Want
by Anansay
June 25, 2003
The ever tenacious Sara - one to never back down from a challenge - strolled into Grissom's office, a smile plastered beneath eyes of steel.
The challenge? "I don't know what to do about this."
She leaned against his office door and leisurely observed the male specimen of her choice busy at work getting himself obstinately more and more lost among the unending pile of paperwork. She cleared her throat to draw his attention. His head came up, glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose, to stare sullenly at the imposing intruder. "Sara. What can I do for you?"
She smiled widely, exposing the tiny gap between her two front upper teeth. It was a smile reserved for only those rare occasions of impending reflux or, to endear another to herself. In this case, it was the latter.
"I need to speak with you."
An eyebrow rose. "I'm busy. Come back later."
Her smile grew smaller as her eyes rolled upwards, as though searching for the strength to continue from the ceiling tiles. "There is no later, Grissom. I need to speak with you now."
Now both eyebrows rose and he regarded with the detached manner that he would regard a new specimen of insect having the audacity to crawl onto his lap. "Now?"
"Yes. Now."
With a heavy sigh, he pushed his glasses back up his nose, slid his chair to the side and reclined in it. Sara took the seat in front of his desk. "Alright. What is it? A case that can't wait?"
"No."
He waited. "Well?"
She took a deep breath. "I want to have dinner with you."
He stared at her, his eyes growing. "Sara. I thought we dealt with that"
"Well, I'm rehashing it. We both have tomorrow night off, and I want to eat dinner with you."
He couldn't take his eyes off her. The sheer nakedness of the conversation was disarming to say the least. "Sara, I'm not having dinner with you."
She pursed her lips in deep consideration. And then she smiled. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven. Dress nice." And she got up to leave.
"Sara!-"
She turned around at the door. "Seven. Sharp. Be ready."
But before she could turn the corner and leave, "Sara!" he called again.
She turned around and smiled again. To say it was absolutely disarming would be the understatement of the year. His mind drew a blank on any way to stop this masquerade of sorts. The only thing to come out was, "Dammit, Sara! What do you want from me?!"
Now the smile dropped from her face and she stared at him with the intensity of one waiting for the right moment to make a clean kill. She regarded with the fervor of one having nothing else to loose. "I want to kiss you. I want to touch you. I want to know what your skin feels like. I want to run my hands all over your body starting from your hair and down your face your neck your chest, I wanna know what your naked chest feels like I want to know if you'd jump if I touched your sides I want to know what your legs would look like and feel like naked. I want to see your bare feet and touch them and tickle them
I want to know what it would be like to kiss you, what it would feel like, my lips on yours what you would taste like, what your tongue would feel like, with mine I want to know what it would be like to lay down beside you with no clothes on to have you on top of me or me riding you what would your eyes look like what sounds you would make would you be loud, or silent would you say my name and what would it sound like
I wanna know what it would be like to open my eyes and see you there beside me, just a sheet keeping us decent. I want to grow old with you. I want to know just how much more handsome you can become with your hair all grey. I want to wake up one morning and realize my happiest years were spent with you, and that they're still happening cause you'd be right there beside me.
I want to know, Griss that's what I want."
He stared at her, his mouth hanging open, his eyes unblinking as they searched her face. No words came forth, indeed there were no words in his mind for his mouth to utter. He could simply stand and stare at this woman who had just bared her soul to him, completely.
His heart was pounding so loudly and rapidly in his chest, his head felt light and airy. His lungs could barely keep what air his breathing brought in, and in a moment of blind panic, he fell back into his chair, his eyes never leaving her face.
She stared at him, her beautiful chocolate brown eyes locked on his as she waited for the shock to subside.
His eyes closed as he willed the images to leave his mind. Only his erratic breathing and pounding heart beat could be heard in his ears. He tried to will his body to relax, to calm down. It was only words, right? Except those words, from that particular person, carried so much more than just meaning. They carried a truth that he had fought for so long to deny.
He wanted to know as well.
