Turnabout

Title: Turnabout
Author: ScullyAsTrinity
Rating: NC-17
A/N: A big thanks to Cinco, Marlou and Lauren for the help with this. Oh, and to the Adovcates... who pretty much all read this before it was finished. Oh and Suzy!
Summary: He showed up on her door one night, now it was her turn to show up on his... with different intentions...

When the rain came to Las Vegas, it attempted in vain to wash away the sin and hopelessness of the bright city. But when it left the humidity set in, raised the hair on one’s head, left one lethargic, gave one time to think.

And think was exactly what Sara Sidle had done. Her couch was a welcome haven for her tired body; she fell asleep with thoughts of him swirling incessantly and just before she dozed off she made a brash decision.

She had awoken refreshed, almost like a new woman, but before she became that new person she had to do one thing. Sara brushed her hair and hopped into her car and drove three miles to the east, making her way to the townhouse of Gil Grissom.

The humidity hadn't made him lazy at all, on the contrary. Upon her arrival, he had been reviewing cases, face drawn in shock when he had opened the door to her. He had gone to her apartment a few months earlier to make sure that she was okay. And somehow, somehow he knew that she would show up on his doorstep eventually.

"Turnabout?" he asked as he stepped back to allow her entry to his sanctuary.

Sara smiled briefly, but her face fell as she began to pace back and forth in front of him. He let her have a moment to gather her thoughts, took in her appearance, crumpled but not badly; he assumed that she had just woken up and when she stopped to rub her eyes for a moment, his assumption was correct.

"Sara, what's this about?" he asked delicately, unwilling to press her too hard.

Sara glanced up at him and then down at the floor. She was working things out in her head, attempting to figure out what she wanted to say and just how to go about saying it. She looked at him, over his appearance-his chinos and black polo shirt. Her heart twisted and she swallowed the thick lump that had risen in her throat and proceeded with her plan.

"I," she began, walking directly up to him, straight into his personal space. Her eyes glazed over and searched him up and down. "have always wanted to know," Sara grinned and leaned into his ear, "to know what you *taste* like..."

She flicked her tongue out, over the crest of his ear, delighting in the tangy skin there. Sara had made a conscious decision earlier that evening that she needed to move forward, at least attempt something before letting it all go once and for all.

But as soon as she had moved in, she pulled back, her smile wobbling a bit on her thin lips. He had to react, he simply had to.

"Sara," he drew out her name on a raspy sigh, causing her hands to tremble a bit, wanting so badly to reach out and test the temperature of his skin. Her will held her back for a few moments, but when his eyes slid slowly closed and he licked his lips he'd made it impossible for her not to caress him.

A delicate index finger tickled over the scar just above his left eyebrow. "Insects like symmetry, you told us that once. You claimed that humans crave symmetry sometimes too." Grissom nodded, unable to stop the rapid thumping of his heart, unable to tell her to stop. "Then tell me, Gil," Pressing her finger to her lip for a moment and then back to the slight indentation on his brow, she murmured, "Why I love this spot so much, why it intrigues me. Why I want to know the story behind it."

The breath he released could have registered on the Richter scale. "Why are you doing this to me, Sara?"

"Because," her hands warm and pliant on the skin of his neck. "Because I know you won't and I know you want to."

'Don't *want* to,' he screamed inside the confines of his steel-strong mind. 'Need to, dear God, need to so much...' Grissom's hands shook as he brought them away from his sides and moved them up to rest so gently on her hips. Sara's eyes smiled, "See, this isn't as hard as you thought, is it?"

A moment of weakness overcame her and she leaned into him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. His scent filled her nostrils and she swooned, feeling lightheaded and giddy, knowing that she might feel loved. If she gave him time. "Tell me what you feel, Gil. Tell me," she urged, her breath hot and moist over his taut skin.

"I..." How to wrap his tongue around such incessant words? "I feel lightheaded, and nervous," Grissom began, the steadiness of his voice increasing as he went on. "But under my hands, all around me, warmth and beauty and it's frightening me."

A sleepy mumble reverberated through his throat when she spoke, "Why is this scary?"

"Because I feel like I'm drowning, right now... and you're the only thing holding me up."

Tremors ran through her body at his admission. It was more than he had ever given her, and she was curious as to what she could do with it. Swiftly, before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed her open lips to the pulse point in his neck. Grissom's groan was thick and unbidden and she felt it as it bubbled up from deep within him, tickling her lips, spurring her on.

Her teeth gently scraped over his jaw, creating blotches of red against the already flushed skin there. His fingers curled into the skin of her hips, bypassing the cotton of her top for the smooth, inviting skin of her torso.

Again, Sara sighed with Grissom's calloused fingers soothing over her lower back and stomach. Sara Sidle was so wonderfully alive and inviting, calling out to him, giving herself up to him in such a selfless way. "Just take it off," Sara whispered, squeezing the back of his neck with insistent hands.

