Archive: Please ask first I might say yes.
Disclaimer: The characters of CSI were created by A. Zuiker, and are the property of CBS and its affiliates. All other characters depicted in these stories are fictional; they are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author. Although the locales in this story are real, all events, incidents and characters are pure invention.
Eight days later on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Sara climbed into the taxi, her stomach full of hornets. For anyone else they might have been butterflies, but given her state of internal aggravation, the constant turmoil within could only be hornets. After tucking their suitcases into the trunk and closing it, Grissom climbed in next to Sara, looking slightly tense, but amused at her scowling expression. The driver, a thin black woman with bright pink lipstick looked over her shoulder at them both.
"Welcome! Where can I take you folks?" she inquired. Sara sighed.
"The Ocean Inn off of Stanford Boulevard please."
"Good choice! We'll be there shortly," the driver assured them, pulling out and away from the tiny terminal. Sara glanced back at the Cessna field dully.
"I thought the flight would be longer-"
"You're thinking of commercial flights. Private charters don't have as much waiting time or as many added complications," Grissom replied quietly. "And considering how hard it would have been to get anything else on such short notice we were lucky. I hardly ever get to use my connections."
Sara tilted her head to look at him, a smile briefly crossing her features as she did so. He was wearing a navy blue sweater over a dress shirt, his good grey jacket and navy slacks. Even his loafers had been polished. Resting on his knee was a gift bag that held a tissue-wrapped bottle of wine of a vintage that was sure to appeal to her dad, and a small bouquet of dried flowers for her mom.
"You look like a total suck-up, you know that, don't you?" Sara pointed out lovingly. Grissom shot her a wry grin, eyes twinkling.
"I have ulterior motives, so deal with it."
"Pffft. My mom's going to love you and my dad will check out your sports preferences then argue with you about every Cubs and Giants game ever played. Tom will ask me how much you make and if you're divorced, and I have no idea what Sophie and Sam will think of you, if anything," Sara replied, toying with the gold locket draped against her olive green corded sweater top.
Grissom's mouth twisted slightly.
"I can live with a fifty percent approval rating as the starting baseline. Gives me something to shoot for over the course of time."
"Downright Machiavellian of you," Sara murmured, trying to sound disapproving. The taxi sped along the curving highway threading through the rolling hills covered with groves of Eucalyptus trees. Eventually they crossed over the topmost ridge, catching sight of the Pacific, endlessly panoramic in slate blue off to the left. The driver hummed under her breath, and Sara shifted uneasily.
"I don't see why you're nervous. They know you-" Grissom pointed out. She rubbed her forehead with one hand, trying to think of exactly how to unburden herself.
"Gris, I've never brought anyone back with me before, okay? This particular phase is completely new to my family and me so bear with me here. We've got the next four days to get through, and I have no idea how any of it's going to go. That's making me just a LITTLE uptight."
Grissom leaned back and snaked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close so he could whisper against her hair.
"A little? I'm going to check the upholstery buttons before we get out of the cab, Sara."
She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help a quick grin, even as the cab turned onto Stanford Boulevard. The road paralleled the beach, and between the various craft shops and trees they could see Tomales Bay proper. Finally the cab hooked a quick left into a cul de sac and pulled up in front of a two-story blue and white clapboard house.
"Ocean Inn," the driver announced pleasantly.
Sara squared her shoulders and looked over at Grissom, shooting him a wry smile. "Ready for this?"
"Ah. The real question is, are you?"
Sara very maturely stuck her tongue out at him; Grissom ignored it and climbed out, helping the driver unload the bags. Taking a deep breath, Sara pulled herself out of her momentary inertia and the cab as well, looking up at the B&B as the scent of salt water filled the air.
