M Rated

Chapter 31

Sex had never been an important part of life for Grissom. Yes, he had engaged in the activity. Even enjoyed it. But it wasn't special. It didn't drive him, as it seemed to drive others. It was just sex. Something you did to give you a release, or because it was an expected aspect of relationships. An obligation of sorts.

Grissom could never understand how a person could be motivated by it. It was one motive he was never able to wrap his mind around. To him, sex was just that: sex. Sure, it was good, pleasurable. But afterwards, he always felt… empty. Like there was something missing. Even when his partners declared it was great, or incredible. To Grissom, it was just… ok.

Sex was ok. Nothing more. For so long, he wondered if there might be something wrong with him. He could never work out how his friends or colleagues could put so much store in something he, himself, only saw as tolerable. Grissom had lost count of the times Catherine had suggested he 'needed a good lay', when he was stressed, or overworked.

To hear Catherine talk, sex was one of the best ways to relieve tension. But it only ever left Grissom wanting. He didn't even engage in the 'solo act' often. Masturbation was something other people did, not Grissom. It wasn't necessary. He had science, his bugs, his job. He didn't need sex. Or relationships.

At least, that was how it used to be. Until that day. February 11th, 1988.

That was the day she walked through the door. Hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, bag falling off her shoulder as she rushed into the lecture hall. Her face was flushed and her breathing a little laboured as she slid into the front row. She had rushed to his lecture, running late after auditing the previous seminar, and quiet literally taken his breath away.

Sara flashed him an apologetic smile before pulling out her notebook and it took Grissom a few seconds to get his brain back into gear. A few of the other conference members sniggered a little, but Grissom didn't notice. He continued on with his lecture, but his eyes kept drifting back to the brown-haired girl with the ponytail.

They spent the rest of the week together, and, for the first time, Grissom found himself fantasising. He had been with women before. Beautiful, intelligent women. But none of them penetrated his mind like her. When he kissed her, the last night before he was due back to Vegas, it flooded his entire body. The way her lips were soft against his. How her fingers curled in his hair. How her body felt, pressed against his.

Everything within him screaming to take her inside and show her just how exquisite he found her. Grissom pulled back. Not yet ready to take that final step. She was young, beautiful, intelligent, with her whole life ahead of her. And he was a middle aged, socially awkward, inexperienced, workaholic.

But the memory of that kiss followed him back to his hotel room. Where, for the first time in years, Grissom put a hand to himself. Imagining hers. Her lips, her body. He fantasised about the noises she would make. How her face would look. Flushed with pleasure as he used his member, his fingers, his tongue to push her over in ecstasy. When he finished, he waited for that empty feeling, the sense of wanting. But he could only see her face.

After he returned to Vegas those moments were still few, but more common than they had ever been before. And it was always her. She was the one he thought of, who he dreamed of. When she answered his call, it happened more and more. The need, the desire. It grew, day by day. He wanted her in every way he could. But it became more complicated. He was her boss, fifteen years older. And the more he saw her, the more time they spent together, the more he saw just how deficient he was in comparison. And the more he realised; he didn't just want her, he loved her. More than he had ever loved anyone.

In all his previous relationships, he had never felt this way. Never felt that need. That yearning. That intense desire which transcended all rational thought. That was when he knew what he was missing. Sex, for him, wasn't just sex. It was human connection. Intimacy at its most profound form. Though many could have sex for sex, Grissom couldn't. He needed that connection with his partner. Needed that love.

He needed Sara.

Even with Heather, that one night they spent together felt empty. No matter how good it was, how his body reacted to her, it still felt hollow. Sad.

It was only with Sara he realised what it could be. Only with Sara did it feel, not just good, but incredible. Only with Sara did he finally understand. Just thinking of her. Her eyes, her hair, her skin. Her beautiful, extraordinary brain. Her compassion and empathy. Her stubbornness. Tenaciousness. The very thought of her was enough to heat his blood. It was only with Sara did he feel the need to initiate, did he want to initiate. It didn't feel like an obligation, a relationship standard he needed to uphold. It just… felt. He felt.

And what was more amazing, she wanted him too. Just as much as he wanted her. She wanted. She desired. Him! And only him. She never once made him feel deficient. Lacking. Never once made him feel anything less than utterly, and entirely loved. When he was with her, he was whole… complete… happy. Sara made him happy.

Those years they spent apart were the hardest Grissom had ever faced. He missed her, every aspect. He missed working with her, laughing with her. Talking with her. Making love to her. He missed how her eyes would light up at some new discovery. How she would give him that shy smile whenever he did or said something thoughtful. He missed how her face would flush when he touched her, the small sounds she made as he explored her. Sounds only he was allowed to hear.

Yes, sex had never been important to him. But with Sara, it wasn't just sex. It was a meeting. A melding of their hearts, their minds, their souls. Whether it was slow and sensuous. Or fast and furious. A five-minuet blow job. Or a night full of passion. It was connection. Intimacy. It was more than he could have hoped for. Everything he could want. That was what made all the difference.

