Chapter 55

Safeword

"Grissom, you got a minute?" Sara announced as she stepped into Gil's office later on that night. The shift was four hours from being over with, a very long twelve hour shift that both of them felt they could have done without.

Gil didn't look up from the new mound of paperwork that had appeared on his desk during the day, "papers, papers, papers!" he sighed, he dropped his pen in disgust with it, "I'm drowning in paperwork here. You'd think solving crimes would be more import but no – they won't get off my back. Every other minute I'm being hounded on the phone. 'Have you got that report yet, Grissom', 'Get that thing on my desk now, Grissom', I haven't had a break all day…every time I get out of this chair thinking about getting some coffee, the phone rings…"

Sara looked at him sympathetically.

He finallylooked up at her, "want to swap…?" he asked with a hopeful tone.

Sara snorted in contempt of that idea, "even having an unsolvable case is better than doing your paperwork," she stood in front of his desk, "can I steal a few minutes of your time?"

"I guess," Gil answered, "gives me an excuse to not be doing this," he uttered wearily, "What's the problem?"

"I have a DB with no evidence."

"No evidence at all?"

"Nothing that suggests anyone else was there. Victim died in a trunk of a car," she sighed, "she called her father from her cellular phone and told her some guys had kidnapped her, put her in the back of the car…" she explained. "Then she was found dead in the trunk of this car at the airport, bound and gagged with her own scarf. There is no trace evidence of anyone else…no signs of assault, rape…anything," she sighed.

She moved over to the other side of Gil's desk to stand beside him. She opened the folder and took out a pile of photographs. She laid each photo down, a detailed image of the scene from every angle possible.

Gil stared down at the photos, the cogs in his mind whirring, "How'd she die?" he asked.

"Here," Sara said, "this is everything you need to know…" she took the report from the folder and handed it to him.

Gil read the reports quickly, turning the pages quickly, he could already imagine almost everything as if he'd been working the case along side her all night. He looked past the report to the photos, "the victim called from her own cell phone?" he asked quietly, trying to visualize the missing pieces of the puzzle in his head.

"Yes…" Sara responded, "What kind of kidnapper doesn't take the cell phone away from the victim?" she pointed out.

Gil stared down at the photos, he picked up a photo in particular, "something isn't right with this…" he admitted.

Sara slid nearer to see, he felt her thigh press as she moved – very inadvertently – and Gil felt a strange onslaught of sexual emotions rush through him, just being so near to her, touching her, even as innocent as it was. His heart skipped a beat, he felt the familiar ache below his the waist of his pants.

"What are you seeing?" Sara asked.

Gil had to break the contact at once from her, it was already driving him crazy. He stood and leaned over the desk, he placed the photo down, "It's not consistent with the details of a kidnapping," he leaned over the desk to look at the rest of the photos quickly, "look…" he gestured, "everything else is consistent. Being gagged…being bound with her hands behind her back…" he explained, "but the knot on the ropes around her wrists isn't…"

Sara stood beside him, leaning over also, her shoulder inadvertently brushing his. Gil found himself looking back five years and trying to remember if any accidental brushing against each other might have awakened such feelings as he was thinking now, but nothing specific could come to mind. Nothing as powerful as this.

Just the mere touch was enough to give him visions of pushing her down to the desk to make passionate love. He swallowed a little nervously, and tried to continue with the conversation as best he could.

"The knot is behind her hands…" he noted, "if you're tying someone up – arms behind their back – the knot would be in front, not behind…"

Sara swore under her breath, "how could I have missed that?"

"You would have fallen on it eventually," he said, "from the looks of it, your victim could be the suspect. She did this herself. Tied her own wrists up and somehow twisted her arms behind her back," he suggested.

Sara smirked, "I knew you'd work it out," she shook her head at himself, she picked up the photos and report and put them in the folder.

Gil glanced towards the open office door, making sure no one was standing in the hallway, he leaned close to her to murmur near her ear, "up for breakfast after the shift?"

She gave a shrug, trying to be nonchalant, "diner?" she asked.

"No," he answered quickly, he sat back in his chair, pretended to be much more preoccupied with the paperwork for the benefit of whoever might be walking by at that particular moment.

"My place?" she asked under her breath, her voice barely even audible.

"Works for me…"

"Catch you later," Sara said, she finished collecting her photos

Gil left work half an hour later than Sara had thanks to more paperwork and two important phone calls. He was glad to finally turn out the lights, lock his office door, and head out of the building.

By the time he'd gotten to Sara's apartment, it was already coming up for seven am. He winced at the thought of being late, and prepared to explain himself. When Sara opened the door, she just smiled.

"Let me guess, paperwork?" she asked.