The Ocean Inn stood proudly, if a little stodgily, on the far end of the cul de sac, a big Victorian with eight rooms, two living rooms, a massive kitchen and a wraparound porch. Sara could see the dangling wind chimes of driftwood and shells hanging from the corners of the porch, and the bits of green and blue glass imbedded in the cement steps leading to the front doors. The clapboards were slate blue, the trim white, and two wreaths of sea oats and dried flowers adorned the glass doors.
The cab pulled away just as one of the doors opened, and a short, dark-haired girl in a flowered shirt and overalls came barreling out towards Sara.
"I win, I win!" she yelled happily, not quite able to slow her momentum as she plowed into her aunt. Sara rocked a little under the impact, but grinned widely, hugging the child in a good squeeze.
"Second year in a row, Soph, baby! I'll tell Grandpa you get the lookout money fair and square-"
At the door, a boy appeared, taller than the girl, but with the same dark hair. He looked peeved.
"No fair! I was in the bathroom!"
"You leak, you lose, Sam. Rules of the game pal!" Sara called to him. He made a face, presumably at his sister, and came trudging down the steps as Grissom watched the unfolding drama. Both children looked up at him suspiciously.
"Hi," he offered mildly. The boy nodded; the girl blinked and slipped behind Sara, peeking out around one hip.
"Granny Avra says you're a bugger guy," the girl piped up. Looking suitably startled, Grissom managed not to laugh. Sara did, snorting as she slipped an arm around the child.
"Sophia Danielle Sidle, you introduce yourself nicely and find out who this really is."
The girl came forward, extending a pudgy, less than clean hand to Grissom, who engulfed it with his own.
"My name is called Sophie. Who are you?"
"Do you touch bugs?" she demanded suspiciously.
"Ewwwww!" Sophie made a disapproving face while her brother shot Grissom a favorable look. Grissom bent lower in a confiding way and added, "Sometimes I even eat some of them."
Sophia backed up a step while Sam came closer grinning. Grissom shrugged, risking a look at Sara, who was hiding her smirk behind one hand.
"He promised not to eat any while he's here, okay? Just go tell your dad we're coming in," she directed. Both kids clambered back up the steps, neatly dodging around the person just coming through the doors.
"Sara, darling!" Avra Sidle sang out, wiping her floury hands on her apron and gliding into a tight hug with her daughter. They were of a height, and Grissom saw that many of Sara's sweet features came straight from her mother, most notably the big brown eyes and slim tall figure.
Then the woman turned to him, and in her sharp clear gaze Grissom felt a prickle of amused appreciation.
"Oh he's so virile he GLOWS, girlchild. Definitely Alpha blue to the core!"
"Mom! Not now-" came Sara's hissed warning. She forced a smile and reached for Grissom's arm, hooking hers around it as much for comfort as anything else. "Mom, This is Gil Grissom, Gil, this is my mom, Avra-"
"I've been looking forward to meeting you," he politely and honestly told her, holding out his hand. Avra, however, bypassed it and hugged him tightly; startled, Grissom let her, looking a little stiff as she laughed up at him.
"As have I, Gil, as have I. Welcome to Ocean Inn!"
Looking at Sara didn't help; she flashed her famous grin and shrugged.
"Did I forget to mention I've got a huggy, touchy feely family?"
"Ohhh-" he weakly replied.
Avra pulled back and looked up at him again, blushing a little when she saw his discomfort.
"Sorry Gil, but at Ocean Inn, no one's very formal. Come in, come in and sit down! My you look nice, but you didn't have to go to all the trouble, really-"
Chattering away, Avra led Grissom up the steps, never letting go of his arm as Sara watched them, a bemused expression on her face.
"Oh that's fine, mom, go on in, I can handle the suitcases all by myself, don't worry-" came her mild taunt. Avra waved a dismissing hand at her.
"Now, now--Tom will be right out, don't fuss so, Sara!"
