A Rainy Night in Utah

A Rainy Night in Utah

By: Saskia Mitchell

Rating: Strong R, por los situacciones sexuales y lingua mal.

Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but to the v. creative people over at CBS, Alliance Atlantic TV, Anthony Zuiker and of course, the actors who breathe life into the words on a page. I profit in no way from this story. I would however, fall at the feet of JF if I ever met her, lol.

A/N: This is homage in two ways. The title is homage to my great friend Courtney whom I adore and is brilliant. The story is inspired by reading great X-Files fanfiction all night, back when good fanfic was abundant and writing about TV show characters having sex was still something to be ashamed of, LOL. There were so many "stuck-out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-there’s-only-one-hotel-room-left-because-of-some-id-cid-contrived-scenario" fics, but they were all so good and angsty! Here’s my little take, in honor of Courtney, good smutty fanfiction, and sweet Grissom in "Jackpot."



Sara cursed her bad luck. Or alternately, her incredibly good luck. This was her eighteenth case in a row to be worked with her favorite partner and best friend, Nick Stokes. Grissom had found it necessary to alienate both of them from the rest of the team for the better part of the summer, and somehow Sara couldn’t be sorry about it, even now, well into the autumn. She loved being Nick’s partner, loved not having to tell him what she was thinking, loved not having to finish her own sentences, or even start them, for that matter. They moved in tandem, a perfectly well-oiled machine. Where one fell back, the other picked up the slack; when one stopped to rest, the other worked harder; and when they were in that space, that investigation ‘mode,’ absolutely nothing had to be said. They said it anyway, just to indulge in one another.

What she was sorry about, what she did regret, was the fact that it would never be more than that. Would never be more than work that night, the shift ahead of them and the teasing banter that they both loved so much. Nick liked women who were blonde, beautiful, and had more breasts than brains. Not that she wanted to be loved by Nick. She didn’t need a man to define who she was; she didn’t need a man to love her to feel gratified. She sighed in frustration. She didn’t know what she needed.

She knew it didn’t do any damn good to be sad about it. So Nick would never love her. So what that he would never see her as anything but a surrogate sister? She could handle that. She’d long outgrown the need for other people’s approval. Or other people at all. She was like Grissom that way. That was the reason she’d loved Grissom all along. Why she still loved him. Finally, someone who was like her. Finally someone who understood who she was, and why she was that way. Grissom was perfect for her, she couldn’t deny. But like Nick, Grissom didn’t want her, and the more time that passed, the more she realized the she didn’t want Grissom either. Grissom had been loveless—and aside from Catherine, friendless—much longer than Sara. He wasn’t afraid to be cruel, and he proved that the night of the fire.

His tone of voice, the cold dismissal. It told her more than he—his words—ever could. He didn’t need her, didn’t want her, and didn’t appreciate her advances. Grissom could dish it out, but couldn’t take it. So Fuck him. Fuck him if he didn’t want a young piece of ass. Fuck him if he didn’t want to connect emotionally with his intellectual equal. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.





Nick watched Sara out of corner of his eye. They were sitting in Grissom’s office, listening to Grissom ask them if they wanted to take a case in southwest Wyoming, Baker’s Bend. There was nothing out there, to speak of, except a town in a panic over the dead body of their new mayor. Sara looked like she was ready to castrate Grissom. She looked like that a lot these days.

Sara was not the most beautiful woman Nick had ever seen. Some wouldn’t even call her pretty. But there was something about her, something different, something Nick had never seen before. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t going to be a centerfold model any time soon. She was Sara and that more than made up for it. She was brilliant, and determined, and so unbelievably steadfast. And so what that she wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around? So what if she wasn’t a damn ray of sunshine? She reminded him frequently that he was much too jovial, too sympathetic, too forgiving. That was the beautiful thing about their partnership...the balance. Yin and Yang. Fire and Ice. Agony and Ecstasy.

Sara scowled and Nick jerked himself back in to the conversation in time to hear Grissom giving them their final instructions. Sara stood up and started to leave, anger rolling off her in waves. Nick gave Grissom a quick, sheepish grin and followed her. Outside of the building, Sara was waiting for him.

"That makes me so mad! Well, not that Grissom’s pairing us up again, just that he can’t even be bothered to look me in the eye! Ooooh!" She fumed.

"Just ignore himNickNick advised, softly.

Sara bristled, and then inexplicably, relaxed. "So, do you want to pick me up around three?" she asked, putting on her sunglasses.

"Pick you up?" Nick trailed off, confusion marring his handsome features.

"Nick, were you in that meeting? Grissom? Being hired out to Baker’s Bend? An endless road trip...? Any of this ringing a bell?"

Nick shot her his most charming smile. "Three it is. Bring a book."






Nick rang Sara’s doorbell promptly at three p.m. She must have been standing on the other side, staring out of her peephole, because she immediately opened the door. She handed him several bags, then followed him after locking up her apartment.