"Yes, they're trying to drown me in it, I swear," Gil answered, he pecked her forehead before stepping inside as she invited him. He felt her brush her hand tenderly against his arm as he passed by her, again those lusty images flew to mind. How much he'd like to grab her wrist and throw her against the wall and kiss her harder than he'd ever kissed her before.

Wow, these little fantasies are pretty…brutal, he thought uneasily at himself, he watched her wander over to the kitchenette, he could smell scrambled eggs and coffee. His stomach screamed out for both eagerly.

"Hey, you lied to me," he said, "You told me you couldn't cook," he stepped over to the breakfast counter, watching her work at breakfast from behind it.

"Anyone can scramble eggs," Sara said matter-of-factly, "it isn't an art form."

Gil studied her as she moved from the stove to the toaster to put bread in, her movement so fluid, her body lithe, her face beautiful. He ached once again, stronger than before. Ever since she'd accidentally brushed against him during the shift he'd been seeing those images of her for the rest of the shift. He could still picture her half naked over his desk as if it had actually happened. The image felt incredibly dangerous but at the same time, incredibly appealing.

Now he had the image of throwing her against the wall and pressing into her to accompany the other images.

This is what Catherine was talking about, Gil thought. When you just want it all the time. I've spent almost five hours wanting it tonight. Five complete hours of hardly being able to concentrate of work. So why am I standing watching her cook scrambled eggs and make toast? Why don't I just pin up against the wall, or bend her over the counter and…oh my god…what am I thinking! I freaked out the last time I got too rough, and here I am, getting these thoughts again. This is not normal…not for me at least.

Sara poured a cup of coffee, when she had a free moment between the eggs and the toast, "here," she said, "You look like you need it," she added, indicating she thought he looked tired.

What I need now is something a lot more potent than coffee, he thought. I don't think it's on the menu at the moment though.

He sipped the coffee, "how'd the case go?" he asked, he took a seat on one of the stools.

"Everything is fine, I dropped the report off on your desk before leaving," she said, "You weren't there."

"I was in the lab," he shrugged, he looked over the rim of the coffee mug at her, another image came to mind. Pinned on the hard kitchen floor, he could almost hear her moans.

No, no, no, stop thinking this…oh my god.

"Hey, I was thinking," Sara said, "You know…I know you've still been stressing about the bruises…" she spooned out scrambled eggs onto a plate and placed it front of him.

"I promise, I'm dealing with it, I'm not going to freak out again. That was a one time thing," he assured quickly.

"Yeah, but anyway, it's like you said…you had no way of knowing if I was scared or…if I wanted to stop…" she said, "Because it wasn't like it was something we ever discussed before, right?" she asked.

Is this an appropriate subject to talk about over breakfast, he wondered. He watched her get herself a plate of the scrambled eggs, she it beside him, then went to collect the four slices of toast she'd now made.

"Riiiight," he managed slowly, uneasily. He stared down at his eggs, he really wanted to let this subject drop but at the same time, found himself strangely fascinated as to what she wanted to say. Did she want to change her mind about how she felt about the bruises? Was she confident enough to say he had hurt her?

"Well…I came up with an idea," Sara placed the toast on a plate and put the plate on the breakfast bar in between hers and Gil's plate. She moved around and took the stool beside him. She picked up her fork, "how about a safeword?"

"A safeword?" Gil turned to look at her curiously. He was familiar with the concept, but he was curious to see why she felt they might need one.

"Yeah, you know…a certain word we'd have…and if something is getting a little too scary or sore…or it doesn't feel right…then all we have to say is the safeword and the other person stops everything…immediately," she explained.

"Do you think we need one?" he asked, growing very uneasy now.

Sara took a bite of her scrambled eggs, then picked up a slice of toast, "I don't know, really. I just wondered what you thought about it," she admitted, "I mean, you say you had no way of knowing if I was scared. It might…reassuring for future reference if things got too hard to handle I could say something that would let you know…"

Gil realised she was right, it might be reassuring to know, "It's…a pretty good idea…" he admitted.

Sara nodded, "Okay," she bit into her toast.

"So what might the word be?" he asked, he picked up a slice of toast.

"Something really stupid…absurd…something you just wouldn't say during sex.

Gil raised an eyebrow, "like?"

"I don't know…" she paused, "toast," she held up her slice of toast.

Gil laughed at this, "toast?"

"Well, if someone blurts out 'toast' while you're making love to them, it'd make you stop and think, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah," Gil mused. "So…let me get this straight…our safeword is 'toast'."

"Yes," Sara answered, "although I don't expect you'll ever hear it…" she added in a slight mumble with a smirk, she took another bite of her scrambled eggs and made a face, "this needs pepper…" she got up.

