Crumbling

Rating: R
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Category: General/Romance
Archive: FF.net and here. Anywhere else ask first, I might say yes.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just take them out every now and then and make them do really strange things.

Author's Note: Thank you Marlou, for the beta work, and for nagging-ahem, I mean CHALLENGING me to write this. I know it's not as "NC-17" as you wanted, but oh well. You got a good solid "R" fic out of me! Many thanks to all of you who previewed this, and then yelled at me to post it. I guess I finally listened...

Summary: There's something so sensual about baking cookies with the one you love.

---

"It's so much more fun doing this by hand, instead of using spoons, don't you think?"

"Sara, I didn't invite you over here to have fun. We're testing a theory." Grissom was all business, setting the oven temperature and getting out the cookie sheet.

"Oh, that's right, you invited me over to your house because you truly believe this recipe was worth murdering for." There was mild sarcasm in her voice as she discreetly rolled her eyes. She wasn't exactly sure why he invited her over. Recently, he had been making considerable efforts to be nice to her. Part of her suspected this mysterious cookie recipe might be a ruse to spend some time alone with her.

"I'm curious. It was the only thing found on our suspect. The victim had similar recipe cards in her pantry. I'm sure people have been murdered over less important things. Now, tell me again why we're not using spoons?"

"I don't know. I've just always done it like this. This is the way Mrs. Fields does it."

Grissom was intrigued. "Really..."

"Yeah. See, if you just ball up the dough, like this, then tear it in half, and then smush it back together with the torn sides up, it bakes in those fun nooks and crannies. That's why the cookies at the mall look so appealing," she explained.

"Fascinating. So, what do you think makes this recipe different from any other chocolate chip cookie recipe?"

"I think it's the pureed oatmeal flakes. That's weird. I've never put oatmeal in chocolate chip cookies."

"And when exactly was the last time you made cookies?" he asked, a distinct teasing quality to his voice.

"I don't know..." She blushed and smiled, embarrassed, though she wasn't sure why.

"You don't bake cookies."

"Yes, I do. When I have free time... and the... mood strikes me." She was grinning like a tenth grade flirt now.

"Sara Sidle, a closet Betty Crocker?"

"Shut up. Cooking is science at its most basic level," she chided, raising her eyebrows in mock-defiance, enjoying the relaxed banter.

"Ah, yes. All that ingredient experimentation, the mixing, the measuring, the potential for human error..."

"I don't make mistakes," she said, placing the last wad of dough on the tray.

"Ever?"

"I'm very careful. Here, these are ready to go in." She handed him the cookie sheet.

"How long?"

Sara checked the copy of the recipe, feeling quite domestic. "Fourteen minutes."

He set the timer on the microwave and cocked his head in thought. "Think you can you proof a six page abstract on print lifting in fourteen minutes?"

"I can try."

~*~

"You left out the word 'surface' in this last paragraph, and technically, I started talking before that timer went off. So yes, I can proof a six page abstract on print lifting in fourteen minutes." She smirked, proud of herself.

"Potholders are in that drawer, cocky, and thank you," he said, taking the papers from her.

"You're welcome. Mmm, these look yummy. Spatula?"

He opened a different drawer and playfully slapped it into her hand. He watched her deposit each cookie onto the cooling rack, and then gaped in shock when she raised one to her mouth.

"Isn't that too hot to eat?"

"This is the way cookies are supposed to be eaten. The ones at the mall are served warm."

"You spend a lot of time there, don't you?" he quipped.

Sara chewed and swallowed with the seriousness of a scientist conducting a most-important experiment. "Uh, you better eat one of these."

He looked at her curiously and reached for one. "Huh. Wow," he muttered between bites.

"These are better than the ones at the mall," Sara declared, her mouth still occupied with cookie. "They're absolutely perfect."

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Worth murdering for?"

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but, well, depending on what exactly the killer was planning to do with this recipe-it's possible we may have a motive."

