Trauma
CSI- Yes it is mine! All mine! OK maybe not, a girl can dream, right?
Rating: R
Please R&R
Chapter 13
The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months; the months taking them away from an evening in April that changed their lives. Thanksgiving had come and gone; as had Christmas. The starting of a new year had never been as symbolic to Sara or Grissom.
While the kisses and touches had continued, none had been as intense as those first few weeks. It was if, at first, they needed the contact with another, if for no other reason than to prove to them that they were alive.
After shift, it was not unusual for one to be found at the other's home, sometimes with the rest of the graveyard crew, but usually just the two of them.
They were curled up together on her sofa, watching an old movie on cable. She was snuggled up to his side, his arm around her shoulders. When the movie ended, they sat together for a few minutes before untangling and rising for Grissom to leave.
"Thanks again for the breakfast," she murmured, as she held his hand walking him to the door.
"Oh, I know my cooking is the only reason you invite me over," he teased back.
"Man! I've been busted!" she laughed at him.
At the door, he gently stroked her face as he lowered his lips to hers in what was intended to be a sweet, chaste, goodnight kiss. The moment their lips touched, the jolt of electric energy that sparked between them changed the dynamics totally.
Her hands slid up his chest and around his shoulders to meet at his nape and hold him to her. His arms found a resting place at her waist. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to let his tongue gently prod at her lips, asking, no, begging, for admittance. On a sigh, her lips parted to grant his request. As their tongues lightly touched and danced together, their hands started gently roaming.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and gently tugging. His hands brushed over her back and down her arms and back again, not content to still, wanting to feel all of her.
Pulling her lips from his, she trailed her tongue across his jaw and down the side of his neck. She could feel the groan in his throat through her lips. She nipped at his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard.
His hands traveled up her sides to rest at he sides of her breasts. As his mouth claimed hers again, he allowed the thumb of his right hand to stretch out and tenderly brush across her nipple. When she gasped into his mouth, he stopped the movement of his thumb but did not remove it. She leaned into his hand and growled, giving permission to proceed.
Her fingers disengaged from his hair, allowing her hands to dance over his shoulders and back. She could feel the muscles there rippling under her touch as he moved his other hand to cover her breast. As he gently kneaded both breasts in his strong hands, she let her head fall back with a moan. Her eyes closed, and her bottom lip caught between her teeth, Grissom thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
When he flattened out his hands, using the taut palms to tease and harden her sensitive nipples, she rested her forehead on his chest and grabbed his shoulders to hold herself up, as she wasn't sure she could stand on her own.
His breathing, short and raspy, matched her own, and she could feel his heart racing in his chest.
She wanted this. She wanted him. She panicked.
He felt it before she said anything. His hands fell to her hips, and his mouth left hers.
"Well, I guess I'd better go."
"Grissom, I…I'm sorry. I want…I don't know if…" Sara was babbling and she knew it.
"It's OK, honey, really. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed."
"Grissom, why are you here?" she asked quietly.
"Because you asked me over for breakfast, then made me cook." He answered with a grin.
"No, I mean, why are you still here?" At the look on his face, she quickly clarified," I have been even more of a bitch lately to live with, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have… gotten beat up; I can't even have sex with you, even though we both want it."
"I don't want to have sex with you, Sara. I want to make love with you. Not to you, with you."
"Sara, I have wanted you for so many years, I don't know if the hot water even works in my shower." At her blush, he continued, "I have waited this long, I can wait a little longer. And, if it never happens, I'll live. Not happily, but I'll live."
He tenderly brushed a kiss on her forehead, and left, throwing, "I'll see you at work!" over his shoulder as he went.
"Sara," Dr. Grimes asked her favorite patient, " Do you love Dr. Grissom?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Does he love you?"
Though he had never said as much, Sara didn't flinch when she answered, "Yes."
"Now comes the tough question: Do you trust him?"
Sara looked Dr. Grimes in the eyes. The automatic answer pushed down by the sudden realization of what all trust entailed. " Yes. Yes, I do." Her face split into a grin those who knew her called her "Grissom Smile".
"Hey, Bugman! Wanna come over to my place after work for breakfast?" She grinned as she stuck her head in Grissom's office.
