My Pleasure

Thanks to my beta, Nightblight/Flukecicle. She rocks!

They don't belong to me.

No real spoilers, but set after Season 6

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The scarves were red. Silk, of course.

They bound her wrists together and her ankles to opposite bed posts. They were tied perfectly; not so tight as to cause ligature marks on the pale skin decorated with delicate blue veins but not so loose that she could free herself pulling against them.

The bed was relatively new, purchased when they had bought the house. A king sized four-poster with a pediment headboard with curves on each side and a spindle (or would it be a finial? He’d have to look that up…) in the middle where he had hooked her silk bound wrists. Grissom had stripped off the comforter and other covers; all that remained on the bed were the navy Egyptian cotton sheets and a silken bound Sara.

The flickering light of a dozen candles around the room created shadows and hollows on her body, but could not disguise the exquisite contrast of Sara’s fair skin against the cool, dark sheets.

The position of her arms raised over the headboard’s center piece caused her already pert breasts to appear even more enticing to his ever darkening gaze. She was laid out before him, open and openly wanting him. He could not suppress a shiver of anticipation, a shudder of painful desire as it worked its way through his body.

“Sara,” his voice was husky and rough, “Are you all right?” The words passed through lips dry with anticipation, his concern was tinged with primal hunger that surpassed want and brushed delicately up against need.

Liquid chocolate eyes glistened at his question and the tip of her pink tongue snaked out briefly to wet her lips as she nodded. The look in her eyes was an odd mixture of supplication and demand; he could see the trust shining through, but also a ravenous desire.

He had not touched her yet, other than to tie her, but spread as she was he could smell the sweet musk of her and knew she was already very aroused and stimulated. Despite the innocent smell of the vanilla candles burning around the room there was a pervading smell of sex in the air.

He felt a tendril of lust winding through him settling low in his groin and taking over his brain. He was just as bound by his desire as she was by the scarlet strands of silk around her wrists.

“Do you need the silk for your mouth?” Grissom bent his arms and began unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt as he watched her. She had imposed a rule of silence on herself. Sometimes she asked him for a scarf for her mouth, other times she tried to last without it.

Sara pursed her lips and shook her head vigorously causing her hair to whip slightly against the sheet. He eyed her with a quirked eyebrow, his professor face in place, “Are you sure?” She nodded her head briskly, keeping her lips pressed together tightly. He watched her watch him as he began unbuttoning his shirt, his work slowly revealing his chest a few inches at a time.

He knew what this did to her, the odd mixture of nervousness and longing that beat so close to the surface of her skin.

It was not about her objectification or submission. It was her way of demonstrating her love for him, her trust of him, in such a way as to so completely let go of control in such an intimate setting.

When she had first suggested it he had felt a leap of desire in his chest and the jump of his cock in his pants, but his initial instinct had been to refuse. As tantalizing as the thought was, he didn’t want to step on a slippery slope of submission, not with her family history. He didn’t want to open old wounds or aggravate any scars. He loved her. Yes, the idea had been three dimensionally erotic as it caressed his brain and nibbled at his libido, but he wouldn’t sacrifice their relationship for that.

She had demurred at his analysis. It wasn’t about the way she was raised, she insisted. It was about the way she was. How she wanted, no…needed to give up control in some aspect of her life. How she felt compelled to show herself and him how completely she trusted him. How much she wanted this from him.

After the discussion, he had understood. She needed this to demonstrate her trust, to deepen their connection by totally giving up her need for control; the very need that governed her most waking hours. The silk that bound her to their bed, bound her to him and him to her long after the scarves were put away.

It was odd, that the times she appeared to need control the most, were the times when he would come home to find the scarves sitting out on top of his mail on the desk. After a particularly rough case or when she had been frustrated with the some aspect of the job or life in general. It was almost as if she used the scarves as a therapy, a preventive measure to remind herself she could not control every aspect of her life.

He slowly stripped the shirt from his body, her eyes never leaving him. He moved to sit down on the bed, toeing his shoes off as he sat. His back was to her and he watched in the mirror over the dresser as her head turned to the side, eyes roaming over his back with a hungry expression before meeting his eyes in the mirror. “You are so lovely, Sara.”

