Hello friends.
I was logged out of my previous account under the pen name GSRASALWAYS - and I can't remember my email to get back in... so here we are, starting fresh.. and I'm HEARTBROKEN because I had so many draft stories saved in my documents on that account that will never be finished or written the same way again.
I am truly so sorry for the confusion, but it's still me. Same writer. Same style.. just a little crushed and sad at the moment. I would appreciate any follows, if you're coming from my old account.
All stories posted on GSRASALWAYS belong to me, and are my work and mine only.
Thank you for reading, and as always the reviews and favourites are much appreciatedand what fuel my creativity!
This story takes place during 1x04 because I refuse to believe that aftersixteen years, Grissom would still pick test tubes over Sara. I'm certain he figured it out after that cut scene and took her to bed. She clearly had intimacy on the mind, he just needed a bit of... reminding.;)
All mistakes are my own, and some of this was written in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep, so please forgive me. I hope you enjoy nonetheless.
GSR, as always.
In The Mood
Sara stepped out of the bath and slowly dried herself off with the luxurious hotel towel. She'd spent the better part of an hour soaking in the lavender scented jet tub, shaving her legs and letting the heat penetrate her tight shoulders.
How long had it been, since she'd had a relaxing bath like this?
At least a couple of years. The Ishmael certainly didn't have a soaker tub in it's small living quarters. The last time was likely at a hotel as well, although the hotels they tended to stay at down south weren't quite as exquisite as Catherine's Eclipse.
This room, the entire suit was far more luxurious than anything she'd stayed in before. Not only was the bedroom an entirely separate room with French doors that opened and closed for privacy, the bathroom alone was at least half the size of her old Vegas apartment.
There was a walk in shower with beautiful fogged glass doors and an amazing massaging shower head, a two sink marble counter with a beautiful big mirror and of course.. the large corner tub with jets and a selection of about a half a dozen expensive bath oils.
On her first night, even, Catherine had apparently ordered a fruit and cheese tray and a nice bottle of rich red wine to their room. If only she knew Grissom hadn't actually been with her the first two nights in the city. The wine was left unopened, and still sat on the bar counter in the main room.
Catherine really went all out to make sure their stay was comfortable.
I guess that's what you get when you're friends with a grandfathered Casino mogul and you return to the city to aid a mutual friend.
Catherine's texts hadn't exactly been innocent, and her intentions clearly not rated PG.
She told Sara to "Enjoy the bath oils ;)" and "Make good use ofthe California King bed ;)"... ever the nosy, prodding friend... but after their history together, it made her smile.
Thing was, Sara was more than willing and ready to "enjoy the bath oils" and "make good use of the California King bed"... it was her husband who, once again, wouldn't get his damned head out of the microscope.
She was happy he was enjoying himself back in the lab, she really was. Especially since he hadn't been feeling well with his land sickness and was apprehensive to return to the lab at all.
He'd given up his work in the lab years ago.
Had hardly touched a microscope since, let alone talked "forensics" to her.
Although it was a major part of their lives and a huge part of their history together back in the day, it wasn't them anymore. They no longer bonded over convictions and case files or printing techniques and scene reconstructions. Now, rather, they bonded over the excitement of a family of whales passing their boat or spotting a rare fish or bug on their expeditions.
Ever since he had landed in Vegas, Grissom had been his typical self: he threw himself back into the work.
It was endearing to watch. He had clearly, even if he did deny it, missed the work.. missed the thrill of the chase.. missed the puzzles. It was evident in the way he thoroughly searched David's garage and property and the way his eyes lit up in the morgue. The advancement of technology and technique admittedly went over this head at first, but as he learned and tried it out, his face emanated with pure joy and fascination.
Seeing him back in his element, back in his role as a scientist, was turning her on to no end, but he was so consumed in it he barely even noticed her subtle attempts to... you know.
They'd made love in the walk in shower his first night here, more or less as a "hello" of sorts. He wanted to freshen up after his flight, and she was feeling cheeky and decided to join him. It was good, despite his aging knees and her tired back. It was always good, with Gil.
She praised herself daily that she still kept up with yoga on the deck of the boat, and kept her body in relatively good physical shape because she could still contort herself into various positions, or hold her weight on one leg when need be.
But that was a week ago now, and they had barely touched one another since.
Maybe it was her middle aged raging hormones, after all she was fifty and felt as if she were in the prime of her sexual desires... or maybe it was the nostalgia of being back in Las Vegas and working together again in the lab... but Sara wanted him. Badly.
And honestly? Her meeting with Nora earlier had fired her up and made her angry and she'd learned over the years that the best release for her anger was.. a release. It was something he learned quickly too. If she was pissed, he'd kiss her and take her to bed. It worked every time.
They'd snuggled at night in the huge hotel bed, like they always did no matter where they stayed.
Gil had always been a very physically affectionate partner.
You'd never have known it, back before their intimate relationship began.. but once they had come together, finally, he had shown her just how much he loved to touch and be touched.
In the privacy of her orange and purple apartment or in the solitude of his grey and blue condo he could hardly keep his hands to himself. Often, in a suggestive, sexual way.. but also in an innocent, loving way.