Grissom stared at the cookies, suddenly amazed at their discovery. He knew it was flimsy, at best-his excuse for inviting her over. Funny, that he was on to something without realizing it. Of course, now that they had discovered how good the recipe was, there was still the question of whether she would stick around-just to spend time with him.

"Well, do you want to make the rest with me?" he asked cautiously.

Sara titled her head and pursed her lips to keep from grinning, knowing he wanted her to stay.

"Come on, I'll even let you take a dozen home," he cajoled, reaching for the bowl of dough.

"Just a dozen?" she teased, narrowing her eyes menacingly.

"What are you going to do, try to kill me for the whole batch?" he asked, bumping her with his elbow.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were flirting with me," she commented softly, getting to work on a ball of dough and studiously avoiding his eyes.

"That would be... ineffectual at this point, wouldn't it?"

The pregnant pause that followed his question seemed to further charge the already tense moment.

"Not necessarily," came her thoughtful reply.

"Hm. I'll take that under consideration," he said, cool as ever.

Sara shifted her jaw. "Right." Her sarcasm was blatant.

"What?" He stopped mauling the wad of dough in his hands, dropping it onto the cookie sheet with no precision.

"Nothing. That certainly is your style. Take your time. Think things through, then-I don't know, maybe you could... think some more." She sounded more disappointed than spiteful.

"Well, we're working now," he pointed out, unsure how she viewed this little cooking experiment. It certainly wouldn't be appropriate for him to make advances when he essentially lured her into his home under the pretenses of work.

"Are we? Oh, right, of course we are. Because, if this were a date, I'd have attacked you by now," she said matter-of-factly, roughly tearing up another ball of dough and slapping it onto the tray.

Grissom blinked.

"Subtle as a brick, Sidle."

"Blind as a bat, Grissom."

"Bats aren't really blind, you know. They use sonar to-w-what are you doing?"

Sara moved even closer, quickly wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "I'm invading your personal space, hoping that you'll pick up some non verbal cues."

"Oh. I see. I... thought... uh..." God, she was very close. He was scared to move.

"You thought what? Is this bothering you?" Their hips were touching, and Sara gently slid her hand across his lower back.

"N-n-no. I... thought it was too late."

"I don't think you're paying attention. Maybe if I slip around here, in front of you. Move in really close like this... what... uh... what do you think now?" Sara's bravado faltered slightly and her mouth instantly went dry when their eyes locked in a focused, emotion-packed gaze. She swallowed hard and boldly tipped up her chin. They were standing chest to chest, her hand now idly resting on his waist.

"I guess it's not," he said softly, blinking, but not letting his eyes drift from hers. "I'm just... surprised."

"And still talking," she noted.

"Right," he blurted, realizing with eagerness that-regardless of how badly he screwed up before-he'd been given a rather blatant go ahead-and a second chance. He quite deliberately lowered his face toward hers, taking in her delicate scent and studying the freckles that randomly dotted her nose and jaw line. "This better?"

A subtle nod was the only reply he got. He kissed the corner of her mouth, hovering over her face shyly. Sara smiled at him, feeling a delightful rush of anticipation.

"Not so scary," she whispered, hoping to reassure him. She knew this was hard for him, but my God, she'd never felt so excited. She could scarcely control her ragged breathing as she examined his face from this close-up, taking in each charismatic wrinkle, savoring the intense depth of his eyes.

"Oh, you're scary," he muttered back, barely touching his nose to hers. He brushed another gentle peck on her lips and moved his arm behind her, pulling her a little bit closer. "In fact, you're the scariest woman I've ever met."

Sara pouted coyly, and then nuzzled his cheek a little while they hugged. "I'm not scary. I'm..." She trailed off, suddenly having trouble following her own thoughts. Grissom dropped the softest kisses she'd ever felt across her cheek, toward her ear. "... interested in you," she blurted in a hopeless sigh. "I can't help it. I've tried not to--"

"Sara?" He was breathing in her ear.

"Hm?"

"You're talking," he teased.

