Better Than Chocolate

Title: Better Than Chocolate

Author: ScullyAsTrinity

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Sara finds herself alone on a Friday night, people watching. Little does she know things will change for the better.

Thanks: Equal thanks go to Marlou and Lauren. Lauren... you are a one-woman wrecking crew. Gave me the idea and general. I'm buying an APB OJ in your honor. Marlou, the greatest beta ever.

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Martinis made her feel sexy. She didn't know if it was the way they looked, sluicing in that oddly shaped glass, or how they felt sliding down her throat. A simple little drink, but so nice to swirl your finger in. So clear and crisp and enchanting. Vodka, and this time, creme de cacao. Such a wonderful little cocktail.

It was nice, the noise of the bar lulled her into feeling completely invisible. And it *was* nice, nothing to nag her, nothing to pull at the strings of her mind, or to make her think of things more important. For all that anyone else knew, she was an anonymous tourist in one of Vegas's many bars, just relaxing.

So she sat alone in a booth close to the front and ordered a martini. They always seemed to unravel her in just the right way. Sara needed to be alone for a while, alone amongst people. She needed to feel like she was normal, for a moment. Part of society.

The taste buds on her tongue sang happily as she let the drink settle there for a moment. It was the equivalent of a liquid massage to her brain. So refreshed, and so very relaxed... blinking even felt nice.

Midway through her second, feeling pleasantly warm, a man walked up to her. She was about to smile and send him on his way, when she recognized his voice.

"I uh, can you pretend like I'm trying to pick you up?"

She paused mid-drink and raised her eyes to meet his. "Excuse me?" The vodka nearly cascaded out of her glass at that moment as she met his eyes, blue and lost.

"Leonard is having less than romantic notions of taking you home this evening." He gestured to the rather handsome man sitting at the bar and she leaned around Grissom's large frame to get a better look.

Sara licked her lips, nimble fingers guiding her martini glass back and forth across the distressed mahogany table. "And you came to save me?"

Grissom shrugged, wondering if he should sit down or continue to stand.

A laugh would have been too unsettling for him, so she simply smiled and stared into the shallow depths of her drink. "My knight in rather tarnished armor." But, glancing up at him, she amended that thought. "Okay, my knight in rather nice armor, especially for his wardrobe."

With that, he slid into the booth, glancing back at his old friend, the man giving him the thumbs up. His stomach nearly turned at the asinine gesture. "Thank you, I suppose." Looking down at his clothing, he shrugged.

And she too shrugged, continuing to draw the glass back and forth over the tabletop. And they both fell silent. He bit his lip, knowing full well that if he didn't put on a good show, Leonard would come over to "save" her from him. But he could think of nothing to speak of, just watching her fingers move back and forth, back and forth.

"What in god's name are you drinking?" He asked suddenly, stilling her movement, spurring her to look at him with an amused expression.

He glanced down at her beverage of choice. It looked like chocolate milk but the consistency was much thinner. It most certainly wasn't Kahlua...

"It's a chocolate martini Grissom." She said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She picked a chocolate flake off of the rim and placed it in her mouth. He followed her movement with something resembling wonder.

He wrinkled his nose just a bit and spoke, "That sounds vile."

Sara pursed her lips and slid the glass across the table. "It's good. Try it." And she smiled at him and leaned back in the booth, sliding down a bit, crossing her arms over her chest. He looked from the glass to her and back. But he tried it, bringing the glass to his lips and sipping hesitantly.

As his tongue picked up the flavor, he was stunned to find that he actually liked it. "Not bad." He pushed the glass back towards Sara and in a moment of unseen bravery raised his hand and motioned to the waitress.

"Can I get two more of these, please?" He gestured to Sara's martini and the waitress nodded and scribbled something down on her pad, walking away through the crowd, dodging people as she went.

She didn't bother asking him why, or, well, why. She just maintained her relaxed posture and finished off the drink that was still in front of her. He settled back as well, not sure what to say, and rather comfortable with that. He smiled at her, she smiled at him, and they both sighed.

The waitress came with their drinks and he took his, sipping rather appreciatively.

"So you took Leo out and now you want nothing to do with him? Or did you just come over to save me from myself?"

He chuckled, taking the bait. "Leonard, I was being cordial and, no, I was saving you from him." She raised a brow at that and started in on her new drink. "He can be rather..." Grissom searched for the words and mimicked her finger movements with his glass. "He can be rather overbearing and persuasive."

