A/N: Of course we do not own CSI. If we did, certain things would never happen, and other things would! Enjoy our fluff as Grissom learns to live with a woman!
Shopping for Sara Chapter 2
Perfection
Sara was nervous. She had promised to spend the night with Grissom and, while she did not regret her promise, she was anxious, uneasy. It was not the first time to be in his condo, but it was the first time she had made this promise.
Tapping fingers on the steering wheel, she stopped for traffic. She liked her apartment; she liked her bed and she liked having her own things around her. Glancing in her rearview mirror as she left the lab, she saw Nick and Warrick sharing a joke before getting into their vehicles. She took a deep breath.
"This will work," she murmured to herself. A small bag was on the seat behind her—she had agonized over what to bring before settling on simple—a shirt, toiletries, a night shirt. She could not remember the last time she had actually slept in a place other than her own bed, not counting sleeping in a chair at work. She knew her desire for her own things, sleeping in her own bed, went back to her childhood. To Grissom, she blamed insomnia when she would return to her place after being with him; she knew it frustrated him when she would dress and leave him to sleep alone.
Deep in thought, she arrived at his place quickly. She took another deep breath as she pressed his number.
He was waiting for her before she stopped her car. Sara watched him for a moment. His eyes were almost somber above a tentative smile, and for a second she wondered if he had secrets instead of worrying about her own. When he pulled her from the car, he was smiling, his eyes sparkled. They kissed and she had felt happiness surge through her.
For a few moments, she thought she was blushing. This is silly, she thought; I'm acting like a virgin. As they took a short flight of steps from garage to kitchen, she was almost lightheaded from his unexpected words "You know I love you".
The aroma of lasagna filled her nose. "It smells great," she said. "Almost as good as you do!" She grinned, squeezing his hand. The first few minutes together were always awkward—two people trying to untangle thoughts and actions of previous hours.
Grissom held both of her hands. "You're looking at a happy man," he said, leaning forward to kiss her nose. "If I were twenty, that would be a stupid statement, but I'm pushing fifty and that means I'm entitled to happiness. I'm finally doing things I've wanted to do—should have done—years ago!"
Sara laughed at his declaration, loving his words, suddenly feeling secure and untroubled.
Bringing her hands to his lips, he kissed each one. "I'm happy you are here. Now, stand right there. I'll get your bag and we'll fix a salad, heat the bread, and eat. Talk." He chuckled. "Kiss." He released her hands and left her standing in the kitchen.
Instead of remaining in one place, Sara walked over and touched a button for music, knowing Grissom almost always played music when alone. Immediately, the sound of an opera filled the room from multiple speakers. She smiled; he liked it loud.
"Carmen," he said when he returned. He checked the lasagna before coming to stand beside her. "Have you been to an opera in Vegas?"
Sara laughed. "No, never been—not something…" she did not want to sound ignorant or disapproving of his choice of music, "just never crossed my mind. But I like this."
He pointed his thumb to the kitchen, "Salad." As he pulled a variety of food from the refrigerator—several leafy greens, tomatoes, olives, avocado, walnuts, broccoli, carrots, cucumbers—he said, "There's a small opera company in town—they are performing Carmen in a few weeks. Would you like to go?"
She stopped rinsing the greens. Wide-eyed, she asked "Do you think that's a good idea—I mean, an audience—lots of people."
He chuckled. "Rest assured. No one we know goes to this kind of thing. It's a small theater, a small group, and they hope to sell a hundred tickets. I think we would be unnoticed." She nodded, a wide smile forming across her face.
For several minutes, they prepared the ingredients for the salad in silence. Grissom stopped chopping and Sara looked up. "You know, we could go public," he said quietly.
Sara's head was shaking before he finished the sentence. "We've talked about this. I like us just the way we are."
Grissom smiled. "So do I." He chuckled. "But don't bring up sleeping in separate beds—someone might overhear you."