Grissom found himself propelled through a large and airy foyer and into a sunken living room with a large stone fireplace at one end. The hardwood floor gleamed between various thick rugs, and a lovely scent of baking bread drifted on the air. He noted several seascape watercolors dotting the walls, a large and inviting bookcase, and comfortable overstuffed furniture arranged throughout. Avra led him over to a round table where a man sat piecing together what appeared to be a tiny picture frame out of pieces of seashell.
"Will, Sara's sweetie is here."
Grissom felt himself blush a little. The other man shot him a bemused look, his heavy silver mustache twitching.
"Sheesh, honey, if you introduce him like that it saps the testosterone right out of him," came the grumble. Slowly, he rose, grasping the cane hooked on the edge of the table for support. He smiled into Grissom's face, eyes direct and fearless, another Sara trait.
They shook hands, and Grissom felt the gnarled strength of the other man's solid grip against his own.
"You're Gil Grissom. Good. I'm William Sidle; call me Will. You any good with tweezers?"
"Actually, yes-" Grissom nodded. Will gave a sigh of relief.
"Good! I've been trying to get this damned mussel shell glued on, but it keeps slipping. Think you can grip it in place long enough for me to glue it down?"
Ten minutes later, Sara walked through the living room to find Grissom and her father both bent over the picture frame, speaking in hushed tones like a pair of surgeons on a delicate brain operation.
"There. Thanks for the assist."
"Pleased to help. I take it the shells are local?"
"Yep. Avra picks them up for me from the tide line. I wash them, varnish them and sort them by species and size for easier use."
"The frame is very nice," Grissom observed. Will gave a little nod, but his expression was distracted as Sara came up behind him, laid gentle hands on his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.
"Thank you, but I've done better. It's tough to get good frames these days. I usually make my own, but I got stuck with a store bought one this time. Sara--" he smiled up at his daughter. She studied the frame with a loving eye.
"That's a nice pair of jackknife clams along the bottom-" she commented. Will smiled, touching them softly. At that point the boy came barreling in, followed by Sophie, dashing up to the table.
"Grandpa, it's not fair that Sophie gets the lookout money two times now!"
Grissom sensed amused gravity in the older man's tone as he spoke patiently to the boy.
"Did she spot the taxi first, Sam?"
"Well... yeah, but I was goin' pee!" Sam protested mulishly. Will reached over and squeezed the boy's shoulder.
"Rules are rules. Next year you might win. Sophie?"
"Yeah?" the child looked up at him, beaming. Will snorted at her, reaching to tweak one of her ears.
"You won, but stop rubbing it in, little girl. You and I will settle up after dinner. Now you two go play on the beach while your grandmother gets dinner ready."
Quickly the two took off again, clattering through the living room and out through various doors while Grissom watched them go. When he turned back, Sara and her father were looking at him.
"They're a good pair. Tom's got custody and he's close enough to bring 'em by regularly. You have any nieces, nephews of your own, Gil?"
Slowly, Grissom shook his head.
*** *** ***
The heat on Sara's face could have ignited a forest. She clutched the edge of the doorframe, not looking at either her mother or Grissom as they all stood looking into the room.
It was cool and blue, with a décor that ran to fishnets and prints of sailboats on the walls; a tiny balcony opened onto the Pacific. Avra was speaking in confiding tones.
"... Only one with a queen. I hope you two don't mind. Dinner's in half an hour, so I better go get the pasta boiling."
"It's lovely. Thank you," Grissom politely told her, and she smiled, turning to head back down the hall. Sara weakly tottered into the room and dropped herself into the white wicker rocking chair, a hand over her face.
"I can't believe she did this. My own MOTHER-" came the anguished moan. Grissom waited until Sara looked up again.
"I thought it was amazingly considerate and open-minded of her to give us a room together." Grissom took off his coat and hung it up in the closet. "Frankly I was more than willing to sleep on a sofa bed," he commented softly. Sara shot him a lovingly exasperated look. Rising, she crossed the room and smacked her hand on the wall, making a dried starfish rattle.
