Zorro Rides Again

A/N: There is actually a Dinosaur Ball held by the Las Vegas Natural History Museum. It is a fund raiser. And this year’s was held at the Lake Las Vegas Hyatt. I took a few liberties. So I hope you enjoy it.
Special thanks to Cropper for holding my hand and Doris for loving the smut.


Every Halloween the Las Vegas Natural History Museum hosts their Dinosaur Ball, a fundraiser that doubles as a costume party. Every year Gil Grissom’s invitation arrives by mail no later than the first day of October. And every year it promptly becomes just another discarded piece of paper headed for the landfill. This year things are going to be a little different.

Fingering the heavy vellum, Sara wandered into their home office. “Hey Griss?”

“Hmmm?” Grissom glanced up from his computer screen and gave her a distracted smile before returning his attention to the article he was writing.

“Do you know what this is?” Sara asked, settling against the edge of the desk.

With a slight smirk, eyes never leaving his computer screen, he replied, “Since I’m not sure which this you are referring to the answer would be no.”

Snorting a laugh and waving the envelope in front of him, Sara said, “This this.”

Looking up he took note of the fancy script and the return address and said, “Oh, it’s an invitation to the Natural History Museum’s Dinosaur Ball. Just toss it.”

“What? Why would I want to toss it?” Sara’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Grissom sighed and gave up all pretense of working. “There’s no point in keeping it if it isn’t going to be used.”

“I see.” Sara thought for a moment before asking, “How’d you get an invitation anyway? Isn’t this like one of the best costume parties in town?”

With a self-deprecating shrug, he mumbled, “That’s what happens when you give the museum a sizable amount of money every year.”

Sara nodded her understanding and, with a smirk, said, “I think we should go.”

Rolling his eyes, Grissom resumed working. “I never go to those kinds of things, Sara. You know that.”

Reaching out and using a finger to tilt his face up to hers, brown eyes gleaming with undisguised heat, Sara said, “What if I promise to make it worth your while?”

Grissom’s eyes darkened, an almost imperceptible sign of his arousal, and he ran a hand over his mouth. Even though they had been sharing a house for several months and a bed for twice as long he was still sometimes caught off guard by her open approach to sex. “Sara…,” he began. “I hate those things; the crowds, the politics…” His words trailed off as she cupped his cheek in her palm and ran her thumb across his lower lip.

“Grissommmm,” Sara chided. “It’ll be fun. I’ll even pick out the costumes. All you have to do is get dressed and show up.”

At the pleading look in her eyes, Grissom gave a sigh of resignation and nodded.

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The Dinosaur Ball was being held at the Hyatt Regency at Lake Las Vegas in Henderson. Neither Grissom nor Sara had ever been inside. It wasn’t the sort of place that lent itself to the seedier side of Las Vegas they were familiar with. It was a huge, rambling resort nestled between a quiet cove on one side and soaring mountains on the other. The grounds were beautiful and the suite Grissom had reserved for the occasion was breathtaking.

He had arranged to have their room overlook the lake. Since they spent so much time surrounded by the desert and mountains he thought Sara would appreciate a view of the water. There was a small sitting area with a plush couch and matching armchairs. The furniture was a heavy oak, very masculine but so tastefully decorated that it was in no way overwhelming. A massive king size bed with a rich gold silk duvet highlighted with burgundy and green accents dominated the bedroom. The expression on Sara’s face as she wandered around the room was worth every penny Grissom had spent.

“Wow,” she called out from the bathroom she was inspecting. “This place is amazing.”

“Yeah. It is pretty impressive. Take a look out here,” Grissom returned, unlocking the door to the balcony.

He was leaning against the rail when Sara joined him. She slid an arm around his waist and snuggled into his side. “It’s gorgeous here,” she breathed, her eyes sparkling as she stared out at the lake. “Thank you.”

Grissom turned his head to study the woman next to him. Pulling her tighter against him, he said, “You’re beautiful. The view is just window dressing.”

Sara blushed at the unexpected compliment. “How do you do that?” At his questioning look, she continued, “Reduce me to a speechless gob of goo.”

Grissom gave a snort of laughter and pressed a kiss on her upturned lips. “Are you going to tell me what my costume is now?”

Sara shook her head. “Let’s just say it’s always been a little fantasy of mine.” When his eyebrow shot up, she said, “You may rest assured you’re not going to be a science geek tonight.” Sara reached up and, sliding a hand behind his neck, drew his lips to hers.

A long moment later, Grissom pulled away and said, “If the thought of it is that good, I can hardly wait for the reality.”

