A/N: Wow, what a great reaction! Here, by popular request, is the (GSR!) Epilogue.

GRISSOM VS. THE DOMINATRIX

EPILOGUE

As soon as the door closed, Grissom tugged Sara to her feet and embraced her. She sank into his arms and molded herself against his solid bulk as she always knew she could. Grissom murmured apologies into her ear, his voice cracking. The relief, the rush of warmth seemed to flow like a river from his heart to his fingertips, making them tingle. He stroked her warm back and smelled her soft hair.

"Will you ever forgive me, Sara?"

"I might. Depends." Her voice was low, muffled in his chest.

Grissom pulled his head back and stroked a finger down her jaw. They looked in each other's eyes.

"Depends on what, dear?" he said tenderly.

The look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, the warmth and touch of his body, the endearment–Sara would have done nearly anything he asked, but a stubborn streak and a layer of hurt made her stiffen.

"Depends on how you treat me. My feelings. Depends on whether you go back in your shell or not. Play with me like a yo-yo. Where we go, what you do, from now on. Depends on a lot of things..."

He gave her a sad smile. "I'd like to treat the way you deserve, honey. I'd like to try. Show you that I have changed. I can't promise I won't make mistakes, Sara. But I can promise I won't go back–to the ass I've been all these years." That got him a tiny smile.

Grissom took a breath. "Sara?"

"Mmm?" she searched his eyes.

"Can I...Would you like to have dinner with me?"

A slow grin, widening, until it reached her eyes.

"I'd like that."

Grissom and Sara began to date. Between their demanding schedules, his caution, and her mistrust, it was not a speedy courtship. There was awkwardness and misunderstandings, but there was also tenderness, healing, and a deepening of their feelings and a blossoming relationship.

Three Months Later:

Sara invited Grissom to her apartment and made him dinner. They were feeling easy and comfortable with each other, feeling good, feeling fine. Little brushes of skin on skin, closeness, lingering looks, kept them feeling expectant. He poured her the last of the second bottle of wine, and they silently toasted each other and drank their glasses dry.

Sara stood, wobbled a bit, and held out her hand. Grissom took it and she led him to her small couch. They sat, leg pressed along leg and still holding hands. The air grew dense with sexual tension and nerves. They had kissed, even made out a little, but work had interrupted. Or Grissom had been a gentleman and excused himself before the point of no return. But this was a free Sunday and they both had off until late Monday night. Before dinner was even ready, both had shut off their phones. This is it. This is the night, he thought. Should I make the first move? Or wait for him? It grew a little awkward. Their palms were sweating.

Grissom released her hand and slowly stretched his arm along the back of the loveseat, feeling like a teenager boy again. His heart was pounding. Neither could speak. Sara turned to face him and gazed at him trustingly. He took courage in that and leaned forward, brushing his lips across hers. Sara swept her lips against his, a little stronger, reaching for his shoulder and bending her left knee across the cushion to face him. Grissom deepened the kiss, cupping her face with both hands. Sara made a tiny moan and their arousal was pushed up a notch. She dug her fingers in his curly hair and pulled his face in, devouring his mouth. He reciprocated. The kiss was incredible. Intoxicating. Both whimpered.

Grissom suddenly lunged forward, pushing Sara down on the couch. Her head banged against the corner of the armrest.

"Ow."

"Oh! Sorry."

"S'okay, come here."

Grissom shifted his big body to move between her legs. Sara's knee, trapped, poked into his groin. He jerked away and winced. She looked at him apologetically, and moved her long legs until they met the other end of the couch.

Gris moved his hands forward to brace himself and keep from crushing her slender form. One of his large hands landed on her hair and yanked her head to one side.

"Youch! Agh! Can you..."

"Damn, damn, so sorry, Sara." He moved and sat back, blushing bright red.

Sara started to giggle.

At first, he was offended. But then he looked in her laughing eyes and was charmed into joining her. They laughed and poked each other teasingly.

"You'd think I never had sex before," Sara said breathlessly.

"Huh! Me too." He smirked at her, his eyes dancing. "Then again, this couch is..."

"Microscopic."

He snorted. "I was going to say uncomfortable, but that will do."

"You know," her voice dropped an octave and became husky. "Last time I looked, there was a perfectly good bed, right behind that door."

"You don't say."

