Toxic

Sara lined up the shot glasses on the counter, pouring Tequila into each of them with exact precision. She had planed on just watching them; maybe the thought of the hard liquor would be enough. But when she finally realized she had downed two, she knew it wasn’t.

That old phrase, ‘one Tequila, two Tequila, three Tequila, floor’ rang through her mind as she contemplated drinking the third shot. Three shots and she knew she would never make it to work. Four she might as well take the next three days off.

Despite her better judgment, she tossed back the third, feeling the alcohol burn a path down her throat. Suddenly her mood worsened. Grabbing the fourth shot, she hurled it against the wall. It shattered with a satisfying crash, glass and Tequila falling onto the counter below. Cradling her head in her hands, she shook, dry sobs wracking her body.

And that was how Grissom found her, shaking uncontrollably at her kitchen counter, the remnants of glass and alcohol decorating her floor. She didn’t know how long he stood there, but by the time she noticed him, the broken shot glass and Tequila bottle were cleaned up and put away.

Sara frowned, her brow furrowing as she tried to think of how Grissom even got in her apartment. Then she remembered. Grissom knew where her spare key was kept. He’d seen her use it before; the night of her DUI, the night he drove her home.

Fuck. This isn’t good.

Sitting down next to her he remained silent. His eyes never gazed at hers, but she could still see them in her peripherals. She always found his eyes to be very expressive, even if he himself was not. And she didn’t like what she saw. His eyes were clouded with worry, yes, but she saw anger, too.

She heard him sigh and turn his gaze towards her. Sara couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She didn’t want him to see the pain in her eyes. The pain that he had caused by continuously pushing her away, refusing to accept what she would freely give him if only he had the balls to take it. But mostly, she didn’t want him to see the disappointment in her eyes, the disappointment he had caused by the cavalier use of her emotions.

“Grissom, what are you doing here?” Her voice came out soft; raw and scratchy from the alcohol.

He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but closed it again, turning his head away from hers. Frankly, he didn’t have a good reason for being there. Something inside of him had snapped; he had just wanted to see her. Maybe take her out for breakfast. Talk.

But now, after finding the courage to drive to her apartment and, well, let himself in, he couldn’t bring himself to ask the one question he had repeated under his breath the entire drive here: ‘Will you come to breakfast with me?’

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his gaze still turned from her.

Her hands clenched in a tight fist. She wanted so badly to scream, throw something, punch something; anything to vent her frustrations about the man sitting next to her. This was classic Grissom. Avoidant when she needed answers from him the most.

“I’m fine, Grissom.” Her answer came more forced than she had wanted.

Grissom finally turned to look at her, the anger in his eyes dissipating somewhat. Glancing down, he cleared his throat and then glanced back up at her.

“Sara…”

There was that condescending tone he commonly used around her. Sometimes she felt like he treated her like a child, although under the given circumstances, she almost felt like condoning his actions.

Sara scoffed, a small smile forming on her face, little lines crinkling around her eyes. Running a nervous hand through her hair, she felt like pulling it out in chunks. Watching Grissom, she let out a small laugh. Suddenly, she slapped her hand down on the counter in frustration.

“What, Sara? What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?” His voice sounded exasperated.

The words flew from her mouth before she could censor herself; “I want you to love me.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath at her statement and the quick release of it. It sounds as if he had been punched in the stomach. Almost instantly she regretted her comment. Sure, she knew she was intoxicated, but she was quite aware of the impact her words had on Grissom.

“Shit. I um…” she trailed off, nervously fumbling her words.

“What did you say?” His voice never raised above a whisper, his gaze burning through her skin.

Sara cleared her throat, wanting nothing more than to be sucked into the floor. “I, uh…” She trailed off again, uncertain she was able to voice the request she had so easily thrown out just a few moments previous.

Grissom said nothing, just watched as Sara struggled with herself.

“Fuck!” she finally yelled out, cursing herself for being in this position.

She pushed herself off the stool a little too hard, sending the stool crashing to the floor behind her. Not bothering to pick it up, she started pacing in front of him, biting relentlessly at her already short nails. Tugging at her hair, she picked up the stool and sat back down, cursing under her breath. Cautiously, she eyed her liquor cabinet.

She needed another drink.

After what seemed like an eternity, Grissom finally spoke; “You don’t need that Sara.”

She looked up at him with a dumbfounded expression. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ when she finally understood his statement.

“Yes, I do. It’ll make you go away,” she said softly, cradling her head in her hands. She could already feel the dull throb in her temples of what was going to become the worst headache of the century.

Rubbing her head with lazy circles, she heard Grissom let out a pent up sigh.

“What if I don’t want to go away?”

Gently, he pulled her left hand from her head, cradling it in his larger right one. His thumb ran over her knuckles, feeling her silky skin, hoping to calm the tiny tremors that coursed through her body. But if anything, his touch shook her more.

Sara stared down at where their hands were joined wondering if she was dreaming. An alcohol induced hallucination seemed more likely than the reality of the position Grissom had put himself in. Surely this was something fabricated from inside her head and when she snapped out of it she would find herself still rubbing her throbbing head and Grissom would still just be staring at her.

