his job for me, he probably wouldn't run at the sight of me without eyeliner. Hopefully.

Once we'd put the Chinese food containers aside, he'd gently turned my face to his and kissed me. He tasted like sweat and sour sauce and his mouth was warm and gentle, and before I'd known what was happening I was pressed back into my pillows, getting the full effect of being surrounded by him. Oh, he was a good kisser, especially when it wasn't in the throes of passion but soft and lazy and lingering. I had images fluttering in my brain about lazy afternoons, sleeping in and making love even before we were fully awake, sunlight filtering in through the blinds to bathe us in warmth. He was leaning over me, but not quite on top of me, and yet there was no questioning that he was everywhere, all around me. I absolutely couldn't help the fact that my hands slid into his hair and a moan rumbled up from the back of my throat like a self-satisfied purr.

But it didn't last. Ten minutes, maybe, of the most torturous just-kissing I'd ever endured, and then he pulled back breathlessly, told me I was beautiful, and suggested we find something on TV. It was a blow to my ego, certainly, that I once again needed to change my underwear because of this man and yet he remained wholly unaffected. And then I laid my head on his chest to watch the television, my right arm tucked beneath me, my left hand resting over his heart, my left leg up on his thighs… and I felt it. It. No, I was not the only one who wanted this to go farther, and yet it wasn't.

I sighed softly. "He's just… old-fashioned." Maybe that was it. …Oh god. Maybe he was religious and wanted to wait until marriage. Jesus Christ, I wasn't even sure I wanted to get married, let alone wait how-many-fucking-years to have sex. I frowned, and Anni giggled.

"And it's driving you crazy." Her voice became sing-song. "Some-one-is-horn-y!"

Once again I flinched and looked over my shoulder, willing him to sleep on, peacefully and obliviously. "You need to go before he wakes up, Anni, or it'll never happen!"

She scowled, and then giggled. "Oh man, you're probably dying if you're this desperate. Why don't you just go buy yourself a vibrator? …You could always borrow mine, I guess, as long as you run it through the dishwasher afterwards…"

"GO, Anni!" I said as forcefully as I could in a whisper, and she giggled again and slipped out of bed, walking back through the bathroom and into her own room without making any effort to cover up the skin her tiny thong exposed. Once her door closed behind her, I breathed a sigh of relief and rolled over to face my elusive entomologist.

Slowly, softly, I reached out and removed his glasses from his face, folding them neatly and laying them to rest on the nightstand behind me. His face was clear, his eyelashes long and dark on his cheeks, which already carried a slight stubble, despite how smooth his cheeks had been this afternoon. His curls were dark and sensual in the dark of the room, and I wished fervently that tonight had turned out differently. Holding my breath, I eased myself between his knees and laid down, my head on his chest, stomach to his groin, and hips and legs between his legs. I let my arms wrap around him, up under his t-shirt, and buried my nose against his chest and inhaled deeply, liking that he smelled like laundry soap and me, sleepy male and books.

I relaxed there, feeling warm and safe and comforted by the closeness and the smoothness of his skin under my palms, thinking that maybe if I let myself, this could be a really good thing for me. Sure, I was frustrated enough to start humping his leg if we didn't fuck soon, but… I felt my lips turn up a little, sentimentally. But this could be… sweet. Nice. Something more than what I was used to, and maybe something better than what I had previously thought I'd wanted. I let my eyes flicker closed, thinking of going back to sleep, when I felt him stirring beneath me.

His eyes flickered open once, and then closed again, but his hands lifted up and his fingers threaded through my hair, which had fallen out of its ponytail sometime in the night. He hummed softly and his eyelids fluttered, and against my stomach he started to get… hard. There was a part of my mind that fought this—he was clearly in a state of half-consciousness, and morning wood was a natural biological response. The other part of me, however—the part that was luxuriating in the feel of his fingertips moving against my scalp—could hardly keep from tearing his clothes off. I swallowed and whispered, "…Are you awake?"

