After

Title: After
Author: ScullyAsTrinity
Rating: Adult
Thanks: To cutting_rm_flr for the spiffy beta!!!
Notes: Indeed, a sequel to Before... which can be found over at... you know WHERE... looks to velocityofsound... yeah, you just... know where.
Summary: It felt like she was falling, but not in love. No, she had done that ages ago and while she hadn't exactly become accustomed to the feeling, the sensation of her stomach dropping and her heart leaping to her throat weren't all together unfamiliar.



She spoke softly, slowly, and left no room for interpretation.

So she wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Well, he knew that from the way she sashayed into the room. And he knew in the way that she kissed him goodbye every morning before slipping into work to assume another personality. He knew because he still felt her pulling at him, at his very being, at every hour of the day. He felt like he was drowning; that was all right, he'd never really needed air.

It felt like she was falling, but not in love. No, she had done that ages ago and while she hadn't exactly become accustomed to the feeling, the sensation of her stomach dropping and her heart leaping to her throat weren't all together unfamiliar. This was a different sort of falling, more akin to the sensation of being atop a wobbly ladder, wondering if the outcome will be stability or more falling, more teetering.

Sara slithered up onto the bed, her palms sliding across the cool bedspread, stopping when they reached his chest. They were nearly nose to nose, and the slight grin that had taunted her heart strings morphed into a full-fledged grin. "S'good," he mumbled, leaning forward to nudge her nose with his. Sara giggled and watched as he leaned onto his back; once his spine was fully pressed to the contours of the bed, his arms opened and she crawled into them. The way in which she burrowed into his chest had him sighing and settling against her completely.

Something warm and firm-her lips-were pressed against his sternum, the faint blush of an awkward kiss picking up the quick thrums of his heartbeat under her mouth. "I love this," she whispered as she paused to take a quick swipe at his neck, gathering the delicate twang of sweat on her tongue. "Love this so much," Sara punctuated her sentence with a loud smacking of lips.

His fingernails scratched delicately at the silk surrounding her hips and she smiled and kissed him again. The tender moments, the stolen ones where their thoughts never wandered further than the confines of the bedroom and the skin surrounding the other person's soul were his favorite, and Gil allowed himself a moment to simply breathe her in. "Sleep, sweetheart," he asked, and at the whimper she gave he continued, "I can't keep my eyes open another second."

Acquiescing to his request, she slid free of his embrace and moved to shut out the lamps. After that was completed, she made her way to the bathroom and hung up her robe, sailing back into the room in her night clothes: a pair of panties and a faded, silk tank top.

His smile was radiant in the dark, and she smiled back as she pressed the fabric on his chest up and over his head, giving him a moment to wiggle free of the shirt before tossing it towards the foot of the bed. Placing a final kiss between his pecs, she whispered, "Sleep," and shifted herself beneath the Egyptian cotton that she still swore was far too expensive.

To say that she dreamed that evening was an understatement. Sara's mind, once focused solely on the task of sleep, delved into her subconscious so deeply that the evening bled together into a kaleidoscope that made the touch of the morning sun on the sage of the walls that much more vibrant. As her lids peeled back and she greeted a day instead of a night, Sara felt herself rather disoriented, but allowed a moment to reacquaint herself to the soft happiness that was ushered in with a new dawn.

The soft weight of his arms pressed against her back, and Sara shifted forward before settling herself on her back. "Morning," he mumbled, the rough edge of sleep taking over the whole of his voice. Sara wasn't sure she'd ever get used to that, the fulfillment in his voice when he first opened his eyes and saw her in the morning.

"Gooood," she yawned, "Morning." And with that, Sara slung her arms around his thick neck, the two of them just lying there.

There was that half-smile again, that devil of a taunt. Thick fingers slid under the sheets, up her smooth thigh, to toy with the elastic of her panties. "Good indeed," came his gentle acknowledgement, kneading into the skin beneath his fingertips.

He pressed them down over her hip and Sara closed her eyes, leaning in to divest herself of the tiny scrap of clothing. The early sun caught her skin, glinting like the inside curve of a shell; equally as enticing was her skin and he took a moment to smooth dulled fingers over it, dragging his hands over the crest of her shoulder and the swell of a collarbone.

She the canvas and he the artist, she submitted to his will, simply lying there, absorbing the rising heat he exuded. While she soaked in the sweet thrill of his gentle touch, she worked him out of his shorts, he scissoring his legs in an attempt to help.

His fingers paused at her throat, and he felt her laugh as his legs slid into hers, knocking knees. "Amazing," he whispered right before bringing his lips to hers for a languid, inviting kiss. There was the hum, the delicious hum that she always emitted during their morning kiss; but this was something more, something more primal, something deeper.