Holding his gaze, Sara slid a hand down to settle on his firm behind and squeezed. Grissom jerked in shock and Sara gave a quiet giggle before saying, “Come on. We need to get dressed. This is going to be so much fun.”

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“Zorro? You want me to be Zorro?” Grissom’s voice was climbing the scale, his disbelief palpable as he inspected the costume laid out on the bed.

Sara shrugged and gave him a sweet grin. “Zorro’s hot.”

“Hmmmpf.” Grissom stared at her in confusion. “Zorro’s hot?”

Grin morphing into a sexy smile, Sara said, “Oh yeah. The cape, the mask, the tight pants, not to mention the bullwhip and the whole sword fighting thing - the man is on fire.”

Running a hand over his beard, he remarked, “Zorro is also clean shaven.”

Sara’s eyes widened in horror and she shook her head violently from side to side. “Don’t even think about it.”

Lips twisting into a semblance of a smile, Grissom said, “I suppose you’re going as a damsel in distress.”

With a smirk, Sara shook her head. “You couldn’t be further from right. I, my dear bugman, am going as Queen Elizabeth the first.”

Grissom’s eyes sparkled as his brain made the connection. “A fictional Spanish hero and the Queen of England are interesting choices Ms. Sidle.”

Pursing her lips in an effort to hide her grin, Sara said, “How much do you know about Elizabeth?”

Brow furrowed in thought, Grissom said, “Just what you can read in history books. She was the daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. She took the throne after her younger half-brother and older half-sister both died. She led the British to victory against an attack by the Spanish Armada.” Shrugging his shoulders, he trailed off.

With a saucy grin she said, “Well, I have an interesting bit of trivia for you. She never married and people often referred to her as the Virgin Queen.”

Grissom didn’t know whether to be intrigued by the information or amazed that she had researched her Halloween costume. Finally, curiosity won out. “And this is important because?”

Brown eyes dancing, Sara replied, “Have you ever had a Virgin Queen, Griss?” With that she turned and sauntered into the bathroom, closing the door.

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Sara opened the bathroom door and strode into the bedroom, stopping when she caught sight of the figure standing on the balcony. From the rakish tilt of his hat to the toes of his knee high black boots he was Zorro. A slight breeze lifted the cape that was draped across his broad shoulders and she felt a sweet heat settle between her thighs. Nervously, she skimmed her hands over her costume, smoothing imaginary wrinkles in the rich fabric. Lifting her head, hips swaying, she made her way to the French doors before saying his name.

At the sound of her voice Grissom turned away from the view, his breath catching in his throat. Sara’s hair had been swept up into a cascade of loose curls. Jewels sparkled at her ears. Her floor length dress was made of blood red velvet with insets of gold brocaded satin. The square neckline exposed her delicate collar bones and the swell of her breasts. Grissom’s eyes were drawn to the scatter of freckles over the soft skin. He was sure that the only thing between her and impropriety was a sliver of gold lace trim. The bodice was fitted, showing off her naturally small waist while the skirt flared out gracefully over her hips.

As his eyes traveled leisurely up to her face, heat flared in his gaze. There was something incredibly erotic about Sara’s eyes glittering out at him through the mask she wore. A gold half-mask, trimmed in red sequins with an explosion of red feathers and beads over her right ear. It was a work of art, lending the regal beauty an air of mystery.

With a delighted smile, Sara said, “You look great.”

Grissom slowly shook his head as if to clear it, “You’re amazing.” When her smile widened to expose the sexy gap between her teeth, he held out a hand and said, “Are you ready to go?”

Sara took his hand and allowed him to lead her from the room.

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They were alone in the elevator when Sara made a statement that would haunt him all night long. “I’m not wearing any panties,” she said in a conversational tone, eyes trained on the numbers flashing above the doors.

Grissom’s mouth dropped open. His tongue came out to lick his bottom lip while his hands opened and closed in that way he had when he was feeling off balance. Finally, he drew in a shuddering breath and rasped, “Are you sure you’re a Virgin Queen?”

Behind her mask, Sara’s eyes went wide and innocent. Turning to look at him, she said, “Why sir, whatever do you mean?”

Snorting in laughter, Grissom wrapped an arm around her slender waist and placed a lingering kiss behind her ear. “I’ll be a wreck all night, Sara, at the thought of your sweet, bare ass,” he murmured against her skin. “I’ll spend all my time thinking of a way to get under that skirt without anybody seeing me.”

Sara gave a sharp gasp and involuntarily squeezed her thighs together. “That’s not fair, Griss.”