The booth felt so wonderful against her bare back and she sunk into the corner of it, drawing her legs alongside it, cropping the mischievous smile she wished to emit. The atmosphere was miraculously charged and it felt supremely soothing, tingling against her skin. Her skin, it felt fresh and new and ready for new stimulation.

"I can see that." Sara commented, glancing at the man who'd all but forgotten the two of them, nursing his beer.

"Excuse me?"

"He does look debonair, well kept; he looks suave." Sara smiled at him them, tongue peeking out between cherry-glossed lips.

"How can you tell from here?"

"Well, I'm not projecting on his personality really, just... how he looks. Women would swoon for a man like that."

"You would?" Gil looked back at the man at the bar, catching him in the midst of ordering a drink for the woman sitting next to him.

"No, I said women would. I was generalizing."

He nodded and turned back to her, finding relief in his cool beverage. "Generalizing is dangerous."

She snorted a half-laugh through her nose and peered at him over the rim of her glass. "Yeah, don't I know it."

The words rolled off her tongue before she had the chance to realize that it made her sound irritated. She wasn't; anything but. But he knew it to be true. He generalized a lot, especially when she was around. He couldn't help it; it was part of his complex system of defense mechanisms to halt her from cracking his resolve as she was incredibly prone to do. But his resolve was weakening on its own; the alcohol lubricated the screws until pieces began to disengage from the whole and the system began to fail.

His eyes were drawn to her lips when she smiled. He couldn't help it.

Then again, his eyes were naturally drawn to her. She looked five hundred times different, sitting there against the maroon leather of the booth. If it weren't for the shiny texture of her top, she would have blended perfectly with the seat holding her. A tight tank top, but not too tight, and when she shifted, he could see that the top was backless, save for a few straps. She wasn't wearing a bra, there was just no possible way.

Two fingers to his forehead, he tore his eyes away from the bare, freckled skin and met her eyes. "And what drew you away from the scanner this evening?" He ended his sentence with a long pull on his glass, finishing it off. He gained the waitresses attention and pointed to the glass, ordering another. It was impossible for her not to smile when he did so.

"I'll ignore the fact that you're calling me a shut in." Sara chided and swigged a tiny bit from her glass, opening to him like a morning glory in the warm spring sun. "I needed a breather, that's all."

"Hmm, a breather?"

She nodded. "My apartment just became too... oppressive. I wanted to see if I could still blend in with the crowd."

He toyed with his fresh drink and ducked his head and turned to look over at where Leonard was seated. But he wasn't there anymore. He'd either given up on his friend or had taken the woman he was attempting to woo back to his hotel room. Either way, Grissom was glad to be rid of him and sighed, relieved.

Sara noticed as well and nodded in the general direction of the bar. "I guess you're off the hook now." It was a double entendre. He was relieved of the other man's oppressive presence as well as off the hook with her. He didn't *have* to sit there any longer. He'd already done himself the duty of "saving" her.

But he made no move to leave, and after a moment she realized that he was indeed staying. She didn't have time to point it out to him, because he miraculously began to speak.

"Though that does leave me stranded. He drove me here in his Lexus." Grissom nodded, somewhat cynically and pursed his lips.

"He drove here?"

"Oh no, but he felt the need to rent the same model as he owns. He says it makes him feel more comfortable. Smarmy bastard."

"If that's how you speak about your friends, I'd hate to hear you speak about your enemies."

"You're in luck then, because I tend not to bring them up in polite conversation." At that he chuckled and finished off his second martini. Feeling loose and more than a little happy, he ordered a bourbon, all the while thinking about how horrendous it was to allow mixed drinks and hard liquor to mingle.

Unbidden her brow shot up at his request and she nearly shook with glee. She was having drinks with him, she was having drinks with Gil Grissom. Of his own accord.

His bourbon came in the middle of a mental war, wondering if he should comment of her attire or not. But his mild manner seemed to have checked out when he sat down across from her. "Is that top defying physics? How does it stay on?"

Sara had to concentrate to keep the liquored chocolate from shooting out of her nose. "What?" Not that she hadn't heard him, she simply couldn't believe he'd said what he had.

Generally, his face, stoic when he asked such things in all seriousness was flushed with slight inebriation and tinged with passion. A stunning sight for her to behold and she was nearly choked to silence seeing him undone so. "It uh, it ties in the back."

He nodded and moved his head a bit, as if to get a better view of the shirt. Whether conscious or not, she moved to accommodate his searching gaze.

The naked skin of her back, freckled and smooth danced in his eyes and he called on every ounce of self-control in his body not to bite his lip. So instead, he simply nodded and she sat back against the booth, cradling the dregs of chocolately abandon in her hands.