The image of Sara straddling him, her hands between her legs and her face flushed as she pleasured herself, was something that would be ingrained in his brain for the rest of his life. It was one of the most beautiful things Grissom had ever seen.

She told him it was him, that he was the one who made her like that. But she had no idea just how she made him.

How it was her, and her alone, that made him feel. That made him want. That made him reach out in desire, and not release.

Sara shifted next to him, nuzzling a little more into his warmth, and Grissom drew her closer. He kissed her brow, inhaling her scent. She smelt of lavender, the shampoo Catherine had brought, and Sara. For as long as he tried, Grissom had never been able to pinpoint the exact smell he associated with her. It was sweet, flowery. Like the plants she loved so much. A scent that had followed him across the world, pulling him back to the source. Back to her.

Sara smiled, a soft, sleepy smile and Grissom brushed a finger across her cheek. Guiding it down her neck as he leaned in to kiss her lips. His hand glided down her chest as Sara brought her own up to cup his face, opening her mouth to him. The kiss was slow, and Grissom could feel her humming against his lips.

Grissom's hands ghosted across her stomach, making a trail lower as Sara pulled back with a contented sigh. She grinned up at him and all he could do was watch her, propped up on his elbow, while his fingers traced lazy circles across the top of her thigh. Her eyes flew open as they dipped, and Grissom smirked a little. Using his hand, he pushed her legs apart, giving him better access. Sara's pupils dilated and her hips bucked when he stopped at her entrance. Fingers exploring the surrounding area, but not yet entering.

Sara shifted a little, inching closer, but Grissom held fast. Her face flushing as the desire grew. He could feel himself growing harder as he watched her, writhing under his touch. Loving that he could do this to her. That only he could do this to her. Grissom parted her folds and slid a finger inside. God, she felt good. Already wet, waiting for him. Clenching around his finger as he gently spread her.

Sara gasped as the digit slipped home, her fingers constricting against his neck. She rubbed against him, clearly not happy with the slow speed he had set. Grissom entered another finger, and Sara arched her neck, digging her head into the pillow. Her mouth opened as soft moans escaped her lips. Withdrawing and plunging back into her, Grissom throbbed against her thigh as Sara's nails dug into his neck.

"Do you want to know what I thought about?" He asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper. Sara opened her eyes, looking at him through her haze of desire. "When I was alone? In my tent. On my boat." He slipped in a third finger, curling them and Sara groaned though she didn't take her eyes off him.

"I thought of this," he said, pumping faster, angling his hand to brush his thumb across her clit. Adding just enough pressure that he knew drove her wild.

"Gil," Sara moaned.

"I thought of you." His fingers curled and Sara ground against him. "I thought of doing this." He withdrew and thrust into her. "I thought of touching you." Another thrust. Sara bit her lip, hips bucking against his hand. "Of being inside you."

Grissom moved, his hand not leaving her, and hovered above her. Pushing her legs further apart. Kneeling between her, Grissom pressed his lips to hers. Sara hooked a leg over his thigh, giving him better access. She was close. Grissom took his hand out, and Sara whimpered at the loss of contact. A smirk lifted his lips as he took himself in hand and guided himself to her entrance.

Sara's eyes were dark, and she brought a hand to his cheek, hips bucking as he nudged her with his head.

"I thought of all the things I wanted to do to you, with you, for you. I thought of how much I loved you." He entered her, slow, agonisingly slow. He could feel her tighten around him before her muscles relaxed, letting him slide further in. Sara gripped his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin.

"But nothing," he said. "Nothing I could think… could imagine… could fantasise about, compared to this." He withdrew and pumped into her again. "God, Sara…" She was so tight, so good, so perfect, so… "You're so beautiful"

Grissom grunted as he thrusted into her, his pace quickening and Sara bucked up to meet him. Matching him and encouraging him to move faster. He looked down, her face red with pleasure. She was incredible. Every part of him flushed with the joy of her. The feel of her. He twitched, and Sara groaned against his neck.

His pulse was beating powerfully, an oceanic rhythm coursing through his body. And Grissom pounded into her. Hitching her leg up, changing his angle. Sara's walls closed around him, and she cried out as Grissom pushed her over the edge.

He kept moving, lifting up her hips as his movements became more erratic. With one final thrust, Grissom released himself. Spilling within her and grunting out her name.

He rested his head against hers, both of them breathless. Panting into each other. Grissom kissed her gently before withdrawing and gathering her up in his arms

"Only you, Sara," he said against her hair. "Only you. I'm sorry I wasted so much time." Sara pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him before leaning up to replace her fingers with her mouth.

"No more apologies, Gil," she said, softly. "We're here now, that's all that matters."

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too." They lay there, holding each other. More than content to be back in the arms of their one and only.