Summer Sizzler Entry: Chill

Title: Chill (aka Hat!Smut Part Deux)
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Rating: Mild NC-17
Prompt: MARGARITA
Spoilers: You'd better read HEAT first, as this is its sequel.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Duh.
Beta Props: Thank you to dreams_of_him and stlchik512 for the rapid beta work! I was a delinquent and didn't get this done in time for Cybrokat. :(
Summary: Inspired by Teh!Hat, Big&Rich, and the fact that I'm intrigued that Grissom doesn't keep tequila.


“Sara?”

It’s him, calling to me in his ‘this is important’ voice. This means I have to stop whatever I’m doing, regardless of what it is, and hurry on over to him.

Because I’m a sucker, or maybe just horny, I do exactly what he wants. This makes him smile, causing my insides to get all nice and mushy.

They’ve been doing that a lot lately, ever since he… well, succumbed to the attraction that we’ve had for years now. We’ve been having this affair-like thing ever since. A month ago I asked him what it was that caused him to finally make a move.

His response: “It was the heat.” I replied that it’s been hot in Vegas since before time began. There was no rebuttal, he just smiled his cute smile and kissed me. And that pretty much ended that conversation.

I’m still curious about the status of our relationship but I’m hesitant to press my luck with him. It’s not like dating is my forte. Right now, we’re in the textbook form of ‘beginning stages,’ which means lots of sex and little discussion. Now I’m not complaining, not by a long shot. God knows I’ve needed to get laid. And I know Grissom isn’t a man of many words. Still, a girl needs her reassurances every once in a while, you know? Is this a fling or something more? What does he really want from me?

I’m thinking about this instead of listening to him as he rambles on about the case. My mind is focused on his mouth as he speaks, particularly his tongue. I remember when that tongue was occupied in something other than talking. Besides, the case is nothing exciting: a young woman found dead in a horse barn. Cause of death looked like blunt force trauma and my job was to determine if that trauma was caused by a human or one of the prized horses stabled within the barn. I already know this, so why he feels the need to reiterate it is beyond me.

I’m thinking it’s an excuse to talk to me, be near me. But I’ve been wrong about him before and despite what’s happened between us in the past few months, I’m trying to keep myself from assuming too much. Be open-minded. Go with the flow and all.

As for the dead woman, she’s a worker on the farm; young and blonde and almost too pretty. I should feel some sympathy for her, but I don’t. My first guess is that she spread her legs for too many cowboys, and one got jealous and off'ed her. Now, the horses are show horses of some sort; the detail on their status is fuzzy at this point. Grissom isn’t much of an animal lover, so the horses’ occupation is not a high priority in his mind. His words are more focused on the crime and determining cause of death. I’m actually curious about the horses; I used to ride back when I was younger and I’ve always had a soft spot for the graceful creatures.

Like I suspected, I’m assigned to check each horse. God forbid Grissom deal with something warm-blooded. This isn’t a problem, but I’m hesitant to do this alone. I’m no cowgirl. I voice my concern to Grissom and he waves to our babysitter beat cop.

“Ask the owner to provide someone to work with Sara on examining the horses.”

The beat cop nods and heads toward the house. It’s a ways away, so we watch as he walks across the grassy field and enters through the back door. We’re alone now and I can feel the air between us change, a slight crackle of sexual tension.

It’s been almost a week since we’ve been together and I’m feeling the pain of abstinence. I wonder if he feels it too; he’s said nothing and we’ve made no plans. We’ve been busy with work, so I’m not upset or anything, but I’d like to have another sleepover at his place soon, like before I spontaneously combust.

“Another hot day,” he murmurs, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah,” I reply, wondering if there’s a double entendre in there. Hoping for it, really.

“I’d better get my hat.” And off he goes to the SUV and pulls out the hat I bought for him. I smirk as he positions it slightly crooked atop his head. He returns to my side with a flicker of humor in his eyes. “Wouldn’t want you to complain.”

Oh heavens no. I smile coyly but say nothing. We stand and stare at one another for a while longer until the intensity starts to get to me.

