M Rated

Chapter 29

There was something so simple, yet so comforting about holding another person's hand. It was a small touch that reassured him. Whenever he could, Grissom would reach for Sara's hand. Twist his fingers with hers. Run his thumb across her smooth skin. He had never been able to resist the contact, for as long as he knew her. Grissom would find some excuse to hold her hand. To comfort her. To help her up. To lead her in a certain direction.

There was always a purpose. A reason he could hide behind should she, or anyone else question it. When he was finally able to do it, openly and freely, Grissom would have to restrain himself. Stop himself from reaching for her whenever she was in proximity. Now, however, he didn't bother. He could touch her again, could hold her again. He wasn't going to waste it, wasn't going to hold back.

Especially not now. She wanted to go with him. Sail away. Leave behind all the death and destruction. She chose him. She chose them. Their life together. Grissom reached for her hand, for no other reason than that he could. That he wanted too.

Sara shot him a look and suddenly, holding her hand wasn't enough anymore. Grissom actually sighed in relief when Catherine's house came into view.

Grissom and Sara were just walking into the kitchen when the smell of dinner floated towards them. Reluctantly, Grissom allowed her fingers to slide from his as she approached the loan person by the island.

Betty, busy pouring over the stove, didn't notice the couple's entrance until Sara walked to her side and tapped her on the shoulder.

The little woman spun round, her face splitting into a wide smile as she saw them.

"Something smells good," Sara signed, and she bent to give Betty a kiss on the cheek.

"Spaghetti carbonara," Betty replied. "I got that vegetarian bacon you like."

"Well, it smells great," Sara signed. "How long till it's ready?"

"Ten minutes." Betty looked over to Grissom. "You two go, get cleaned up." It was only deep affection for his mother, and the fact that Sara hadn't eaten anything since that protein bar a few hours ago, that stopped Grissom from insisting they didn't join her for dinner.

After giving his mother a quick kiss, Grissom followed Sara out of the kitchen. Clarke was sat on the sofa, watching TV, and raised his hand in welcome as the pair made their way upstairs. When they entered Catherine's spare room, Sara took Grissom's bag from him and threw it on the bed.

Before he had time to speak, she was on him. Kissing him fiercely, her hands tangling in his curls and her body pushing against his. Causing him to back up. It was only when he hit the wall did they stop moving. Sara breathing heavily, her eyes dark and wide.

Guess he wasn't the only one who was wanting more than ten minutes.

"Sara…" he started, but she put a finger to his lips, silencing him. Her hand glided down his chest as she kissed the underside of his jaw. His blood was pounding in his ears and his skin tingled where her lips touched him. Grissom slipped a hand underneath her shirt, exulting in the touch of her bare skin under his fingers.

"I seem to recall," Sara said against his neck. "Promising you a 'later'." She rubbed up against him, her centre aligning perfectly with him. He could feel himself growing at the friction her body caused. Grissom gripped her waist, pulling her closer.

Sara's hand travelled south, and Grissom couldn't stop the moan she elicited from him as she palmed his member through his trousers. Sara hummed in appreciation.

"Do I have you attention, Dr Grissom?" She asked. Her voice husky, causing him to throb even more.

"Always," Grissom grunted, bucking into her hand.

"Do you trust me?" Her eyes were sparkling. Lips pursed together into a sensuous smirk. The beating of his pulse increased, an ocean wave washing through his body.

"Intimately," he said. Every ounce of his desire put out into the world with that one word.

Her lips returned to his mouth. They were already parted, so Grissom thrust his tongue inside, battling with hers. Sara was still working him, through his trousers, and her other hand reached down to the belt.

"Sara," he said, breathlessly. "We don't have…"

"We have time for what I plan to do," she said, pulling back. Grissom raised an eyebrow in question, but Sara only smirked before traveling down his body. Pulling his boxers and trousers down to his ankles. Grissom growled as he was freed form the restraints and his blood boiled at the sight of Sara kneeling before him. Fully clothed, with his painfully erect penis only inches from her mouth. Sara's hand encircled his shaft, firmly pulling on it.

Grissom moaned at the touch, trying to stop himself from thrusting into her. Her nails scraped him, and Grissom closed his eyes as the pleasure sensors over road him.

