Hi everyone, thanks for your reviews. I know I'm taking a lot of time to update... sorry. Here's the new chap, a big trip in fluff city.

Enjoy,

So ;)


Act 23: Sara

Catherine's whole body convulses, her nails dig into the flesh of my back and I groan in response; feeling her riding her pleasure under my touch is incredible. I rest my forehead against her shoulder and try to get my breath under control.

I kiss her neck, then move to her jaw line until I reach her lips. She runs one of her hands in my hair, kissing me back sweetly. I smile against her lips then pull back and look at her with a certain adoration.

"Hey," I whisper.

"Hey, yourself," she grins.

I can feel my hunger for her touch rising again in the pit of my stomach just at the sight of her right now; her flustered skin, her swollen lips, the deep shade of blue of her eyes, the thin layer of sweat covering her skin.

"Stay there a moment?" she demands and I frown not sure to understand. She just locks her arms around me so I stay half on top of her.

"My pleasure," I reply with a smile, shifting a bit so my head is resting just under her collarbone.

I can hear her heart beating frantically in her chest then progressively slowing down to its normal pace.

She kisses my crown and squeezes me briefly, I respond by kissing neck.

"I'm an addict," she declares out of the blue. "I've been clean for the past twelve years but yeah… I'm an addict."

I don't know question where her confession is coming from or why it is coming out now, just listen silently.

"There was this crazy day when I was 21. I was stripping by then, it was Beth's birthday – Beth was a fellow stripper and one of my roommates – and we went from party to party. Usually my poison of choice was coke, but that day I took a Molotov, it cocktail of different things subtly mixed. You hit it and within twenty seconds you're in orbit," she explains.

"That was the best trip I ever had. It was powerful and intense and I felt so omniscient… I kept using after that day and nothing ever came close, I even had some Molotov another time or two in the years after that but nothing ever came close to compare to that time. That day it was the best high of my life. It was so good that even to this day I can feel the euphoria tingling in my veins just thinking about it."

There's a long silence and I'm about to call her but she continues. "You make me feel like that high… only it's so much better with you."

I nod at the comparison finally getting her point.

"You make me feel incredible, like I had super powers or something. Every time you touch me, it feels different; every time I feel that super high. You're very addictive," she declares. "Do you think it's wrong of me to feel that way?"

"It's reassuring," I prop myself up a bit so I can watch her. She frowns in confusion and I just leaning to nibble on her earlobe. "You're very addictive too," I confess. She shivers when I run my hand on her side. "As a matter of fact, I already need my new fix," I whisper in her ear.

She grabs my hair and pulls not too gently then crashes our lips together for a bruising kiss. Our hands immediately start to explore one another, the embrace quickly intensifies. The touches are feral, heated; skins are scratched, bitten, pinched; bodies are possessed in a fight for dominance; releases come in burning waves.

It's a long time before we stop, muscles sore and limp from exertion, chests rising and falling rapidly, barely able to move; still our bodies are tangled for the need for connection is unwavering.

I must have dosed off because I wake up to a languid, feather like caress on my chest. "That tickles," I state lazily.

"Should I stop?"

"Nope," I smirk. I open my eyes and find Catherine propped on an elbow watching her hand as it moves on my skin.

"Hey," she grins, then leans in to capture my lips for a tender kiss. I just beam in response.

She lies her head on my shoulder and continues to trail her the tips of her fingers across my chest. "What did you want to be when you were a kid?" she asks non sequitur.

"A carpenter."

"Really?" I can't see her face, but I know she has an intrigued grin on her face right now.

"Yeah," I affirm. "It's a craft that has been running in my family for generations," I nod. "I learnt the craft, I acquired the excellence of it and all. I've worked in the family business until I went to college."

"Why not pursuing the career?"

"I don't have the passion, I guess. I'm a good carpenter, I can build you a solid, good piece of furniture, but it'll be plain. Now give a piece of wood to Russell, Sydney or Hazy and they'll make something so beautiful it'll bring tears to your eyes. They've turned the craft into a fine art, they're amazing. Everything they make has a soul, the passion they put in is transcendent."

