M Rated

Chapter 30

It didn't take long, after Grissom's little speech, for the party to break up. The lateness of the hour, and the business of the day, coming together to cause drowsiness to settle around the room. Sara saw Grissom head upstairs, slipping away before the goodbyes. A small smile lifting her lips. There was no way the man was going to sleep. Sara quickly gathered the empty tumblers littered across the coffee table, sincerely hoping she could slip away as quietly as Grissom.

Her blood already pumping faster around her body.

Lindsey was still chatting away to Betty and Clarke when Sara took the glasses to the kitchen. She paused at the door when she saw Catherine and Vartann in conversation. The detective was looking down at Catherine, his face softening into a smile as the redhead said something Sara couldn't make out.

Catherine ran a hand down Vartann's arm, and he bent to kiss her, lightly on the cheek, before walking out the door. Sara waited a few seconds before entering. Catherine was still looking at the door, a wistful kind of expression on her face. Not for the first time, Sara wondered exactly what went down between the detective and ex-CSI.

So much for a swift exit.

"Hey," she called as she placed the tumblers on the counter. Catherine started a little, Sara grinned as the older woman turned to face her.

"Hey," Catherine replied, a little breathless. The two women worked together, clearing up the kitchen and putting away the drinks. It didn't take for long for Catherine to straighten after switching on the dishwasher.

Sara leant against the counter, crossing her arms across her chest. Catherine was still moving around, not looking at the brunette scrutinising her.

"Stop it," Catherine said, her back still to Sara.

"I'm not doing anything," Sara replied with a grin.

"You're thinking," Catherine said, turning to her. Sara's smile widened.

"So, you and Vartann… again."

Catherine lent against the counter, mirroring Sara's posture. "So, you and Grissom… again," she countered.

"Old news," Sara said, shrugging. "You and Vartann though…"

"No news," Catherine said. Sara raised a brow. The pair had been making calf eyes at each other all night, and she expected Sara to believe that? Not that Sara was surprised. For a woman who loved to pry, Catherine was extremely private.

"Ok," Sara said, pushing away from the counter.

"Ok?"

"Yeah, you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. Besides," Sara continued. "It'll be a little hypocritical of me to push you for an answer." Catherine sighed, turning her back to the counter and resting her head on the cabinet behind her.

"Lindsey invited him," she finally said.

"So, I gathered."

Catherine threw her an exasperated look, but Sara only pursed her lips. Eye lighting with amusement. The older woman returned the smile, with a small sigh. "Lou was the only guy I introduced her too. It was one of the things I liked most about him." Catherine paused. "He was just as interested in her as he was me. Maybe it's because he has a kid of his own. But he always made an effort with her. Asked me about her, and, after they met, he'd ask about her day. Her hobbies. Friends. He cared for her, loved her, in a way no one has since Eddie died. Like a…" She brought a hand to her head, holding her forehead against her palm.

"Father?" Sara supplied. Catherine dropped her hand, another sigh escaping her lips. "What happened?" Sara asked, gently.

"He wanted more, I wasn't ready." Catherine laughed then. "Do you know how many times I told Grissom, over the years, that he needed to take his head out of his microscope. Let people in. I always thought, out of the two of us, I was more the emotionally available one. Then he goes off and gets married, and I'm with this amazing guy and can't even give him a draw at my place!"

"You weren't ready, Catherine," Sara said. "If you're not ready, you can't force it."

"I guess not," she sighed. "I just wonder if now I've missed my chance."

Sara pursed her lips together, wanting to comfort her friend, but not knowing how.

"Do you know how long I had to wait, for Grissom to actually say how he feels about me?" She asked. The redhead looked over, her brows furrowing in question. "Six years, and he didn't even say it to me!"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember the Debbie Marlin case?" Sara asked, and Catherine's eyes widened in recognition.

"That case really freaked him out, it freaked me out too," Catherine said.

"I know. I watched the interrogation, with Dr Laurie. At the end, Grissom basically tells the guy that he was in love with me but couldn't do anything about it."

"I always wondered how long you two have actually been together."

"We weren't together back then, Catherine. But he did love me. Pretty much from the moment we met," she added, without arrogance. "It took him six years to admit he loved me, another year to do anything about it. Then two years for him to feel comfortable enough to share it with others. Not to mention everything else we had to go through to get to this point."

"Well, you're a lot more understanding that I would be in your situation," Catherine commented, only half-joking.

"I love him, Cath," Sara said, simply. "I always have, and always will."

"So, what's you point?"

"Vartann has had more than enough time to move on, but he came here. He's asked about you, even kept in contact with your daughter. He cares about you, and Lindsey. I reckon you only need to crook your little finger, and he would be at your side."

"How do you know?" Catherine asked, the look of vulnerability on the older woman's face was not one Sara was used too.

"I don't" she said, honestly. "But you'll never find out if you don't ask." She gave Catherine a small, half smile, before turning away.