"Look at me, Gil," Sara commanded. Grissom wrenched his eyes open and looked down at her. When their gaze met, Sara lent forward and kissed his head. A growl, deep and primal, rose form his throat as he watched the woman he loved kiss every inch of him. Her warm lips caressing each ridge and length. A hand gripped her hair, shaking with restraint. All his focus went on not pushing himself into her. But when she took him, his resolve buckled.

His hips jerked and a hiss escaped his lips. Sara had not taken her eyes from his. She smirked at the reaction and hollowed out her cheeks, causing more suction as she drew back. She took him deeper, he could feel himself hitting the back of her throat. But she didn't let up. One hand grabbed his ass, pulling him harder, while the other cupped his balls.

Grissom's grip on her hair tightened and he was thrusting into her, penetrating her mouth with abandon. She took him, as far as she could, relaxing her throat around him to get him deeper inside her. Their eyes not once leaving the others.

It was one of the sexiest things he had ever witnessed. His love for this woman overwhelming him. Her teeth grazed him, and he wanted to shut his eyes. Lean his head back and cry out in exultation. Instead, he kept them locked with hers. Watching her take him, bobbing her head in time with each thrust of his hips.

He wasn't going to last much longer, he knew it, she knew it. He could tell by the gleam that appeared in her eyes. She tightened her grip on his ass, picking up the pace as his thrusts became more erratic.

"Sara," he cried, and she pushed him over the edge. He spilled into her mouth while she worked him through it. Breathing heavily, her name still falling from his lips. He watched as Sara withdrew from him, a satisfied smile gracing her lips as she swallowed his seed.

His legs were shaking, his arms trembling. The hand in her hair shivering in the strands. Sara pulled up his clothing and, once he was neatly packed away, zip, button, and belt in place, she stood. As she straightened, Grissom kissed her. Pulling her flush against him.

She tasted of him, and Grissom groaned into her mouth. It would have been enough to get him going again if she hadn't just finished him off. "I love you," Grissom breathed, but the words were not enough to convey the depths of his feelings for this woman.

He wanted to show her, make her feel just how completely and truly he loved her. To make her come undone as fully as she made him. His hands started the slow decent southward, but Sara laughed and pushed away.

"We don't have time for that," she said, grinning at him.

"Sara," Grissom said. He could tell that she needed it. Her face was flushed, her eyes were dark, and her chest was heaving a little. Still, Sara shook her head. She kissed him once more before pulling away completely.

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI

If Grissom had hoped that dinner would be a quiet affair, he was to be disappointed. Catherine had come home while he and Sara were upstairs, and she had brought Lindsey with her. Who had, apparently without her mother's knowledge, invited Lou Vartann to join them.

Grissom watched the elder Willows woman flush as the detective was shown in by her daughter. Looking shocked, but not unhappy with the young woman's presumption. Lindsey arranged the seating so that Catherine and Vartann were sat together, and Grissom couldn't help but be reminded of the young girl playing matchmaker with her dolls in the breakroom.

It was strange, to see a child he had watched grow up, as a young woman. Just starting out in her career.

"Makes you feel old, doesn't it?" Sara said from beside him, her eyes on the young Willows. "I remember her first day at the lab. I had to keep reminding myself she wasn't a child anymore. And then there were times I was convinced I was talking Catherine, and not Lindsey. It's kinda scary how alike they are." Grissom had to laugh at that, not at all surprised.

The seven of them sat down to dinner, Lindsey instantly latching onto Sara, bombarding her with questions. Catherine and Vartann were talking with Betty and Clarke and Grissom was content to sit and watch. Letting the conversations flow over and around him.

When dinner was over, Sara and Lindsey volunteered for clean-up duty and the others made their way to the living room. Grissom knew he should enjoy this moment. Savour the time he had with his friends, his family. But the sound of Sara's laughter from the kitchen was pulling on him. All he wanted to do was to take her upstairs so they could be alone, for longer than five minutes. So they could finish what she had so teasingly started.

When the two women returned, faces flushed with amusement, Grissom shifted to make room. Sara took her seat next to him and Lindsey sat, cross-legged on the floor by Betty. The conversation flew around him, and Grissom didn't take any pains to join in. Too aware of the woman beside him.

Sara shifted in her seat, far too often for it to be a casual repositioning. Her hands were constantly going to her hair. And when she did look at him, she tucked her lip between her teeth. Her eyes flashing with the same desire that shone out of them up in their bedroom. She touched his thigh, brushed his hand, and each stroke set his skin ablaze.