“I’m going to go start checking out the horses, okay?” I feel like I’m fifteen again, crushing on some boy and lost in raging hormones and fits of embarrassment. As I’m walking away, I hear him chuckle. He knows he holds all the cards when it comes to us and it chafes me to know he has the upper hand.

Sometimes I think it’s time to reshuffle the deck. But I’m entirely too insecure about losing what little I have with him. It’ll have to be his way…at least for now.

xxxxxxxxx

I’m actually doing quite well with the horses by myself when a cough from the stall door draws my attention away from the gelding’s hoof. I suspect it’s him, so I look up with a slightly suggestive smile.

Boy am I surprised when my eyes meet the green ones of the stable hand sent to help me. I blink and try to regain some type of professional composure while the young man smirks at me.

“Hello,” he says with a drawl. “I’m Marcus. You seem pleased to see me.”

“Actually yes, I am.” I reply in my no-nonsense, dealing-with-deadbeats tone. “I could use some help with some of the larger horses over on the other side of the barn.” I drop the gelding’s leg that I’ve been holding and gather up my kit and swabs. He opens the stall door for me in an overly-dramatic display and I can’t help but grin at his antics.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s an attractive man. A very attractive one. My tastes currently run towards salt-n-pepper hair and striking blue eyes, but this blonde, tanned stud-muffin before me is worth a second look. And perhaps a third.

His smile lights up his face and I know he’s flirting with me when he leads me over to the far stall and proceeds to formally introduce me to the gorgeous buckskin mare within.

“This is Duchess. She and Dancer are the stars of our show, and over there,” he says, pointing toward the stall across the way, “is their daughter, Pista.”

Pista is an even more beautiful copy of her mother and I can’t quite suppress my girlish squeal of delight. I try to hide it with a cough, but Marcus isn’t fooled.

“We can visit her next, if you’d like.”

“That’d be fine,” I say, all business-like as Marcus calms Duchess and holds her head while I check her feet. I swab the bottom of each hoof and I check her carefully. She’s clean in terms of visible evidence and I run my hand lightly across her neck, running my fingers through her black mane as a parting gesture. She’s a nice girl; gentle and dignified.

Marcus takes me into Pista’s stall and she immediately butts her nose against my chest and snorts. I jump back in surprise and she starts shaking her head up and down vigorously. Marcus laughs as I bump right into him.

“Easy now. Both of you. Pista is just saying hi.” He reaches out and grabs her halter with one hand and places the other on her delicate nose to calm her. I’m now trapped between his arms and I don’t know what to think. Almost getting trounced on by a horse does that to people, you know. Distracts them.

“She’s… uh, a bit more lively than her mom.” I can feel the warmth of his body against my back and my hormones do this little fluttering thing. He smells clean, a light male scent most likely from his deodorant or after-shave. My tummy does a little flop. Holy crap.

“Yeah, she’s still young,” he says, oblivious to my distress. “Technically she’s not a filly, but she acts like one and it’s taking a long time to train her. She’s supposed to take the place of her mom.” He looks over his shoulder at an intrigued Duchess. Clearly she’s wondering what her daughter and the two humans are up to. “Duchess and Dancer are getting on years and for the type of work they need to do, it helps if they are young and spirited.”

“What exactly is it that the horses do?” Finally, I’ll find out what the big deal is.

“They’re part of the circus. One of the main shows at the Tangiers. You didn’t notice?” He sweeps his free hand towards the rear of the barn and through a half-open door I see all the circus-type paraphernalia.

“I hadn’t checked back there yet.” So, this means Catherine’s daddy owns these horses. Or he’s at least involved with them. That’ll make Grissom’s day.

I turn to extract myself from Marcus’s pseudo-embrace and I find myself with an incredibly close-up view of his handsome features and grass-green eyes. Warrick has nice eyes, I’ll be one of the first to admit that, but Warrick’s got nothing on this guy.

I honestly do a little swooning and immediately feel guilty for doing so. I shouldn’t behave like this; Grissom is the man I’m with right now. Okay, so it isn’t exactly defined what we are, and technically I’m a free woman. But still, Grissom is the man I love.

As I’m telling myself this, Pista chooses that exact moment to be a complete bitch and she noses my back, hard. This sends me into Marcus’s arms with a ‘whoof’ on both our parts as I crash into him.