She kisses my neck and hums softly. "What about you?" I return her question.

"I didn't have a clue to be honest. But by the time I was 13 I decided that I wanted to change the face of music history. I started to learn the guitar; at 15 I formed my band."

"You had a band?"

"Yes, ma'am, we were the Black Jacks."

I smirk. "Cool name."

"The name is half the work," she adds with a chuckle. "It was awesome, we were good together and really great friends. My greatest memories of my teenage years are linked to the band. You know there's this kind of confidence and swag that come from being in a band. And we were good too."

There's excitement in her voice when she talks about her band, I can't help but smile imagining her on stage.

"The band was great, but that's also where I picked up bad habits. That's when I started to experiment with drugs; nothing big at first, just the occasional joint and I tried stuff during parties, but we were just teenagers trying to have fun with limits," I feel her shrugging. "After graduating we decided to take our chance, and we got our gear into a van, our savings and started touring. We'd hit a town after the other, playing in café, in the streets, small concert venues, bars, it was pure rock life, rough at times but I loved every moment of it. Playing during nights then partying till dawn, I was living the dream."

"I was 19 when we arrived at Vegas, we chained the concerts and we started to party harder with label people. Our big break was near… or at least we were sure of it."

I grab the hand that she has resting on my stomach and start playing idly with it. She kisses my shoulder before going on. "We had a friend to manage us, but one day he just took off with all our hard-earned money. It all went downhill from there," she sighs. "Tensions arose and it took a toll on our spirits, then this label guy started to talk to our singer, Mark, telling him that he was better than the rest of us, that he was the true artist. And Mark succumbed to the song of the sirens, leaving us behind. We were four with no singer, we tried to find someone else but it wasn't the same. The thing is when you play for so long with the same people, go through thing together it brings something to the whole thing. Individually we were just good, but as a band we were a true creative force as an entity, but we needed each other, and we lost sight of that."

"We disbanded, and went our separate way. I could have gone back to Montana, I should have. My parents would have welcomed me with opened arms; but I just wanted to spare myself the humiliation of a 'I told you so' talk. Pride kept me in Vegas, I wanted to show my parents that I could make it even if my plan hadn't paned out."

"Do you regret not going back?" I ask when she stays silent.

"I did. When I was at rock bottom, yeah. I mean, when I lost my band, the line between recreational use of drugs and addiction was starting to blur and like I said I only stayed out of pride. I could have gone home, gone to college and so on. Instead, I became a stripper and an addict, not exactly my plan. When I look at the details, I regret that choice; I regret my stubbornness and pride; but when I look at the big picture, I don't wish to have done things any differently because I met Eddie, granted not the greatest relationship but we had very good time together and at least a year of a happy marriage; I had Linds, I met Grissom, I made a name for myself as a CSI, a family, we met and now I'm lying with you. I can't regret anything when I think about that. Never regret, never look back."

"That's a good policy," I state and shift my position so I can kiss her lips softly.

"I like to think that sometimes there's a bigger picture to the way things happen, you know?"

"Yeah, it's like us really," I state with a nod.

"How so?"

"Well, ever since things changed I sometime think that we've wasted so much time fighting and hurting each other when we could have been together; then I think that maybe we're so good together now because we fought and hurt each other before… does it make sense?"

"Yeah," she moves to rest her hands on my chest and props her chin on them. "We are really good together."

"Yes we are."

She grins then repositions herself so she can capture my lips in a deep kiss. I secure her in my arms, plunging a hand in her hair. The sparkle is ignited again in the pit of my stomach when she moans as I nibble her bottom lip.

Laughter suddenly erupts from my throat when a characteristic growl resonates. Catherine breaks the kiss and buries her head in the crook of my neck.

"That stomach will make me die of embarrassment someday," she mumbles against my skin.

"I think it's one of your most endearing features," I note, she responds with a bite on m neck and a gentle fist on my shoulder. "Hey! You're so aggressive when the beast is awaken," I joke.

"Watch it," she warns me.

"Alright, alright, let's feed you."

We untangle ourselves and threw on a few clothes – the strict minimum, tank top and shorts for me, panties and shirt for her. She takes my hand in hers makes me stand up and kisses me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I can't get enough of this," she declares against my lips.