Continuing to place light kisses along the side of her throat, his beard tickling her skin, he mumbled, “Hmmmm?”

“I wanted to tease you, make you sweat a little. I think my plan may have backfired.”

“Be careful how you toy with me, senorita. I am not one of your playthings. I am a man and before tonight is over you will not doubt it.” Grissom’s eyes glittered dangerously behind the black mask as he used his best Spanish accent. His breath was warm on the shell of her ear and his hand made slow circles at the small of her back.

Sara’s eyes widened and her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips. Swallowing convulsively, she gave a short nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

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Their invitation was checked by a tuxedoed man who explained that there were reserved tables for members located near the dance floor. Grissom thanked him politely and escorted Sara through the door, his hand resting lightly on her lower back. They found their seats and Grissom went off to get drinks for them. Sara took a moment to look around.

The ballroom was magnificent. The stained glass chandeliers were suspended from a soaring ceiling which boasted gilt insets. The tables were draped in deep yellow with centerpieces of fresh flowers, candles and small pumpkins. There was a dance floor set up at one end. Some people milled about laughing and chatting while others danced to the music being played by the band. Bars had been set up in each corner of the massive space and three buffet tables were scattered around the room.

Grissom returned and slid Sara’s drink in front of her. Taking his seat, he raised his glass and said, “To Zorro and Virgin Queens,” before taking a sip of the amber liquid, feeling its warmth slide into his belly,

With a giggle Sara touched her glass to his and took a drink. “You are going to dance with me, right?”

Grissom smiled and said, “What makes you think I can dance?”

“I’ve seen you in some…uh…other situations. I know it’s not a question of rhythm.” Sara’s eyes gleamed, her red lips pursed in a smirk, as she watched the blush rise on his face.

Grissom raised the glass to his lips in an effort to hide his embarrassment. After a quick gulp of his drink, he said, “Maybe there’s more incentive in that than in a mere dance.”

Now it was Sara’s turn to be embarrassed. With a shake of her head, she replied, “Well I, for one, didn’t come here to sit at this table all night. I intend to dance.”

Grissom tilted his head, blue eyes twinkling, and said, “I guess that means I’ll be dancing.”

And they did. Behind the anonymity provided by the masks they both relaxed. Reveling in the sheer freedom of being out in public without fear of being seen by their co-workers, they danced and ate and drank and talked to other people as they came and went from the table. Sara was picking at the food on her plate when she felt Grissom’s hand on her thigh under the table.

A shiver ran down her spine when he whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

She turned and captured his lips. Sara pulled back and used a thumb to wipe the lipstick off his mouth. “I love you too.”

They were interrupted by a man and woman who were apparently seated at their table. The couple was dressed as Little Bo Peep and her erstwhile sheep. Their choice of costumes wouldn’t have been so strange except for the fact that the man was at least 6’2” and extremely skinny.

“Hello. I’m Jill Reynolds and this is my husband George,” the woman said her speech oddly formal.

George extended a hand and said, “Please, call me Chip.”

Grissom shook his hand and said, “Nice to meet you. I’m Gil Grissom and this is Sara Sidle.”

With a slight clearing of her throat and a cut of her clear green eyes, Jill had Chip pulling out a chair and making sure that she was settled in it. Looking over at Grissom and Sara, she asked, “Would either of you like a fresh drink?” At their negative response, she turned to Chip who was standing just to her right, and said, “I would like a Sam Adams.” With a short nod and a slight bow he hurried off to do her bidding.

Catching sight of Grissom’s raised eyebrow and Sara’s slight scowl, Jill gave them a cool look and said, “If you are not involved in the lifestyle you should not pass judgment. Chip enjoys serving me and I enjoy his servitude.”

After a moment, Grissom replied, “I find your choice of costumes to be very interesting.”

“We could have gone with the traditional leather and dog collar but that is obvious and somewhat…trashy. What I share with Chip is neither.” With a slight smile tugging up the corners of her lips she continued, “In every relationship there is a dominant partner. Which are you Mr. Grissom? What do your costumes say about your relationship?”

Grissom was saved from comment by the return of Chip. He placed a napkin in front of her before setting the bottle of beer down. “Anything else, my love?” he asked.

With a slight shake of her head, Jill replied, “No my lamb. You may sit.”

Grissom took advantage of the distraction created by Chip’s arrival to escape from Jill’s probing. Turning to Sara, he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

Smiling at him, she murmured, “I would love to.”

Grissom turned to the other couple and, ignoring the knowing glitter in Jill’s eyes, said, “If you will excuse us.”