They were small things, unnoticeable to anyone save him. But they were driving him crazy. Sara flipped her hair to the side, exposing her long, slender neck. She was still wearing her scarf, but a hint of his mark was poking out the top. Grissom clenched his hands together to stop them from reaching out to her. If he touched her, felt her skin, he wouldn't be able to control himself.

The evening seemed to drag for Grissom, the occupants of the room completely unaware of turmoil within him. All of them, that was, except Sara. She stood, to get them a refill on their drinks, and used his leg as leverage. Her fingers squeezed and Grissom had to hold his breath and count backwards from 100, to try and get his pulse under control.

He was doing well, he thought. Looking round the occupants of the room, none of them noticing his growing discomfort. He looked at his watch, hoping it was late enough for him to reasonably excuse himself. Sara walked back into the room, they're eyes met, and her tongue peaked out. Wetting her lips as she moved across the room.

Grissom's eyes narrowed at the movement. Remembering, fondly, where that tongue had been not even an hour before. Running up and down him, with Sara on her knees while he pumped into her. Her cheeks hollowing, her eyes on fire.

Sara smirked, knowing exactly where his mind had drifted too.

Grissom had to rearrange his position, adverting his gaze in case he really did embarrass himself. Sara sat back down, far too close for comfort. Her hand settled on his thigh, and she started to rub her thumb around in circles. Grissom shifted his position once more, but Sara only moved with him. Her thumb still tracing along his trousers.

He took her hand in his, anything to get her to stop touching him. Sara shot him a self-satisfied grin. "You need to stop that," he murmured to her, carful to keep his voice low.

"Stop what?" She asked. Looking at him with an innocent, wide-eyed expression. Grissom had to bite back the moan that threatened to escape him.

This woman is going to be the death of me!

"Grissom?" Catherine's voice called to him. Grissom's face jerked to hers, everyone was looking at him now. "I said, how is the seafaring going?" She was smiling at him now, her eyes flicking between him and Sara with an amused, knowing smile.

"Oh, um, it's going well," he stuttered, embarrassment flooding him. He could feel the laughter radiating from Sara, her arm shaking as she tried to rein it in. "Actually," he continued, sliding his poker face into place. Trying to hide his discomfort. "We've just successfully prosecuted three poachers. They were shark finning."

"Shark finning?" Lindsey asked.

"They were catching sharks and cutting off their fins," Grissom explained. "It's in violation of the Fish and Game Code 8599, which states: 'It is unlawful to slice the dorsal fin off a Carcharodon Carcharias unless you bring the whole carcass ashore'," Grissom replied. "But white sharks can only be taken for scientific of educational purposes under permit. They didn't have a permit."

"So, what do you do?" Lindsey asked, leaning forward on her knees. Sara shifted next to him, and Grissom sat up on the sofa.

"My job is to confiscate the evidence, document it and prepare it for international and/or domestic court."

"So, what? Now you're a CSI at sea?" Vartann asked, grinning at the entomologist.

"Kind of," he replied, catching Catherine's eye. The redhead winked at him, and Grissom turned back to Lindsey. "Shark fin soup is bad."

"What's bad about it," the young woman asked, curious. "I mean, catching other fish isn't illegal. So, why is catching sharks?"

"When a poacher catches a shark and takes it dorsal fin, they don't kill it. They throw it back into the water. Without its fin, the shark can't swim, and they drown."

"That's horrible," Lindsey said, her face registering her disgust at the practice.

"It is. It's like killing a rhino for its horn, or an elephant for its tusks. Cruel and unnecessary. The shark population has been decreasing rapidly over the last few years. Because of people like these poachers, who have no respect for life. Only the wish to gain some easy money."

"So, how did you get into that?" Vartann asked. "I mean, I thought you were the bug guy, not the shark guy."

Grissom laughed. "I haven't given up on my bugs, Lou," he said. "But, um." He glanced at Sara, who was looking at him, expectantly. "Someone told me about the organisation, and how much it meant to them." Sara squeezed his hand, her face soft and her mouth tilted into a loving smile. "I guess you could say I'm doing it for her."

Tears started to gather in Sara's eyes, and she looked away. Blinking rapidly to dispel them before anyone would notice. Grissom turned his attention to the other occupants in the room. Catherine tilted her head in understanding and Betty gave him a wide smile. Pride lighting her face as she caught her son's eye.