That Sunday Morning
folder
CSI › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
6,082
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
CSI › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
6,082
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own CSI, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
That Sunday Morning
TITLE: THAT SUNDAY MORNING
AUTHOR: NoHayRemedio
DISCLAIMER(S): I'm just playing with Gil and Sara.
I’m just borrowing some dialogue and alluding to some scenes in John Boorman’s ‘Excalibur’ from 1981.
I borrowed 4 lines from “I can dream about you” by Dan Hartman from the soundtrack of “Streets of Fire“ from 1984. This is for entertainment purposes only, no money has passed hands.
Rating: NC-17
SPOILERS: Most of the story is set post Grave Danger, but slight for 8x02.
THANKS: Giwu, SillyForBilly52 and Greg. I would be a hack if it weren't for you guys. And to my friends who let me use their names and likenesses in my story.
ALSO: Posted on Geekfiction for the ‘I love the 80’s’ ficathon.
THAT SUNDAY MORNING
It was late one Sunday morning in early summer, when Sara heard the doorbell ring while she was in the bathtub, luxuriating in the warmth of the water.
Her body had been relaxed in the tub; her mind, however, was occupied by the soft rock music coming from her satellite radio and of course, she was thinking of Grissom; she had often wondered if it was obsession or something more sinister that drew her to him. The music even reminded her of him:
‘I can dream about you
I'm gonna press my lips against you and hold you tight to me
I can dream about you
You know you got me spellbound what else can it be’
The doorbell rang again and she wondered who was at the door as the song continued in the background.
She didn’t get a lot of visitors, just enough to make her wonder who was at the door. She had a couple of friends from work who would drop by unexpectedly after their shift ended, especially Nick or Greg, but Nick was still in Texas with his family following his ‘ordeal’ as they politely referred to it now and Greg had mentioned he was going to visit an old college roommate for the weekend.
As she hurriedly wrapped an over-sized towel around her nude body, she thought of several people in her apartment complex who may be knocking on her door at this time of day: Pam Thompson from down the hall liked to borrow things like a shirt to match her shoes, or some peanut butter, or yes, that one time a douche; Mrs. Schilling would want her to check her mail because she was going out of town soon; and the precocious neighbor, the five year old, Anna Bianchi, who would, of course, be looking for her lost puppy, lost baby doll, or lost toy, items which were always safe in her own apartment. There was never anything really missing, but the girl knew Sara would spend a few minutes just talking, about anything the girl chose.
The door bell rang again as she crossed the cold hardwood of her flooring, her damp feet causing her to slightly lose her balance. She slipped, leaving a faint streak in the wood, but she recovered so quickly, if not for the mark on the floor, there would have been no evidence.
She finally made it to the door and when she looked through the peephole, she saw it was none of the people she had thought, but before her stood a tall man, wearing a black baseball cap, with his back to her door. Sara was about to turn away from the door, thinking it best not to open her door to a stranger who probably had the wrong apartment, when something about the man’s neck line brought a gasp to her lips. Most specifically it was the silver curls pushing out of the dark cap. Oh, she knew that neck, she had fantasized kissing along the hairline of that neck many, many nights.
She stood frozen. Gil Grissom was standing on the other side of her door and she was dressed in only a towel. A sudden wave of thoughts overwhelmed her as she stood motionless watching him through the small hole in her door:
’Should I open the door?’
’Should I change into something more comfortable?’
‘Geez what’s more comfortable than nothing and a towel?’
’I wonder if he going to stand with his back to the door forever?’
’I wonder if he is going to leave if I don’t open the door?’
’I wish he would turn around so I could see his face.’
“Just a minute,” Sara semi-shouted to the door, as she hurried back to her room to put on some clothes.
Exactly one minute later, she came out of her bedroom, having traded the towel for a pair of faded maroon sweatpants and her favorite t-shirt from her Harvard days. She had pulled some white athletic socks over her bare feet, but she had chosen not to put on any underwear. She thought it best, since she was going straight to bed whenever Grissom left.
Her attention caught on the song that was playing as she left her bedroom. She smiled. It was Hall and Oates’ ‘Sara Smile‘.
‘God, I hate that song.’
She turned the radio off. Her thoughts quickly turned back to Grissom who was at her front door.
‘Why was he here anyway?’
‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘Again?’
‘Nope, I haven't insulted Ecklie, Catherine, or anybody else for that matter.’
‘That I know of…’
‘What could he want?’
The desire for answers spurred her to quickly unchain and unbolt the locks on her door and she opened it slightly to her boss, pressing her body into the edge of the door. He turned as she opened the door. Sara noticed he had on a plain black t-shirt and blue jeans, no jacket. She racked her brain for the last time she had seen him without his ever present jacket. Nothing, she couldn't remember the last time. His forearms were bare and a slight electric tingle shot through her body. The blue of his eyes shown the early morning light and he was almost smiling.
No words were needed, the question was in his eyes, "Can I come in?", as he raised his eyebrows, looking deep into her soul or so it seemed to her.