Her mouth dropped open in mock astonishment; her eyebrows lifted. "You left the room!" She picked up an olive and tossed it in his direction. With his knife, he quickly batted the olive over her head. They both laughed causing any awkwardness or unease between them to vanish.
During dinner, Grissom said, "I got you something today—several things, actually." Sara's eyes met his and he motioned toward the bedroom.
It took Sara eight seconds to place her fork on her plate and leave the table; several minutes passed before he followed to find her standing with one tissue wrapped item in hand, her arm elbow deep inside the gift bag.
"What is all of this?" She asked as she placed two more pink bundles on the bed.
Grissom stretched across the bed. "Dump everything out," he waved his hand for her to join him. "Sexy things," his voice sounded velvety soft.
Sara did as he directed, dumping the contents of the bag onto the bed and joining him as she began to unwrap the pink paper. "What have you done, Gil Grissom?" She teased, "You don't like my pink and white Target underwear?" She held up a dark purple lace panty.
"Cheekies," he explained when Sara made a comical face. "Shows more backside than a bikini." He continued as he folded a pillow behind his head. "I yearn to learn new things."
She giggled as she unwrapped another panty in bright blue.
"Bikini," he said.
By the time Sara had torn tissue from six more colorful panties, the bed looked like a child had spilled a box of crayons. She giggled as she stretched a lacy bright green panty over her head. "Does this mean I get to pick out yours?"
"As long as its boxers—no tight stuff," Grissom laughed. She leaned to him.
Within seconds, the tissue paper lifted and drifted to the floor; the gift bag landed on the floor with a soft 'plop' sound. The panties slipped from the bed and floated before lightly settling on the floor. The one demure item, a pink silk robe, managed to remain on the bed by casual chance or coincidental luck as Sara would find it later.
Grissom's mouth was on hers, opening it, tasting her tongue and holding her body in a tight clasp of his arms until she felt a pounding that was like an ocean's surf. It came from her own heart.
She wanted his mouth, his hands, his body joined to hers as urgent fingers unbuttoned his shirt and then he was pulling her shirt over her head. Her hands touched him, curving, stroking, feeling the smoothness of his shoulders and chest. They parted for seconds to lift and remove pants; Sara's body seemed to move of its own accord.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, embarrassed by her eagerness.
"Don't—we do what we want because we want each other, because we are happy with each other."
"Yes," she said with no more than a long breath. With her fingers in Grissom's hair, she brought her mouth to his, drinking him in, feeling his hardness between her legs.
His lips touched her breast; her nipple tightened, and a long sigh that was his name broke from her as pleasure radiated through her body. His hand slid along the curve of her waist, down her thigh, opening her with his fingers, sliding into the wet darkness within, and she made a small cry as her hands followed the harder curves of his body until she took his head between her hands, fiercely kissing him, moving, sucking, biting the tender skin of his neck and ear, tasting his unique fragrance.
Abruptly, Grissom stopped caressing her, raised himself on an elbow, holding her still with one hand as he looked down at her. His mind raced across time; Sara was not like any other woman; she was sexual, demanding but unsure, and at times, oddly inexperienced.
"What is it?" Sara asked. Her whisper trembled slightly.
Grissom pulled her against him. "My God," he said, sharply yet softly. He kissed her hair, her forehead, the delicate eyelids that hid her beautiful golden brown eyes. His hands explored the curves of her body as if she were the first woman he had ever known. He felt aroused and absorbed; urgent as she in his need to be part of her.
Sara's hunger flared again and again; she opened to him and seemed to pull him inside her, deep, thrusting. He raised himself on hands and they watched as, hard and glistening, he disappeared deep inside her, then slide up and thrust down again, while her hands moved over his chest, across his shoulders, to his neck.
His weight was on her, his hands raising her hips, his tongue meeting hers, and Sara felt an overwhelming sense of need and desire and passion that merged and became one with his own needs and desires. His lips murmured her name as their bodies moved together, and within her a rhythmic thought began that everything was perfect and would be forever.
A/N: Thanks for reading! We always appreciate reviews. More to come...