"Who’s watering your plants?"

"I gave Greg a key, he said he would come over Friday and water them before work."

"Ort cot come over and dress up in your clothes," Nick grud. d.

"What?" Sara asked sharply, but Nick just grinned in response.

They loaded the truck quickly, and then got in, firing up the air conditioner.

"Why do we always get stuck doing hire-outs?" Sara huffed, settling into her seat.

"We as in you-and-me? Or we as in the night crew?"

"W the the night crew," Sara clarified. Nick started up the car and buckled himself in. Sara couldn’t help but notice his well-defined forearms, his big hands, and rough, callused palms gripping the steering wheel. She frequently had to stifle daydreams about him running those delightfully coarse hands across the softness of her own skin, touching, cupping, caressing…snapping out of it.

"I’ve actually been thinking about that myself," Nick smiled with a slight curve, a sure sign he was teasing. "I think it’s because Ecklie’s a dick and Grissom’s not." Upon her upturned eyebrow, he added, "well, at least not about that."

Sara rolled her eyes as Nick continued.

"As soon as word comes in that there’s an out-of-town case, Ecklie starts bitching and moaning that he ‘can’t spare’ anyone from dayshift. Well, you know everyone in that lab knows that Grissom is the reason we’re so successful, even the Sheriff, but because Grissom doesn’t protest, we’ve never had to draw straws or anything. You know, Ecklie may think he’s better or smarter than Gris…"

"Wait, I thought you said he knew he wasn’t?" Sara chimed in, amused.

"Huh?" Nick was concentrating on getting them out into the main street and was having a hard time keeping up with Sara’s sharp tongue. It didn’t help that she looked like a wet dream in a black tank top that hugged her breasts the way every shirt should, and his favorite pair of her jeans, the snug ones that loved her bottom even more than he did. His usual fantasies ran the gamut of her wearing nothing but her unzipped utility vest and sitting on the top of a table, beckoning to him with a single finger and a come-hither stare, but he supposed he could work the jeans in there somewhere. Hmmmm...

"You," Sara broke him out of his daze.

"Huh?" he said again. Nice going, Stokes. Way to impress her with your mastery of the English language.

"You just said everyone in the lab knows Grissom is better than Ecklie. So why would Ecklie then think he was better than Grissom?"

"Ehhh, it’s a subconscious thing," Nick retorted. "Ecklie likes to think he’s better than everyone, but deep down, in his deepest of hearts, he knows Grissom could best him any day of the week.

"Ecklie has a heart?" Sara asked, grinning, putting on her sunglasses.

"Are you going to let me finish my explanation, Captain Interruptus?"

"By all means," Sara snorted. She loved the way he leaned forward in his seat, exposing a patch of olive skin on his back between his shirt and the waistband on his pants. She could see the top of his boxer shorts; she knew he wore thin white cotton ones and found that to be endearing, as well. Sara had also entered the realm of celibacy that was frequently indicated by plain, white underclothes that were almost sexy in their utter sexlessness. Must...stop...thinking...about this.

"...so meanwhile, in some small desert town with one café, one payphone and exactly three gas stations, there’s been a murder. One of their beloved townspeople is dead, and they want the best to figure out this heinous crime, since they have no formal morgue or crime lab of their own. The FBI is out, as it’s not a federal case, so sure enough, there’s Las Vegas CSI, and so close. They hire us out, then we’ll get there, and they’ll all become spectacularly uncooperative. Soon enough we’ll break the case, life will go back to normal, and we can come home. Think of it like the X-Files, Sara."

Nick moved into the turn lane and then made a slow left hand turn before entering the highway. When it became clear he was not going to elaborate further, Sara cleared her throat and said, "The X-Files?"

"Sure, Mulder and Scully, they worked in Washington, but as soon as a weird, creepy case came in, they were off!"

"They’re characters from a TV show, Nick."

"So? It’s still applicable," Nick argued.

Sara rolled her eyes. "The least they coulve dve done was fly us there," she grumbled.

"Grissom said no-can-do, babe," Nick replied absent-mindedly, as he changed lanes. "They don’t have the budget for it. Plus, the closest airport is like, four hours away from where we’re going."

"Nick?" Sara’s voice was too loud.

"What?" he turned just slightly to look at her.

"You just called me ‘babe,’" she said, her voiceltedlted.

Nick cringed inwardly. Outwardly, he shot her an innocent grin. "I did?" And then he winked.

Sara, who was already a furious shade of red, turned towards the window and tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. She couldn’t deny, hearing Nick call her ‘babe’ in that thick, roughened voice was akin to touching a battery to the tip of her tongue. He didn’t mean it, but it was sexy all the same.

She concentrated on the passing scenery, finally deciding to avoid all further conversation by pretending to sleep. Though she didn’t think it was possible to actually fall asleep, given that Nick’s aftershave hung in the air like a warm blanket and his low voice crooning along to the country music playing softly on the radio was sending chills down her spine. He probably didn’t even know he could sing that well.