But it wasn’t fabricated; this was oddly real. His skin seemed to burn into hers, each brush of his thumb against her knuckles setting her on fire. Her mouth went dry. Never had a simple touch had her so discombobulated. Sara finally let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, her lungs burning for oxygen.

“Look at me,” came his throaty command.

Tearing her gaze from their joined hands, she met his blue eyes, which were two shades darker than she ever remembered them looking. It almost frightened her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead ten times over. She had never seen Grissom with such a look of passion before. And it was because of her. That realization was almost nauseating.

Sara gulped loudly. “Sweet Jesus,” she breathed out.

For the first time since he had arrived, a small smirk was plastered on his face. He removed his hand from hers, hearing her whimper at the loss of contact. It took all his will power not to grin like a fucking idiot.

Nothing was registering in her mind. This wasn’t Grissom; Grissom was always the calm one, the rational one, the one who pushed her away when she tried to make advances. She always thought she’d be the one to jump his bones, not the other way around. If he didn’t stop with the throaty commands, desire filled gazes and gentle touches, he’d have her spread on the counter like a Thanksgiving spread.

His smile widened. “Would you come to breakfast with me?”

She didn’t give him time to respond, her lips crashed against his before either of them had time to think. This surely wasn’t how he envisioned their first kiss, but given the way her lips kept working into his, he really didn’t care. She tasted of, well, Tequila, but also something that was so undeniably Sara.

Running her tongue along the seam of his lips, she felt him brace both hands against her thighs, leaning further into her lips. Sara lightly bit down on his lower lip, the gravely moan from Grissom’s throat sending shivers down her own body. Almost instantly he opened up, allowing his tongue to caress hers, reeling in the feeling the clashing textures produced.

Her hands ran up his arms, feeling the curves of his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. She squeezed his shoulders before pulling away, her chest heaving, her breath coming out in short pants.

Grissom’s hands remained firmly planted on Sara’s on thighs as he stared at her for a moment trying desperately to make sense of what just happened. But as he watched Sara slowly, almost tortuously, licked her lips her gaze never leaving his own, he realized he didn’t care.

Bending down once more, his lips found the sensitive flesh of her jaw, nibbling and sucking a path to her ear. Her own lips parted to release a soft moan as Grissom kissed the spot directly behind her ear, his beard scratching the side of her face.

Sara moved her hands from his shoulders, impatiently fumbling with the buttons of his button-down shirt. Once she had removed the last button, she forcefully pushed the burdensome clothing from his body, the shirt landing in a pile on the floor. She heard his breath hitch in his throat as her heated hands finally came in contact with his exposed skin.

No patch of skin, peak or valley of his muscles went untouched as her fingers greedily roamed over his chest leaving a trail of fire in their wake. As her fingers danced across his chest, his lips trailed downward, tasting the sweet flesh of her neck, feeling her pulse beating rapidly beneath his lips.

His hands finally moved from their position on Sara’s thighs and trailed upward, the pads of his fingers outlining the hem of her shirt. She inhaled sharply, anticipating his next move. Smiling against her neck, he pushed his hands up her shirt, his warm flesh coming in contact with the flat of her stomach.

“Shit…” she mumbled, his fingers crawling higher still until the rested under the swell of each breast.

Wasting no time, he torn the shirt from her body tossing it aside with his own much forgotten shirt. His hands quickly found her skin again, cupping each breast with his palms. His thumbs brushed against the sensitive flesh of her nipples, which by now were standing taught against the silk fabric of her bra.

Lolling her head back, she moaned out, “Off. Take it off.”

One hand snaked around her back, his fingers quickly finding the clasp to her bra and unhooking it. Sara shrugged the material off her shoulders and shuddered when Grissom’s hands finally came back in contact with her burning skin.

He traced every curve, desperately trying to memorize the form he had secretly admired for years. Sara gasped loudly when his lips came down on the swell of one breast, then the other. A few times she felt his tongue dart out, tasting her.

His touches were electrifying. With each swipe of his thick fingers over her skin she felt like shuddering. She wanted him to touch her everywhere; she had waited too long for a moment like this. And while this probably wasn’t the idealist way to start a relationship, she couldn’t care less.

Her hands were stuck firmly in his hair, his soft curls wrapped around her slender fingers. Grissom’s head moved upward, kissing a path across her collarbone, placing a small kiss where her neck met her chest. Glancing up, he caught her gaze, her brown eyes now deep black pools.

“God Sara…” he trailed off, her hands guiding his face to hers.

Her tongue darted out to his lips, tasting him briefly, before crushing their lips together. Her eyes fluttered shut as once more their tongues dueled. Standing up, she brought him up with her, pushing him backward, one hand resting firmly on his chest.

Grissom paused to kick off his shoes and then continued to let Sara guide them backwards towards her bedroom. Running her hands down his smooth chest, she rested against the waist of his pants, her fingers quickly removing his belt and undoing the button of his khakis.