Once on the dance floor, Grissom pulled Sara into his arms. They moved slowly, swaying to the soft strains filling the air around them. But Grissom could feel the tension in Sara’s slender frame. After a while, he drew back to look at her and asked, “What is it?”

“Do you think she’s right?” At his quizzical expression, she continued, “Do you think there are a dominant and a submissive in every relationship?”

“Sara…” he began. Releasing a sigh, he tried again. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Why not? Either you believe it or you don’t.” Sara’s voice sharpened a little and she said, “It’s a yes or no question, Griss.”

Maybe it was the illusion that nothing said while wearing a mask actually counted in the real world. Maybe it was the bourbon. Whatever the reason, Grissom said, “Alright then, yes.” When she tried to pull away, he held her tighter. “I believe that in every relationship there is someone who is dominant. Not necessarily in a physical sense. But there are stronger personalities, stronger wills. That is what makes the world go around.”

Thoughtfully, Sara studied his face. “And which one of us is the dominant?”

“That is harder to answer,” he intoned. Sara gave him a withering look and he shrugged. “Okay. Think of it this way. It is human nature to want to be in charge. It is much harder to submit to someone else’s will. Because of that it is actually the submissive that holds the power.”

Her lips quirked in a smile and she asked again, “So, which one of us do you think is dominant?”

With a smirk, Grissom replied, “Ten years ago I would have said me.”

“And now?” she purred.

His voice was gruff when he bent to whisper in her ear, “What do you think, Sara?” She shook her head and he continued, “I may have the stronger personality but you, my love, have all the power. Like a slow stream running over a boulder, carving out a niche, you have inexorably bent me to your will. You are the one in charge.”

Sara’s eyes glistened and her full lips titled in a soft smile. “Well, if I’m in charge, I say we go upstairs.”

Grissom’s eyes darkened and he felt his pulse jump at the erotic promise he could see in her smile. “We’ve only been here for an hour. What will people think?”

Leaning in to brush her lips gently across his cheek, she said, “They’ll think you’re a very lucky man.”

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As soon as the door closed behind them Grissom’s hands were on her. His blue eyes glittered behind the black mask. He was kissing her fiercely, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, sucking at her lips. His big, warm palms covered her breasts, kneading the firm flesh. Sara’s back was pressed against the wall. Her hands brushed the hat from his head and tangled in his hair. She stroked the back of his neck and across his broad shoulders. When his mouth slid away from hers to drag along the column of her throat, her breath caught in her lungs.

“Grissom…” Sara’s voice trailed off.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Patience.” He slid the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders and lifted first one breast and then the other, baring them to his gaze. “Gorgeous. Suckable,” he breathed. As if to prove his point, he bent his head and drew a rosy nipple into his mouth. He rolled the other between his fingers, raising it into a hard peak.

“Griss, wait.” Sara threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged lightly. “Grissom.” He raised his head and looked into her heavy-lidded eyes. The brown orbs were liquid with desire. With her swollen lips and milky breasts rising over the top of the dress, she had never been more beautiful.

“God, Sara, I want you.” Grissom’s voice was raw with longing. “I want you so much.”

“I know baby,” she crooned. “Come with me.” Sara slithered from his grasp and sauntered to the chair. Sitting on the edge, she motioned Grissom forward. With trembling fingers she unbuckled his belt and slipped the button free. Sliding the zipper down, so slowly that the rasp of each tooth was discernible, she licked her lips in anticipation. As the material parted she gasped in surprise. “Commando, Griss?”

“Damn pants were too tight. You could see lines from my underwear.” He shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant but the blush on his cheek bones gave him away.

Suppressing a smile, Sara reached forward tugged his pants down to his thighs. When his hard cock surged forward, arrowing out from its nest of salt and pepper curls, she said, “It’ll be our little secret.” With a purr of appreciation, Sara ran her hands over his hardness, swooping down to test the weight of his balls. “You are…beautiful,” she murmured.

Grissom’s moan ended on a choked cough. “Beautiful?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded, tracing a finger along the slit. “Beautiful.”

Grissom opened his mouth to protest but all coherent thought vanished as Sara’s hot mouth engulfed him. His eyes slammed shut and he swayed forward, unconsciously thrusting against her questing tongue.

“Oh, god.” The words trembled out on a rush of air. “Sara…honey…”

Her only response was a low hum of pleasure. Grissom opened his eyes and looked down to see Sara, her hair piled carelessly atop her head, eyes closed behind the sequined mask, breasts spilling from the low neckline of her dress. Her nipples, red and swollen from his ministrations, bounced enticingly with every bob of her head as she made love to him with her mouth. She moved her head back and forth, tilting from side to side, applying a twisting suction that had him gritting his teeth in an effort to hold on to his control.