"It's insidious, Gris. Yeah, we're in the same room, but right next door are my parents, and on the other side, Tom. So while we're allowed to sleep together, there is no real privacy here. The walls are thin, and from this point on it will be as if this room is wired for sound."
Grissom slipped behind her, nuzzling her neck. She resisted for a moment, and then with a sigh tilted her head to give him better access as he kissed her under her ear. He whispered against her skin.
"So out loud we'll be boring, and in other matters we'll be-discreet," he assured her as his hands slid up over her sweater to cup her chest. Sara squirmed, managing a lot of contact as her ass pressed against him.
"I bet the bed creaks. Twenty bucks."
Grissom wrapped his arms around her and marched her over to it, dropping with her onto the blue and white checked bedspread. The bed made a tiny noise of contracting springs as Grissom grinned. Gripping Sara, he turned, gave an experimental bounce and the frame creaked obligingly under them, a soft little sound that carried in the room.
Sara burst into husky giggles.
"I win and lose at the same time-Twenty bucks please-"
"I didn't accept your wager. And besides, it's a tiny creak. Barely audible."
"Sure you say that now, but once it starts making a rhythm that's as good as announcing on a loudspeaker: Attention! People having SEX here!" she complained, but softly. Grissom felt good holding her, and she loved the scent of his aftershave. He kissed her forehead.
"So we go without intimacy for a few days," he offered.
Sara quickly, unthinkingly pouted, and he laughed at her expression.
"Sara," Grissom chided, his ego gratified at her stubborn look.
"Get real," she replied with a little sigh. "We couldn't share a bed celibately now, not even if our lives depended on it. We're acclimated to each other. Symbiotically settled. By Saturday we'll be miserable. At least I'LL be miserable..."
"We can't have that. We'll just have to think outside the bed," Grissom replied teasingly.
Sara blinked at him as all sorts of possibilities popped into her head, but before she could say anything, a hard rap on their door startled them both. Sam's voice ragged and out of breath called through it.
"Sara! Grissom! Dad said to get you right away! We need you guys!" his youthful urgency was tinged with real panic, and hearing it, Sara shot to the door as Grissom followed her. They moved down the hall and curving staircase to the living room. Sam pointed at the big table.
"We found him by the big rocks! Dad says you'd know if he was going to be okay-"
Sara pushed her way to the table, looking down at the towel on the table, at her brother's big hands cradling the little limp body under the overhead light. For a moment no one spoke. She bent forward, her chest tight.
Gently she picked up the kitten's body, touching the matted orange fur and tiny white paws. She propped the limp little head up, trying to gauge the breathing. At the edge of the table, Sam and Sophie held very still watching, bursting with questions but wise enough not to interrupt. Avra slipped behind them, wrapping an arm around each child.
Grissom took the body from Sara and lightly turned it face down. Long trickles of water spilled out of the tiny open jaws onto the towel. He delicately pried one eyelid back enough to see the clouded nictitating membrane over the pupil.
He pursed his mouth. "Sam, I need to know exactly where you and Sophie found this kitten. Right now. Can you take me there?"
"Yeah!" The boy nodded. Grissom looked at Sara and spoke in an undertone as he laid the little kitten back on the towel.
"It's dead, but the body is still warm. Get a box, a heat lamp or pad, any eyedroppers you can find and something to re-hydrate any others we find."
"You think there are more?"
"Yes. More often than not, kittens get abandoned or drowned in litters," he grimly told her. Sam was tugging impatiently at his sweater, and Grissom nodded in acknowledgement, following the boy out the back doors towards the beach. Avra was holding on to Sophie, who had burst into tears.
"The kitty's dead! " She wailed, burying her face in her grandmother's lap. Avra hugged her hard. Tom carefully wrapped the kitten up and looked at his sister, sighing.
"So much for a calm evening. Think you can get that stuff he mentioned while I take care of this little guy?"