"You're in rare form this evening." She laughed, deciding to down the last of her drink. "Care to explain yourself, or just let me go on thinking someone slipped you something in your drink?"

He shrugged. He was doing a lot of shrugging and it was beginning to unsettle him. "Think whatever you'd like. Because I have no idea."

That, for some reason, stunned them both into silence. Her lips pursed once more and she nodded with something resembling a tight smile and he did the same a moment later.

"Mmm, I think you've had enough Grissom." She grinned, licked her lips and winked at him, moving in the booth to straighten up her top. She stood and he looked on as she stretched her neck, glorious lines of tan, naked skin for his eyes to dance over. "Come on, I'll give you a ride."

"No you won't."

Her face fell. "Well, I-"

"*You've* had too much to drink, I'll drive." He too stood and threw forty dollars down on the table, stilling her hand as she reached for her wallet. Then he began to make his way through the crowd, walking towards the exit. Shaking the fuzz out of her head, she followed him into the cool Vegas night.

He somehow knew the way to her car and she tossed him the keys with gusto, and he caught them and grinned and winked at her. That was it; her body was on fire, she was thrumming with the need to touch him, for no other reason than to make sure that he was real.

He was smooth when he pulled out of the parking lot and she could think of nothing but distracting herself from his presence. The radio, the closest thing. Her hands attacked it quickly and he shot her an amused glance as he took a left turn.

"You may be driving, but it's still my radio," she said when he glanced over at her, fiddling with the knobs.

Soon, strains of music filled the car and diffused some of the tension that had filtered into the cabin of her Ford Focus. She smiled at recognizing the song and moved her head a bit to the beat, almost forgetting that he was in the car and singing.

Sara fell into a daze, watching Grissom's hands maneuver the steering wheel. She couldn't help but wonder how they'd feel steering her over the edge. Fruitless, she knew, but fantasies made her existence a little more colorful.

His hands kept her enticed until they arrived at his building. He'd parked her car and gotten out. Confused, she did the same and looked to him with a furrowed brow.

"You need to sober up a bit before I can let you drive." He said by means of an explanation. Though it was true, she couldn't help but feel a flare of anger rise up within her. But a hand on the small of her back made all thoughts fly from her mind.

So he escorted her to his door, scuffing his feet along the pavement, wondering what to do when they were both inside. No, he hadn't thought that far ahead.

He hadn't meant to kiss her, he really hadn't. But, she was just... so close to him. When he turned to invite her in she was *right* there and his body was spurred forward. She was thrown off guard by his move, but that didn't stop her from kissing him back more than eagerly.

It was probably a mistake to do it, but neither of them could really think that far ahead. And true, it was probably a mistake to let it take place under the influence of alcohol, rather tasty alcohol, but... none of that really factored in when his lips began trailing down her neck in an erratic manner.

Her body was intricate and gorgeous and supple and he didn't know where to begin. He truly didn't. The alcohol had long waned its tantalizing rush in his veins and it left him with a slightly dry mouth. But her tongue snuck in and alleviated him of that particular problem and before either of them knew it, they were stumbling into the coffee table, the couch, the wall, attempting to find the bedroom without caring to look.

It was awkward moving into his bedroom but neither of them seemed to care. Her knees hit the bed and buckled and she tumbled boneless onto the mattress. He followed, catching himself on his palms. They laughed for a moment and then gave up and delved into each other’s mouths once more.

A struggle with the button of her pants made her swear rather loudly and he was stunned to find how much it turned him on. The word 'fuck' spilling from her lips unabashed. It was feral and emotional and lust flared though his body, forcing his hands to the sides of her face to hold her there as he kissed her hard and deeply and thoroughly.

Moaning, her hands flew up at well, grasping the nape of his neck roughly. Multitasking to the best of her ability she kicked the cream fabric off of her body, the garment pooling at Grissom's feet at the side of his bed; a small token of sacrifice in stark contrast with his navy carpeting. The notion that she was without pants registered in his mind and he couldn't help but glance down and growl, a low sound pouring from his throat as he caught sight of her thighs, imagining his head between them.

He attacked her neck, allowing a hand to steal down her body, pressing at her sides, her breast, her hip, and stayed there and toyed with the delicate line of fabric holding her panties together there. A moment later he robbed her of her silky top, maneuvering his hand beneath her back to undo the ties there.

So easy, it too floated to the carpet to kiss her pants, clothing and floor creating a patriotic mess. Her breasts were free and it wasn't enough to simply touch them, which he did for several moments, no; his tongue soon followed, lavishing the firm skin with fervent strokes. But her hips bucked up into him, reminding him of her pants-less status.