Smiling as she sighed, Sara dragged her leg up and over his own leg, the hot press of his cock making itself known in the vee of her thighs. Sara licked her lips and allowed her head to fall back on the pillow. Eyes focused on the ceiling, glazed and dazed, her lungs pressed forth a forceful breath. "Gil," she mumbled, working up the courage she'd been building upon for a few months. "I love you." It was simple, it was true, and it was cathartic.

The hand on her neck moved as his thumb began to massage her pulsepoint; other than that, he did nothing, said nothing, betrayed nothing. They had talked around it, talked over it, but never actually addressed it for what it was. Sara waited, knowing that these weren't simply words they spoke, but a storm of sorts that needed to run its course before any damage could be assessed.

Moving in-cohabitation-had been much less stressful than that one moment. She thought of the hutch and began reacquainting herself with what they had stored inside. Extra towels, bed linens, old clothing that-"I love you, too."

He felt her muscles clench against him; her thighs, calves, arms going rigid around him. Sara wanted to ask "Really?" but refrained, not because she was nervous about his response, but because she knew the truth. Of course he did, of course he loved her. He wouldn't have said so unless was true. Those facts didn't mean much because the sensation of the words soaking into her were sinking in with a delightful tingle that drowned out most coherent thought.

Sara bucked up, feeling him slide halfway into her, the searing prod of his cock separating her folds creating an amazing friction. "Gil, godgilohhh," she gasped, her nails sinking into the base of his neck as he too groaned, sliding slowly, slowly, *slowly* into her.

Sara panted and tightened her leg around him a bit more, sliding her nose up his throat. She could smell the sweat there, so she flicked her tongue out and licked it, tasting the salt and sweet sin in her mouth. "Ennnng," Sara hummed as Gil shifted his hips back a fraction, moving back in with a snap.

Though he wasn't pressing deep, or as hard as he usually did, the slow, languid thrust of his hips ended with a strong press against her clit. His pelvic bone rested on the little nub for a long moment before he retreated. Before long, she was begging for him to move back in, press against her harder.

There was something about Sara that threw him whenever they made love. Ever the observer, she tended not to close her eyes, ever. Even blinking was reduced when they were in bed together. At first, he'd been self-conscious, slowing to a near stop when he realized she was staring. But she just smiled and said she needed to remember, oh, everything, and dug her nails into his ass to prompt him on.

Now, he loved having her watch him, watch them come together. "Mmm, love your eyes," he hummed as she licked his neck again.

"Love your cock," she grunted back as she moved to the best of her ability. His eyes snapped to hers and she licked her lips and grinned before moving in for an awkward kiss. In the middle of sucking lewdly on his tongue, he came.

Sara nearly drowned in him then, the wet slide of him inside her, around her, seeping out around her thighs; she felt overwhelmed and over-wonderful.

Sara layed her head against his chest as he heaved heavily. He was sated, and that was what matte- Thick fingers stole down her body, middle and index fingers cleaving against his cock, her clit caught in the space between the webbing. "Wha, oh, jee- oh god," her hips thrust up to meet his questing digits, the shock of his sudden actions taking over her body.

Sara never asked him 'harder' or 'more' because she really didn't need to. His skills in bed, though a tad rusty, seemed to catch up with him after a few times. Gil wasn't shy about pleasing her in bed; he wasn't shy about sinking between her legs, about telling her all the things that she was to him. He wasn't shy about employing colloquial cussing when they fell between the sheets; he encouraged it, in fact.

But there were times when he was quiet, reserved, focused on the gasping, the moaning, the gentle sound of the two of them moving together.

Apparently, though the morning had begun as a gentle undertaking, he'd chosen a different route when he'd reached between her legs. Eyes gray instead of blue, Gil leaned in and took her lips in a deep, hard kiss. They blinked at each other as they stroked tongues, sighed, searched souls.

Grissom slipped out of her, and he immediately pressed his fingers in, fumbling around the evidence of his arousal to press up into her G spot, the spongy tissue pressing down onto his fingers as she shifted her hips down into him.

Fingers were slick on his back, attempting to grasp the ridge of his spine. Humming to himself and playing with her clit, he found himself rather in tune with the moment, as if he were making love to both it, and her. "I want you to come for me, sweetheart," he said quietly, needing to hear the slick squelch of her body being manipulated by him.

"Love you," came the grumble as he nudged her clit hard and nipped her lip with equal pressure.

Whether it was the words, the slight pain, or the exquisite pressure, she didn't know but she was coming, gasping for air while she attempted to keep kissing his lips. The result was her moving against him, twining her body into his; her right hip was sore from rubbing up against the bed, and her right, upper arm was beginning to go numb. It didn't matter.

It didn't matter because they were sweaty and sated and didn't care about lying in the wet spot.

Grissom rolled onto his back, inviting her to lay on his chest, which she did immediately, breathing in the scent of sex that clung to his skin.

Dragging her thumb over the slight swell of his left pectoral, she smiled and asked, "Gil... what's a hutch?"

Chuckling, he drew her in a little tighter, "I'm not quite sure, but it's something that every home needs to have."