"I hope so," I smile and rub my nose against hers.

We go downstairs, I stay on one side of the island leaning against my forearms watch her move in her kitchen. My eyes roam over the exposed flesh of her legs, I must admit that seeing her wearing my shirt with nothing under it is sexy as hell, in fact it makes me want her all over again.

I've always had a rather healthy sex drive but Catherine makes my drive skyrocket, I swear I want her all the time, not that I'm complaining mind you and honestly I can't be blamed, she's hot.

My girlfriend is hot.

I can feel a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips at this simple thought, once again each one of my nerve endings is yearning for Catherine.

"Are you a little hungry, hungry or very hungry?" she asks while she checks the content of the cupboards.

I walk slowly behind her, put my right hand on her hip, wrap my left arm around her shoulder to keep her in place and latch my mouth on her neck. "I'm very, very hungry."

She leans against me with a chuckle. "I see that," she replies with a husky voice.

My left hand slips under the lapels of my shirt finds her breast and pinches her already hardened nipple; Catherine hisses and I nibble harder on her flesh.

"My shirt is hot on you," I declare.

The hand I have on her hip slides down until I'm cupping her, she slams her palms on the countertop to steady herself, taking the edge of it in a vice grip. I feel her moving her hips in a slow rocking motion, getting more pressure from my hand. I move with her, taking in her every reaction. It's not long because her rocking is more intense, her breath short mingled with small moans. My name escapes her lips in a breathy plea driving me wild. When I feel her close, I pinch the peak of her breast, bite the tender flesh of her neck and applied more pressure against her core, her knees buckle, I hold her more firmly against me as she rides the waves of her pleasure.

I kiss her neck to soften my bite, she's still shivering when she reach out back with her hand turning her head to welcome my mouth in kiss. I release my embrace just enough for her to completely turn around. Our kiss becomes more passionate, one of my hand runs against the smooth skin of her thigh; she's tearing my top desperately craving more contact with my skin.

"I think I'll take my dessert first," she states between two kisses. That's all the incentive I need to lift her up, she immediately wraps her legs around my waist, once she's secured, I move us to the living room and sit on the couch so that she's straddling me.

All thought of food is forgotten for the next hour.

We're lying on the floor at the foot of the couch when Catherine suddenly laughs. "This time it wasn't mine!" she refers to the unholy growls that my stomach just made.

"Now I'm hungry for food."

"You'd have been fed sooner if you could keep your hands to yourself."

"You don't make it easy for me to keep my hands to myself," I retort with a caress on her hips.

"Sure blame it on me."

I bury my head in her neck and start nibbling her skin. "Behave," Catherine chastises me half-heartedly before bringing my lips to hers, my stomach however makes another beastly sound. "Right, we need food."

"If you insist," I sigh dramatically before helping her to stand up.

Fifteen minutes later we are set in the kitchen, eating and talking. "You're scared of clowns?" I ask before taking a bite out of my sandwich.

"Oh yeah… they creep me out," she shudders. "Okay, you know, clowns are supposed to be sad, but every clown you see today is smiling, that's just plain wrong…"

"How dare they be happy," I tease her. She picks a piece of lettuce and throws it to my face. "Hey, no playing with the food!" she sticks her tongue at me in response

"You know, I actually punched the clown that was there at Lindsey's sixth birthday. Nancy had planned one as a surprise, he came from behind me… that was a very bad idea… because his nose wasn't red because of his make up I can tell you that."

I almost choke on my drink at her anecdote. "Oh my… I'm sure he was sad after that."

"He was lucky I didn't have a baseball bat or my gun at hand's reach," she retorts.

"Do you know why clowns?"

"Yup, I've read the novel 'It' and then as if it wasn't enough I watch the miniseries…I've never been able to watch a clown since."

"I'm scared of the dark," I confess. "I don't mean obscurity, I mean complete darkness… you know, the kind where there's no difference whether your eyes are closed or opened. It always feels like there someone… something lurking in the dark, ready to hurt me," I mark a pause and clear my throat. "I know it's childish but I can't help it… I suppose I never really got over my fear of the bogey man," I grin nervously.