"I do say."

"Maybe...we should see if it's still there?"

"Great idea."

Once in the bedroom, it became awkward again. They stood a few paces apart, still fully clothed. Sara moved first, adjusting the blinds and turning on a single bedside lamp, which cast a soft yellow light. She stood and looked at the pattern on the wall. This is it. What I've waited for, dreamed of. I'm going to make love with Grissom. Why can't I even look at him?

"Hey." Grissom moved behind her and hugged her around the waist.

"Hey," she squeaked out.

"I don't know about you, but...I'm really nervous."

"You are? I...I am too." Her body relaxed slightly and she stroked his arms. "Wh...Why?"

"Because...I don't want to disappoint you, Sara."

"You won't. I might."

"No. You'll make my dreams come true. Let's...uh, take it slow?"

Sara turned around and kissed him. The kiss deepened naturally, easily, as they undressed each other. There were pauses as they drew back to breathe and feel and look at the newly revealed skin. When Sara was down to her bra and panties and Gil to his boxers, she broke away, tossed the covers aside and bounced on the bed, grinning at him. He joined her. They explored each other with eager mouths and fingers and lips and tongues. Sara stopped abruptly, drawing a shocked breath, when her hands dipped below his waistband and across his scarred buttocks.

"What...what happened to you?"

Grissom grunted and tried to pull away.

"No, wait...let me see..." She moved to examine him. "Jesus, Gris. Your legs too?"

He pursed his lips and looked ashamed.

"Tell me?"

"I don't...I can't..."

"Do you trust me?" He nodded. "Do you value–honesty, truth?"

"Of course," he said steadily.

"Tell me." A pause. "Heather...she did this?" He nodded. "Why?"

"To...punish me."

"For what?"

"You."

Sara gulped. "With what?"

"A cane."

"Her idea, or yours?"

"Mine. I, uh, paid her to."

Sara looked shocked. After a minute of hard thinking, she said shyly, "Uh. Do you, um, need me to...ugh...hit you or tie you...?"

"No!" Grissom said loudly, grabbing her hand. "No, honey. That was...a one-time...just an experiment. I'm not, I'm not into that."

Sara nodded, clearly relieved. "Good. 'Cause, you know, I couldn't let you..."

"Hit you?" Grissom looked aghast. "Hurt you? No, honey, I never would. And I never will."

"I just...I don't associate pain and violence with love...ever." He stroked her face with kindness. "My parents..."

"I know," he whispered. "I know. I want to please you, Sara. Give you pleasure, not pain. Never pain." She nodded, looking serious.

"All right. I want to give you pleasure as well. Uh? Help me understand? I know. Lie down. On your stomach."

He looked at her, puzzled.

"Please. Trust me."

He lay down, his head to one side, to watch her. Sara rustled through her bedside drawer. Grissom had a brief flashback to Lady Heather abusing his body, then replaced it with the present reality. Sara found a bottle of oil and poured a generous amount in her hands. Slowly she began to massage his neck, shoulders, down his arms and hands. Taking her time, squeezing and pressing and stroking. Grissom groaned and almost purred with pleasure, making her smile a happy Sidle smile. She worked her way down his muscled back, along his spine, ribs. When she got to the boxers, Sara poked him.

"These. Off." Grissom raised his hips. Together they pulled them down, over his erection, and down his legs. Sara put a hand tentatively underneath him and stroked him slowly and he hissed in through his teeth. She pushed his hips back into the mattress and began to massage every one of the whip marks.

"What's this one for?"

"Scoffing at you for being empathetic."

"What's this mark for?"

"Driving you to drink."

"Oh. What's this scar for?"

"Turning down your dinner invitation."

"Um hm. And this?"

"Getting jealous of Hank."

"Hm." She continued, rubbing the oil into his scars and letting him confront and confess all the scars he'd made on her heart. The honesty brought them closer. The love filled their hearts. The hidden pain was released and the desire built until their bodies thrummed.

Grissom rolled over at last and held his arms out. Warmed and slicked and ready, Sara climbed up along his body, straddled him, and sank down on his aching erection. They groaned and swore and moaned and moved. He rolled over and pounded into her until they both let go.

Midnight came and went and they were still making love. Morning came and the love dance began again. They were together. They were in love. They were happy.

THE END

(for real)