She blinked, slowly and he smiled. “Yes, you are.” He turned his body towards her and lightly stoked her cheek before turning back to her gaze in the mirror. “I’ve never understood why you doubt that.” His gaze drifted over the reflection of her long, elegant lines, her upraised arms somehow giving her more of a feel of openness and vulnerability than her widely spread legs.

He removed his socks and turned on the bed to crawl over to her, propping himself on one elbow as he studied her. “So lovely...” His thumb passed over her lower lip and then traced its way down her chin. “Your skin is so soft; I think I’m addicted to it.” His hand outlined her neck in a tantalizing caress, one thick finger tickling the hollow at the base of her throat, then drifting out to stroke the line of her collarbone and the curve of her shoulder. “Such an interesting physiology, Ms Sidle...” His tone was conversational and his foot reached out and ran up and down her leg. “You have these long, long legs,” his finger continued to trace a path between her rounded shoulder and the base of her throat, “yet you have quite a delicate bone structure.”

He leaned in to her and pressed his face into the side of her neck, inhaling deeply. “Peaches… You smell like peaches. Makes me think of peeling you, like a peach, at the most inopportune times Sara. I can be standing next to you in the layout room and catch a whiff of you and I think of you as my peach, think of putting you in my mouth and sucking all the succulent juices from you until they’re running down my chin, my hands sticky with the juice of you.”

She made a small moaning sound in the back of her throat and her eyelids fluttered. “Thinking about you like that, do you know what it does to me?” His voice was all smoothness, oozing sex. He pressed himself against her side and she felt the solid length of his stiffened member straining against his pants, pushing against her. She pressed back against him as much as she could, desperate for the tactile sensation, on fire for the feel of him. She wanted no feather-light touches now, she wanted weight and pressure…she wanted to feel him. “Makes me want to forget that I’m an evolved, civilized, educated human being and take you like a wild animal right there on the table, Sara.” The wild, sensual quality of his voice sent an electric shock of hot lust through her and she felt her vaginal muscles contract in response.

She sucked in a shivering breath and wriggled her hips, not seeing his dangerous smile as he rubbed against her side again.

One large hand reached across her torso and slowly cupped and stroked one smooth breast. “Your breasts are perfect. Did you know that? They fit my hand beautifully…I love how they feel in my palm, the weight and the softness combined.” He moved his hand to his mouth and briefly sucked on the first two fingers of his hand. Then pulling them wetly from his mouth, he rubbed their v-shape over her hardened nipple causing her to gasp.

“Hmmm…are you sure you don’t need the scarf for your mouth?”

She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head.

“Good. I like to see that beautiful mouth of yours Sara. I like to kiss you and I like for you to kiss me back.” He leaned in and ran the tip of his tongue around the perimeter of her lips. “Before we were together,” there was barely any space between their mouths as he spoke, the puffs of air formed by his words tickling her lips just as his words tickled her arousal, “before I allowed myself the heaven of loving you, do you know how many of my fantasies involved that luscious mouth of yours?” His question was low and feral, hinting at the sweet torment to come. He moved to straddle her, keeping his face very close to hers. “Do you know how many mornings I came home and jacked off imagining your mouth around my cock?”

She arched slightly and closed the small gap between their mouths, kissing him with a wet, open mouthed hunger.

He matched her ardor and his tongue invaded her mouth, stroking against the insides of her lips, her delicate palate, and then finally fondling her tongue with his own.

The kiss seemed to go on forever and he could smell the tangy musk of her excitement as it became even stronger. He broke from her lips and kissed his way down her neck. “Does that turn you on?” He asked between kisses, “to think about me fantasizing about you?” He lowered his head and encircled a nipple with the moist tip of his tongue. “Stroking myself until I shot come all over my lonely bed?” Her whimpering groan brought a wicked smile to his face as one hand slid down her body possessively and a thick finger inserted itself into her wet heat. “Why, yes, Sara, I think that does turn you on.” A second finger joined the first and his thumb rubbed against her clit and she arched her hips up in an attempt to deepen the contact. “Sara, Sara,” her name on his lips was a rough aching caress. “Would you like that? Would you like to see me do that and know it’s you that has fueled the fire of every fantasy I’ve had since the day I met you?” His arousal ratcheted up a notch as he thought of all the times he didn’t have her and now he did, tied to his bed, wet for him, wanting only him. “I’ve fisted myself thinking about your long legs, your pert ass and your sweet, sweet mouth more times than I can count. Shot rivers of cum thinking about you, tasting you, fucking you, fucking that pretty mouth of yours.” He took her nipple completely in his mouth as his hand continued to stroke her.