"Right," she said, cursing her stupid mouth. She looked at him and just couldn't help herself. She lunged at him-pressing her lips on his solidly. The floodgates were opened, and he began kissing her in earnest, while she instantly responded to his touch.

Sara couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing to her ears and her own quiet moans of pleasure. God, his mouth was hot and soft and perfect. She felt his tongue on her lips and thought for sure her knees would buckle when she opened her mouth to him.

Quiet reminders floated around her brain: This is real, This is really Grissom kissing me like this, He does want me. She could never go back. Not this time. She knew they were moving fast, but couldn't bear to pull herself away from him.

"Oh, God, please don't stop kissing me," she pleaded softly into his mouth. He only moaned in response. As if he could stop. His hands moved to her face, tenderly caressing her while they kissed.

"Um, wait," Sara mumbled, moving away slightly. "Uh, eww..."

"What? What's wrong?"

"You, um... arggghhh. Grissom!" She forcefully pushed his hands from her face.

"What did I do?" He asked, moving back with a worried look. "You said not to stop!"

She wrinkled her nose at him and showed him his own fingers. "You just smeared cookie dough on me."

"Oh!" Embarrassed, he wiped his hands on a dishtowel, muttering an apology to her. When he looked up she was smiling at him, and then she started laughing.

"You're the one who wouldn't let me use a spoon," he defended. He was about to offer her the dishtowel when she scooped a small dollop of cookie dough on her finger and casually smeared it on his nose-stunning him.

"There, we're even," she announced, reaching for the towel. Watching him stand there, dumbfounded, with dough smeared on his nose was too much. Sara had to turn around to stop from laughing. She wiped her own face and neck, and surveyed the cookie sheet. Suddenly baking sounded like a good distraction. If he kissed her again, she didn't know if she could control herself.

Before she could even reach for the oven door, Grissom wrapped a strong arm around her waist, surprising her and pinning her arms to her side. He pulled her back against his chest, tightening his hold.

"I can't believe you just did that," he said, with a voice so husky and deep Sara didn't recognize it.

Using his free hand, he dipped his finger in the dough. Sara immediately tensed, trying to wriggle her arms free. "Don't!" she warned, managing to grip his forearm to keep him at bay.

"You started it," he replied, enjoying the feel of her squirming against him.

She knew he was stronger than her and about to wipe his finger on her face, so to stop him, she captured his finger in her mouth, quickly cleaning it.

Grissom laughed, picking her up off the floor an inch or two and moving her away from the counter. "Okay, okay, truce," he suggested.

Sara turned around in his embrace, trying not to laugh. She raised her brow audaciously. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." They were both breathing hard and on the brink of laughter.

She studied his face and noticed he had wiped it off. He was staring back at her, a seductive, hungry glint to his eyes that she'd never seen before. All of a sudden, their long-standing attraction seemed so tangible and true. Without a word, she moved toward him, and at the same time, his arms engulfed her, his mouth landing on hers enthusiastically.

She lost herself in him, clutching his shoulders like a drowning woman. She had known for so long that it would only take the slightest concession on his part, and she would crumble like a cookie in his hands. She would never be over him; it was pointless to think otherwise.

His lips softened considerably, and the moment shifted from being wildly urgent to being wonderfully satisfying. His hands danced so delicately along her body, as if he couldn't quite decide where to put them. In truth, it was because he wanted them everywhere, all at once. His fingers slid progressively from her face down her neck, over her shoulders, down her arms, around her waist to her rear end, where they hovered almost imperceptibly.

Grissom's touch was so light and delicate that Sara wanted to beg him to be more forceful. Uncharacteristically, wanton thoughts of him ravishing her on his kitchen floor crept into her mind.

She found herself arching into him, sweeping her tongue against his rhythmically, and inching her hands down his back and lower. Quiet whimpers and sighs escaped them both, and finally Sara slid her fingers over his, guiding his hand to her side and then along her chest. She needed him to touch her.