Nick allowed himself to appraise Sara with frequent, longing gazes as she slept. She was curled up, her head resting on the back of the seat, her mouth parted. He couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like when she slept at home. Was she as restless in bed as she was everywhere else? Did she snore in her sleep, talk? What did she wear to bed? A nightshirt, men’s pajamas…nothing at all? Nick’s brain went into overdrive and he forced his thoughts back into the ‘colleague’ realm. He sighed through his nose. It was going to be a long trip.





Sara was quite surprised when Nick shook her awake and she found that the sun was well on it’s way to setting. So much for pretending to sleep.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," Nick near-whispered. His voice was husky; he sounded like he was the one who’d just woken up. Sara opened her eyes and sat up straight.

"I’m sorry!" she said, looking out at the dusky evening.

"For what?"

"For just...sleeping..." she consulted her watch, "for three and half hours."

"Well, we were up late last night," he reached out to tenderly tuck her hair behind her ear before he could stop himself. Stop it, he commanded himself. He jerked his hand back and Sara stiffly opened her door and got out of the truck. She gathered up their luggage as Nick made his way into the front doors of the motel. The parking lot was packed, Sara noticed idly. Pretty strange for being out in the middle of damn nowhere.

It wasn’t long before Nick was approaching her across the pavement; his face set in a grim line.

"Bad news," Nick stopped, directly in front of her, and planted his hands on his hips. I wonder if he realizes he looks like David Caruso when he does that.

"Bad news?" she raised her eyebrow at him, dreading the worst.

"Bad news is they only have one room left. Good news is, it’s ours."

"One room?" Sara looked stricken. "How can that be?"

"Well, there’s this feed mill outside of town, and apparently everyone’s in this weekend for a cattle sale," he explained calmly. "The rooms boo booked solid until Monday."

"So...we’ll just go back until we find another hotel," Sara’s voice was more forceful than she’d intended.

"Do you remember how far the next closest town was? With a motel, anyway?"

"No," Sara shook her head, knowing Nick already knew the answer.

"An hour and a half."

"Well, then let’s just keep going on the highway," she argued.

"I asked the desk clerk about that, too."

"And?"

"Hart’s Bluff is another two hours..."

"Shit!" Sara cursed. Going over to her bag, she rummaged around until she found her cigarettes and then lit up.

"I thought you quit."

"I did. But I have an emergency pack, just in case some traumatic event causes me to become so agitated that I just have to have one," Sara said venomously.

"C’mon, Sara," Nick grinned, clearly amused by their predicament. "You don’t think Mulder and Scully were ever stuck out in the middle of nowhere with only one hotel room?"

Sara rolled her eyes, long and slow.

"What would Scully do?"

"Uh, Scully would have been smart enough to call and verify that there would be two rooms available before they got there."

"Don’t shoot me, Nick raised his hands up in surrender. "I didn’t make the reservations."

"Who did?" Sara narrowed her eyes.

"Grissom," Nick said, seriously, then a moment later his grin twitched and Sara knew he was lying. "Okay, so it was me, but it was an accident, I swear. They told me it was only thirty-nine dollars a night and I got so excited I guess I didn’t realize I’d only booked one room."

"Niiiiiiiick," Sara whined, taking another long drag.

"Look, let’s just go on up," Nick replied, prickling. He didn’t want to begrudge Sara her right to complain, but there was no reason to be a baby about the whole situation. After all, he was stuck,. ". "It may not be that bad."

But it was that bad. There was only one king-sized bed. And no couch. There was a small table with two chairs that looked like they belonged on the set of some S/M porno. This was not good. Sara looked like she was ready to implode. Nick sighed.

"It’s okay," Nick said, coming in behind her and closing the door. "I’ll sleep on the floor," he said, before she could protest the current situation yet again.

"Nick," Sara’s voice wow aow and wistful.

"No, no," he shook his head. "I’d rather sleep on the floor than push my luck and get slapped with a sexual harassment suit." He knew it was a low blow, and he had wanted it to be. Immediately afterwards, however, he felt the sharp sting of regret, particularly when he saw the look on her face. He’d gone too far.

His coldness took her breath away. Her voice was practically wavering as she said, "Oh, Nick. I would never do that."

Nick’s laugh was humorless. "C’mon, let’s just settle in and see if we can’t find somewhere to go eat." For once, Sara didn’t argue and Nick was glad. She had her back turned to him as she set up her suitcase on one of the chairs and began to rifle through, trying to find a clean shirt and pull out her clothes for the next day to see if she could de-wrinkle them a bit.

Nick watched from across the room, his chest aching. Sara’s thighs and rear were nestled comfortably in the denim, and Nick’s hands itched to be given free roam across her luscious body. As she straightened, Nick glanced in the mirror above the bureau the TV was on, and saw her pert breasts straining against the fabric of her tank toe bie bit back a groan and turned towards the open bathroom area to brush his teeth.