A gentle brush of his palm along the small of her back as she washed some dishes. His fingers softly tucking a strand of her curly hair behind her ears as she read a case file to prepare for court. The way he would come up behind her and begin to massage her tense shoulders after a day at the dump, or crawling through some kind of play ground or tight spaced crime scene. How he'd hold her body close to his, a warm and soft big spoon, and delicately trace circles and other intimately private shapes and swirls along the inch or two of exposed skin between her pants and t-shirt as she fell asleep in his arms.
He'd always been tender. Affectionate. Thorough.
He'd always been an attentive lover. None of that had changed as they had aged together the last six years.. in fact, it had only gotten sweeter.
On the boat, he would make them coffee every single morning, and bring it to her in their queen sized bed down below as she was reading the local paper (often in Spanish or Portuguese), or doing a Sudoku or Crossword puzzle in her book. He'd poke fun at her for wearing his reading glasses because she would deny up and down that she was getting old and needed her own pair. He'd place a kiss on her cheek, and smell of coffee and it would melt her heart every time.
Being married, or, re married to Gil Grissom was the best decision she had ever made. Ever since she stepped foot onto that boat six years ago, she'd been his priority. Every day. Every night. Every morning. Every second.
So, she supposed now that he was preoccupied... she was rather... jealous.
Jealous of Las Vegas. The lab. The science.
It was ridiculous, really. She knew it was childish.
But it was like being back in the city consumed them both, and drew them right back down into their pattern from 2006 of "work first, sex second".. and it was driving her nuts.
She knew her husband had a strong resolve and was a tough nut to crack, after all it had taken him years to so much as kiss her, but she also knew he couldn't resist a robe and a ponytail.
She smiled as she pulled the hotel robe on and looked out at the bright strip below their suite, as she tied the knot on the fluffy garment.
Her husband may be many things, but he is nothing short of an imperfect man who was a sucker for a good bath robe. It was what she was wearing the night he stopped by unannounced sixteen years ago and made love to her the first time. It was also one of the first gifts he'd given her - a silky floral pink robe.
She wasn't sure if it was the thrill of the bareness underneath, or the excitement of unwrapping the knot to reveal it, either way.. he could never resist her in a robe. It was like his kryptonite.
His second weakness was her hair pulled back in a bun or a ponytail. He remembered her hair from the day they met over twenty years prior. He'd even told her once, after several years of being together, that he would fantasize often in the privacy of his condo about pulling her hair out of it's tie and running his fingers through it.
If she was going to pull his head out of the work and get what she wanted.. needed.. she needed to pull out the big guns and seduce him properly.
Legs shaved, skin smelling sweet, and wrapped in a bathrobe, hair up.. she knew he'd never be able to resist her...
As she pulled open the double doors to meet him in the living room, her cheeky grin quickly faded into a frown when she saw the display of lab equipment and paperwork scattered about the room.
"This is not what I had planned for tonight."
In their brief conversation, he barely looked up.
It was god damn infuriating.
She watched his eyes glance over her, up and down in a slow motion.. and then nothing.
"What is it, Sara?"
After explaining her plan to him, going into detail as to how they would hopefully get their eyes on those case files from Nora Cross, he nodded and eyes went right back to the work in front of him.
With a sigh, she spoke softly, "Were you planning to come to bed anytime soon?"
His eyes came back up to meet hers over his glasses in his old 'supervisor' way, "I can. Are you going to sleep?"
"I wasn't going to sleep right away, no." She grinned, trying to convey here intentions.
Again, his eyes traced over her and this time she saw the lightbulb go off when his eyebrows rose. God damn it, Gil. It's about time.
"Ah." He nodded, placing the test tube down, and removing his gloves slowly.
"It's been a week, Gil.." she whispered as she stepped closer to him with a sensual smile across her face and reached out her long fingers for his collar. "And I don't know... being back in Vegas is doing something to me..."
"Mm." He grinned as he wrapped his arms around her waist and landed his soft beard and lips to her bare neck. Thank God. "You smell nice. Did you have a bath?"
"Lavender." She nodded, her knees turning week, allowing her hands to explore his chest as they had hundreds of times before, finally landing back at his top button and beginning to free it. "The tub is huge. You should have joined me."
"Next time." He mumbled as his lips finally crashed down on hers and his hands found her pony tail.
Impossible to resist. She smiled to herself as his fingers made quick work of the elastic and her wavy hair cascaded down around her face and into his open, welcoming hand.
"What exactly did you have in mind for tonight, then, dear?" He smiled against her jaw line as her fingers undid the final button of his shirt, opening it to reveal his black under shirt.
With a laugh, she responded in a husky voice, "I thought we could see what movies were on cable."
"Ah." He kissed her lips again, before backing them up towards the bedroom, toying with the tie on her robe, "I think I saw the hotel is playing re runs of Jurassic Park..."
She gasped as his right hand found it's way into the robe before he undid it, and cupped her breast, "Sounds.. uhhh... perfect."