Grissom paused for only a moment before heeding her request and pulling the shirt above her head. She came out lovely and tousled, her hair erratic and her cheeks pink. Utterly delectable. So he kissed them slowly, planting wet lips against her cheek, beard scraping her skin just slightly. Her lips quivered as she attempted not to grin but it was impossible; she smiled and puffed out a few laughs.

Grissom drew back, wondering about the laughter and was encountered her shining face, bright and truly happy, anticipating his next touch, his next words. "Sar-Sara, how are we, I mean to say, what-"

"Mmm," she drawled, moving in and kissing him for the first time, wholly encompassing every nerve ending of his body. His lips acquiesced under hers as they slid languidly together. She somehow tasted like cinnamon and cherry blossom. And he, well he just tasted like a sweet release. Her tongue was hot and demanding on his, dueling passionately until the two had to break apart and gulp in air.

"Grissom, Jesus More," Sara demanded and attacked his lips once more. Grissom lost his footing and stumbled back a bit. Her arms, strong and sure, entwined around his neck, her hands resting on opposite shoulders. Sara held him as close as physically possible. Oh the sweet glory of feeling she was being crushed by him, consumed by him, melting into his large body. Grissom lapped at her lips, flicking his tongue in between the tiny gap between her teeth, moaning as he did so.

It consumed her, the care with which he took her lips between his and sucked. It was passion but it was beauty as well; the two trembled and molded together, gathering in her chest, raising up in a gloriously erotic sob.

He couldn't see her as well as he needed to, there in the dim light spilling from the partially parted blinds. Grissom pulled away from her lips long enough to spin her around and walk her to the bedroom. They left her shirt pooled in the middle of the living room, a willing casualty in a war that needed to be fought.

Once inside the dull comfort of his bedroom, Grissom flicked on his bedside lamp, casting eerie shadows over the planes of her body. Her breasts rose up invitingly out of the peach bra that she was clad in. Her stomach stood out against the soft peach and the harsh black of her jeans. Eyes met and smiles were exchanged as he moved over to her, swept the hair from the back of her neck and kissed her deeply and thoroughly. Grissom's hands skated over her back before he broke away again and sank to his knees, a rare display of submission, and kissed over the tiny freckles of her delightfully tight stomach.

Sara's hands wove into his hair and held him in place. It was startling, the utter synchronicity of their breathing, the fluidity of their movements as they tumbled through the motions of love. "God, amazing," she rasped and tossed her head back, alerting Grissom to the newly bared skin of her neck.

He wanted to compare her to a Shakespearean swan, pale in her watery nest. But alas, the man was too busy sucking gently at her pulse point. And she was too busy forgetting how to speak because his hands were wrapped around her back, clutching her to him desperately.

Grissom's hands fell to the hem of her jeans and teased the skin just underneath. She pressed forward into him, trapping his hands between their bodies. "Take those off too," she asked, nearly begged.

Grissom chuckled and kissed the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder, "I'm getting there, honey."

He was deft when he popped the button through the hole of her jeans and teased the zipper down slowly, relishing in the dull hiss of the metal being pulled apart by the little tab. Sara's chest heaved with the anticipation as he eased the denim from her body, revealing her purple satin panties. Grissom pulled back and glanced at her attire, the colors clashing garishly. Somehow, it suited her.

Her little glare at his appreciation of her mismatching made him laugh a little, but she grabbed his face and bought it to hers once more, kissing the smile from his mouth.

"Your turn," she mumbled against his lips, unbuttoning his shirt while kissing him deeply, distracting him from what she was doing. One hand took control of the situation while the other came up to toy with his beard. The shirt fell to the floor and as soon as it hit she began working on his pants, becoming frustrated when she got tangled up with the clasp and the button. He eventually shooed her hands away and rid himself of his pants, standing before her in his boxers.

"We're really doing this," he murmured into her mouth, more for her benefit than for his. She nodded as they kissed and she backed them up until the back of her knees hit the bed. Sara spun them around quickly and pushed him down onto the mattress. Grissom bounced a bit and she climbed on top of him, straddled his thighs and they sat like that for a bit, kissing with her grinding lightly over him.

Their breaths puffed out together when she rested her forehead against his; insistent fingers on her ribs rubbed lazy circles as he swallowed and attempted to catch his breath. "Sara, sweetheart-"

"Mmmm, call me sweetheart," she agreed, nodding her head against hers. "I like that," Sara kissed his forehead and hummed just a little bit.

He licked his lips and smiled and continued, "Sara, I need you to stop for a minute." Grissom breathed hard, breathed deeply. "I need to wrap my brain around this, just, give me a minue to-just give me a minute."

Sara sat back on his knees and regarded him with a slow tilt of her head. She wanted to say 'I've given you years, love, years,' but she didn't. Instead she traced her fingers against the slight sweat on his brow, toyed with his ears, felt his biceps, all while she waited. If this worked out, she'd have years, eons to find his body, but if not, she wanted memories to hold onto.