Sara approached him from behind, glad, not for the first time, that he was oblivious to her scrutiny. His backside was perfect, at least in her humble opinion. His back was strong, and solid, his tapered waist showed that he was proud of his body, proud to be in shape. Long lanky legs that looked great in those jeans...she randomly wondered if Kristy Hopkins had seen him as more than a trick. Had she seen him as a man? A compassionate, brave, funny, intelligent and handsome man? What about all the other women? Had any of them loved Nick for what he was? She knew she’d been too bitchy when they found out they only had the one room, but even knowing that, she was still a little taken aback about the way he’d responded to her. As if she would ever do anything to hurt him.

"Are you ready?" Nick asked.

"Huh?" Sara looked up to find Nick had turned around and was drying off his mouth.

"You were staring at me. I asked you if you were ready to go get something to eat. I saw a diner on the other side of the parking lot. Or we could try to find something in the town. Otherwise, it’s convenience store cuisine," he adjusted the collar of his shirt.

"Uh, the diner is fine. At this point, I’m so hungry I don’t care what we have." She turned, and felt the soft pressure of Nick’s hand at the small of her back. The sensation gave her chills. Normally she gave him hell about such a gesture, but tonight she was just content to allow him to guide her out of their room and down towards the parking lot. Nick loves to touch me, she realized. He loved to brush her shoulder with his when she was walking next to him, he loved to reach for her arm or wrist to show her this, or that, and he loved to jostle and tease her. She couldn’t say she minded. The more time that went by, the more comfortable it became, the more expected it became.

And nights like tonight, the touches just made her long for him even more. She pushed back a sense of hopelessness as Nick held the door open to the diner open for her. He followed her in, found a table for them without consulting the waitress.

As Sara slid into the booth, she realized her head was pounding. The night just couldn’t get much worse. Stuck in a hotel room in the middle of Utah with her totally hot and totally unavailable partner, having dinner in a greasy diner that reeked of cooked hamburger meat and sweat, and now with a headache that was threatening to burst through her skull and start taking hostages. It just couldn’t get any worse.

Outside, a huge crack of lightening lit up the sky and the thunder boomed so loudly the entire diner shook and the lights flickered. Outside, the rain began to fall in torrential sheets, soaking everything in about thirty seconds flat. Sara thought about smacking her forehead on tabletop but reconsidered when she lifted a grimy finger from the surface.

Nick was kind to her already-htenetened senses and ordered a chicken sandwich. She thought about ordering a salad, but decided it might be a bit sketchy in a joint like this. She settled for pancakes and sat back in the booth to watch it rain. She could feel Nick’s eyes on her from across the table, and knew he he knew she noticed. He still didn’t look away. Oh, brother, what now?

But Nick didn’t say anything. Not when he choked down his sandwich, not while he watched her devour a stack of five pancakes. Not when he paid the check or offered her his hand to slide out of the booth. Not when he held the door open for her or when he stood under the awning for just a moment, pulling up the collar on his shirt.

They made a run for it across the parking lot. Five steps out of the door and Sara was soaked through. She could see Nick ahead of her, jogging, his clothes plastered to his body. A cold, hard wind whipped through the courtyard, howling against the eaves of the building. Sara’s shoes were waterlogged, so she and Nick both left them outside of the door to their room to dry. He quickly opened the door and let her in, locking it behind him and going to turn the heater on. Sara stood in the middle of the room, shivering. Without thinking, Nick approached her from behind and rubbed her biceps vigorously to warm her.

"Go take a shower," he commanded softly.

"N-no, you go first. I want to s-s-soak," Sara’s teeth chattered, and Nick didn’t bother to argue. He stepped into the minuscule bathroom and stripped down in a flash. He was almost through with the world’s shortest shower when he realized he’d forgotten to grab a fresh pair of boxers. Stepping out onto the towel he’d laid onto the floor, he shook the droplets of water from his hair and dried his body roughly.

He poked his head out of the door. "Sara?" he called softly. She approached the door, still shivering. "I forgot to grab my bag...will you hand me the gray shirt and a pair of shorts?"

Sara went around the corner and found Nick’s bag. Gently going through it, she found his shirt and a pair of boxers. She debated burying her nose in the soft gray fabric of the t-shirt just to inhale the scent that was uniquely Nick’s. She berated herself for being foolish. Nick was her friend, and she most definitely was not some lovestruck teenager. Having his clothes handed over to him; Nick was dressed in just over a minute. He started the water in the tub, and then poured the little bottle of soap under the faucet to make bubbles. As he left the bathroom, he practically ran straight into Sara, who was standing at the door, waiting.

The plaintive look on her face was enough to make Nick regret every mean or hurtful thing he’d ever said to her. He wondered what had made her so sad tonight, her expression so forlorn that it tugged at his heart.