She understood his question and thought to herself, “Of course,“ while simultaneously opening the door wider to him and as he crossed the threshold, removed his black cap, placing it without comment onto her counter. Briefly he ran his hands through his slightly graying hair, smoothing down his unruly locks from the removal of the cap.
He proceeded to move into her living room and sat down with a thump on her long beige couch. He sat in the same spot as he had before when he had visited her the first time, after her suspension, when she poured her heart out to him, telling him all her secrets, she had held alone for so long. He quickly grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table, switched on the set and began flipping channels.
Sara still stood at the open door, not quite believing his odd behavior. She shut the door quietly and locked the door. She looked at him, just sitting there, staring intently at the TV. “What the hell is going on?” She wondered to herself, as she opened a cabinet in her kitchen, removing two wine glasses. She picked up a bottle of red wine which sat on the counter, near where Grissom had placed his hat.
She made her way over to the couch, sitting beside him, placing the empty glasses on the coffee table. She pulled the cork from the bottle and gestured to his glass. He nodded and as she poured, he gestured when the glass was three-quarters of the way filled. She matched the amount in her own glass.
They reached for their wine, touched the glasses together with a wordless toast, slipping in uncomplicated silence.
He had settled on ESPN and watched clips of sporting events from the previous day, the Cubs had won and his smile broadened. After several minutes he realized Sara was not interested in the sports, because she was staring intently at his profile. He picked up the remote again, flipping through many channels before settling on one of the many Encore channels.
Grissom sighed when he realized the movie that was playing. He looked at Sara; she smiled because she recognized the movie as well. It had been one of her brother’s favorite movies. As the future king, Arthur, pulled the sword out of the stone to the amazement of the crowd that formed around the mountainside, Grissom raised his eyebrows to Sara in question and she slightly nodded in agreement.
They had missed the very beginning of the movie, but it was near enough to the beginning and both had seen the movie before. Casually, Grissom slipped out of his shoes and using his toes, pushed them under the coffee table.
The only sounds in the apartment were from the television as the two sat, comfortable in their silence, mere inches apart, casually drinking their wine.
“Merlin, can you make her love me?” Arthur said expectantly, while watching Genevieve dance amongst the merrymakers.
Merlin shot an incredulous stare at his young charge. “Now look. I once stood exposed to the Dragon’s breath, so a man could lie one night with a woman. It took me nine moons to recover, and all for this lunacy called love, this mad distemper, that strikes down both beggar and king. Never again! Never!”
“Who will I marry then? You can at least tell me that.” Arthur says excitedly. “What do you see?”
“Oh Genevieve. And a beloved friend will betray you.” Merlin looks at the moonfaced Arthur. “You’re not listening. Your heart is not. Love is deaf as well as blind. That’s it.”
The sound of Sara’s laughter filled the room; Grissom looked at the woman sitting beside him. She looked so happy, just lounging on the couch next to him. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he wasn’t sure that sort of attention would be welcome. With his right hand on his thigh, he slowly signed ‘I love you’, as Sara watched the movie, oblivious to his movements.
She held her wineglass close to her chest and quietly slipped while the minutes elapsed as King Arthur and Sir Lancelot engaged in sword play. Both sets of eyes were glued to the television as the movie played before them. Grissom swallowed the reminder of the wine in his glass, reached for the bottle and poured himself another glass. He pointed at Sara’s glass with the neck of the bottle, she held her wineglass steady as he refilled her glass. Again, they wordlessly toast the other and return their attention to the movie.
Grissom began to sign other words into his thigh and this time, she noticed. She thought he was merely fidgeting, compensating for his nervousness, after all, he hadn’t said a word to her the entire time he had been in her apartment. She decided to play his game and remain quiet.
The American Sign Language Basic Alphabet was hardly a new experience for him, but the words he formed with his right hand were very telling. He was saying all the things he had meant to say to her over the years, but had been unable to express verbally in her presence. She had an erotic hold over him, when they were alone; reducing him to speechlessness.
“What is that root?” Merlin demanded.
“Mandrake.” A young, beautiful Morgana responded, adding quickly, after removing the root from the ground. “The essence of it can prolong the act of love.”
“And if too much is taken?” Merlin demanded again.
“Pain and death…” Morgana looked deep into Merlin‘s eyes. “I can ease your loneliness.”
Grissom looked at Sara longingly. Somehow, their bodies shifted closer together. Maybe the weight of their bodies and the slick surface of the couch brought them closer. Sara’s thigh brushed his. She looked up into his eyes, wondering at the physical contact between them. His eyes were smiling at her. She moved slightly closer to him, but only their thighs were touching. Her breathing hitched when he also shifted closer to her. She felt the heat that emanated from their tenuously joined bodies.
They watched as the movie continued, each surreptitiously glancing at each other. After a few minutes, Grissom stopped watching the movie entirely and to gaze at her exclusively. She is so beautiful, he thought, the slight lines in her face only added character to her otherwise unblemished face. She seemed so relaxed beside him, like she belonged next to him.
Gil’s blue eyes didn't leave Sara, silently pleading for her not to pull away from their slight contact.