"Hey, Sara," Catherine called, before she left the room. "Thanks."

Sara smiled and walked out the room. All thoughts of Catherine and Vartann left her head as her mind drifted over the last eighteen years. From the moment she first saw him, standing at the podium. Giving his lecture on first blush theories and detailing the evidence of a double murder in a garage. She remembered sitting with him, for two straight hours. Questioning him on everything, from anthropology, to his favourite dust powder. Trying to work up the courage to ask him out. She remembered that week they shared, their first kiss and the bittersweet goodbye.

She remembered the phone call, two years later. The investigation and invitation. Moving to Vegas. She remembered the looks, the touches, the flirtation during that first year. Remembered how her heart would pound faster and her pulse would race, just by being in the same room as him. She remembered the hurt and the pain he caused when he pushed her away. And the way her soul would sing when he let his mask slip, for just a second.

Since when are you interested in beauty?

Since I met you.

She remembered how her heart broke when he rejected her, and the pain that crossed his face as she landed her parting shot.

By the time you figure it out, you really could be too late.

It was a lie. She knew it was, even as the words left her mouth. She knew, no matter how long it took, she would always be there. Did that make her pathetic? She had tried to move on, tried to date, but it never lasted. He had feelings for her, he wasn't completely oblivious to her. But, she rationalised, maybe it wasn't anything more than a basic attraction. No depth. Just physical.

Then came Debbie. Then came the doctor. Standing in the observation room, a single tear sliding down her face, Sara watched Grissom bare his soul to a murderer. Confessing the things he couldn't say to her. Then, she knew. He loved her. And he changed.

She remembered those sweet moments they shared, the quirky jokes he would tell her, just to make her smile. He started to open himself up to her, started to share a little of himself. But she couldn't trust it, couldn't trust him. Couldn't trust herself. Then, the almost-burn out and the almost-DUI.

That was when she changed. Sara didn't argue with him when he suggested PEAP counselling, but she wasn't thrilled. She had spent her entire childhood, being passed from one shrink to the next. Hearing how grown-ups were 'so sorry for what happened to her', or how they were 'here to help'. Empty words, empty promises. She hated it, but she agreed to go. If only to ease his conscious. To show him that she understood. She screwed up, big time, and Sara needed him to know that she knew that.

So, she went, taking a couple of weeks off work. Sara went, and Sara talked. The shrink was good, she had to give him that. He didn't ask her anything deep, not right away. Just asked about her day, her hobbies, her education. Her days were boring. She had no hobbies. But her education? That was something she could be proud of. That was something that proved she wasn't 'just another child of the system'. Eventually, she found herself talking. Really talking.

She talked about her childhood, her parents. She talked about foster care, and the people she met there. She talked about her job. The cases. She didn't mention Grissom, it was the one thing she held back. When their sessions were over, the shrink knew, without having to ask, that she wouldn't be back. But that was ok. He suggested she tell her supervisor, not everything, just a general overview. Just so he could be aware. So he could help.

At first, Sara dismissed the idea. The last person she wanted know just how screwed up she was, was Grissom. But the shift changes came. Nick, Warrick, and Catherine were gone. And she was left to watch yet another woman fawn over the nightshift supervisor. The worst part this time; the woman was now on their team.

Sara had to sit back and watch as Sofia Curtis grew closer to Grissom. Had to listen to the new rumour mill running rampant around the lab. Yet still… Sofia might have been interested, but Grissom…

She told herself, when she walked into his office, she was just going to update him. Let him know she was ok, and he didn't need to worry. She didn't mean to blurt anything out.

You shouldn't have to cover for your boss.

You've always been a little more than a boss to me. Why do you think I moved to Vegas?

He looked so shocked when she said that. Like he didn't dare believe she meant what he thought she meant. Sara shrugged it off. Walked away. But she couldn't take it back. Nor did she really want too. Things were changing between them. She could feel it.

He came to her, after her suspension. He pushed her, pressed her. Wouldn't back down until he understood. And Sara told him. Everything. He held her hand while she cried. Hugged her before he left and, for the first time, Sara knew. He was coming back. And he kept coming back. Until, one day, he stopped leaving.

Nick had been taken, and rescued, and Grissom was at her door once more. Broken. She held him while he cried. Kissed him. Ran her fingers through his hair as he fell asleep beside her. Both of them fully clothed, atop her duvet. When they awoke, he kissed her. Undressed her and let himself have what they had both been craving, from those first stolen moments at the conference centre.

It was the beginning of a long, complicated, and beautiful relationship. They had their ups and down. Fights and laughs. Breakup and makeups. Nothing could compare to what they had. Nothing had made her feel more scared, or more alive than loving Gil Grissom.

There was so much more she could think about, so many moments she could re-live. In Vegas, Costa Rica, Paris. Every moment, the good and the bad, coming together to make them. It was their imperfect, perfect love story. And Sara knew, as she pushed open their bedroom door, there was no other story she wanted to be a part off.