"I started your bath," he whispered, finding his breath had suddenly left his body.

"Thank you," her answer was equally low, and Nick swallowed a lump in his throat. He wanted to say more.

"Are you sure you should take a bath while it’s lightening?" he asked, gesturing vaguely towards the door.

"I’ll be alright," she answered, and she slipped past him and closed the door to. Nick found the TV remote and noted with some surprise that it was only eight o’clock. Settling down onto the bed, he began to flip through the channels. Scrubs was just coming on, so Nick sat back to watch, pulling a pillow into his lap, and wrapping his arms around it.

At the commercial break, he got up to brush his teeth and comb his hair. He noticed—couldn’t help but notice—that the door to the bathroom was ajar. He wanted to be able to look away, but the thought was just too tempting. Glancing in, he saw Sara sunk low in the tub, high mounds of bubbles on the surface on the water. Her pink shoulders just barely crested the water level, and her hair was clean and damp and pulled up atop her head in a knot. Her soapy toes emerged at the other end, propped up on the metal fixtures, her skin wrinkled. Her delicate features were relaxed into a frown, and Nick tore his eyes away. He backed away from the door, shaking his head in shame. He couldn’t believe he’d just peeped in on his best friend. His totally hot but totally untouchable best friend. He felt like such a prick. He tried to tell himself he just wanted to make sure she was okay, but he knew it was a lie. He wanted her. Oh, God, he wanted her so badly.

His TV watching was completed with very little attention paid to the actual TV. Nick tried in vain to control his throbbing erection, not wanting to elicit Sara’s wrath. She emerged from the bathroom as the show was ending, and Nick stood, almost as if it were some formal affair and the mores of socially acceptable behavior prescribed that he should. She looked, if possible, even sexier than she had earlier that day. The t-shirt she was wearing exposed her tummy and did nothing to hide her plump nipples, and the boy shorts that were stretched across her hips were all-too-feminine. The arousal which he was trying desperately to contain arrived again, full force. Nick held the pillow in front of his hips and managed to maneuver himself around to the other side of the bed.

Settling down on the floor, he squirmed around, but couldn’t find a comfortable position. He heard her going through her nighttime rituals: brushing her teeth, her hair, rubbing on face crème, gargling with mouthwash. Then the lights dimmed and he heard her padding over to the bed. Getting in, Sara snuggled in under the covers and Nick heard her soft, suppressed sigh of comfort. The floor felt like concrete covered with a terry cloth towel, and his rock-hard dick digging into the rough carpet was excruciating.

After a few minutes of struggling with the floor and losing, Nick’s eion ion finally subsided. He breathed a great sigh of relief, which Sara felt guilty about, for she popped her head over the edge of the bed to regard him.

"There’s plenty of room up here, Nick. I’m sorry about being such a jerk earlier," she softly admitted. Ordinarily, that would have been enough to break the imposed silence between them, but Nick wasn’t quite ready to give in.

"I’m fine," he muttered.

"I’m sorry," she said again, after a moment, her voice wavering. "Please." Not wanting to hear her beg, and not wanting to press his luck, Nick got up onto his knees and finally stood. Sara crawled back across to her side of the bed, and then rolled over onto her back as Nick lifted the covers and slid underneath them on the other side. Sara was laid out on top of the blankets, her shorts barely covering her crotch and her shirt riding up to expose a fair swath of skin at her tummy. Her nipples were still hard, and Nick wondered if she was trying to seduce him.

"I’m hot," she explained as she reached for the light. Yes, yes you are, Nick thought to himself. At that moment, they heard another crash of thunder, this time, much closer. They looked at one another and could see the fact plainly written on each other’s faces: they were both glad she had finished her bath.

"I’ll turn down the heater," he offered, and Sara didn’t argue as he went over to the unit and switched in back from hot to cold. He was disappointed when he returned to the bed to find she had pulled the sheet up over her body. She was also apparently intent on driving him crazy with the fresh, clean scent of her shampoo and the equally intoxicating smell of roses, which he could only surmise came from some soap or crème or perfume.

As Nick settled under the covers, Sara flipped off the lamp and they were plunged into the blackness of the room before their eyes adjusted to the faint glow of the lights from the parking lot. Despite the chasm of the bed between them, Nick could still hear her breathing, smell her body, warm and rosy from across the mattress. He repressed a groan and wished he’d taken a little more time in the shower, masturbating to relieve the agonizing tension that had taken hold of his balls.

Across the bed, Sara’s thoughts were taking a turn for the worse. Nick had joined her on the bed, and she was relieved and grateful that he had done so, if only to absolve her own guilt. However, now she was catching whiffs of his warm and clean body, like sandalwood and ylang ylang and she wanted to just roll over into his arms and make love to him the way she’d been wanting to for months.