"Sure."
"How does mushroom omelets sound?"
"Great, since I know you won't be cooking them."
She stuck her tongue out at him.
"Very mature, Ms Sidle. Oh, I have a session with Dr. Hademenos at 8:00, I can be there by 9:30."
"That's fine, it gives me a chance to stop by the grocery store and a few other errands. Now, I've got to get to the break room for assignments, you know my boss can be a real grouch when I'm late."
Grissom shook his head and grinned at the sight of Sara bouncing down the hall, flirting with Greg. 'She must have had a good meeting with Dr. Grimes today,' he thought.
Grissom used the key Sara had given him to let himself into her apartment. She was in the kitchen, unloading food from the bags onto the counter.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. "I hope I got everything," she said. It looked like she bought enough to feed the whole night shift for a week.
"Uh… how many people are going to be here? Is there a party you didn't tell me about?" he teased.
"Funny, Bugman. Just for that, I'm not going to help."
"My digestive system thanks you," he said as he ducked a flying dishtowel.
"I'm going to take a quick shower while you get started. I hate going out to the desert for crime scenes; I always feel so gritty after."
"No problem, I'll be fine."
He had fixed enough meals at her place that he knew where all the utensils and pans he needed were. He was as comfortable here as in his own kitchen. She walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a short, lilac terrycloth robe, and poured them both a glass of juice. Setting his on the countertop beside him, she went around the bar to sit on a barstool, content to just watch him.
He moved with a fluid grace one would not expect a man of his size and age to have. They laughed and talked about a myriad of subjects, their unspoken agreement of months before to not talk about work, still enforced.
When Sara rose from her seat and re-entered the kitchen, he thought she was getting a refill on her juice. When she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, and laid her head on his shoulder blade, he still wasn't surprised, so he took one of her hands in his own and raised it to his lips for a kiss, then squeezed and returned it to its previous resting place.
When she slid her hands up to his chest, and started to kiss across his back, he stopped chopping the vegetables and put down the knife. Her kisses moved up to his neck, and he turned off the gas under the pan he had been heating. When her hands moved down to his hips and then to rest on the front of his thighs, he put is hands on the countertop and leaned into them, hopefully to stop his head from spinning.
His breath was coming in short gasps. His pulse was pounding, he was sure it was visible at the exact spot Sara's lips and tongue were teasing on his throat.
She had untucked his shirt, and was now kissing down his spine.
"Gil, can you hear me?" She whispered.
"Yessssss." He hissed out.
"Make love with me. Please."
Trembling, he turned in her arms, searching her eyes for any fear or doubt. What he found there was desire and trust.
"Honey, are you sure about this?" he asked with a quiver in his voice.
"I need it to be right again. I know that you will make it beautiful again."
"How do you know that?" he asked while stroking her cheek.
"Bugs," she answered simply.
"Huh?"
"I've seen you working timelines with your bugs." At his still questioning look, she continued, "You are always so very tender, careful not to hurt them. You take your time to meticulously measure and catalogue even the most minuscule detail. That leads me to hope that you would pay as much attention to detail in other aspects of your life." During her speech, she never took her eyes from his, but her fingers slowly unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his impressive chest.
"Sara, don't you know that you are more important to me than bugs?" his hand was still on her cheek, but now his lips had joined in taking little kisses and nips all over her face and neck.
"I knew that you cared for me, but I never expected you to admit that!" Even his lust-addled brain registered the teasing in her increasingly husky voice.
Her body couldn't stand it any longer. She grabbed two handfuls of his shirt and jerked him towards her, her mouth assaulting his in a bruising kiss. Her tongue pushed its way through his lips to taste and tease his.
His self-control shattered, and he gave in to the desire that had been building since her invitation of breakfast hours ago. Of their own volition, his powerful arms wrapped around her, almost crushing her body to his, before he gained enough control to hold her gently, if firmly, to his chest.
Hooking two fingers in the belt loops of his pants, she slowly started backing out of the kitchen. His eyes fought to stay closed, but after bumping into a chair, safety demanded he open them to guide their bodies through the maze of her living room and down the hall to her boudoir.