She let out a wordless whimper and arched up into him using what little slack was left in the scarves that bound her, to raise her body to try to rub herself against him.

As he pulled his fingers from her, there was a slurping sound that caused them both to shudder. “Juicy, Sara, you are juicy.” He climbed off the bed and began divesting himself of his pants and boxers while she devoured him with her eyes. She was at his mercy and she loved every moment of this carnal torture.

Naked and highly aroused he moved to the foot of the bed and took her left foot in his large hand; bringing it to his mouth, he kissed the ball of her foot. “There is not a part of you I don’t think is gorgeous…there is not a part of you I don’t want to kiss. I want to rub my cock over every inch of your magnificent body until you beg me to fuck you.”

She was wriggling madly, straining against her bindings in attempt to get to him. He was large, thick as well as long, and the naked sight of him never failed to excite her; her eyes feasted on him as she felt herself grow wetter and her nipples hardened; begging for his touch again. She thrust her hips upward as she arched her back, offering herself to him in wordless sacrifice.

He climbed back on the bed and knelt between her widely spread legs, and using a thick hand attempted to sooth her with gentle strokes across her flat stomach. “Be still, sweetheart, let me look at you.” She closed her eyes and breathed in a deep, calming breath and then opened them to find his ardent azure gaze intently trained on her body. “I love this,” he rasped. “Love your body,” he stroked his hands down each thigh. “I love seeing you wet and wanton. I love to see you glistening for me.”

He moved his right hand to the head of his penis, touching the dollop of pre-cum there, starting to work it over the head with his fingers until she groaned aloud. “What?” Her eyelids drooped over her eyes and her tongue shot out to lick her lips. “You want this?”

She nodded and bucked her hips up as he loomed over her.

“All right,” he put his fingers against her lips and watched as her tongue snaked out and lapped his fingers, eventually raising her head enough to suck them into his mouth, A jolt of arousal shot straight through him, causing his erection to jump. He felt then, what a gift she was to him, not just as a sexual partner, but as a life partner, loving him, trusting him, accepting him. It made him want her even more.

He moved up her body, knees on either side of her torso, pressing his throbbing member over her belly and between her breasts, leaving a light trail of pre-ejaculate in his wake. He rubbed the broad, velvety head firmly against each of her nipples causing her to groan and buck against him again as she avidly watched his progress over her torso.

“This is better than any fantasy, Sara.” He gripped himself firmly with the saliva coated fingers she had lavished so much attention on and set up a slow stroking rhythm watching her watch him.

She made a mewling noise in the back of her throat, a sound equal parts desire and envy.

“Ah, Sara, all those nights I worked beside you tempted by your mouth, thinking about your pouty lips on me, kissing me, sucking me…I’d go home those mornings and I’d have my dick in my hands and your face in my mind and I’d touch myself pretending it was you touching me, fantasizing about your hands, your mouth.” She was moaning loudly and frequently at his words and he knew it wouldn’t be long before she broke her self-imposed silence.

“God, Honey, when I finally had you it was better than any fantasy I’ve ever had. Your hands on me…” he groaned and closed his eyes as he slightly increased the speed of his hand. He listened to her panting beneath him and opened his eyes to take in her desire filled gaze.

Her eyes were on his hands, watching his every move as he pleasured himself.

“I dreamed about you Sara…I dreamed about coming in your mouth, dreamed about coming inside you, dreamed about shooting my cum all over you.”

She was straining against the silk again, an exquisite torture, reaching toward him, mouth open as if she could capture him from that far away, as if she could get her wet lips around him she could make every fantasy of his past and present come true with the brush of her tongue and the suction of her mouth.