When the back of his knees came in contact with the edge of her bed, he stopped, staring down at her, his breathing labored. He let his hands fall down to her hips, wasting no time removing her pants from her lithe body. He watched her legs twitch slightly as his fingers came in contact with the bare skin of her thighs.

Sara’s breath quickened as she helped Grissom remove his own pants, feeling his erection through the tenting material of his boxers. Gently she pushed him back into a sitting position on the bed. He stared up at her as she brought her legs to rest on either side of his waist. He groaned outwardly as her hips came in contact with his.

His hands came to rest right under the swell of her ass, cupping her slightly. Sara closed her eyes as she felt his fingers brush across the elastic of her panties, moving from back to front. Dipping his fingers down, Grissom could feel her wet heat through the thin material. Rubbing softly, he watched as her head fell back, her lips parting to release a soft sigh. She braced herself on his shoulders as he got bolder, pushing her panties aside to stroke the wet flesh.

“Stand up,” he commanded, nudging her off of him.

She complied, standing in front of him, wanting him desperately to touch her again. She didn’t even need to ask, for a moment later he stood up, his hands at her hips slowly moving her panties down her thighs. Itching to feel him, she removed his boxers in the same manner, feeling the strong muscles of his thighs, calves as she worked the cloth downward.

A small smirk formed on her face at the sight of Grissom in all his naked glory. She knew she wasn’t drunk enough to imagine something this good. Standing back up, she found her lips back at his as he flipped them around, leaning his body into her smaller one, forcing her onto the bed.

Sara scooted up father on the bed, allowing Grissom room to hover over her. He kissed her lips once more, then trailed downward kissing each breast, her stomach, belly button finally resting right above the patch of hair between her legs.

His hands danced up her legs, trailing across her inner thighs making her squirm. He was purposely avoiding the one place she wanted him to touch the most. A smile played on his face as she shifted her hips forward, begging him with her body. He darted his tongue out, flicking her clit once and laughed softly when Sara gasped.

He lowered his mouth down to her, tasting her with his tongue. Sara’s hands gripped the sheets, bucking her hips into Grissom’s face. He continued to torture her, licking at her lips and then back at the center, tasting her desire. Shifting upward slightly, he brought his lips down on her clit.

Sara groaned as she felt Grissom insert one long finger into her depths, his tongue still working wonders. Curling his finger upwards, he stroked the sensitive skin bringing her closer and closer to release.

“Fuck,” Sara grunted as Grissom inserted another finger.

She could feel her orgasm pooling low in her abdomen, the sensations Grissom was creating sending her body into hyper drive. Grissom felt her internal walls clamp down tightly on his fingers, her body quivering beneath his hands. He glanced up; watching Sara during an orgasm was an experience. Her head was tilted back into the mattress, her hands grabbed fists full of material and her mouth hung open in a wide ‘o’.

Snaking up her body, he planted kisses along her jaw line stopping to kiss the tender flesh of her ear. She could feel his breath against her ear, the warmth sending shivers up her spine.

“You’re like a drug,” he whispered.

Sara let her hands wander down his body, feeling his muscles ripple under her touch. She watched Grissom sigh as she grabbed his cock in her hands, stoking him once, twice, a lazy grin plastered on her face. He thrust between her hands twice, using all his willpower to still his hips and push her hands away.

Bringing a hand up to his face, Sara kissed his mouth. “I need you.”

Kissing her forehead, he situated himself between her legs, bracing himself on his arms above her. Sara shifted her hips forward, pushing the tip of his throbbing cock into her. She let out a hiss as Grissom thrust in, burring himself deep within her.

“Good God, “ she moaned, gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

Grissom let out a groan of his own as he pulled out and thrust back in, the friction unbelievable. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Sara pushed her heels into his back in a desperate attempt to keep him as deep in her as possible. She raised her hips to meet his, each strong thrust sending electricity through her body.

His head was buried in the crook of her neck, his beard lightly scratching the side of her face. Sara let her hands fall from his shoulders, gripping his ass, hoping to spur him on. He growled as her hands came in contact with his ass, increasing his tempo, thrusting into her deeper than he ever imagined possible.

Shivers ran up Sara’s spine as Grissom worked a hand in between their bodies, his thumb brushing against her clit. Her breathing hitched as he drew circles around it, teasing as he continued to thrust into her. She was so close.

His lips worked from her neck to her ear where he gently bit down, drawing out a strangled moan from Sara. He whispered lowly in her ear, “Come for me.”

And she was gone, her internal muscles clamping down hard on his pulsing cock, her lips screaming his name. He thrust through her orgasm, the waves still rippling through her body. Sara writhed beneath him, watching his face contort as he finally let go, emptying himself within her.

Collapsing on her breathing hard, Sara allowed her hand to snake up his spine, finally rested in the damp curls at the base of his neck. He rolled off of her, pulling her with him, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Grissom?”

He glanced down at her and smiled. “Hmm?”

“I would love to have breakfast with you.”