When he lightly caressed her breast while simultaneously trailing his tongue behind her ear, the heat inside her seemed to erupt tenfold. She realized quickly she was close to embarrassing herself-she was extremely aroused. In a desperate attempt to regain her composure, Sara flung her arms around his neck, holding him tight.

Her movement startled Grissom, causing him to slow things down a little. "Sara," he breathed into her hair, "Tell me what you want. Please... honey, I-I don't know what you want." He gently kneaded her shoulder as he sighed and kissed her temple. "I only know what I want," he whispered against her skin.

Sara blinked a few times, and then looked at him contemplatively. "What do you want?" she asked hesitantly-sounding almost fearful of his reply.

He pressed his cheek against hers, and his mouth twitched nervously as he considered what to say. Closing his eyes, he stroked the back of her hair and said, "I want to apologize to you."

Sara's jaw slackened in disbelief. She stood frozen in his arms, savoring the feel of his warm skin and tickly beard against her face. "I want you to know how hard it's been for me," he said, shifting to look in her eyes. "I want to make you understand what I don't understand myself. I... I didn't think I could ever be with someone I care this much about."

It took her a moment to absorb what he was saying. A comforting wave of relief washed over her, knowing he was talking openly about this for the first time. She sighed against him, pressing her lips to his neck again and again, unknowingly driving him crazy.

"I don't know how this happened, Sara, but I can't ignore it anymore. I want you."

His simple declaration made her ache in so many wonderful places, and she had to fight the urge to grind against him. She got the impression he was waiting for a response from her. Kissing along the sensitive skin under his ear she whispered, "I've tried so hard to get over you. I'm afraid of how much I want you."

He captured her mouth with renewed determination and pulled her flush against his arousal. "Let me show you how much I need you," he murmured into her kiss.

He stayed in place, waiting for her to make a move indicating her consent. Suddenly she was out of his arms, back at the counter-leaving him wide eyed and confused. She turned around briskly, shoving the bowl of cookie dough in his hands. "Put this in the fridge," she ordered with a smile.

Grissom blinked and then did as he was told. By the time he closed the refrigerator door, Sara was gone from the kitchen, wandering his house, again leaving him bewildered. He walked through his living room and, after finding it empty, stepped into his hall. "Sara?"

"Yeah?" he heard her voice reply from the general direction of his bedroom.

A hint of a smile began to form. "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you."

"Oh." He licked his lips and followed her voice, the anticipation of being with her beginning to build.

"Story of my life," she mumbled as he rounded the corner. His mouth hung open when he saw her-standing next to his bed, undoing the buttons of her shirt and nonchalantly kicking off her shoes.

He glanced at his watch as he made his way to her. "Are you in a hurry or something?"

She looked at him and smiled, still working her buttons. "Nope," she said simply, and her shirt opened in such a way to reveal a deep purple bra that intrigued him.

He caught her hand before she could remove her shirt. "I could do this for you." He met her eyes, and a nervous flush spread over his face. He swallowed and Sara could hear his breathing quicken. She was nervous, but he looked terrified.

"Gil Grissom, are you panicking?" she asked, in a temperate, unaccusing voice.

He carefully set her shirt on his dresser and contemplated her question. The few seconds he seemed to deliberate made Sara extremely tense. Then he said "Nope," and grabbed her, flinging her onto the bed. With a giggle, Sara bounced a bit and then stretched out across the comforter. Grissom sat down on the bed, slipping off his socks and shoes. She watched him pull his shirt off over his head, the muscles of his back flexing before her alluringly.

"Are we really--" he stopped mid sentence when he looked at her, lying on her back, propped up on her elbows, pouty, smirking lips and tempestuous eyes for him to behold. His gaze drifted all the way down and back up her partially dressed body.

"Doing this?" she asked, distracted for a moment by his bare chest. "Yes," she answered emphatically. In a swift move, she sat up and kissed him, reminding him instantly what he wanted. "Please," she whispered, both thrilled and comforted to feel his bare skin against hers.