It takes me a second to recover, and isn’t it my luck that just at that second, Grissom walks into the barn. I see his profile in the wide doorway, the sun at his back and casting his features into the shadows. I don’t have to see his face to know his expression; I’ve seen it before when I was dating Hank. Besides, his tone gives it all away.

“Meet me outside when you are done with…that.”

xxxxxxxxx

Our ride back to the lab redefines the word ‘tense’. Grissom is pissed and I don’t know how to explain myself. I’m wondering if I even should. It wasn’t like I was wrapped around the guy like a two-bit whore. It was an accident. And really, it isn’t like Grissom and I are married. Or engaged. Or anything. We haven’t even been out on a date yet.

I’m caught in the weird emotional state that’s somewhere between rebellion and guilt. I hate this part of relationships. This is the part where one person’s expectations are different than their partner’s. We’re going to have a fight over this, I just know it. I don’t want to fight with him. God, that’s the last thing I want to do. It might tip him over the edge and I’ll lose him forever.

I spend the rest of the evening processing all the swabs from the horses. Each one is clean. Doc Robbins rules cause of death as blunt force, but the weapon used is a sharp, pointed device, not a horse hoof. I’m glad because I didn’t want to see anything bad happen to any of the horses. Well, every horse except Pista. She could take a short walk to the glue factory if she ruined my chances with Grissom. I’ll take her there myself.

At the end of shift I hover around his doorway, waiting for him to acknowledge I’m there.

“Come in,” he says, “and shut the door.”

I do as he asks and stand awkwardly in the middle of his office. He hasn’t looked up from his paperwork and I know he’s still upset. In an evil way, this makes me happy. He does care. What I do matters to him.

“I was thinking we’d have dinner Friday night,” he tells his desk. “We’re both off.”

This is a first. Friday is two days away. Usually he says to meet him at his place in an hour. Yeah, like I said, he’s got all the cards here. It’s worth it to note that he hasn’t been to my apartment yet.

“That’d be nice,” I say.

“I’ll pick you up around 6:30.” He pauses before saying, almost in a whisper, “Is that okay?” It’s then that his eyes meet mine and I see the insecurity there.

I smile at him, trying to reassure him. “That’s fine. I’ll see you then. Uh… where exactly are we going?”

“A place I like. It’s casual, if that’s what you’re asking.”

My smile grows. “Yes, that’s what I needed to know. Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

He looks back down at his paperwork. “See you then.”

xxxxxxxxx

It’s 6:20 p.m. and I’m still fretting like a teenager over my appearance. The pretty lady in the mirror is me, but her eyes are windows of betrayal. I’m nervous as all hell. This is our first date. Our first real date.

He knocks on my door and I swear, my heart stops beating.

Luckily for me, it starts up again and I have enough blood flowing to make my way to the door and open it for him.

There’s a moment where we stare at one another, surprised at what we see. He’s dressed in a black shirt and dark blue jeans, and although I’ve seen him in every various stage of undress, seeing him in black still makes my breath catch in my throat.

He has this dumbfounded expression on his face and I know I look good to him. Score one for me. He is a man, after all. A unique one, but still a man. And damn if men don’t like it if you show a little leg.

I’m showing a bit more with the skirt I’m in, and he’s definitely noticing.

“You…uh…look nice.”

“So do you,” I purr. He’s uncomfortable and out of his element. Good. Perhaps that deck will get shuffled tonight. It’s about time; I could use a good shuffling.

He hands me a bouquet of flowers, six blood red roses wrapped in plastic and filled with greenery.

“For you,” he says as he half-thrusts them into my chest.

“They’re lovely,” I say politely as I take them. “Let me put them in some water and then we can go.”

I leave him standing nervously in my doorway. Oh yeah, the cards are shuffling. I can feel it.

We leave my apartment and he holds the door for me as I settle myself into his car. He doesn’t say a word and classical music plays softly on his car radio as we drive towards the Strip. But we turn off a few blocks before and go down a couple of side-streets before arriving at a very kitch Mexican restaurant.

“You do like Mexican, right?”