He was going to fuck her; there was no doubt of that. But he wanted her ripe and ready for him and he was not above teasing her, even in these moments. “Should I do that, Sara? Should I jack myself off now? Hmm?” He increased the pressure slightly as he saw her eyes rollback into her head at his words. “Should I stroke myself until I come? Shoot it all over you? Then rub it in while I rub against you? Would you like that?”

Her moan was low and needy. Her refusal to speak was the last bastion of her control. He knew in order to get her to totally let go, she had to speak.

He thrust into his hand and knew he was getting too close. Abruptly, he released himself leaving his bobbing erection pointing at her in some sort of sexually frustrated accusation. “Tell me, Sara, tell me what you want.”

“I want,” she was panting, her voice was trembling, a desperate plea, her lips wet and her eyes wide, “I want you in my mouth…then I want…I want you to fuck me, really, really fuck me.”

With a groan of desire and satisfaction he leaned forward and braced his left arm against the headboard, using his right hand to grasp himself firmly and rub the head of his cock against her lips. Her lips parted and she brought him into her mouth. He hissed his pleasure and gripped the headboard with both hands, using every bit of his self control to not thrust into her mouth; leaving her to control this. He was overwhelmed with his hunger for her; it was a sharp need in the center of his chest.

Her tongue was everywhere, swirling around the head, moving up the underside, pressing against him, stroking him. Despite the way she was tied she had a good range of movement and she used it well. She sucked him in and moved her mouth off of him again and again until he knew he wouldn’t last another minute.

He leaned back, away from her mouth and his erection pulled free with a slight pop. “Enough.” He moved to the scarf that tied her left ankle and pulled the end firmly, freeing her leg.

He placed his hands against her hips and paused a moment to admire the contrast of his tanned hands against her white skin before he hooked her leg into the crook of his arm and sank into her, parting her inner muscles as he pushed into her warm wetness with a loud groan. “Sara, god, Sara, you feel so good.”

She engulfed him, her heat gripping him, causing him to stop for a moment, drawing a deep breath to steady himself.

“Gris,” she arched her back taking him in as deeply as she could. “Ah…oh…it’s…please, Babe…”

He accepted her plea and began to move. “Ah, Sweetheart, you’re so tight, you feel incredible.” His first thrusts were slow but intense and deep.

“So good, feels so good,” she was rhythmically gasping in time with his thrusts. “You make me feel so good.” He began to move a little faster, pumping all the way into her and pulling almost all the way out.

“Ah, Gris, love you so much, Babe, please…” she gasped, her voice very close to begging.

“What Sara? What do you need, Honey?” His voice was a tender caress in contrast to the elemental energy of his deep plunges into her as she propelled her hips up to meet him.

“I need…I want…ah…oh, god, Gris, so close…make me come, Babe, please, make me come.”

He bent to kiss her in a full open mouthed engulfment, lips and tongue and heart and soul. He could feel how close she was; he felt the first signs of her impending orgasm as her inner muscles began to twitch around him. He snaked his hand between them, pressing against her clit once, twice and she cried out his name and he could tell she was coming hard. Her inner walls tightened around him; they spasmed in tight waves, pulsing around his cock as he plunged into her over and over riding her orgasm. Her gasps and his name on her lips tore at his control making him want to bury himself in her soul every bit as much as he wanted to bury himself in her body. Then she was too wet, too tight to resist and he was matching her pulse for pulse shooting himself into her, back arched, buried as deep in her as he could get, growling out her name with his orgasm.

He slumped down onto her, indulging in small, lazy after thrusts as he buried his sweat drenched head in the crook of her neck.

After a minute, he raised himself and looked into her face, “You OK?” His face searched hers with a look of love and concern.

She gave him a lazy and sated smile, “Oh, yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good.”

He smiled at her and pressed soft kisses against her face and down her neck. He lifted her arms from the headboard and removed the binding silk, kissing her wrists as he did so. “I love you, Sara.”

“I love you, too,” she lowered her eyes shyly at the same time rubbing her left foot along his calf. “Thank you for this.” She was replete and relaxed and he heard it in her voice along with the hesitant gratitude.

He kissed her lips in a sweet lingering press before reaching down to free her right ankle. “Oh, my pleasure, Honey. It was definitely my pleasure.”