"The bogey man is a clown with a freaking balloon."

I can't help but laugh and roll my eyes at her, glad that she made light of my confession.

The day is spent alternating between talking and discovering each other's body over and over again. We share a profound intimacy that is comfortable. What I like the most of it all is that it comes naturally, I don't mind the questions she asks me and even find myself opening up easily without any incentive.

"Do you remember how you got all your scars?" she asks delivering a feather like kiss on my shoulder blade. I'm lying on my stomach, she's propped on one elbow idly caressing my back with her free hand. After eating we had a shower then made love again.

"I remember some," I shrug.

"What about this one?" she trail her finger on the back of my forearm.

"I fell off a tree," I recall. "Well, no, Russell pushed me of said tree."

"Really?" she chortles.

"Yup, we had a tree house and he claimed to be Russell the Conqueror ruler of the fort Sidle," I elaborate. "No girls were allowed in his kingdom."

"How cruel!"

"Oh don't worry, Sara the Brave was back up and conquered the fort Sidle back ten minutes later, and the Conqueror was thrown overboard. By the end of the day the fort had belonged successively to Charlie the Great, Howard the Courageous, and Sidney the Fierce."

"Oh my…" she laughs and shakes her head. "Who ruled the fort in the end?"

"We all had to swear allegiance to Eleanor the Fair."

"What's with the names?"

"We were Vikings," I specify.

"I see," she smiles. "So how did she win? She broke all of your arms?"

"No, she channelled our inner warriors pacifically with tickling attacks. She forced us into a peaceful ruling of the fort with laughter."

"I…" she trails off.

"What?"

"Well… I noticed how you talk to each one of your siblings at least once a week… but not Eleanor, I was wondering if you had had a fall out of sort… to explain why you never talk to each other."

"She got sick when she was 16," I explain. "She never turned 17."

"Oh, Sar… I'm sorry," I can see that she feels like she had overstepped some boundaries so I reassure her immediately.

"It's alright, don't worry. It was a long time ago."

She leans down and kisses my shoulder. "Must have been hard."

"It was, it still hurts don't get me wrong, but I just remember the good now, her laughter, her kindness, the way she was always in a good mood, her singing… you know?"

"Yeah."

"We've learnt to live for her too… I mean, we did some of the things she wanted to do… I know that whenever I hit a low point I'd think about her, how she'd have pushed me not to give up and how I'd have wanted to make her proud."

"So you guys were a handful, eh?" Catherine alleviates the mood when she senses that I'm turning melancholic. I'll never cease to be amazed how she picks up on those things quickly and how she knows when to push an issue or when to drop it.

"I have five brothers, I had to keep up, surely you know how it is," I point out.

"True, but we didn't push each other off trees."

"The Vikings world was cruel, what can I say?"

Catherine shakes her head and kisses me. "What about that one?" she touches another scar.

I reveal the stories behind the scars she points out, when she feels that I don't want to talk anymore she just kisses them all delicately, she straddles me and keep giving attention to every inch of my back; I feel her hands, her hair, her lips, her tongue, her teeth mapping my skin. I never thought my back was such an erogenous area for me, but I found out just how much it is when I climax from her ministrations.

After taking a nap we talk some more, exchanging war stories from our childhood. I learn how wild she was as a kid and some of the antics her siblings and her pulled; one things leading to another we start talking about her relationship with Nancy.

"…she's the baby of the family, I should always be the one to protect her, but her roc, you know, be the big sister. Yet, she's the one who has been my roc all those years. She helped me through everything."

We're sitting on the bed, our backs against the headboard, sharing some candies. "You know, I fear Nancy more than I fear my mom."

"You're joking."

"Oh no, trust me. If I have to choose between facing 'angry mom' and 'angry Nancy', I'm facing my mom, no question."

I chortle at her admission. Personally, I put Nancy and Lilly at the same place on my scary scale.

"Nancy was the first to call me on my addiction. And I gave her the 'addict in denial standard speech', you know the one, I don't have a problem, I'm just having a good time, but I can stop any time I want to, if I want to," she snorts bitterly. "We had a rough time then, because she wouldn't stop saying that I have a problem and I didn't burst my denial bubble so we had a very tensed relationship," she says popping a candy in her mouth.