At the door, he planted his feet, and grabbed the frame with trembling hands.
"Sara, I don't want to hurt you, or frighten you in any way."
"I know that, Griss."
"You have to promise to tell me if I do. I will stop AT ANY TIME that you want me to, but you have to tell me. I am not a mind reader." He leaned in for a kiss much more gentle than the one that had gotten them to the doorway.
"I promise, Griss. I trust you. I always have and always will."
She let her hands unhurriedly drift to the front of his pants, stopping only when they reached his belt buckle. Leaning in to lightly run her lips over his chest, she slowly undid the buckle and then the button.
When her tongue flicked over his nipple, he emitted a primal sounding growl and flung his head back. Glancing up at him, she noticed his arms, still braced on the doorframe, shaking so violently she wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself up.
With a gentle tug from Sara, he released the wood and was once again walking toward her bed.
Oh God, be sure, Sara. PLEASE, be sure! There's not sufficient ice in the Antarctic to make a shower cold enough for this. Am I breathing? I know my heart is beating, I can feel it banging in my chest and I hear my blood rushing in my ears.
I want her so badly I ache. I am throbbing in places I had forgotten could throb. I can't feel enough of her. I need to have her closer. When did I lose my shoes?
Slow down, Gil! You're going to scare her!
I'm trying to slow down! Her lips and hands are NOT helping!
He heard a familiar sound. What is that? Then he realized what it was. The familiar rasp of a zipper. His zipper. He felt her hands move to the waist of his boxers. Her fingers left a scorched trail around to the back where they met and then dipped inside to cup his butt.
His hands left her hips to rid himself of his trousers and underwear, leaving him naked before her. He turned to sit on the bed and pulled her to him, to stand between his legs. He grasped the lapels of her robe to guide her face down to his.
As her lips found his, she marveled, once again, at how his hands, so large and strong, could be so incredibly tender. His lips left hers to trail down her jaw to her neck, where he lingered for a while around her collarbone, before continuing his trek down her chest. His tongue followed the neckline of her robe, sending shivers of desire up her spine only to settle somewhere much hotter.
His hands found hers and lifted them to the belt of her robe. He was letting her know that she was in charge. Just how far they would, or would not go, was entirely up to her.
She stepped back and smiled down at him. No hesitation, no bashfulness. She slowly untied her robe. Looking him in the eyes, she slid it off her shoulders to land in a purple puddle at her feet.
He had seen her nude body before, but this time, there were no bruises, there were no…others. There was just…Sara. Wow.
"Come here," he rasped out. He slipped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her abdomen, reveling in the smell and feel of her. " I love you, Sara. And I will do everything in my power to protect you." Suddenly, his face froze.
Oh, no! He's going to back out now!
"Protect? Sara, I don't have any protection!"
She chuckled. "Don't worry. I've got it covered, so to speak. That was one of the errands I had to run."
"Good… wait a minute, that means that you were planning on seducing me all night! I don't know if I feel flattered or just used."
She couldn't help but giggle at the look of incredulity on his face. "Yeah, are you complaining?"
"What do I look? Stupid?" He grinned back up at her.
"Cute? Yes. Sexy? Oh, definitely! But stupid? Never."
They laughed as she fell on the bed to join him.
Still wanting her to feel in control of the situation, he pulled her on top of his aroused body. He felt her suddenly freeze in his arms.
"No, Griss, not like this. I feel too… exposed. Would you mind being on top?"
Glad that she hadn't meant what it sounded like at first, he obliged.
"I am here to please," he teased.
"Well, I certainly hope so," she teased back.
Kissing had never elicited such a powerful response for her before, and she was nearing the edge quickly. She had no way of knowing that he was feeling the same. When his knee came between her thighs, she gladly opened for him.
Poised at the entrance to paradise, he stopped.
"Sara, open your eyes. Look at me."
Groggy with desire, her eyes fought to open.
"I want you to know that it is me, not someone else. I need to see me in your eyes. Say my name, Sara. Please, say my name."
"Gil. It has always been you."
As their forces finally joined, she couldn't stop saying his name.
The trauma was over. Let living and loving begin.
fin