“Your eyes never leave me Merlin.” Morgana purrs.
“Can’t I acknowledge beauty?” Merlin responds.
Sara looked sharply at Grissom at this. He stared at his sock clad feet and refused to meet her gaze.
“Can’t you acknowledge love?” Morgana challenges. She moves closer to him. “Perhaps you ache for what you’ve never known.”
“Perhaps you lust for what you cannot have.” Merlin proposes.
Sara smirked as she looked at him. She could barely back a giggle. ‘This movie is something else,” she thought to herself, “It’s almost like we are talking to each other.” She reached for her wineglass, again.
In a move not unlike a teenage boy on his first date at the movies, he stretched and placed his arm on the top of the couch directly behind Sara as she leaned back after placing her wineglass on the coffee table. She smiles a shy smile. The arm that is draped over back of couch, slipped down around her shoulders and pulled her closer. For a long time, they sat and watched the movie. Sara safe in Grissom‘s arms.
Over time, he slid his left hand down her arm and made small gossamer circles on her arm. She kept licking her lips, because his touch was so….sensual. Nerve endings ignited from his touch radiate to her nether regions. She can feel the moisture forming, immediately dampening her sweatpants with her arousal.
As the new lovers, Lancelot and Genevieve, finally embraced and made love on the mossy banks, Grissom turned to face Sara. He watched as she moved her tongue across his lips, almost begging him to take them as his own.
“What is this place?” Morgana slightly recoils with distaste.
“Here, you enter the coils of the dragon, here, my power was born, here all things are possible, and all things meet their opposites,” intones Merlin.
“The future?” She whispered.
“And the past.” He droned.
“Desire?” Morgana said, hopefully.
“And regret.” His monotone seemed endless.
“Knowledge?” Again she was hopeful.
“And oblivion.” Merlin responded.
“Love?” Ever hopeful.
“Oh, yes.” He almost sounded happy.
Grissom stared deep into her brown eyes as he lowered his lips to hers. Softly at first but soon, he has her whole body pressed firmly into the couch with the length of his body flush against hers. Their kisses become feverish; touches and caresses move from languid to erotic. Clothes become afterthoughts as they were quickly removed. The hardness of his cock was pressing insistently into the softness of her creamy white slightly rounded stomach.
He began to spread kisses down her chest, spending a few moments each on nipple, rolling his tongue across the surface, then sucking with his lips and taking a nibble with his teeth. As he bits lightly at her nipple, a muffled sound escapes Sara’s lips. Gil doesn’t spend long on her breasts, as he kisses down her stomach , running his tongue into her belly button. The feel of his tongue darting in and out of her is enough for her to arch her body closer to him.
He stopped for a moment and looked up at her face: she was spread before him, a veritable feast. Her eyes were closed and her pink tongue was partially sticking out of the corner of her mouth. He playfully wrote his name on her stomach with his tongue; conveniently marking his territory.
His tongue glided through her pubis and he paused to inhale her scent, the aroma that was uniquely her. It had intrigued his olfactory senses for far too long. His tongue neared her slit; he could feel the heat and wetness calling to him. As she opened her legs to his exploration, he saw her clit emerge from the labia. The tip of his tongue flicked across the bud. Sara’s body tensed and released a small orgasm, as his tongue magically moved over her clit. He tasted the very essence of her.
His tongue was now making fast small circles over her clit and as he took it to his mouth, Sara tensed again, and moaning something that may have been his name. Gil sucked her clit gently as her body inched up off the couch. He began lapping from her opening to her clit, enjoying her taste, better than any meal he had ever eaten. He felt his cock start to leak and knew he must be inside her soon.
He started kissing up her body once again, until their lips meet in an explosion of passion. They shared the intimacy of their naked hot bodies pressed to one another; tongues battled for dominance as their lips never broke the intense contact. Gil wanted nothing more than to press into her wetness with his hard cock, but the feel of Sara kissing his neck and then his chest as he moved upward, was a distraction he knew he would never be able to resist.
Sara wanted nothing more than to feel him against her, but the sensations of the heat emanating from his chest, kept her lips glued to his body. She can feel his dick trailing up her chest and she was dying to know how it would feel beneath her tongue. She wiggled down, allowing the tip his significant protrusion to rest at her chin. Her tongue snaked out, making him gasp and shudder.
He pushed his cock into her mouth, slowly, as she darted her tongue around his circumference. He began to piston into her, but suddenly he stopped. He pulled out of her making a slight plopping noise and slid down her body until they were face to face. His blue eyes sought her face for permission to enter her hot box. She answered by wrapping her long legs around his lower back, defying him to pull away from her. He sank slowly into her wetness, one glorious millimeter at a time. Once he was sheathed completely within her, he stopped, looking down into her brown eyes, wondering how he finally made it to this point, being inside of this glorious woman as he felt pulses from deep within her.
On the television screen, the clash of swords is heard, as the battle between good and evil is fought.
Sara opened her mouth to speak, but Gil quickly put his index finger to her lips. She took his finger into her mouth and sucks it, like she had done earlier with his cock, swirling her tongue over the tip, then encompassed the whole digit in her mouth.