"Mmm." He grunted. It was not the clear response of someone who was wide awake, but it was an answer. He'd heard me. I arched my back, pressing my stomach against the now-impressive erection beneath me. "…Mmm!" He groaned and moved his hips against me. I needed no further encouragement. Especially not with Anni's irritating and yet still powerful words ringing in my head. Why hadn't he tapped this, if he wanted it so bad? Quick and silent, I undid his button and zipper and yanked his underwear—boxers, I learned—down enough to expose his hard, hot, throbbing length. His eyes were sliding open in surprise, but my mouth was already descending, and there was very little he could do to stop me, really.

I was convinced that the positively guttural sound that escaped him would wake Anni, but he was gripping my hair like the proverbial caveman, and he could drag me off to his cave if he wanted to. Hell, I'd basically been working on that since August. I knew that once he came to his senses, I ran the risk of him putting a stop to the entire thing, so I set myself to the task of preventing that. Which, you know, was not all that difficult an undertaking. I gave a killer blowjob, and I knew it.

Usually I liked to tease a little… Draw it out, let anticipation build… but that tactic only worked when the man in question was much more consenting than my Dr. Grissom was. My alternative was to bring him to the brink as fast as humanly possible, and keep him there. With that in mind, I relaxed my throat and took him as deep as I could, all the way into my mouth, willing my gag reflex to behave itself.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he said, on a gasp, and his fists tightened in my hair. And though I couldn't exactly smile… I was on cloud nine. I had him.

I let him slide out with nothing short of relief—my eyes had been watering—and held him in my right hand, moving up and down, sucking hard enough to make my jaw hurt so I could keep my mouth tight around him. I would make this man come if it killed me, and then I might finally feel secure, instead of this awkward in-between shit. Fucking Anni, suggesting everything BUT the idea that he just might not desire me very much, and letting the absence of those words taunt me. I had argued her other points and won. I felt confident that he was not gay and could get it up—obviously—but the idea that maybe there was something unappealing about me, or that even if he was physically attracted, he was holding himself back because on some other level I didn't meet his standards…

My tongue ran along his slit, tasting his salty sweetness, and his hips bucked up hard, his head rolling on my pillows. I felt confident, perfectly in control, and the twitching, straining muscles in his stomach and thighs told me that he was so very close to losing it. I backed off, taking the time to run my tongue up the underside of him, base to tip, and circled the head under his foreskin, making another of those guttural groans slide from his open, panting mouth, ending with a slight whimper as I swallowed him again.

His hands in my hair caught my head tightly between palms and slowly but surely I was being pulled up to him. I felt a flare of panic, followed by a rationalization—he probably didn't want to lose it without doing anything for me first. Maybe he'd even fuck me. We were getting somewhere!

No. No, apparently not. He wrapped sweaty arms tightly around me and, still drawing in labored breaths, buried his face in my shoulder and shuddered. "Oh, god, honey. Sara. Oh god, you… You don't know what you do to me."

Clearly, not enough. Not if he had the willpower to drag me up and make me stop and to try and calm himself now. I felt tears in my eyes and looked up at my ceiling, trying to fight them back, and was surprised a moment later when he lifted his head and roughly placed his mouth over mine, kissing me almost punishingly. When he pulled back, my eyes were heavy-lidded and uncertain, and he just looked…horny. The man looked like it was taking everything he had in him and more to keep from pushing me back down and demanding I suck his cock. He exhaled heavily and then groaned his frustration.

"The things you do to me, Sara. You make it hard to be a gentleman."

I frowned. "…Maybe I don't want a gentleman."

In between pants, he smirked, and turned me to face him with a hand under my chin. "No, maybe not. But you deserve one." He pecked my lips softly, and then slid his hands down his body, tucked himself back in, buttoned, and zipped. "Let's try to get some sleep, okay?"

He pressed me to his chest like nothing had happened—like I hadn't had his fucking dick in my mouth moments before, deep-throating him—and held me tight. He hummed softly, rested his chin on my head, and murmured, "Good night." His throbbing hard-on between us told me that he was not remotely close to sleep, but his words had a tone of finality that left no room for discussion. With the taste of him still in my mouth, I huffed and closed my eyes, wondering whether I'd get any sleep after this.