“Yeah, there is usually plenty that I can eat, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He gives a slight nod and parks the car. He’s halfway around the car when I open my door, and I realize I was supposed to wait for him to come and open it for me. We look at each other awkwardly and there’s a weird tension between us as we walk across the parking lot and through the double doors.

It continues as we wait for our table and once we’re seated. I order a margarita and Grissom orders the same. I give him a questioning look as he normally doesn’t drink stuff like that. He’s got a liquor cabinet, well... sort of, and although there is tequila in it, I doubt he’s used it recently. He has a thing for bourbon and I know he hits the Dewars occasionally.

Our drinks arrive and we place our orders. He’s ordered the steak fajitas and I’m having some amazing vegetable medley quesadilla. I’m impressed with the place and after some of the tequila has mellowed me out, I tell him so.

“I haven’t been here in a while, but I like their food. They do take-out for lunch and sometimes I’ll get that.”

It’s then that I notice his margarita is almost gone and these aren’t small margaritas. I study him a little closer and damn if he isn’t feeling the tequila, too.

Talk about a shuffle. This is like throwing out the old deck and replacing it with a new one. Shoot a bullet through it; those cards are dead and we’re onto something new and different here.

I slurp down most of mine to keep pace and our waiter comes and Grissom agrees to another round. Oh boy.

By the time our food comes, Grissom’s drained most of his and I’m close behind him. We’re talking about Warrick’s marriage and how we both think it was impetuous and not really his finest hour, when our food arrives.

It’s delicious. Really. I tell Grissom in between mouthfuls and he beams with pride.

“You did good, Grissom.” I say. “I haven’t had such a good time in I don’t know how long.”

This makes him quite happy and he takes my hand. “I don’t think you realize how important you are to me, Sara.”

I look at my napkin and shrug. “Perhaps I don’t.”

I can hear the slight slur in his words. “You are very important to me.”

I look up and his eyes blow my mind away. “You’re important to me too.”

We’re interrupted by our well-meaning waiter who has noticed that, again, our drinks are empty. “Another round?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” Grissom says.

My head is already spinning and I know I’m slurring when I ask, “You’ll be okay driving home?”

“Shure,” he says. “I only live a couple of blocks over. Backroads.” He grins and rubs his thumb across the top of my hand. There’s instant heat between us and damn if my panties aren’t wet. He doesn’t stop his little caresses and we’re not paying attention when our third round arrives. I sip at it casually while the waiter clears our plates and wraps up the remainder of our meals. I do notice he put them in separate containers, which I appreciate as I wouldn’t eat it if it touched that meat.

“Give him a big tip,” I say after the waiter hands Grissom the black billfold with the check. “He kept our food separate.”

“Done.”

We finish our drinks and I’m literally dizzy when I stand to leave. Grissom puts his hand on the small of my back and I lean against him with a slight giggle. I look up at him and he kisses me lightly on my lips. It’s a promise, a pact between us for things to come.

We make our way to his car and I say, “We should go to my place. We always go to your place.”

He looks at me from over the hood of the car. “Is that what you want?”

“Yeah, we never do it at my place.”

“Well, I didn’t think…” He seems embarrassed.

“Think what?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to…well, you have neighbors.”

Omigod, he’s worried about the noise. I laugh out loud at the thought.

“Grissom, I have a waterbed. And the walls of my apartment are insulated enough to solve any problems with things like that.”

The look on his face is priceless. “Oh. You should have mentioned that.”

“Well, I’m mentioning it now.”

We’re in the car and before I know it, we’re at my door. I don’t want to think of how we got there and how we’re both half in the bag. Flashbacks of DWIs-That-Weren’t haven’t quite left my mind.

“Would you like to come in?” I ask as I lean against him.

“Yes,” he groans. I unlock my door and the minute we’re inside, he’s all over me. Or maybe I’m all over him.

“Wait, wait,” I say. “I’m supposed to offer you a drink.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the way it’s done. You come in and I offer you a drink. So, whaddaya want to drink?”

He gives me the cute smile, the one that means he thinks I’m funny. “Whatcha got?”

“I don’t have margarita mix, but I’ve got tequila. How about a shot?”

“A shot. Like with the salt and the lemon.”