*** *** ***
Sam and Grissom returned twenty minutes later, just as the sun was beginning to set through the clouds. The wind had picked up and the air was cold coming off the ocean towards the land. Sara held the door open as Sam ran in ahead.
"Grissom found more! He got them out of this box way out in the rocks, Dad! Do we have some towels?"
Sara looked out as Grissom lumbered up. He was holding his good sweater bundled in his arms, and his slacks were soaked to mid thigh, but he flashed Sara a tense smile as he spoke, the evening breeze stirring his curls.
"Two more dead, three alive. I don't know for how long, but we can try."
Sara nodded, her throat tight at the sight of him carefully shedding his wet loafers on the back porch and stepping into the house with his armful. Avra took it from him and carried it to the table. Sara hugged Grissom briefly; he nuzzled her hair and moved to the other side of the table and the light.
Wordlessly, Avra yielded to him and he gently unwrapped the sweater. Three wet balls of shivering fur made piteous squeaks, and Grissom gently picked one up, cupping it in his hands as he quickly scrutinized it under the light.
"Waterlogged but feisty. A male, about six weeks old I'd guess. He needs the salt washed off of him, wrapped up and held close to benefit from body heat."
Will, who was in the kitchen, carefully brought in a pan of warm water in one hand while he gripped his cane in the other.
Avra smiled at him and dipped a washcloth in the water, then handed it to Grissom. He looked around the table in surprise at all the faces watching him as he carefully rubbed the tiny kitten in the heated wet cloth. It tried to fight him, but he was ruthlessly gentle, cleaning off the brine from its grey fur.
"Sara, would you mind cleaning up one of the other kittens? Sophie, do you have a sweatshirt with a big pocket in the front?"
The girl nodded, her brown eyes big and locked on him. "Yeah, my SpongeBob one."
"Go get it and put it on. We're going to need you to carry this baby in that pocket for a while. Sam, do you have one as well?"
"Yeah," the boy nodded, already dashing for his room. Tom glanced uncertainly at Grissom, who shrugged back.
"Body heat. Kids radiate much more of it more quickly than adults do," he explained. "Besides, they want to help."
Sara had carefully washed off the second kitten and was reaching for the third while Grissom examined the one she'd handed to him.
"Another male," he muttered with a hint of distaste. Sara glanced over and smothered a laugh as she saw the thin trickle of urine running down his wrist.
"I think you've just been scent-marked," she teased. Everyone chuckled, and Grissom carefully set the little defiant kitten down as he wiped his hand on a towel. The mostly black kitten swayed a little, and plonked his rear end down; Grissom wrapped him in a soft clean washcloth, then handed him to Avra, who cuddled the kitten against her chest.
*** *** ***
Dinner was a noisy affair; everyone tried to talk to everyone else, and the kittens were a prominent topic in the conversation. Sophie and Sam took their responsibilities as kitten warmers seriously and proudly wore their sweatshirts to the table, complete with bulgy pockets. The table was loaded down with pasta, bread, salad and Grissom's bottle of wine.
"More spaghetti, Gil?" Avra pressed, passing the pasta his way. Grissom took it, catching Sara's smirk at his second helping as she broke off another hunk of French bread. She sighed.
"You're a hero now you know-this is going to be one of the stories mom will tell all the visitors-" she warned him. Across the table, Tom nodded, grinning in a way Grissom was recognizing as a Sidle trait.
"Oh yeah. The great kitten rescue. Right along with the time Sara fell off the balcony, and the summer that dead great white washed up. Ocean Inn legends-"
"You fell off a balcony?" Grissom arched an eyebrow at her; she blushed.
"I was trying to catch a dragonfly and leaned out too far. Hey, it happens-"
Avra shook her head with loving exasperation as she moved around, ladling up sauce on Grissom's plate, then did the same to Sara's, Will's and Tom's.
"She hit the rosemary bushes and not the redwood deck, thank goodness, but still ended up with a concussion and a broken collarbone. I'm SO glad she's past those dangerous sorts of things."