Grissom was sat against the headboard, already under the covers. Bare chested and reading what looked to be a very worn copy of William Blake poetry. He looked up as Sara entered the room and instantly put the book to one side. Sara leaned against the door as she closed it behind her. Cocking her head to one side, taking him in. Grissom opened his mouth to say something, but Sara shook her head.

She pushed away from the door, not even bothering to shed her clothing as she climbed up the bed and straddled him. His brows rose in surprise, but she didn't give him time to comment. Taking his face in her hand, Sara pulled his lips to hers. Crushing them together.

Grissom's response was immediate. He sat up in the bed, arms coming round her back, lifting the fabric of her top as his fingers glided up her skin. She opened her mouth to him, giving him access and being granted her own as his tongue slid in.

Sara shifted in his lap, rubbing against the growing hardness beneath her. Grissom moaned into her mouth and Sara swallowed the sound. His hands reached the underside of her bra. She pulled back slightly, lifting her top over her head. As soon as the garment was gone, her lips returned to his mouth. Grissom went to work on the bra clasp, while Sara started on her jeans. He unhooked the clasp and Sara undid the zipper. Still rocking against him as her tongue danced with his.

In a matter of moments, the bra was slung in the same direction as her top and Grissom pulled back to stare at her. Sara shifted, breaking contact as she shimmied her way out of her jeans, taking her underwear down with them. Grissom's pupils dilated as he beheld her, naked above him.

"Sara," he said, but she pressed a finger to his lips. Sara removed the duvet, shoving it down to the bottom of the bed and, in one quick motion, hooked her fingers around the waist band of his boxers. Grissom lifted himself to make it easier for her to remove them and, when they were low enough, he kicked them off.

Sara was back on him, flesh meeting flesh. Blood pounding. Skin burning. That familiar, intense pull in her stomach. She could feel him against her thigh, and she rocked, eliciting a groan from Grissom. He bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth. Sara's hands found his hair, holding him in place as she moved atop him. She could feel the wetness sliding from her, her core was tightening, and her body was on fire.

She needed him. But she needed him to see this first. To know.

She slipped a hand down, her fingers parting her folds and Grissom tugged at her. Her breath hitched at the pain, and she slid a finger home. Sara groaned as her finger worked inside her, stretching her. She entered another and started riding harder, faster. Grissom pulled his head away, and Sara watched as his pupils grew. She could feel him twitching against her. She entered another finger, angling her wrist so her thumb could start on her clit.

She braced a hand on his shoulder, and tilted her hips, giving herself better access. He was so hard, she could see him leaking as little as he watched her ride her hand on top of him.

"This is what I would do," she said, her voice stuttering as her fingers continued their work. Grissom brought his hands up, kneading her chest and pinching her nipples. He was shaking, trying to hold himself as still as he could. So he would not break her rhythm. "I would be on our bed, with my hands between my legs."

"Sara," he groaned.

"And I would think of you," she whispered. Her pace increased. "I would… think of you… your hands… instead of mine… your lips… your tongue… you." She was panting, so close now. Her walls were closing around her. "Sometimes, I would dream of you, and wake with my fingers already there." She couldn't go on. Her walls clenched. Her finger hit that magic spot, and all thought left her head except one.

She cried out his name as she came, and Grissom buried his face into her neck. Coming down from her high, Sara realised he was shaking. She pulled back and saw the tears in his eyes. As she withdrew her hand Grissom caught her wrist, bringing her fingers to his mouth. He kissed them, sucking off the juices that now coated the slender digits.

Sara wiped a tear that escaped his eye and he looked up at her.

"Only you," she said, softly. "Only you make me like that. Only you get to see me like that. From the moment I met you, it's always been you."

"Sara," he said again, but she silenced him with a kiss. Lifting herself up and taking hold of him. Grissom thrust a little in her hand, and Sara smiled against his lips as she lined herself up and lowered onto him. Both of them groaning as he slid home.

She didn't move. Just sat atop him, letting herself relax around him.

"I love you, Gil," she whispered, and tears filled her eyes as she uttered those words. "I love you, only you." Grissom pulled her in once more, and Sara started to move as he kissed her. Lifting herself and coming back down. Their movements were slow, deliberate, and she could feel every inch of him stirring within her.

Grissom's hand landed on her hips, lifting her in time with his strokes and Sara could feel herself building once move. She pushed Grissom down on the bed and tilted herself back, driving him deeper. Deeper. Faster. They moved together. He was close. Closer than she was, and she could feel him holding back. Willing them to come together. Sara lent over him as she continued to rock.

"Let go, honey," she whispered, and she tilted her hips, causing Grissom to hiss. His eyes closing as she moved on top of him. Grissom brought a hand behind her, and Sara gasped as he started playing with her clit. Working her both inside and out. The added stimulation caused her to buck harder, faster.

Grissom came first, calling out her name as the pleasure took him. But they didn't stop. His hands didn't falter. And not long after, Sara joined him in ecstasy.