Slow, her movements were slow and determined. She would take him in gently and apply suction on the upstroke, swirling her tongue over the broad head and licking at the very sensitive underside before repeating the process. Her fingers were wrapped around the base, squeezing and stroking in perfect rhythm with the slide of her soft lips on his flesh. One hand scratched gently through his crisp fur and down to his inner thighs.

Grissom could feel the excitement coiling low in his belly and feel his balls tightening. Placing his hands on Sara’s shoulders he pushed against her.

“Stop, Sara. Come on, honey, you have to stop.” Sara pulled away and stared up at him. At the disappointment in her big, brown eyes, he said, “As much as I love your sweet little mouth on me, I want to be fucking you when I come.”

Sara shuddered, excitement coursing through her at the sound of his sex-roughened voice and blunt words. Eyes wide, she nodded, her hands falling away from his body. Grissom stood before her, proud cock jutting forward, slick and shiny from her mouth.

Pulling her to her feet, Grissom kissed her. His tongue thrust in and out of her mouth while his hands came up to roll her nipples between his fingers. Sara moaned into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his waist, letting her hands clutch at his bare cheeks.

Breaking the kiss, Grissom tugged on her hand, leading her to the back of the chair. “Bend over.” Seeing her startled gaze, he brushed his lips against hers and whispered, “Please.”

Heat flared in her eyes as Sara turned and bent over the back of the chair, bracing herself on her forearms. Stepping behind her, Grissom began fumbling with the voluminous skirts of her costume. Sara laughed at his frustration and received a light chuckle in response. His laugh ended on a groan of appreciation at the erotic picture she presented. Her heart shaped ass was framed by a lacy garter belt of virginal white. Her slim legs were encased in white silk stockings. And in the center her dark curls, glistening with her arousal, framed the pink of her sex.

Reverently, Grissom reached out and slid his hands over the smooth skin that had been bared to his gaze. Slowly, agonizingly, he slid one thick finger into her body. She clenched around him and his cock twitched in response. When he bent down and nipped at the firm cheeks of her ass Sara gasped in delight, widening her stance and pushing back against his hand.

“No,” Grissom said. When she swung her head around, lips parted in surprise, he explained, “Keep your legs together. I’ve never had a virgin queen before.”

Without a word, Sara pressed her legs together, causing her muscles to tighten around Grissom’s finger. He continued to run his lips and teeth over her flesh, his beard tickling her sensitive skin, while slowly pumping his finger in and out. When he flicked a thumb over her clit Sara’s knees buckled.

Pulling his finger out, he used one hand to guide himself into her body. When he felt resistance he asked, “Am I hurting you?”

Sara shook her head. “No,” she gasped, “feels so good.”

Grissom continued to push forward, easing his hardness into her. Sara’s body had always fit him like a glove but this was something different. She was so hot, so tight, unlike anything he’d ever felt. He began to move, his hands holding her hips, his thumbs digging into her resilient flesh. As he picked up his pace, his balls began to swing forward, bumping her clit with each stroke. His eyes were drawn down to where their bodies were joined, watching as he slid in and out, her body swallowing every inch of him; the visual stimulation making the physical sensation even more overwhelming.

Sara arched her back, lifting her hips, changing the angle of penetration. Her head was bent forward and moans were rumbling from her throat. Her hands covered her breasts while she rocked her hips back against Grissom.

“Come with me Sara,” Grissom commanded. “Come. With. Me.”

“Oh shit,” Sara cried. “OhGrissomohgod…” Her body convulsed with the power of her orgasm.

Grissom’s hands gripped her hips as he plunged into her again and again. A single bead of sweat rolled slowly down from his temple to disappear in his beard. His mouth was open in a silent scream as the release pulsed from him, spraying against her walls. With a final thrust, he collapsed against her back, scattering kisses across her shoulder blades.

Much later, snuggled together between the soft sheets, Sara trailed her hand slowly over Grissom’s abdomen; her fingers brushing over his skin with gossamer softness. Her slender leg was thrown across his muscular thighs and her cheek rested against his chest. Turning her head a fraction, she pressed a wet kiss over his heart. His arms tightened around her, hugging her to his side.

“Grissom,” she mumbled against his skin.

“Hmmm?” he asked, the vibrations tickling her lips.

Sara raised her head, her eyes searching his. With more courage than she felt she said, “I’m tired of hiding our relationship from everyone. I think it’s time to lose the masks.”