His cock twitched inside of her. And almost unwillingly, pushed further into her, sliding further into her pussy. He slowly pulled out a fraction and pushed back in just as quickly. This action repeats, gaining momentum, until he is pumping into her almost savagely. He pounded into her, no longer capable of coherent thought, only moans, groans, and expulsion of air for an indeterminate amount of time, before he felt the walls of her resolve begin to crumble around him.
Gil is suddenly overcome with love, and wanted only for her to experience intense pleasure before his own release, he felt her body spasm against the onslaught of their combined passion. He felt the muscles deep within her begin to clamp down on him and her moans of pleasure only spurred him on to take her over the edge. He pressed harder into her and gently kissed her, taking her lips with his. The kiss was filled with love for the woman beneath him and he felt the pressure in his balls begin to rumble and push up through his penis. He makes an almost indistinguishable noise as his creamy load filled her.
Both exhaled as he collapsed on her.
Gil’s head was cradled in her shoulder as they both catch their breaths; Sara shyly ran her fingers through his hair. He raised up when he realizes all his weight is resting on her, but she pulled him back down to her, kissing him without the former passion, but she was kissing the object of her desire. She couldn't quite believe what had just happened, but she was content with his weight resting on her.
“One day a king will come…and the sword will rise again.”
They watched as Percival threw the famed sword back from whence it came, into the waiting hand of the Lady of the Lake. As the weapon slipped beneath the surface, Gil pressed a long, hard kiss onto the wanting lips of his lady love.
Grissom slid off of her toward the back of the couch and cradled her into his body as they watched the end of the movie.
Sir Percival gazed into the distance; he saw a now deceased King Arthur lying in a small sailboat, attended by three ladies, the guardians of death, clad in white. The boat sailed majestically into the setting sun.
The silence between the two new lovers is finally broken.
“That’s my favorite movie now,” Sara says casually as his right hand cups one of her breasts.
He didn't say anything. He really wasn't sure if he could after the experience he and Sara had just shared. He pulled her closer in response.
As the credits roll, Sara upturned her head slight to him and asked, “When was that movie made?”
Somehow, his vocal cords creak out, “1981.” He cleared his throat and pulled her tighter against his nude body, he asked almost mutely, “Where were you in 1981?”
“Still in Tomales Bay, before everything turned bad, in school,” She whispered. “Where were you?”
“In school also, but at UCLA, finishing up my PhD. Writing my dissertation. It was called: ‘A Laboratory Behavioral Analysis of Nocturnal Habits of the Fresh Fly, Subspecies of Sarcophaga Carnaria’.” He proudly announced.
She laughed at his tone, but quickly said, "I missed reading that."
He looked hurt for a moment, but she continued without missing a beat, “What was your favorite thing about the 1980’s?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “MC Hammer pants.”
Sara laughed with full-bodied amusement. “I cannot imagine you in those.”
He smirked. “What was your favorite thing from the 80’s?”
“The Saturday morning cartoon, 'The Smurf’s'. I always wanted to be ‘Smurfette’.” Sara was suddenly overcome with an attack of the yawns; it was contagious, because soon Grissom was yawning, too. “I’m really sleepy,” She purred.
Grissom made as if to get up from their embrace, “I should go,” he said.
“Don’t you dare, ” she commanded as she met his blue gaze.
He smiled at her with a touch of mischief his eyes. “Sir Gilbert of Carnaria would never leave Lady Smurfette to sleep alone,” he said gallantly.
She eased her body into the sitting position, stood and pulled him into standing. She lead him down the short hall to her bedroom.
“This is going to get complicated, isn’t it?” His eyes searched hers for an answer.
“And it’s not already?” Sara hugged him close to her, pulled away so their bodies were no longer touching, pushed him unceremoniously onto the bed.
She climbed into the bed and into his arms.
They curled together, bodies so close. They sleep, entwined.
GSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSR
They woke up together, the only thing between them, her cast.
Gil smiled at Sara as she yawned then stretched her limbs, except the one encased in plaster.
“What are you going to tell Conrad?” His blue eyes bore into her soul, as they always did, when he looked at her, wherever they were, at work, at home, or sharing a meal. He felt himself involuntarily harden as their bodies unconsciously moved closer together. He placed a small kiss on her shoulder.
She was scheduled to have an appointment at the lab with the Assistant Lab Director, they both were, but Sara’s was to be before shift, her first back to work after ‘her ordeal’ as they now politely referred to it.
“What do you think he knows?” She inquired in a slightly husky voice, the one that usually sent his hormones into overdrive.
“Whatever someone told him, I’m sure. He won’t know the truth about us, since no one but you and I know that.” He pulled her so their lips could touch. They shared an intimate kiss, belaying love, tenderness, and was so gentle, nothing could spoil it, not even the thought of Conrad Ecklie. “He wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him on the ass,” he chuckled. “So, what are you going to tell him when he asks?”
He pulled her against his hard body.