He smiled against her lips in his ever boyish way, as he continued to lead them towards the bed, the backs of her knees eventually hitting the mattress.
...
By the time they'd made it to the bed, his button up and t-shirt had been long discarded on the floor and the knot on her Eclipse robe untied, leaving the long garment to hang open.
"Has it really been a week?" He whispered tenderly against her collarbone as he kissed her skin delicately and pushed the robe off her shoulders with intention.
"Mmhm." Sara managed, barely, as his hands massaged her hips. She could feel his need pressing against her through his slacks and feel the heat radiating off of him in her favourite way.
Without warning, Grissom turned her around so that her bare back was pressed almost flush to his bare chest and cupped her breasts from behind, his fingers toying with her nipples, eliciting a deep moan from his wife. Her reaction made him smile as he traced feather light kisses along her shoulder blades and eventually his mouth landed at her neck again. She did smell of lavender and sometime distinctly Sara.
His memory flooded back to their first night together, long ago, right here in this city.
The city had changed significantly in the last sixteen years.. but it would always hold the same warped charm and the memories of their early days together.
The deeply suggestive and intimate looks on the neon coloured strip if they had been called into work during one of their dates.
The way they would drive in silence down the busy streets on the way out of town to a scene, his hot hand pressed firmly on her equally as warm thigh, the tension in the car full of desire and need.
The way, once she had a key, she would show up to his condo after her shift and either join him in the kitchen to help prepare dinner or, his favourite, crawl into bed naked beside him and wrap her long flexible limbs around his sleeping body.
He'd realized he had gotten wrapped up in the work this past week, and while she didn't complain, rather encouraged, she must have been feeling rather neglected.
She was, after all, a very physical woman.
He'd learned that the first time they'd made love.
She was dressed similarly then, too.
Her hair was up in a damp bun from the shower she'd just emerged from. The air was thick with moisture and smelt like some kind of peaches and cream soap, he remembered. And she stood there, in the doorway, dressed in nothing but an old grey, fluffy bath robe that made her look easily three times her size.
Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the water and likely from the tears she'd shed after their emotional day rescuing Nick. Her eyes were dark, impossibly dark. She had not a stitch of makeup on, revealing her freckles and setting his heart on fire.
Sixteen years ago she'd been much the same: a temptress. A vixen. Knowing exactly what she was doing and touching him with clear intent.
Even now as he had her back turned to him, he smiled against her skin, knowing she couldn't have possibly put her hair up and a robe on and walked out to speak to him in an entirely innocent manner.
His wife always knew exactly what she was doing and was a meticulous planner.
He wasn't too proud to admit he could never resist her naked flesh, delicately wrapped like a gift in a robe, the tie begging to be opened.
Sixteen years ago, she didn't have fine lines around her mouth or her eyes.. and she was a little thinner. She survived off of coffee and granola bars and three hours sleep every two days. She was a little more angry. A little more distracted. Definitely more emotional.
She was deliciously young and adventurous and impossibly smart and passionate.
Today, she was a little older. Her age showed in her face and the few grey hairs she insisted on plucking out no matter how many times he tried to remind her that "grey hairs could be quite attractive."
Her hips were a little fuller, but she was still long and lean and in excellent physical shape. He assumed that was from her daily yoga on the deck of the Ishmael and her frequent runs, whenever they were docked.
She wasn't angry anymore. No longer overly emotional. Hardly ever.
Sometimes he would pick a petty fight with her over dinner or her choice of wine or something insignificant just to irritate her, because he loved to make love to her when she was worked up.
Was this what this was about?
Did that IAB lady get her worked up?
He smiled at the thought of her telling Nora Cross off. In fact, now he subtly wished he had been there to witness it himself. Sara was never one to resist a good interrogation room argument and back in the day, it turned him on every time.
He loved seeing her back in Las Vegas, back on the job, but realized he hadn't really looked at all the last few days. Between not feeling well and their reputation on the line, he'd all but forgotten the promise he had made to himself six years ago when she stepped onto his boat.
Nothing else mattered anymore. Only Sara. Only her happiness.
David Hodges and his homework could wait.
He had a wife to love in this obnoxiously large hotel bed.
He chided himself that he hadn't already done so several times in the last few days.
"What do you need, Sara?" His voice was low as he turned her back around in his arms, unable to resist her lips any longer.
She looked up at him with a quirky, lopsided smile that took him right back to their first meeting in San Fransisco, and then again, their first evening together.
She was barely 27 the first time he saw that smile. She'd approached him after his talk and offered to buy him a coffee if she could ask a few more questions. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks so supple and youthful, she'd taken his breath away the second she reached her hand out to shake his.
33 when they made love the first time in the glow of her warm apartment surrounded by peaches and cream scented air. She'd smiled at him like that, after, as she leaned up on her elbow in the bed beside him and looked down at his flushed face with a grin.
50, now, as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and searched her face apologetically. He'd made love to her hundreds of times since then, and knew every crevasse and freckle and every part of her body that made her moan like the back of his hand.
Sara simply raised her lips to his and whispered softly, "Just you."
End.