Her arms were draped around his shoulders, and he willingly held her close. "I want to make you happy, but I... Sara, I honestly don't understand what you see in me." He couldn't believe how incredible it felt to have her in his arms-it made him feel almost guilty. "I have nothing to offer you," he said softly into her ear.

"Yes, you do." She was kissing all over his neck and shoulders, sweet, slow tantalizing kisses. "You're so smart it makes me crazy." There was such desperation in her voice, Grissom pulled away to give her a curious look. "I can't help it," she said, shaking her head miserably, but smiling vaguely. "It's a turn on," she admitted, lowering her eyes. "And... I'm sorry if this embarrasses you, but you're very good looking... and you can be quite charming when you want to--"

He'd heard enough and silenced her with a passionate kiss that took the breath from her. He already knew he was doing the right thing, but Sara continued with a wavering voice, "You've already given me much more than you think, and if you just... let me love you--" His eyes widened, and he worried that she may cry. "Please let me love you..."

Grissom felt like the wind was knocked from him in that moment-overwhelmed by the odd mixture of emotions he was feeling. Kissing her frantically, he felt both weaker and stronger than ever before, on the one hand bowing to the intensity of his feelings for her, yet on the other, finally embracing the chance to act on them.

He guided her back down to the bed, burying his face in the warm valley of her neck and running his hand over the soft skin of her abdomen. He mumbled her name breathily as he left wet kisses along her collarbone and chest. With a gentle caress, he teased her breasts through the fabric of her bra, eventually slipping his arm beneath her to unclasp and remove it.

His mouth descended hungrily on a taut nipple while he unbuttoned her jeans, lowering the zipper so slowly that Sara began grinding against him, quietly whimpering. She reached for his pants, but he caught her hand, moving it back to the bed. When he released it, she reached for him again. He grabbed her hand again, and she laughed at their little game.

"Are you sure you're not in a hurry?" he asked, holding her hand firmly on the bed.

"No, no hurry," she sighed, gasping quietly when his tongue darted out to taste the sensitive skin of her hip.

"Good," he muttered, abandoning her jeans to kiss her mouth again. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, working her pants down. It was several minutes later when they were finally off, and nothing but a sliver of panties, the same color as her bra, covered her. He played with the string of material on her hip, caressing her skin with the back of his fingers until he finally slipped them off. "God, you are beautiful," he said, gently stroking the moist heat between her legs. He felt a rush of pride when she gasped in pleasure, writhing against him and recklessly clutching at him. Sara was always in control, but here, in his bed, he could make her lose control. It was a powerfully erotic realization.

Especially knowing she held the same kind of power over him.

Her whimpers grew more insistent, her hands more demanding. Grissom was so intent on pleasing her, he hadn't noticed that she had unbuttoned and unzipped his pants until it was too late. Her hand slipped into his boxers, and he groaned immediately at her touch. God, he wanted this woman. He wouldn't make it much longer.

With deliberateness driven only by desire, he lowered his head to the inside of her thighs, alternating between kissing and licking the delicate skin there. He parted her legs and tasted her, both of them groaning at the contact. It wasn't long before Sara tensed, tossing her head back in ecstasy, growling her satisfaction.

It was such a quiet, desperate plea that escaped her as she recovered. "Please..."

"Please what?" he mumbled, leaving sloppy kisses all over her abdomen, trying to catch his breath. "What do you want, Sara?" She quivered at his husky tone. He slipped off the rest of his clothes quickly and crawled up her body, trailing kisses over her hot skin. "Tell me who you want," he demanded.

"You!" she panted, grabbing his face with both hands. She kissed him wildly as his body covered hers. "I want you," she said into his mouth, surprised at the tears that formed in her eyes.

"Oh, Sara..."

She felt his erection poised at her center and guided him in.

"Oh, God," she groaned, closing her eyes at the sensation of him slowly filling her. Their fingers were linked and he gently squeezed her hands, making her open her eyes.