She might never get this opportunity again. But she couldn’t, could she? She was Sara Sidle, untouchable for a reason, standoffish for a reason. She couldn’t just fold like a deck of cards just because she was in the bed with Nick, and he smelled like a fucking wet dream. How would she even go about bringing up such a thing? "Hi, Nick! I know we’ve never really talked about this, but I just wanted you to know I want your body, and since we’re here and alone and all, let’s just get it over with..."

She reminded herself again, fiercely, that Nick didn’t want her, didn’t love her, couldn’t even pretend to find her attractive. She hated the fact that she even felt this way. It was so much easier to be unattached, devoid of feelings. But did she really want to be Grissom? Did she want to end up fifty, and alone, no family or friends to speak of? Nick could be her gateway to all of that—he had a huge family, plenty of friends, plenty of acquaintances that would become her friends, her acquaintances. She tried to quell her heart’s ramblings, with little success.

"What time do you want to get up tomorrow morning?" Nick asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Um, five?" Sara asked, calculating quickly that it would take less than twenty minutes for her to get ready. Nick groaned in response to the early hour and Sara couldn’t help but grin into her pillow. So Nick was a late sleeper. The smile turned to a frown when she reminded herself it was just another reason a relationship with Nick would never work. Nick wanted to sleep, sleep late, and she wanted to be up and ready to roll before dawn.

"How about seven?" Nick bargained.

"Okay," she agreed, her voice soft. She knew she’d be awake at five, unable to sleep another minute, unable to do anything but watch him dream. She wasn’t sure that sounded so bad.

Nick was on his back, staring up at the ceiling when Sara cleared her throat.

"I...I just...I just wanted to say I really am sorry about before. I know you think I’m just an enormous bitch, but I was just...surprised, is all. This...this is no big deal," she gestured between herself and him and Nick could hear the pensive tone in her voice.

"It’s okay, Sara," Nick soothed, knowing how difficult it was for his friend to apologize. He felt her scooting closer to him on the bed, and he tried to hide his surprise as he turned toward her also.

"I’m not tired," she confessed, turning her body onto her hip to face him, propping her head up on her hand. Nick turned to face her also, startled by this change in events, but willing to see where it took them.

"Yeah, but you got to sleep the whole way here," Nick reminded her, teasing.

She bit her lip, but didn’t look contrite at all as she said, "I’m sorry. I’ll drive on the way back."

"You bet your ass you will," Nick retorted, amused.

Sara grinned again and said, "well, we could watch TV, but the only thing that would be one is local news and porno."

"I will if you will," Nick replied, and though it was too dark to see his expression, Sara could have sworn he winked.

"Forget it. I did not invite you up here to watch porn and fondle yourself," Sara joked. Nick got suddenly very quiet, and after almost a minute Sara said, "Nick?"

"Yeah?" Husky.

"Why’d we stop talking?"

"No reason." Well, that was a brush-off if she’d ever heard one.

"Tell me."

"Nothing to tell," he replied.

"What’d I say?"

"Nothing," Nick said again, with more force. Sara found she couldn’t let it go, couldn’t give up. Something in the way his voice hitched. She just couldn’t shake the feeling...

Sara lowered her own voice to a low sizzle. "Was it the part about fondling yourself?"

"Among other things," was Nick’s raspy but dry reply.

"Tell me." It wasn’t so much a plea or request as it was a command, and Nick found himself drawn in, regardless of that feeling that he knew he shouldn’t. "Tell me."

"You have to know I...," Nick blurted, then flummoxed, he trailed off. How could he tell her how he really felt? At the same time, how could he explain away what he’d started?

"What?" Silky.

Nick swallowed hard. "You have to know I think about you all the time."

"Do you?" Sara’s voice sounded more confident to her ears than she felt. She knew she shouldn’t tease him or lead him on, but he was just so earnest, she couldn’t help but investigate the depth of his feeling while he was on display.

"You know I do," Nick let out a ragged breath.

"I think about you, too," Sara’s voice was hypnotic, strange, perplexing. Nick felt in that moment he was the drunkest he’d ever been in his life, though he’d not had a drop.

"Sara, I..." Nick began, pained. He could he couldn’t continue. Sara slid across the mattress, even closer to him, leaving only about six inches between their bodies. She was lying on her stomach now, breathless, waiting for him to continue. "Sara, I don’t want to be your rebound."

"What if I told you you weren’t?" Sara offered back in response.

"I’d want to know you were serious."

Sara licked her lips, feeling the beginnings of arousal twinge and unfold low in her belly. "How would I be able to prove it?" The challenge was out there, and Nick felt his own body betraying him, returning to full salute as a result of Sara’s seriousness.

Nick wished he could provide some simple, sexy answer to that question, but found he couldn’t. He didn’t even know if he could believe what she told him. Instead, he reached out for her body, rolled the palm of his hand along her hipbone, needing that contact, needing to reassure himself that she was still there.

"I trust you. Just tell me," Nick answered.

"Nick, you are most definitely not a rebound," Sara’s voice was like gravel wrapped in satin and Nick found himself unbearably excited.