Her right hand made contact with his morning raise, she felt the velvet softness and hard steel of him, and murmured: “The truth,” before rolling slightly and licking his cleft chin.
THE END
AUTHOR: NoHayRemedio
DISCLAIMER(S): I'm just playing with Gil and Sara.
I’m just borrowing some dialogue and alluding to some scenes in John Boorman’s ‘Excalibur’ from 1981.
I borrowed 4 lines from “I can dream about you” by Dan Hartman from the soundtrack of “Streets of Fire“ from 1984. This is for entertainment purposes only, no money has passed hands.
Rating: NC-17
SPOILERS: Most of the story is set post Grave Danger, but slight for 8x02.
THANKS: Giwu, SillyForBilly52 and Greg. I would be a hack if it weren't for you guys. And to my friends who let me use their names and likenesses in my story.
ALSO: Posted on Geekfiction for the ‘I love the 80’s’ ficathon.
THAT SUNDAY MORNING
It was late one Sunday morning in early summer, when Sara heard the doorbell ring while she was in the bathtub, luxuriating in the warmth of the water.
Her body had been relaxed in the tub; her mind, however, was occupied by the soft rock music coming from her satellite radio and of course, she was thinking of Grissom; she had often wondered if it was obsession or something more sinister that drew her to him. The music even reminded her of him:
‘I can dream about you
I'm gonna press my lips against you and hold you tight to me
I can dream about you
You know you got me spellbound what else can it be’
The doorbell rang again and she wondered who was at the door as the song continued in the background.
She didn’t get a lot of visitors, just enough to make her wonder who was at the door. She had a couple of friends from work who would drop by unexpectedly after their shift ended, especially Nick or Greg, but Nick was still in Texas with his family following his ‘ordeal’ as they politely referred to it now and Greg had mentioned he was going to visit an old college roommate for the weekend.
As she hurriedly wrapped an over-sized towel around her nude body, she thought of several people in her apartment complex who may be knocking on her door at this time of day: Pam Thompson from down the hall liked to borrow things like a shirt to match her shoes, or some peanut butter, or yes, that one time a douche; Mrs. Schilling would want her to check her mail because she was going out of town soon; and the precocious neighbor, the five year old, Anna Bianchi, who would, of course, be looking for her lost puppy, lost baby doll, or lost toy, items which were always safe in her own apartment. There was never anything really missing, but the girl knew Sara would spend a few minutes just talking, about anything the girl chose.
The door bell rang again as she crossed the cold hardwood of her flooring, her damp feet causing her to slightly lose her balance. She slipped, leaving a faint streak in the wood, but she recovered so quickly, if not for the mark on the floor, there would have been no evidence.
She finally made it to the door and when she looked through the peephole, she saw it was none of the people she had thought, but before her stood a tall man, wearing a black baseball cap, with his back to her door. Sara was about to turn away from the door, thinking it best not to open her door to a stranger who probably had the wrong apartment, when something about the man’s neck line brought a gasp to her lips. Most specifically it was the silver curls pushing out of the dark cap. Oh, she knew that neck, she had fantasized kissing along the hairline of that neck many, many nights.
She stood frozen. Gil Grissom was standing on the other side of her door and she was dressed in only a towel. A sudden wave of thoughts overwhelmed her as she stood motionless watching him through the small hole in her door:
’Should I open the door?’
’Should I change into something more comfortable?’
‘Geez what’s more comfortable than nothing and a towel?’
’I wonder if he going to stand with his back to the door forever?’
’I wonder if he is going to leave if I don’t open the door?’
’I wish he would turn around so I could see his face.’
“Just a minute,” Sara semi-shouted to the door, as she hurried back to her room to put on some clothes.
Exactly one minute later, she came out of her bedroom, having traded the towel for a pair of faded maroon sweatpants and her favorite t-shirt from her Harvard days. She had pulled some white athletic socks over her bare feet, but she had chosen not to put on any underwear. She thought it best, since she was going straight to bed whenever Grissom left.
Her attention caught on the song that was playing as she left her bedroom. She smiled. It was Hall and Oates’ ‘Sara Smile‘.
‘God, I hate that song.’
She turned the radio off. Her thoughts quickly turned back to Grissom who was at her front door.
‘Why was he here anyway?’
‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘Again?’
‘Nope, I haven't insulted Ecklie, Catherine, or anybody else for that matter.’
‘That I know of…’
‘What could he want?’
The desire for answers spurred her to quickly unchain and unbolt the locks on her door and she opened it slightly to her boss, pressing her body into the edge of the door. He turned as she opened the door. Sara noticed he had on a plain black t-shirt and blue jeans, no jacket. She racked her brain for the last time she had seen him without his ever present jacket. Nothing, she couldn't remember the last time. His forearms were bare and a slight electric tingle shot through her body. The blue of his eyes shown the early morning light and he was almost smiling.
No words were needed, the question was in his eyes, "Can I come in?", as he raised his eyebrows, looking deep into her soul or so it seemed to her.
She understood his question and thought to herself, “Of course,“ while simultaneously opening the door wider to him and as he crossed the threshold, removed his black cap, placing it without comment onto her counter. Briefly he ran his hands through his slightly graying hair, smoothing down his unruly locks from the removal of the cap.
