They lay silent in the warm sheets. Grissom on his back, head propped up by the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed. Sara on his left side, an elbow buried in the mattress, her hand propping her head up as her left-hand rests on his chest, rubbing his skin. Grissom's left arm is snaked under and around her, his rough fingers brushing the skin of her back in comfort. His other gently fiddling with hers on his chest. They are consumed. Emotions raw, seeping out of their pores into the early evening hours. Cries of joy and pleasure haunt her apartment still. This thing, this relationship is locked. Sealed and consuming them quicker than they have experienced with anyone before. She is all he needs now. She knows that, from the look on his face as he slid into her for the first time. He knows it too now, from the sounds that poured from her as she gave him what he wanted, what he needed. If he was to ever lose his hearing, he has the sound of Sara Sidle climaxing under his control fixed in his mind forever. She flooded his senses, over and over again until he lost his composure and his climax pushed through them both into soft whispers and pants until their heart rates returned to normal.
Sara is lost, her mind reeling. Her hand stills.
'Are you ok?' She asks.
'Very…' He looks up and smiles, which she returns. She feels very ok to. She looks happy, emotional, tired, and complete. 'Are you?' He panics, shuffling upwards to a sitting position, carelessly knocking her arm from underneath her and she scrambles to sit up quickly. They settle and she nods, his arm raising to usher her back into him.
'It's just… I never thought we'd get here. You know? And now… This past week has been.' She pauses, shaking her head whilst laughing quietly to herself. He reaches over to the bedside table and plucks his glasses from their perch and pushes them onto his face. 'I wanted you to work for it, for this. Wine and dine me. You've spent the last five years pushing me away, I was adamant I wasn't going to give myself up so… soon.' She smiles, a shy, slightly embarrassed look drenching her face. He squints and rolls his lips together, tilting his head down to take her in again. The sheet has fallen from her body, and he can't help but look. Catalogue her body again in this quiet moment. Soft skin, freckles, a pattern of small scars from numerous chicken pox outbreaks during her foster home cycles. Her prominent collar bones, her sharp shoulders, her ribs, the bones almost kissing her skin, attempting to force their way out. She's lean, almost athletic yet so feminine, curved, soft and supple all at the same time and damn if he isn't intoxicated by the feel and smell of her skin. She toys with the sheet in her nervous hands. 'But this morning, seeing you in the mirror. You've never looked at me like that before and it's like I knew… I felt like you were done pushing me away.' Sucking in a breath she looks up at him, square in the face, a pleading look on her face. She's been so open with him since that night, telling him her past, what she expects of her future. He's the only person who knows, the only person she has ever wanted to tell. He grips her hand, bringing it up and over onto his lap.
'I can't promise I won't mess this up. I… We... I struggle with feelings, others, my own. But I can't go another day without this. Without you.' He looks down, it's all he has but he hopes its enough. She smiles, wider this time and nods looking down at their hands. They sit in silence, hands rolling around one another's, feeling, guiding.
'Would you be completely freaked out if I told you that, today has been the best day of my life so far?
'You've really got it bad, haven't you?' He smirks, eyes darkening. She pushes up and away from him briefly to move, sitting cross legged at his side. He pulls the sheet up his body slightly.
'That or… I've just had that shit of a life so far, that finally bedding Gilbert Grissom has been the only highlight.' She pushes up off the bed. 'I'm making some tea; do you want some?'
'Sara?' She turns, naked at the bedroom door, her hand hoovering over her dressing gown.
'Come back to bed.'