Sara, too, couldn’t believe what was happening. She was less than a foot away from possibly the most risky, the most rewarding, the most fucked up endeavor of her entire life, and she wouldn’t—couldn’t—back away. She couldn’t say that Nick was hers forever, and she didn’t need that kind of commitment. She wanted what they had, that night, between them, maybe more, maybe not. She wanted to feel.

Nick’s fingers tightened on her hip, and she felt him moving closer to her. He pushed gently to roll her over onto her back, and uncertainty caused her to raise her hands to his shoulders as he loomed over her on the bed. He leaned forward, his eyes searching her face.

"I’m...going...to...kiss...you," Nick punctuated his words by brushing his lips very softly against hers, sweeping his head back and forth as he did so. Sara unconsciously darted her tongue out to wet her lips, and found that it made contact with Nick’s soft mouth. He groaned with the sensation, and Sara felt her heart pounding in hhesthest. The simplicity of her tongue against his lips was electric. She’d never experienced anything so erotic in her entire life. He teased her for another moment and then stopped.

In a perverse sort of irony, he was poised over her as if ready to ravish her, yet it was she who snaked her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and was delicately licking, darting, and nipping in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Seeking purchase, Sara grabbed the front of Nick’s shirt and pulled him to her, and finally, releasing a moan of delayed satisfaction, he parted his lips to allow her entrance. Their heated kisses hurriedly melted into a fiery frenzied clashing of wet mouths and tongues. Nick had slipped his thighs between Sara’s and was currently bringing his knee up to rub against the softness of her sex. Sara could help but rock back against him, biting back moans of pleasure and frustration. Outside the window, lightening continued to flash and streak across the sky, ravaging the land. The thunder boomed so loudly that the bed shook.

When Nick’s hands closed over her breasts, Sara gasped loudly at the dizzying sensation. Nipples urgently pressing against his palms, he rotated his hands back and forth, causing her to tremble in pure bliss. When his fingertips made contact with her nipples her under the soft cotton of her t-shirt, Sara surged up and clung carefully to Nick’s body. She ed ued up and closed her teeth around his earlobe before whispering, "take my shirt off."

As she fell back to the bed, Nick reached for the hem of her little top and pulled it gently up and over her arms and head. Her breasts were the same olive color as her skin, with ruby-colored nipples that were almost dusky in shade, like ripe raspberries begging to be kissed off of her chest. Nick drew his head down to her breasts, licking and kissing around the areolae, loving the feel of Sara’s long fingers and blunt nails threaded through his hair, guiding his efforts. He hummed against her skin, upping the ante, causing her tense pleasurably beneath him.

Sara was tugging at the bottom of his shirt, struggling to pull it off of him with little success. Nick straightened, sat back on his haunches as he stripped away the offending item. He was still straddling her and the idea of making love to her was urging him forward. Sara sat up, awkwardly, and clumsily pushed on the top of his boxers, as if to drag them off of his hips as she began to kiss across his chest. She stopped at each of his tiny nipples, laving her tongue across them before biting gently around their tips as if they were pencil erasers.

Nick pulled his boxers down the rest of the way, and reached behind him to pull them off of his legs and discard them. As he turned back towards her, Sara whimpered—though she’d probably never admit to it later—as she fumbled with her own shorts.

"These," he held them up on one cheeky finger once he’d wrestled them off of her boyish hips, "are so incredibly hot. You wear these to bed every night and I’ll be at your beck and call," he confessed as he leaned forward to kiss her again.

Sara’s heart was up in her throat. Had Nick really just said *every night*? Before she could overanalyze it, Nick’s fingers were at her breasts again, taunting her nipples into hard peaks as he made her forget her own name with his tongue in her mouth. Swirling his tongue around hers, feeling the slick sensation of mouths pressed together, Sara bucked against him in a silent plea for his hand to drift a little lower.

Nick slipped a finger across her belly and down into her slick folds to test her readiness, and finding it more than enough, he cried out almost painfully against her mouth.

"Oh, God, you’re wet," he sighed into her ear, kissing any flesh that he could, hungrily, desperately. Cock in hand, Nick nudged Sara gently, then guided himself in to the hilt, causing her to shudder with the feeling. He nuzzled her cheek affectionately, then kissed her mouth again, their tongues tangling.

"Wrap your legs around my waist," he murmured, "it will make us closer." Nick wasn’t sure he was just talking about their bodies, and so he pulled back to look at Sara for just a moment to gauge her reaction. Her big brown eyes were open wide in surprise, almost as if she were a child. Nick reached for her legs and pulled them up around him. As he did so, Sara’s natural instincts made her lock her ankles across the small of his back. When Nick turned back to her again, all traces of the childlike innocence were gone, and images of French harlots raced through his mind. Sara’s hair was spread out against the pillow, her cheeks flushed, eyes closed and mouth open, panting in guilty delight.