He proceeded to move into her living room and sat down with a thump on her long beige couch. He sat in the same spot as he had before when he had visited her the first time, after her suspension, when she poured her heart out to him, telling him all her secrets, she had held alone for so long. He quickly grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table, switched on the set and began flipping channels.
Sara still stood at the open door, not quite believing his odd behavior. She shut the door quietly and locked the door. She looked at him, just sitting there, staring intently at the TV. “What the hell is going on?” She wondered to herself, as she opened a cabinet in her kitchen, removing two wine glasses. She picked up a bottle of red wine which sat on the counter, near where Grissom had placed his hat.
She made her way over to the couch, sitting beside him, placing the empty glasses on the coffee table. She pulled the cork from the bottle and gestured to his glass. He nodded and as she poured, he gestured when the glass was three-quarters of the way filled. She matched the amount in her own glass.
They reached for their wine, touched the glasses together with a wordless toast, slipping in uncomplicated silence.
He had settled on ESPN and watched clips of sporting events from the previous day, the Cubs had won and his smile broadened. After several minutes he realized Sara was not interested in the sports, because she was staring intently at his profile. He picked up the remote again, flipping through many channels before settling on one of the many Encore channels.
Grissom sighed when he realized the movie that was playing. He looked at Sara; she smiled because she recognized the movie as well. It had been one of her brother’s favorite movies. As the future king, Arthur, pulled the sword out of the stone to the amazement of the crowd that formed around the mountainside, Grissom raised his eyebrows to Sara in question and she slightly nodded in agreement.
They had missed the very beginning of the movie, but it was near enough to the beginning and both had seen the movie before. Casually, Grissom slipped out of his shoes and using his toes, pushed them under the coffee table.
The only sounds in the apartment were from the television as the two sat, comfortable in their silence, mere inches apart, casually drinking their wine.
“Merlin, can you make her love me?” Arthur said expectantly, while watching Genevieve dance amongst the merrymakers.
Merlin shot an incredulous stare at his young charge. “Now look. I once stood exposed to the Dragon’s breath, so a man could lie one night with a woman. It took me nine moons to recover, and all for this lunacy called love, this mad distemper, that strikes down both beggar and king. Never again! Never!”
“Who will I marry then? You can at least tell me that.” Arthur says excitedly. “What do you see?”
“Oh Genevieve. And a beloved friend will betray you.” Merlin looks at the moonfaced Arthur. “You’re not listening. Your heart is not. Love is deaf as well as blind. That’s it.”
The sound of Sara’s laughter filled the room; Grissom looked at the woman sitting beside him. She looked so happy, just lounging on the couch next to him. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he wasn’t sure that sort of attention would be welcome. With his right hand on his thigh, he slowly signed ‘I love you’, as Sara watched the movie, oblivious to his movements.
She held her wineglass close to her chest and quietly slipped while the minutes elapsed as King Arthur and Sir Lancelot engaged in sword play. Both sets of eyes were glued to the television as the movie played before them. Grissom swallowed the reminder of the wine in his glass, reached for the bottle and poured himself another glass. He pointed at Sara’s glass with the neck of the bottle, she held her wineglass steady as he refilled her glass. Again, they wordlessly toast the other and return their attention to the movie.
Grissom began to sign other words into his thigh and this time, she noticed. She thought he was merely fidgeting, compensating for his nervousness, after all, he hadn’t said a word to her the entire time he had been in her apartment. She decided to play his game and remain quiet.
The American Sign Language Basic Alphabet was hardly a new experience for him, but the words he formed with his right hand were very telling. He was saying all the things he had meant to say to her over the years, but had been unable to express verbally in her presence. She had an erotic hold over him, when they were alone; reducing him to speechlessness.
“What is that root?” Merlin demanded.
“Mandrake.” A young, beautiful Morgana responded, adding quickly, after removing the root from the ground. “The essence of it can prolong the act of love.”
“And if too much is taken?” Merlin demanded again.
“Pain and death…” Morgana looked deep into Merlin‘s eyes. “I can ease your loneliness.”
Grissom looked at Sara longingly. Somehow, their bodies shifted closer together. Maybe the weight of their bodies and the slick surface of the couch brought them closer. Sara’s thigh brushed his. She looked up into his eyes, wondering at the physical contact between them. His eyes were smiling at her. She moved slightly closer to him, but only their thighs were touching. Her breathing hitched when he also shifted closer to her. She felt the heat that emanated from their tenuously joined bodies.
They watched as the movie continued, each surreptitiously glancing at each other. After a few minutes, Grissom stopped watching the movie entirely and to gaze at her exclusively. She is so beautiful, he thought, the slight lines in her face only added character to her otherwise unblemished face. She seemed so relaxed beside him, like she belonged next to him.
Gil’s blue eyes didn't leave Sara, silently pleading for her not to pull away from their slight contact.
“Your eyes never leave me Merlin.” Morgana purrs.
“Can’t I acknowledge beauty?” Merlin responds.