"One evening I'm at her place for diner, and I overdosed right there and then. I'm telling you, there's no reality check like an OD."

"I stopped using after that, it lasted two months then I fell right back on it. A few months after starting again I found out I was pregnant and that's when I really started to pull myself together. I was clean during all the pregnancy, it was hell, but I did it."

She looks at me intently for a moment, I can see that she's indecisive about something; she puts a delicate hand on my cheek and lean in for a soft kiss. When she pulls back there's an hint on sadness in her eyes but before I can ask her if she's okay, she gives me a small grin.

"I'd like to tell you that it's where the story ends; that I found strength in motherhood. When Linds was seven months old, I started using again. I was living with Nancy then, because Eddie was on tour with some band he was producing. That time, it got quickly out of hand, I was at the point were I need a line before I could get out of bed, I needed coke to function like a normal being and when you reached that point you're screwed."

She buries her face in her hands and sighs deeply. "I wasn't a bad mother then, I was not a mother at all. I neglected Linds, I was just too caught up with my addiction. Nancy, she tried everything to reason with me but I was too far gone."

She looks away and I can feel shame wrapped around her like a second skin. I simply grab her hand to give it a gentle squeeze, letting her know that it's alright. She looks at me her eyes shining with unshed tears. She takes a deep breath to compose herself again.

"One morning, I wake up after another night of snorting and drinking myself into oblivion; Nancy was waiting for me in the living room. When Nancy's angry there's no yelling, it's a very quiet affair but those green eyes convey everything just fine. She pushed an envelop in my direction said that my admission paper for a rehab are inside, that she'll call later today to see if I checked in. She said that if I had then she'll help me get through with it but if I hadn't she'd disappear with Linds and I would never see any of them again. That's when it occurred to me that I had never checked up on Linds when I woke up, that's how little I cared; Nancy had left her with a reliable friend of hers. She walked out on me while I was yelling hysterically at her."

"Do you want to know the worst part?" she asks rhetorically. "There was a second, it wasn't more than a second, but that second happened; there was a second where I considered her ultimatum, I fucking considered it. That second is when I understood how screwed up I was and that I needed help," she shakes her head.

"I was in rehab when Linds turned one, to this day I never forgave myself for that and the months that preceded that. When I got out of rehab, Nancy was still angry. She wouldn't leave me alone with Linds, she'd bore holes in my skulls with her eyes, letting me know that I couldn't slip anymore. I finally got on my things together, I was studying to become a CSI with the help of Griss; Eddie came back, he bought a house and I was finally a good mother. Nancy never told anyone about that episode of my life, she never brought it back up and in return I've spent every single day making sure I never see that look in her eyes again, making sure that I'd never disappoint or hurt her or make her angry."

She passes a hand over her eyes quickly to erase some tears. "Never look back, never regret… I know those moments made me who I am, but I'll never forgive myself."

I put the candy bowl between us on the nightstand, shift my position so I'm lying down. "Come here," I open my arms and Catherine immediately moves to be secured in my arms. I don't say anything an just hold her to me.

"I never told this to anyone before," she declares after a long silence. "Thank you."

"I haven't done anything."

"Trust me, you have."

I simply kiss her crown and tighten my hold on her.

The next day, there's more talking, more laughing and more lovemaking. As the hours go by, thinning the time we have the house all to ourselves our embraces become more intense.

"…fuck," I pant, my muscles sore from our encounter.

"Ready for another round," Catherine asks me with a predatory smile.

"I suspect… you're trying to kill me…"

"Death by sex, interesting," she bites my neck making me hiss. "Is that a no, then?"

"Oh it's a totally worth it death…" I counter and shift my position so I'm on top of her. "And I still have stamina…"

I might be on top but her hands find one of my weak spots immediately leaving with no other choice but support myself so I won't crush her. I can feel a tidal wave of pleasure forming, ready to crash over me yet again. I think I might die today… but I'll have the biggest smile possible on my face.

Fuck.


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