Her panties clashed with her outfit, and it was absurd that he took the time to notice. They were green, and cotton and the farthest thing from what a normal man would consider sexy. But damn if that scrap of cotton wasn't nearly Gil Grissom's undoing.

A thousand emotions rushed forth, a tidal wave of repression bursting forth and his temples thrummed from the overwhelming force of it. No, no he couldn't make love to her. He couldn't make love to her or he couldn't turn back. But his body, his mind, his lips, tongue, hands wouldn't seem to heed to his warnings as they pressed forth into her.

It wasn't enough, he knew that. He'd yearn and pine and cling and it would never be enough. Ever. But damned if he wasn't one to try. And strive for that matter.

His thumbs hooked into the sides of her thoroughly unsexy cotton bikinis and ripped them from her body without thought. They chafed her legs on the way down. Instead of chastising him, she just moaned, a deep-seeded throaty moan straight out of his most raunchy dreams. Deja vu overcame him but he brushed it aside and kissed her thigh and pressed on her stomach so she would lie back on the bed.

It startled him how easily she went and smiled to see her prop herself up on her elbows, looking down at him flushed and dazed and adorable and damn it naughty. But mostly dazed.

She blinked and he kissed her thigh again. And then she sighed and licked her lips and he had to taste her. There was nothing else he could think to do.

Grissom wasn't expecting her to respond so... enthusiastically. Never in his previous attempts at anything resembling oral sex had been on account of necessity. He always believed that it had to be done. But never had he actually wanted, needed to do this to anyone.

He paused for a moment to catalogue the exquisite scent in his nostrils and then allowed his tongue to snake out and taste her. She gasped and actually quivered beneath him and he did all that he could not to stand up and take her then and there.

But he didn't. Instead, he teased her outer lips slowly, loving the whimpers she emitted. When he'd had his fill, he separated her and simply gazed. He couldn't believe she trusted him with so much, after all he'd done in the past. But he chose to forget about that for the moment and simply do all he could to pleasure her.

Before she could blink once more to center the image of him between her thighs, he delved into her, his tongue snaking out to lap up her copious wetness. And it was her turn to growl. He was content to lap at her for long minutes, until her hips began to, of their own accord, push into his face. Hands on her hips, he stilled her and nipped at her clitoris softly, eliciting the most tremendously soft sob from her.

And she could feel him smile against her skin.

His teeth worked gently on her bundle of nerves and his tongue soothed over her after moments of sheer torture. Her hips once again moved to buck beneath him, somehow attempting to seek relief from his mouth. Again, he stilled her but this time he chuckled, sending tremors up her spine.

His tongue sought refuge inside her a moment later and the only sound in the room was her body shifting against the sheets and the faint murmur of a woman drowning. Her stomach muscles flexed beneath his hands before he thought to remove them and allow them to enter into the festivities as well.

It was too good; doing this to her, it was too good, and he wasn't sure he could stop even if she asked. The noises she was making made him realize how truly blessed he was to retain his hearing. Exquisite little noises, all for him. All for him. He removed his tongue and soothed over her clitoris once more before sliding two fingers into her. Sara's body clamped down and he stilled, watching as her face tightened, one tear sliding out of her eye to nestle in her mussed hair.

The skin of her neck looked all the more enchanting flushed and shiny with sweat and he nearly tore himself away from the banquet before him to taste her there again. But there was time for that later. He was far too preoccupied with feeling her wrapped around him, amazingly snug and perfect. Impossible for him not to move, he does, slowly at first but when she gasped, he began to move faster, his tongue darting in and out between his digits, just to taste her. He needed to taste. Burn the taste into his memory. Like maple syrup and lime Jell-O and dear god something akin to the ocean at high tide. Intoxicating and unique and he'd die happy if he could wake up in the morning with that taste on his tongue.

Thoughts shattered when she sucked in a heavy breath and ground her teeth together and uttered and obscenity followed by his name. It was low, and throaty and wanton and he had to disengage his mouth just to watch her face contort in pleasure as it washed over her.

He caused that expression on her face; he caused that sweat on her brow. And that knowledge propelled him up, up, up her lithe frame to her lips where he kissed leisurely, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue.

Sara needed to speak, she needed to speak. A poet with a quill by candlelight, she had to tell him exactly, in Victorian prose what amazing things he'd done to her body, but his tongue wouldn't allow it. It was pressed to hers too firmly. It was stealing her words, her breath in a heated, needy rush.