Nick began to move, and leaned over to kiss Sara again. He darted his tongue in and out of her mouth, mimicking the sliding of his cock into her hot, wet body. Each slap of his slender hips against hers increased her desire, made what they were doing seem more real. She reached up to hold his shoulders, wanting to be close, and so he deepened their kiss.

Nick was angling his hips so that every thrust made the tip of his cock meet the spongy tissue that was driving Sara wild. She was writhing and bucking beneath him, and for a brief mom Nic Nick couldn’t believe he was fucking his best friend. His prim and focused girl was turning into a lusty, wanton one, complete with whispered pleas to fuck her harder, more, more, don’t stop, please don’t stop, and his favorite, OhGod,don’tstop.

Nick reached between their bodies to gently rub her clit, wanting them to climax together, but after only a few more minutes, he gasped out that he couldn’t stop it, he was about to come. He gave her a look of apology, but she shook her head, her sweaty bangs plastered against her brow. A moment later, he came, hard, and before he was even finished, he began again, vigorously rubbing her clit. He continued to thrust as long as his dick was still hard and as it began to soften, he joined their bodies one last time. It was enough sensation to give Sara an orgasm, and as she came, she arched up into his arms, shaking and moaning as she wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled him down to her.

He slipped from her body and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him completely, her legs between his and her breasts pressed against his chest. Her face was nuzzled into his neck, and his nose was buried in her hair, luxuriating in the feel of one another.

"I love you," Nick whispered, stroking her cheek with the back of his finger. Sara drew back to look at him, stricken. She blinked rapidly as her eyes filled with tears, and her voice broke.

"I can’t..." she trailed off, her heart breaking slowly. Seeing her trembling, Nick pulled her into his arms, murmuring soft nonsense words of comfort. After a minute, Sara tried to put into words what she was feeling. "I want...after Grissom...I just can’t...not yet," she whispered again, uncertain.

"You don’t have to say anything," Nick promised. "We have time. I just couldn’t in good conscience go another second without telling you." The look of pure adoration on his face was enough to convince Sara of his sincerity, and she tightened her hold on him.

Nick held her impossibly close as well, her arms up under his, and Nick wasn’t sure someone could slip a dime in between them as it was, but he squeezed her tighter to satisfy her need. It wasn’t long before Sara’s breathing evened out, and Nick, too, felt the gradual slide into sleep.

At about two, the storm stopped, and Nick awoke to the sound of complete silence. The power had gone off. Beside him, Sara was awake also, her hearing sensitive enough to bring her out of sleep too.

"Hi," she whispered, shy. She was dressed again, so Nick knew she’d already been up, and it disappointed him.

"Hi," he replied, grinning like an idiot. "Why’d you get dressed?" he pulled her close to kiss her ear.

"I was nervous," she replied honestly.

"Why nervous?" he trailed a line of kisses down her jaw.

"Nick," she prted ted weakly.

"Hmmm?" he murmured, finding the soft skin at her neck suddenly very interesting.

"We should talk about this," she said practically, even as her body was responding to Nick’s touch.

Nick’s mouth closed over hers hotly. "And here I was just hoping we could fuck again."

Sara groaned, and cupped her hands around his face, bringing his lips back to hers. They made love again, more slowly, kissing and fondling as they learned the intricacies of each other’s bodies. Nick discovered what would happen if he latched his mouth at the smooth skin behind Sara’s knees, and Sara found that she could make Nick see stars when the pebbly texture of her nipple met the smooth skin of his balls. He delighted in memorizing her curves and valleys, knowing he would get so many more opportunities to learn them all over again. Sara, too, wasn’t sure she could give this up now that she had it, wasn’t sure she could ever bring herself to get out of the bed.

But she did, finally, at seven a.m. and not a moment sooner. They had sex again, in the shower, up against the tiled wall, and Nick continued to touch and caress her even after they were out of the shower and dressed. They stopped occasionally to kiss and hold each other as they packed up their things and gathered up stray belongings.

Once they left the room, however, they became all business, not even glancing at one another as they checked out and made their way across the parking lot to the truck. Sara buckled herself into the driver’s seat, wincing at the soreness between her legs as she settled in. Nick looked over at her sympathetically.

"I’m sorry," he offered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You are such a liar," Sara shook her head, her face expressionless as she put on her sunglasses. "You aren’t any more sorry than I am."

As she pulled out of the parking lot, Nick said, "you know, if you hadn’t seduced me, none of this would have ever happened."

"Me? Seduced you? Who grabbed my hip? toldtold me he thinks about me all the time?"

"Oh yeah?" Nick retorted playfully. "Who asked me if I wanted to fondle myself?"

"Who kissed who first?" Sara grumbled good-naturedly.

"We seduced each other," Nick offered, running his hand up her arm, and then withdrawing it.

"Fair enough," Sara grinned, not for the first time that morning, and said, "but you started it."




FINIS