Sara looked sharply at Grissom at this. He stared at his sock clad feet and refused to meet her gaze.
“Can’t you acknowledge love?” Morgana challenges. She moves closer to him. “Perhaps you ache for what you’ve never known.”
“Perhaps you lust for what you cannot have.” Merlin proposes.
Sara smirked as she looked at him. She could barely back a giggle. ‘This movie is something else,” she thought to herself, “It’s almost like we are talking to each other.” She reached for her wineglass, again.
In a move not unlike a teenage boy on his first date at the movies, he stretched and placed his arm on the top of the couch directly behind Sara as she leaned back after placing her wineglass on the coffee table. She smiles a shy smile. The arm that is draped over back of couch, slipped down around her shoulders and pulled her closer. For a long time, they sat and watched the movie. Sara safe in Grissom‘s arms.
Over time, he slid his left hand down her arm and made small gossamer circles on her arm. She kept licking her lips, because his touch was so….sensual. Nerve endings ignited from his touch radiate to her nether regions. She can feel the moisture forming, immediately dampening her sweatpants with her arousal.
As the new lovers, Lancelot and Genevieve, finally embraced and made love on the mossy banks, Grissom turned to face Sara. He watched as she moved her tongue across his lips, almost begging him to take them as his own.
“What is this place?” Morgana slightly recoils with distaste.
“Here, you enter the coils of the dragon, here, my power was born, here all things are possible, and all things meet their opposites,” intones Merlin.
“The future?” She whispered.
“And the past.” He droned.
“Desire?” Morgana said, hopefully.
“And regret.” His monotone seemed endless.
“Knowledge?” Again she was hopeful.
“And oblivion.” Merlin responded.
“Love?” Ever hopeful.
“Oh, yes.” He almost sounded happy.
Grissom stared deep into her brown eyes as he lowered his lips to hers. Softly at first but soon, he has her whole body pressed firmly into the couch with the length of his body flush against hers. Their kisses become feverish; touches and caresses move from languid to erotic. Clothes become afterthoughts as they were quickly removed. The hardness of his cock was pressing insistently into the softness of her creamy white slightly rounded stomach.
He began to spread kisses down her chest, spending a few moments each on nipple, rolling his tongue across the surface, then sucking with his lips and taking a nibble with his teeth. As he bits lightly at her nipple, a muffled sound escapes Sara’s lips. Gil doesn’t spend long on her breasts, as he kisses down her stomach , running his tongue into her belly button. The feel of his tongue darting in and out of her is enough for her to arch her body closer to him.
He stopped for a moment and looked up at her face: she was spread before him, a veritable feast. Her eyes were closed and her pink tongue was partially sticking out of the corner of her mouth. He playfully wrote his name on her stomach with his tongue; conveniently marking his territory.
His tongue glided through her pubis and he paused to inhale her scent, the aroma that was uniquely her. It had intrigued his olfactory senses for far too long. His tongue neared her slit; he could feel the heat and wetness calling to him. As she opened her legs to his exploration, he saw her clit emerge from the labia. The tip of his tongue flicked across the bud. Sara’s body tensed and released a small orgasm, as his tongue magically moved over her clit. He tasted the very essence of her.
His tongue was now making fast small circles over her clit and as he took it to his mouth, Sara tensed again, and moaning something that may have been his name. Gil sucked her clit gently as her body inched up off the couch. He began lapping from her opening to her clit, enjoying her taste, better than any meal he had ever eaten. He felt his cock start to leak and knew he must be inside her soon.
He started kissing up her body once again, until their lips meet in an explosion of passion. They shared the intimacy of their naked hot bodies pressed to one another; tongues battled for dominance as their lips never broke the intense contact. Gil wanted nothing more than to press into her wetness with his hard cock, but the feel of Sara kissing his neck and then his chest as he moved upward, was a distraction he knew he would never be able to resist.
Sara wanted nothing more than to feel him against her, but the sensations of the heat emanating from his chest, kept her lips glued to his body. She can feel his dick trailing up her chest and she was dying to know how it would feel beneath her tongue. She wiggled down, allowing the tip his significant protrusion to rest at her chin. Her tongue snaked out, making him gasp and shudder.
He pushed his cock into her mouth, slowly, as she darted her tongue around his circumference. He began to piston into her, but suddenly he stopped. He pulled out of her making a slight plopping noise and slid down her body until they were face to face. His blue eyes sought her face for permission to enter her hot box. She answered by wrapping her long legs around his lower back, defying him to pull away from her. He sank slowly into her wetness, one glorious millimeter at a time. Once he was sheathed completely within her, he stopped, looking down into her brown eyes, wondering how he finally made it to this point, being inside of this glorious woman as he felt pulses from deep within her.
On the television screen, the clash of swords is heard, as the battle between good and evil is fought.
Sara opened her mouth to speak, but Gil quickly put his index finger to her lips. She took his finger into her mouth and sucks it, like she had done earlier with his cock, swirling her tongue over the tip, then encompassed the whole digit in her mouth.