So, she forgot about it and just kissed back, loving the feel of his heavy, heated body atop hers.

It was unexpected bliss and she remembered the taste of chocolate on her tongue as he pulled back, heaved a sigh and once more assaulted, her neck, her throat.

Moans and sighs and tiny little yelps of pain and pleasure mixed together danced in the air around them and she realized... she didn't need words. She didn't want words. And neither did he.

At that moment, she realized that he was still fully clothed, as her eyes longed to take in his naked skin as he had worshipped hers. So long fingers wrapped around the plastic of the button of his shirt and slipped it easily through the hole. Sara was sure to keep her eyes locked with his the entire time, to push home the fact that they were doing what they *were* doing. She made quick work of the rest of them and pushed the fabric from his shoulders greedily.

There was far too much skin for her eyes to take in, so her lips joined in to help. Clinging to him as he hovered over her, her tongue attacked her collarbone with gusto, leaving a wet trail on his neck, to his ear, where she sucked greedily. Gil groaned and shifted them, pressing her back onto the bed.

Eyes, heavy lidded, looked up at him as he made quick work of relieving himself of his slacks. His hands trembled when he reached for her again, but she grabbed him and pulled him onto the bed. It was wonderful, the down comforter smelled of him; he was over her and around her. She was cocooned in him and it made her light headed and wonderful.

Their lips came together again and he was nearly panting, his heart breaking in his chest for her loveliness, for her trust. He kissed her eyelids slowly, and she sighed low and them flipped him over, pressed him down into the mattress.

"I need this." She muttered before she rid him of his boxers and took his cock into her hand. His eyes slammed shut and his fists clenched, a harsh hiss emitting through his teeth. But it wasn't simply enough to gaze at the tumescence of him, she had to taste. Glancing through half-lidded eyes, he watched her stretch out like a feline and then she took him into her mouth.

Grissom felt her smile around him and felt her hum, the vibrations tracing up his length, stealing the breath from his lungs, the blood from his head. Her tongue snaked out and stole the pearl from the tip of him. "Sah-Sara." A harsh, incessant whisper, asking for more, more, he needed more. Of her mouth, her lips, tongue, hands, all of her, he just needed more of her.

When she pulled back, his eyes slid open. He was just in time to watch her straddle his lap and guide him inside of her.

His hands flew immediately to her breasts and she cried out, head back, throat bare. "Dear-fuck, Griss. Oh, fuck."

Hips swiveling, rising and falling, his hands moving from her breasts to her ass to her hips, where they stayed, pressed into the delicate skin there, easing her up and down on top of him.

He was unable to contain it any longer, he had to flip her over, and he did, quickly, their sweat-slickened bodies sliding off each other. The sound of skin of skin registered in his ears, gorgeous.

"Yes, yes, yes." A mantra on his lips before he knew he was speaking it. And she clawed his back as if she were trying to get at something beneath the skin, his heart perhaps. But who knew; all he knew was how he felt inside her and how wonderful it was to hear her whimper for more, god yes, more.

Thrumming, his heart in his head, inside of her as she begged him, begged him to kiss her. Deeper, kiss her deeper, fuck her harder, and he couldn't say no. Not because he didn't have it in him, because it's her and she asked.

She bit his lip and he bled onto her, left a smear on her neck when he had to feel her heartbeat there.

And when she came around him, her body responding to his, he had to watch her. Something akin to a miracle, unfolding before him. The gap in her teeth inviting him for a kiss, the meeting of their tongues spurring him to come, deep, so deep inside her. And she could feel it.

Warm and soothing inside of her, bathing her... finally. A strange christening, sealed with a brush of his lips on hers. He lay beside her, his body still singed with her heat.

They gazed at each other, foreheads together, wondering who would be the first to speak.

The alcohol had waned in her veins and he realized that she was still there, astride him, in his arms. He needed to ask, to repair the fissures in his heart.

"You're staying, right?" It sounded so sad, coming from his lips, a tiny little prayer that she'd lay with him through the night, just so he could see how the moon played on her skin.

Sara turned to him, the sweat drying on her brow, sticky between her legs, sated in her heart. "Instant or gourmet?" Sara asked, pressing her lips to his neck slowly, allowing her tongue to map his skin.

And he couldn't help but laugh. "Only the best, gourmet." His arm tightened around her stomach and she wanted to weep, to sob, to kiss him and crawl inside his skin forever so she didn't have to miss a second of him breathing.

"Then damn right I'm staying."

And that evening the moon weaved a silken quilt over her skin...

He traced it for hours.