Sara's eyes slipped closed as her fingers pressed into his sternum; he was so warm and gorgeous, it hurt her heart to look at him.

Sloppy warm kisses began to trace over her collarbone and she opened her eyes as if awakening from a deep sleep. The bright white of his grin stunned her and she grinned back, allowing him to lift her, spin around and place her on the bed. It was then that his eyes clouded with lust; it was then that he reached out and plucked the bra from her body. It sailed over his shoulder and into the hall.

Sara bit her lip, nervous under his intense gaze. It was always intense, but now, now it burned into her skin, branded her for himself. Grissom laid out on the bed next to her, touched her face gently and brought her lips up for a languid kiss. Then his hand fell away from her cheek and passed quickly over her breast.

Sara sucked in a breath and her eyes flew open, the glint there daring him to continue. He did, taking the silken mound of flesh in his hand and squeezing experimentally before dipping in and teasing her nipple. 'Perfect,' he thought to himself and bit down hard on his lip to keep from crying out at her reactions to him.

Her legs wrapped around his and she pressed her sex perfectly into his thigh. She was wet, obscenely so, her panties sopping. And as Grissom touched her, kissed her, he could inhale her and it drove him dizzy with pent desire. Taking things slower than his body wanted, he pressed her firmly back into the mattress and took a nipple into his mouth.

Pursing her lips, Sara thanked every deity that she had ever heard of that Gil Grissom had such a way with words; that way with words lent to his amazingly limber tongue. It teased her gently and then plucked at her nipple quickly, leaving her gasping, keening for more. She'd never been a breast woman, never particularly saw the pleasure. But this man, this amazing man who made her shiver from a simple glance, he was lavishing her with his tongue, gaining as much pleasure from what he was doing to her as she was from receiving his attention.

Eventually, she tugged on his hair and brought him up for a series of brazenly torrid kisses. "Oh, please," she asked, didn't begged, asked him if it was okay to press forth. "Just, please," she asked again as he slopped kisses over her neck and shrugged free from his boxers.

She glanced down, because she had to. Sara caught the sight of his cock and let out a stuttered breath. He was stunningly large and she wondered for a moment what the weight of him would feel like gliding across her tongue. But that was shoved to the back of her mind as he once again lay down beside her and kissed everywhere he could reach.

As her eyes once more slipped closed, her hand wandered down his torso and tangled in the short hair surrounding his cock. It played there for long minutes, glancing around him slowly, sweetly. She wasn't teasing him, merely testing the waters.

He hissed, literally hissed as her hand glided over him, taking him further than he'd ever thought he'd go.

"Sara..." he ground out, warning her more than anything. It was thrilling her that he was saying her name so much, so passionately.

Grissom met her eyes once before hovering over her. It was her hand that guided him inside; it was she who pressed him into her damp, tight heat. And when he did, a strangled cry arose from her throat and a tear escaped the corner of her eye, catching in her hair.

He realized then that she was not his, no. He was hers, and that was what truly shocked him. Never in the past had he given himself in such a way to another person.

He made sure that she saw his eyes before dropping his head to the crook of her neck and plunging steadily into her.

In that one second, the one glance he sent her, Sara Sidle knew she was loved, wholly, completely, endlessly.

Grissom was torn between so many things; he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how much he needed her, how wonderful and tight her pussy was... but he could voice no words. He was speechless with awe. Grissom had never felt anywhere near as amazing as he felt in that one moment he slipped inside of her.

Her short nails clawed at his back, causing him both pain and pleasure-mostly pleasure. Sara began meeting his thrusts with force, her actions spurring him forth.

His emotions overcame him and he spilled, hot and thick into her, bathing her in a great warmth that caused a tremor to run up her spine and a forceful sigh to escape from her parted lips. His bones remained intact for an entire minute after he'd come within her, but then he collapsed, liquid and worn, desperate beside her.

Her hands were pulling back her hair, frightened to push too far and touch him. But he reached over and gathered her quickly to his chest, their sweat mingling there, somewhere in the middle.

While both of them pretended to sleep that evening, it was awhile before the respite came. The afterglow was far too amazing not to bask in.

The morning had coming, breaking forth through the blinds into his room and he thought she had left.

He'd thought she had gone, the other side of the bed cold and empty when he awoke. Her scent lingered and it angered him, saddened him, made him feel a desolation that he hadn't felt in... had felt ever. Grissom tossed on a shirt and pulled on boxers, making his way to the kitchen, needing coffee and time to think.

Once there, he was greeted with Sara's supple ass poking out of the refrigerator. She was bent over and had the trash can pulled up beside her, tossing out things here and there, pausing to check the expiration dates. She picked up a container of sour cream, crinkled her nose and tossed the offending condiment.

For some unknown reason, his heart clenched. On a sigh, accidentally, unintentionally, Grissom breathed the words, "God, I love you."