"I'll get it," he was about to stand.

"No, it's okay…I'll get it," Sara said, "you're a guest, you should be sitting and finishing your breakfast," she added.

Gil smirked "if you say so."

Sara moved around the counter and opened a high cupboard, standing on her tiptoes – her feet bare - to reach a pepper shaker which had accidentally been pushed back too far on the highest shelf. Gil watcher her, watched the rising of her t-shirt at the back. The thought of pushing up against her from behind leapt to his mind, he winced.

I haven't had sex on the brain like this since I was seventeen, he thought, half in

amusement, and half in disgrace.

Sara's fingers hit the pepper shaker, but push it even further away inadvertently. He got up, stepped up behind her and reached up to the cupboard, and stretched to pick it up, just barely reaching it himself. Sara's back touched his chest and finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

The build up of frustration that had been going on since five hours ago had finally met the point where his restraint collapsed. He spun her around with his left hand, still holding the pepper shaker with his right, he pressed his lips on hers to kiss her, trying to hold back on his desperation and failing to succeed.

Sara kissed him back with that same desperation that told him he hadn't been the only one who'd spent all day thinking about a moment like this. He closed the short space between their bodies so that she'd known exactly how he needed her, he had her trapped between himself, the counter and the above cupboard.

He felt her yield to him, her arms enclosed around his neck, he ran his left hand down her hip to her leg, sliding it under to raise her thigh to meet his hip, giving him more access to push his sex against her. He heard her moan muffle between his lips and hers, felt her tongue stroke deliciously against his.

Wait, wait, you're not giving her a chance to respond, what if you're misreading the situation? What if this hurts her? What if I'm imagining she wants this just as much – if not more – than I do?

He broke the kiss, and quickly, breathlessly, he asked, "Anything you want to say?" he asked, hoping to god that her response wouldn't be 'toast'.

Sara grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to pull him in. The strength and authority she this with made Gil almost want to moan in sheer ecstasy, "Don't you dare stop now," she mumbled before their lips met again.

And he didn't, he dropped the pepper shaker carelessly on the counter, and continued. He broke the kiss momentarily and moved to her jaw, "what about breakfast?"

Sara shivered in response of his lips brushing against her jaw, "I'm not in the mood for it anymore."

Those next few moments became a blur of discarded clothes and more fiery kisses. Gil felt more alive than he ever had before, and it disturbed him as much as pleased him.

Completely free of any clothing, they kissed like hot blooded teens. Completely and fully aroused he felt himself graze against her belly, and the tingles of pleasure began to surge through him, he worked his lips across her neck, enjoying the small throaty moans and sighs of bliss that escaped her lips.

Her fingers skimmed gently down his stomach, further south, until she – quite literally – had him in the palm of her hand. He stifled a moan, and tried to continue despite how distracted he was beginning to become as she began to work her hand along him in a slow consistent rhythm.

This is dirty…we're in the kitchen for Gods sake, he thought absurdly, then mused that probably this was what was so fiercely stimulating about it. The old Gil Grissom doesn't make love in the kitchen, and he certainly doesn't do it standing up either.

Sara's hand tightened slightly around him, he bit down on her neck softly to stop himself from moaning.

The Gil Grissom definitely has a different opinion about sex in the kitchen, he thought wryly.

Sara positioned him just so that his hardness glided across the warm moist valley between her legs, she let out a soft sigh in response, incredibly sensitive, incredibly needy.

Gil took his lips from her mouth, he was still for many moments, trying to remain calm for two reasons. The first was that he thought he might be sent over the edge and spend himself before had a chance to please her, and the second was the more frightening part. The one he knew she might not understand.

"What is it?" she asked softly, her chest rising and falling as she breathed deeply.

"Nothing," he murmured, "give me a minute…" he kissed her throat, tried to focus mainly on pleasing her for a few moments, letting himself wind down enough that no sudden movements would send him into sheer ecstasy and ruin the moment. Sara's hands were in his hair, her breasts bare, nipples grazing his chest, they kissed once again, heatedly. She shifted her position ever slightly so he felt it against him again, felt how incredibly excited he'd made her.

Oh my god, she'll never understand if I stop now, he thought, he kissed her shoulder and tried to stare down to see what might be happening below, he could see himself partly concealed, although he had not penetrated, he was merely pressing against her. His cheeks were flushing scarlet and he didn't want her to know why.

"Something is wrong…" she said, "you're tensing up…" she placed both hands on his shoulders.

"Uh…" he swallowed, "it's nothing…" he tried to assure.