“Yeah, why not?” I run my finger down his breastbone and poke him lightly in the chest. “You chicken?”

There is no way a sober Grissom would do tequila shots. But a drunken Grissom is more than up for the challenge.

I get out the dusty bottle of Jose Cuervo from my rather meager liquor cabinet and I dig through my back cabinet for two shot glasses. I then get a lemon from the fridge and slice it up for us. He watches all this with bemusement; yeah, he’s wasted.

I set everything up on my countertop. “Ready?”

“Damn straight woman,” he says. And then he licks the pad of his thumb and sprinkles salt on it. I do the same, but I draw out my licking, and he’s watching me like I’m dessert. Which I am, so I’m all kinds of okay with that.

“On three,” I state. “One. Two. Three.”

We both lick the salt, scowl and slam the tequila, really scowl and then suck on the lemon. The tequila burns like a sonnuvabitch but I smile at him with the lemon in my mouth.

He takes his lemon out and says, “Again?”

“You up for that?”

He leers at me, a true honest-to-god leer. “I’m up for all kinds of things.”

I look at his crotch, and yes he is. Damn.

“I’ve got a better idea,” I say as I reach for the button on his jeans.

He stands still as a statue as I drop his jeans to his ankles. I give him a few good licks and he is as he said, up for anything. He’s not rock hard, but he’s close to it.

“Ready?” I ask. He replies with a swallow as I pour myself another shot. I drop to my knees, give him a serious lick, slam the shot, and then take as much as I can of him in my mouth and suck, hard.

His fingers dig into my hair as he groans. “Jesus!”

I don’t stop my ministrations on him until he touches my face. That’s our unspoken sign for me to stop. He doesn’t like to finish things quickly, that’s one thing he did communicate. He wants us to be together and he is particularly fastidious about having me orgasm before him. He’s learned I’m multi, and he does take advantage of that. Not that I’m complaining.

I stand and face him and kiss him, letting him taste the tequila and lingering lemon and the tang of himself. He probes my mouth with his tongue like the kinky bastard I know he is, and we both make our way to my bedroom.

My head is spinning and I know he’s not functioning on all cylinders as we struggle out of our clothes. He wobbled a bit in the living room when he was getting rid of his jeans and shoes, and he’s swaying a little now as he waits for me to undress. Or maybe it’s me doing the swaying.

I finish and stand naked before him. To my surprise, he gets down on his knees and buries his face in my fur. I feel the flickering of his tongue as he’s trying to find my clit and I spread my legs and allow him access.

Within moments I’m wracked with spasms as he’s found what he’s been searching for. My hands are digging into his shoulders and my knees are buckling. Holy fucking shit.

He licks me clean and then stands and kisses me fervently. I respond and yeah, I’m just as big a kink as he is.

I want him and I mumble this when his kisses turn gentler. “No you don’t,” he whispers in almost a whine.

“Oh yes I do, pal. Isn’t it freaking obvious?”

“Dunno,” he says, pulling away from me. “You were pretty wrapped up in that cowboy.”

“Finally!” I cry. “We can talk about this. I was not wrapped up in him! It was an accident. The stupid horse…she pushed…”

“You looked interested in him. I saw you.”

“What you saw was displaced lust for you! I haven’t seen you in over a week and I have no idea what the hell you want!” Yeah, that made sense. Blame it on the margaritas.

“I want you,” he says simply. “Don’t you know that?”

“Well nooo Grissom, I don’t! You haven’t exactly been very communicative on that issue.”

“I love you. I told you.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what? You didn’t think I meant it?”

He’s getting agitated and now I’m starting to feel like a fool. Any woman with half a brain knows not to trust a man saying the ‘L’ word so early in the game. Particularly when sex is involved. Because we all know he doesn’t mean it. It’s also relationship suicide to tell the man that women think that. Of course, I’m starting to realize that perhaps he did mean it, so now I’m really sunk.

He notices my lack of response and takes it the wrong way. “So I wasn’t wrong. You do want other men. Like that cowboy.”

“No! Look Grissom, I want you, okay? You’re the only thing I want.” I go to my closet and retrieve a twin to the hat he already has. Yeah, I bought a few of those hats. Okay, so I bought every one they had. If you were there in that office that day, you’d know why. I want to ruin them. Again and again and again.