Both Sara and Grissom were suddenly very interested in their plates. Sam piped up giggling.
"My kitten's wiggling! I think he's trying to get out!"
"Well that's a good sign. He must be feeling better. How's yours doing, dad?" Tom asked, rolling a forkful of pasta as he spoke. Will patted the small lump on the inside of his shirtfront and smiled.
"The orange one's purring a bit. I can feel it against my skin."
"I think it was mean to put them in a box in the water. The people who did that are bad and we should tell the police," Sophie announced loudly. Everyone stopped eating and looked at her for a second. Her father sighed.
"We all agree, Sophie baby, but I don't think we'll ever know who did it. And right now we'd be better off just making sure the three we've saved are okay. Any idea what were' going to do with them?"
Avra looked troubled; Will hid a smirk under his thick mustache and cleared his throat. Sara nudged Grissom and he caught her amused look.
"Come on old woman, you KNOW you want to keep them. It's been a long time since we've had a pet underfoot," her father began.
Avra sighed. "Oh Will, some people are allergic to cats. We'd have to warn people and go to all the trouble of changing our ads-"
"A line or two, nothing major."
"And it means cat food and litter boxes, and vet visits-"
"We've got enough set aside for it-"
"And SOMEONE will have to make sure they stay out of my darkroom-" she warned darkly, but her tone was weakening as a grin crossed her face.
"Done! So, what will we name them?" Will beamed.
*** *** ***
Sara sighed as the hairbrush stroked her scalp once more. Standing behind her, Grissom smiled as he continued to brush her curls slowly before the mirror in the bathroom off the bedroom.
"I'm so glad you stopped straightening it," he told her in a low voice. She looked over her shoulder at him and gave a little awkward bob of her head, a shy gesture.
"Catherine was the one who talked me into that. She told me that the heat would make me frizz, so straightening it would cut down on the problem. And it did, sort of, but it took forever, and sometimes it just didn't seem worth it."
Grissom nodded, set down the brush, and slipped his arms around her waist, hugging her gently while staring at their reflections in the mirror. She pursed her mouth thoughtfully.
"You ruined your slacks and loafers today. I can't believe you did that."
Grissom said nothing for a moment, but his look was both wistful and amused, a bittersweet expression. Finally he sighed.
"When I was a kid, I used to collect dead animals from the beach in Corona Del Mar. I studied them, knowing it would help me be a better biologist and I've seen a lot that didn't die naturally, or died of exposure. A pair of pants and shoes are a small price to pay for saving lives, even those of kittens. Besides, your dad seems tickled about having them."
As he spoke, Grissom let his hands slide along Sara's front tugging the pajama top up off of her. She sighed, standing sweetly exposed in her black thong and nothing else as he appreciatively nuzzled her shoulder and cupped her bare chest.
"Yeah, he loves animals-Grissom-" her tone changed, husky and strained as he tweaked her hard nipples with a light roll of his fingers.
"Not in the mood?" he breathed, following up his words with a tender nip. Sara shivered, her chest flushing quickly.
"Oh, in the mood all right, but-" she glanced through the door at the bed wistfully. Grissom snorted and let his fingers skim down over her skin as he toyed with her tight stomach and sculpted hipbones.
"I understand. You don't want anyone to hear you when I take you deep and slow, Sara. When I pleasure you completely-"
She squirmed, responding to his sweet suggestive tone as much as his stroking hands, and the reflection in the mirror intensified her breathing. Grissom sighed happily and turned her around to face him again, kissing her deeply. She tasted of toothpaste as her tongue slipped around his in hungry strokes.
Grissom felt himself stiffen swiftly, pressed against her thigh through his pajama bottoms as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again. Sara's arms slid up around his neck, her hands cupping the back of his head. He laughed into her mouth.
"You're in a feisty mood-"
"I'm nearly naked and you're not. It makes me want you even more," she confessed. One of his hands slipped into the back of her thong, gripping it, tugging it. Sara squealed.
