A/N: I think I'm going to dedicate this bad boy to Leslie, just for the halibut, because the entire idea of Jim and Sara smut totally grosses her out. The sad thing is, she probably won't even see this. It's too bad, too, because as mild as it is, it's probably the smuttiest thing I've ever written. So here's to you, Passion Flower!

As Sara took his hands and walked backwards, leading him toward her bedroom, Brass couldn't help but feel that he was trapped in an enchanting dream. His hands were clasped in the long, thin fingers of a half-naked Sara Sidle, and she was taking him to bed. She was shirtless, and her unclasped bra was hanging loosely from her shoulders, affording tantalizing glimpses of her breasts as she walked. As Sara nudged her bedroom door open, Jim Brass tried to force his brain to slow down and accept the impossibility of what was happening—that in a very short period of time, he was going to be making love to the woman he had fantasized about so often over the past couple of years.

Oh, yes. Life was good indeed.

As they crossed the threshold into her bedroom, she resumed her task of unbuttoning his shirt. When she was done, she slipped the soft blue garment from his shoulders, leaving him in only his t-shirt and khakis. When she reached for his belt, his unfortunate sense of propriety kicked in, and he practically groaned with self-loathing as he stilled her hands. Nonetheless, he had to be sure she was sure, or he would never forgive himself. "Sara," he murmured softly. "Before we take this any further, I just want to make sure you're okay with this. If you're uncomfortable in any way, we can stop."

She coupled a hearty snort with a coy grin as she placed her right hand against his left cheek. She affected a Scarlett O'Hara drawl. "Why, Mr. Brass, your genteel nature is most endearing, but considering that I myself have dragged you into my bedroom, I think you can alleviate yourself of any fears that you have pressured me into this situation of debauchery." The truth was, she did appreciate his gentlemanly nature. If his obvious arousal was any indication, stopping her when he did must have been, ahem, hard. The fact that he was concerned with her well-being and comfort only fueled her growing desire for him. She softened her voice, dropping the faux accent. "Thank you, Jim," she murmured, "but I promise you I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now."

And with that, it was on. His fears properly allayed, Brass assaulted her mouth once more, propelling them both toward the bed. Sara resumed work on his pants, shedding his belt in record time and making quick work of the button and zipper on the khakis. As his pants dropped to the floor, Brass finally reached back up to Sara's bra straps. Sliding them down her arms, he revealed her milky-white skin at last, which he immediately set to work upon. Sara relieved him of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his boxers. Jim, after thoroughly working over her shoulders and breasts, began to kiss his way down her belly, toward the top of her black cotton pants. When he reached the hem, he tugged at the drawstring with his teeth, making Sara giggle. Her giggles faded into a soft gasp when he began to slowly, sensuously tug the pants down her legs, revealing plain black panties—cotton, bikini cut. Simple, like Sara. Brass thought they were the sexiest panties he'd ever laid eyes on.

When he had freed her legs of the offending pants, he paused before deciding that they were in no hurry; thus there was no reason to rid her of her panties in such quick fashion. He stealthily made his way back up her legs and kissed her belly gently before gripping the sides of her rib cage with his strong hands. Pressing himself down atop her, he let her feel his arousal as he kissed her hard and long. Sara, however, seemed to disagree with Jim's "no hurry" outlook on things, and he felt her long fingers grip the waistband of his boxers and shove them south. Their progress was impeded by Jim's weight pressed against Sara, and he quickly pushed himself up to allow his shorts passage down his legs. Any resolution he had made to attempt to draw things out was obliterated, and he pressed his mouth to Sara's belly once again as he prepared to divest her of the last scrap of material remaining between them. As he licked and kissed his way down her abdomen, he grasped her panties between his thick fingers and slipped them gently downward. Sara sucked in a breath as his lips skirted over the small, dark patch of hair that was revealed.

Moments later, when he finally entered her and began to move, the silence remained unbroken. Not a word had been uttered since they hit the bed, and somehow, it seemed just right that way. They had all the time in the world to talk; now was the time for doing. He dipped his head down and nipped at her collarbone as he continued to move, still not quite comprehending the idea that he was making love to Sara Sidle, the woman of his dreams.

When her breathing began to quicken and her low moans intensified in volume, the entire thing became surreal once again. If Jim had believed in things like astral projection, he would have been sure that he was having an out-of-body experience; as it was, he was convinced that he was on one fucked-up trip, because there was no way in hell that anything drug-free could possibly feel this good.

When she arched up beneath him with a gasp and gripped his shoulders until her knuckles turned white, Brass realized that this was the most mind-blowing, apocalyptic sex he'd ever had.

Everything slowed as Jim Brass tried to wrap his brain around the fact that Sara Sidle was having an orgasm underneath him, but the fact that there was no blood whatsoever anywhere near his brain caused him to give up momentarily and give in to the crush of his own release.

It took them both a good five minutes to recover. As they lay there on the damp sheets, still breathing quickly, Sara was the first to speak.

"Umm…wow," was all she could really muster.

"You can say that again," Jim panted in reply.

"Wow," Sara said again, then snorted at her wit.

Jim slid over and pulled Sara into his arms. As he felt sleep begin to overtake him, he mumbled against her hair, "I think I'm going to have to lose the bet, because I'm falling asleep. Next time, dinner's on me."

Sara smiled against his bare chest. "Deal. Jim?"

"Mmm?"

"Does that mean we can do this again sometime?"