"You okay?" he breathed against her cheek.

She moaned an affirmative response, kissing his neck and then his lips. "I am so happy."

"I want to make you happy," he said, gradually beginning to move in her.

"You do make me happy," she whispered, running her hands over the smooth skin of his back, trying not to cry. He was actually here with her- kissing her, touching her, making love to her. She was dizzy from the emotional high, and she never wanted it to end.

Grissom kept his thrusts slow and shallow, wanting this to last as long as possible. Although she was definitely enjoying herself, Sara could tell he was holding back, for whatever reason, and it was starting to bother her. She needed all of him, and it was making her restless.

She grunted quietly, wrapping her legs around him and moving her hips, urging him to be rougher. Rubbing her cheek along his, she whispered in his ear, "You're being very gentle."

He didn't answer, but kissed her instead. She struggled with her frustrations for a moment before deciding to just go for it. She pressed her forehead to his and said, "Gil, I need you. Please don't hold back." He looked at her curiously. "Not anymore," she pleaded, kissing him firmly. "Just... take me, please." Then, with a serious look she whispered shakily, "I'm yours."

Grissom felt utterly emboldened-and so in love with her.

"I'm sorry... I always... got the impression you were rather... conservative in--"

"Not where you're concerned," she interrupted, licking into his mouth, seeking out his tongue in a wild, erotic dance.

"Sara,"

He ran his hands along her arms, lifting and pinning them over her head. "I have never been more turned on by a woman in my life." He kissed her open mouth, and she moaned throatily as he plunged deeper into her.

She was meeting his thrusts wildly, her breath coming only as gasps and sighs.

"This what you want?" he asked huskily, devouring her face and neck, driving himself into her with the gusto of a man half his age.

She gave a devilish smile and hugged him tighter. "Yessss," she growled, feeling the delightful rush heat building fervently inside her.

It was crazy and frenetic-the smashing of hips and thighs and legs and lips-grunts and groans of pleasure. There was no way he could wait any longer. He was never more relieved than when she tensed beneath him, crying out her release seconds before he gave in to his own.

They rocked together for a while, slowing to a soothing rhythm.

"That was fun," Sara blurted happily, still breathing hard, and Grissom laughed. It practically startled her, how contented he looked.

"You're a little more than fun," he corrected, rolling off of her and trying to catch his breath as well. A few moments later he cocked his head, watching her. "How long have you wanted to do that?"

"A loooong time," she said, smiling broadly. She leaned over and kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around her as she snuggled into his side, both of them still quietly absorbing the moment. "I'm sure this will do nothing for my 'much too old for you' image, but... I might need a nap," he sighed, tilting his head toward hers.

Sara chuckled and squeezed him a little. Then she tipped up her face, resting her chin on his chest. "Can I nap with you?"

One side of his mouth slowly rose. "I'd like that."

"Good."

He looked like he was about to say something, but was struggling with the words. Then he just huffed a breath, shaking his head as if in defeat. "I love you," he said simply, a few seconds after that. He found her astonishment amusing and couldn't resist running his finger over her drooped bottom lip. "I tried really hard not to," he admitted, tapping her nose once. She just stared at him with teary eyes. "I don't want to do that any more," he added thoughtfully.

Sara blinked and then hugged his neck tightly. "I love you too," she whispered in a breathy, sleepy sigh. "I always have, Gil."

~*~

It was the wonderfully warm sensation of skin against skin that roused him from a pleasant slumber. Her movement beside him indicated she was stirring as well. Before he opened his eyes, her lips brushed softly over his.

It could easily have been a dream.

"I'm hungry," she purred.

He opened his eyes as she randomly nibbled on his neck. Definitely not a dream, he decided. "For food?" he asked teasingly.

"For cookie dough." A long, passionate kiss kept him from responding.

"Is that a euphemism, or are you serious?" came his reply a moment later, causing Sara to giggle.

She contemplated briefly. "Both?"

- The End -