"Hey! No wedgies!"
"Shhhhh---" he warned, gentling his grip and pushing the thong down. Obligingly Sara shimmied out of it, letting it drop to the fluffy bath rug they were standing on.
Grissom reached up and flicked out the light, plunging the room into shadowy darkness. Sara blinked a little at the loss of light, but the slow sweet stroke of Grissom's hands down her back reassured and aroused her. Willing she let herself be pulled into his wet, hungry kisses.
"I want you, Sara, so much-" he muttered into her mouth, teeth nipping her lower lip even as his hands intensified their glide over her bare excited skin. She nodded, a little dazed. One of his hands slid between her thighs, cupping her mound and stroking it with his palm, pressing with just the right lovely pressure to make her moan. Grissom chuckled, pressing her against the bathroom door.
"Shhh-we have to be quiet, Acushla. Very quiet-"
Sara nodded, boldly pushing forward against his hand again, rubbing herself against him. Along her thigh his cock throbbed through the thin flannel She reached for him and it was Grissom's turn to choke a bit, his chest expanding as Sara's fingers caressed him through the cloth.
"Come here-" she whispered. Carefully she led him over to the wicker rocking chair and sat down in it; Grissom was confused for a moment, but Sara leaned forward and undid the drawstring to his bottoms.
"Oh." He managed in a surprised tone as she laughed up at him. Between them in the dark, his cock surged forward, nearly bumping her nose.
"Mmmmm-" and so saying, Sara opened her mouth and rocked forward.
Grissom bit his lips hard to fight the long low howl that threatened to rise out of his throat. Sara's mouth slid onto his cock in one long wet plunge, then pulled away as she rocked back. He reached for her shoulders, but she grabbed his hands with her own, weaving her fingers in his as she rocked forward again, tongue caressing his cock as it thrust into her mouth once more.
The tempo drove him insane; that deliberate back and forth of her caressing lips and tongue, moving back and forth with every plunge into her mouth. The rocker was silent on the carpeted floor, but in those long pleasure-filled moments Grissom heard the little wet sounds of Sara's sucking, felt the building molten pleasure that made his balls ache with tension.
His fingers tightened on hers warningly and he whispered to her in a hoarse tone, "Sara! Sara, you have to stop honey-"
She made a little disappointed growl, but slowed the rocker. Grissom tugged on her hands, pulling her up again, kissing her wetly, wildly.
"One more minute and-"
"Wanted that-" Sara hissed back in frustration, but Grissom shook his head. He swung her away from the rocker and took her place, sitting in it, tugging her down onto his lap.
"Oh!" she gasped, sliding her thighs around his hips, feeling him plunge into her in a one deep thrust. Grissom's head lolled back and the cords of his strong neck stood out in the dim light. One hand pressed to the small of her back holding her against him, the other slid between their bodies, his thumb stroking the hard little nub of her pulsing clitoris.
Sara writhed, impaled and tense, feeling the amazing shift with each rock of the chair, the slick heaviness of Grissom's cock throbbing tightly inside her as his thumb teased along her fur. Rapidly, furiously the roiling tension flared through her hips and she clung to the arms of the chair, blind and lost as her orgasm exploded in searing waves of incredible pleasure drenching each cell of her body.
She collapsed against his shoulder, dimly aware of his ragged breathing, feeling slick thrusts between her thighs and a sudden gush of heat deep within as he helplessly groaned against her throat, teeth nipping at the tender join of her neck and shoulder.
They still rocked, slower, but with leaden satisfaction, loosely wrapped together with every move. Sara turned her head, lips pressing close to Grissom's damp ear, and she chuckled very softly.
"Outside the bed is... good."
He gave a little affirmative groan, hands sliding to cup her bottom as he nuzzled her. "I..."
"I love you. And I think we need to buy a rocking chair," he decided.
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