His cock twitched inside of her. And almost unwillingly, pushed further into her, sliding further into her pussy. He slowly pulled out a fraction and pushed back in just as quickly. This action repeats, gaining momentum, until he is pumping into her almost savagely. He pounded into her, no longer capable of coherent thought, only moans, groans, and expulsion of air for an indeterminate amount of time, before he felt the walls of her resolve begin to crumble around him.
Gil is suddenly overcome with love, and wanted only for her to experience intense pleasure before his own release, he felt her body spasm against the onslaught of their combined passion. He felt the muscles deep within her begin to clamp down on him and her moans of pleasure only spurred him on to take her over the edge. He pressed harder into her and gently kissed her, taking her lips with his. The kiss was filled with love for the woman beneath him and he felt the pressure in his balls begin to rumble and push up through his penis. He makes an almost indistinguishable noise as his creamy load filled her.
Both exhaled as he collapsed on her.
Gil’s head was cradled in her shoulder as they both catch their breaths; Sara shyly ran her fingers through his hair. He raised up when he realizes all his weight is resting on her, but she pulled him back down to her, kissing him without the former passion, but she was kissing the object of her desire. She couldn't quite believe what had just happened, but she was content with his weight resting on her.
“One day a king will come…and the sword will rise again.”
They watched as Percival threw the famed sword back from whence it came, into the waiting hand of the Lady of the Lake. As the weapon slipped beneath the surface, Gil pressed a long, hard kiss onto the wanting lips of his lady love.
Grissom slid off of her toward the back of the couch and cradled her into his body as they watched the end of the movie.
Sir Percival gazed into the distance; he saw a now deceased King Arthur lying in a small sailboat, attended by three ladies, the guardians of death, clad in white. The boat sailed majestically into the setting sun.
The silence between the two new lovers is finally broken.
“That’s my favorite movie now,” Sara says casually as his right hand cups one of her breasts.
He didn't say anything. He really wasn't sure if he could after the experience he and Sara had just shared. He pulled her closer in response.
As the credits roll, Sara upturned her head slight to him and asked, “When was that movie made?”
Somehow, his vocal cords creak out, “1981.” He cleared his throat and pulled her tighter against his nude body, he asked almost mutely, “Where were you in 1981?”
“Still in Tomales Bay, before everything turned bad, in school,” She whispered. “Where were you?”
“In school also, but at UCLA, finishing up my PhD. Writing my dissertation. It was called: ‘A Laboratory Behavioral Analysis of Nocturnal Habits of the Fresh Fly, Subspecies of Sarcophaga Carnaria’.” He proudly announced.
She laughed at his tone, but quickly said, "I missed reading that."
He looked hurt for a moment, but she continued without missing a beat, “What was your favorite thing about the 1980’s?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “MC Hammer pants.”
Sara laughed with full-bodied amusement. “I cannot imagine you in those.”
He smirked. “What was your favorite thing from the 80’s?”
“The Saturday morning cartoon, 'The Smurf’s'. I always wanted to be ‘Smurfette’.” Sara was suddenly overcome with an attack of the yawns; it was contagious, because soon Grissom was yawning, too. “I’m really sleepy,” She purred.
Grissom made as if to get up from their embrace, “I should go,” he said.
“Don’t you dare, ” she commanded as she met his blue gaze.
He smiled at her with a touch of mischief his eyes. “Sir Gilbert of Carnaria would never leave Lady Smurfette to sleep alone,” he said gallantly.
She eased her body into the sitting position, stood and pulled him into standing. She lead him down the short hall to her bedroom.
“This is going to get complicated, isn’t it?” His eyes searched hers for an answer.
“And it’s not already?” Sara hugged him close to her, pulled away so their bodies were no longer touching, pushed him unceremoniously onto the bed.
She climbed into the bed and into his arms.
They curled together, bodies so close. They sleep, entwined.
GSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSRGSR
They woke up together, the only thing between them, her cast.
Gil smiled at Sara as she yawned then stretched her limbs, except the one encased in plaster.
“What are you going to tell Conrad?” His blue eyes bore into her soul, as they always did, when he looked at her, wherever they were, at work, at home, or sharing a meal. He felt himself involuntarily harden as their bodies unconsciously moved closer together. He placed a small kiss on her shoulder.
She was scheduled to have an appointment at the lab with the Assistant Lab Director, they both were, but Sara’s was to be before shift, her first back to work after ‘her ordeal’ as they now politely referred to it.
“What do you think he knows?” She inquired in a slightly husky voice, the one that usually sent his hormones into overdrive.
“Whatever someone told him, I’m sure. He won’t know the truth about us, since no one but you and I know that.” He pulled her so their lips could touch. They shared an intimate kiss, belaying love, tenderness, and was so gentle, nothing could spoil it, not even the thought of Conrad Ecklie. “He wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him on the ass,” he chuckled. “So, what are you going to tell him when he asks?”
He pulled her against his hard body.
Her right hand made contact with his morning raise, she felt the velvet softness and hard steel of him, and murmured: “The truth,” before rolling slightly and licking his cleft chin.
THE END