Suddenly, he realized he didn't know if she was still there. His eyes had been closed for longer than he'd intended. Nothing could be heard. He opened them.
She was still standing by his doorway, but her head was down. Her hands were clasped and she looked like a little schoolgirl awaiting some terrible consequence to a misdeed. Her hair hung down covering her face from his view. Not a muscle moved, she just stood there, like a statue.
His own body felt weighed down, stuck to the chair. He saw her as a woman - a woman scorned and yet still bearing a particle of hope. Her body concealed in her clothes just hinting at the voluptuous woman hidden behind the material.
With a heavy heart, he rose from his chair and approached her. His hands tingled to touch her, to erase her pain. They touched her hair as it hung down. His fingers threaded through it, and came to rest on her shoulder and then down her arm. Her body trembled at his touch and her head slowly came up, her hair falling back to reveal her face, her eyes to him. At first she looked only at his shirt, afraid to meet his eyes, until his hand beneath her chin gently forced her head up, her eyes coming up last to finally meet his. She swallowed audibly at the contact, took a deep breath and then straightened her posture to one of subdued strength.
He brought his face toward hers, his eyes never leaving hers. She watched him approach, her eyes searching his face. His face nestled in her hair and he took a deep breath, held it a moment and then let it go gently. He pushed his face into her hair and nuzzled it before retreating and meeting her eyes once again. She stared at him, questions in her eyes.
"I've always wanted to know what your hair would feel like on my face" he said quietly.
She stared at him, unmoving.
And then he moved again, this time his cheek grazed against hers and he could feel the intense warmth that emanated from her heated body. He held it there, savouring this taboo touch between boss and employee. His mind told him quite sternly that it must stop, but his body wouldn't listen. Just her cheek against his, her soft skin next to his roughened one was creating such an dissolute turmoil within his mind and his body that he had to physically wrench himself from her celestial grasp. But it was too late, he was caught.
When his eyes once again met hers, he knew it was over. The lies, the deceit, the conniving, the pushing away it was all over. Never more could he simply walk away from her with an air of nonchalance No more could he simply order her to a crime scene in a cold unfeeling voice No more could he leave a room with touching her at least once It was over. The masquerade was over, the bells have struck the midnight hour, the facades have been dropped. Now it was just them, just Grissom and Sara and the truth that lay between them, never again to be relegated to the far back burner.
He needed her. He wanted her. He longed to feel her against him. With a groan deep in his throat, he brought his face to hers and covered her lips with his, crushing them and demanding entrance, demanding to taste her deliciously sweet nectar. His hands wrapped around her and pulled her to him, body against body. He ravaged her mouth as his hands explored the body his eyes had long since memorized.
He tasted, he sipped, he drank and became drunk in her aromatically sweet ambrosia. There was no more containment, no more hiding. She had offered - so many times - and now he was partaking of her offerings.
The kiss ended in an anguished pulling away, like a wrenching apart of spirits, afraid of falling away from each other too far. With closed eyes, they stood with foreheads touching, their breaths slowing but their hearts insisting on their own pitter-patter.
"What do we do?" Grissom finally said, breathlessly.
"I don't know." Sara responded quietly, trying not to destroy the moment.
"We can't go back."
"No, we can't."
Grissom pulled back and opened his eyes. She met his with a candor of her own. He knew the ball was in his court; it was his to do with as he wished. He could walk away having tasted the nectar of the gods, and forever know that he'd walked away from the bliss that came from being a part of something that was bigger than he alone. Or he could venture forth into the unknown with Sara at his side, braving new fronts and marking new territory.
"I don't want to go back."
She smiled. It was a small smile - just the corners of her lips - but it reached her eyes and they danced in the light shining from his own. "Me neither."
He stared at her a while longer, reveling in the astounding beauty that poured forth so naturally from this strong and powerful creature known as a woman, as Sara. And his eyes bespoke of the sentiments running rampant in his being, and she understood as she brought her head forward and caressed his lips with her own, making chaste love with him.