"No…what is it…" she put her hand under his chin and raised it so that he had to look her in the face, he had no choice, he felt powerless right then. "Are you losing your nerve?"

You have to tell her. Oh my god, she might laugh, he thought. Or worse…she might think you're a freak…oh god…this cannot be happening right now, not like this…why didn't you think to tell her the first time after you'd made love to her!

"I've…never done it…like this…"

"Standing up?" Sara asked, sounding completely baffled. "You're kidding…" she asked, it seemed to make the moment all the more absurd they could be having this conversation standing naked in her kitchen.

"No…but that's not what's wrong…" he licked his lips nervously. This was true. Standing up was not the problem. While it had been one thing he'd never done, it certainly didn't limit him – there were plenty of other things he had done. The problem – if it could be called that – wasn't about the position at all.

"Well, everything else feels definitely right here," she pointed her eyes downwards, "so…whatever's wrong…" she trailed off.

"I've never done this without protection, Sara," he blurted, he lowered his head, incredibly ashamed. There, he'd said it. Quickly, and precisely and honestly. How could he expect her to understand that? "I'm a fifty year old man who's never made love without using a condom."

Ever since the first time he'd had sex, he'd been safety conscious – at least in this respect. He'd always been aware of the danger of unwanted pregnancies – it happened often enough, he'd seen it through the years. Even knowing the woman in question at the time might have been on birth control wasn't enough to assure him. Not when the pill could only be ninety-nine-point-nine-percent safe. What about the other zero-point-one percent? He had to ask himself. It happens, I've read about it.

And then there was the fact of sexually transmitted diseases - another thing that scared him entirely. He'd seen enough of infected victims and suspects to know how it looked, what it caused, and it could even ruin lives. He'd never wanted to let that happen to him or anyone else. If having to be the one to take preventative measures was the only way to stop that from happening, then so be it.

Sara was silent for a moment, then she said very quietly, "oh," she shifted again, accidentally this time, the touching was sending Gil into complete torment.

"I'm sorry…" he apologized.

"It's nothing to be sorry for," Sara put both hands on his face, she raised his head again, "it's kind of…reassuring."

"It is?" he asked, surprised by how incredibly nonchalant she could be about this piece of intimate information..

"Yeah…in our line of work, it doesn't surprise me either…" she pecked his lips softly, "if you want to stop, it's okay…really…"

"No…I don't want to," he pecked her lips back a few times. His body screamed that he definitely didn't want to stop at all. But that meant doing something he'd never done before.

This is…being reckless, trusting that the zero-point-one percent isn't going to come back to haunt me later…

"Then what do you want to do?" she asked, she kissed his jaw lightly whist waiting for him to answer.

Gil stood against her, her nipples grazed his bare chest, made Sara shiver and made the contact between them grow even stronger still.

Come on, Gil, make up your mind, his thoughts cried at him. Look at it one way, every time you cross the street, you're being reckless. Every time you go out on the job you're being reckless, every time you defy Ecklie at work, you're being reckless. Why is this any different? You're going to die one day, might as well make the most of it…

He stopped to ask himself if this was really what he wanted, if it was really what was right. You trust her, don't you? He thought. It feels right, doesn't it?

He leaned back a little to look into her eyes. Yes, he trusted her. He trusted her with his life and with his body…which was now touching hers so intimately. And she trusted him…for if she had not trusted him, wouldn't she have insisted he stop too?

Gil kissed her fiercely, pinned her and guided himself so that he slid forward into her, finally joined with her, which was what his body had been screaming to do for five hours now.

Sara broke the kiss to sigh in pleasure, her hands gripping his shoulders, she let him support her weight as he moved against her, first slow, and then building a vigorous rhythm.

It wasn't like any other time Gil had experienced, it was almost triple the intensity of the first time he'd made love with Sara, and ten times the intensity of the first time he'd ever made love at all. The sensations were completely different, the pleasure so extreme that he couldn't hold onto himself enough to make it a long lasting experience. Barely just lasting long enough to please her and bring her over when he finally couldn't take it anymore.

His body seized with the spasms of pleasure, every nerve ending tingled in complete and utter elation. Then relaxed in her arms as it passed, he let his cheek rest against her shoulder, breathless and spent.

Sara felt him plant a soft kiss upon his neck, "you never cease to surprise me."

Sex brought back by popular demand. Tried not to be too graphic, got carried away. LOL.

Thanks to the people who were reviewing :) As always I'll mention you in the even chapter number (56)

I know some people will think the condom thing might be a bit OOC for Grissom, but I dunno, I felt that as a scientist and well versed in sexual diseases, he'd probably be pretty anal about wearing one. I guess this might start an argument so I'm going to shut up now before I get flamed, lol.

SS