I put the hat atop his head. “There. Now you’re the cowboy I want.”

He looks befuddled. “This isn’t a cowboy hat. This…this is my hat.”

“I know. It’s close enough,” I say and then I take him in my hands and stroke him gently.

“Sara,” he murmurs as I’m nibbling at his collarbone and cupping his balls, “I do love you.”

“Maybe you need to say it when we aren’t about to have sex,” I blurt. Wow. Talk about lowered inhibitions.

He starts to speak but stops himself and I actually see him realize what my problem is. The little ‘Oh!’ of recognition is reflecting in his eyes.

“Get it now, you drunken thing?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I do.” Then he says two words that I most likely will never hear from him again. Well, two and a half.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say as I lower myself towards him, trailing kisses down his belly and abdomen.

“Sara…” he sighs when I take him in my mouth. I really want to bring him to orgasm and since I’ve already been there, I’m wondering if he’ll let me. Then I decide that this is my game now and I’m going to do it whether he likes it or not.

I release him and look up at him. “I’m going to prove to you that you’re the only man I want. And you’re going to let me. Are we clear?”

He blinks and I don’t wait for an answer as I wrap my hands around his thickness and suckle on his throbbing head. And he is throbbing, I feel his pulse against my tongue as I lick and swirl it around. He’s rock hard now and I’m not quite sure how close he is, but he can’t be far away.

I push him back towards the bed, and he sits on it, still wearing the hat. He’s adorable and deeply sexy and I push his legs apart and absolutely go to town.

I start to hum, I’m not sure why, but I do and I’m humming and stroking and swirling and I feel him touch my face; he wants me to pull away. But I hum a negative and continue.

“Sara… please…”

Yeah that’s right, baby. Beg for it. Needless to say, I don’t stop.

“Honey…I…oh god…”

His fingers dig into my hair painfully as he finally lets himself go. I feel the splashes of his release against my tongue and I smile as I swallow it without hesitation. In reality, he tastes better than I thought he would.

I can tell he’s absolutely floored when I lick him clean and then look up at him. The hat is really skewed now and I’m amazed it’s still on his head. I straighten it and look directly at him.

“Convinced?”

He’s in a daze. Nobody is home in the House of Grissom. His eyes are half-closed and he’s got that post-sex breathing thing going. I smile and leave him there, taking a small trip to my bathroom. When I return, I walk around to the other side of the bed, pulling back my covers and snuggling myself in. I roll over and face his back; he still hasn’t moved.

“Grissom?”

“It’s been a while…since someone did that. And, they didn’t…”

I inch over, reaching up to touch his shoulder. “Hey…it’s okay. I wanted to do that. I don’t have a problem with it.”

He looks over his shoulder at me and I realize how drunk he is. We are both going to be hurting pups tomorrow.

“Come to bed.” I say. “I need my cowboy to keep me warm.”

He complies and settles in next to me, the hat finally falling off his head. I can hear his breathing calm and I know he’s close to passing out. He’s not alone; I’m struggling to stay awake. It really is quite comfortable sleeping next to him. I missed this almost as much as the sex. Almost.

I hear him mumbling and I sleepily say, “What?”

“You don’t have to do that, if you don’t want to. Some women…don’t like that.”

“Grissom, you have got to chill out. You know I enjoy what you do to me right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you enjoyed what I did to you, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Silence.

“See?” I say pointedly. “No problem.” I wait a moment before continuing. “Maybe both of us should chill out. We both need to relax and get a grip.”

“Not right now,” he mumbles. “Don’t grip me now.”

I snort in laughter. “No babe, I’m not going to grip you now. But in a few hours, if we aren’t too busy worshipping the porcelain god, I’ll grip you good later.”

“Mmm?” I can tell he’s just about to pass out.

“Well, you know what they say: ‘Save a horse, Ride a cowboy.’”

---

A/N: My goal was to write the sequel to the Hat!Smut, but it had to have Grissom nekkid with just the hat, and it had to work in that ‘Save a horse, Ride a cowboy’ line. Plus I had to use my prompt of margarita. So there you have it. :)