In Due Time

Title: In Due Time
Author: scullyseviltwin/scullyastrinity
Rating: Adult. But barely, for me.
Pairing: G to the S to the R.
Thanks: To marcasite and mingsmommy for the help. This is for brandie who requested something I can't remember.
Category: AU!!! That's Alternate Universe... and I'm naming it thus because I can never, ever, ever, ever see this happening... ever.
Summary: A weekend in the mountains; The gang, champagne and twinkle lights.



Okay guys, this is really AU. It would never happen and is so insanely sappy and ridiculous that it makes me wanna puke. But hey, it's a finished story.


'It seemed everyone was getting hitched lately,' Sara had thought to herself when she'd come across the ornate invitation sitting in her mailbox. 'Mr. and Mrs. John Rappaport request the Honor of your presence at the wedding of their daughter Amanda Marie to...' She'd nearly pitched it into the waste bin next to her, but the stationary felt wonderful and heavy in her hand and she couldn't help tracing her fingers around the embellished edges. The writing was ornate and gorgeous, and she held onto it for a moment before stuffing it into her bag without a second glance.

She hadn't thought about it much after that. Aside from a casual mention of the event from Catherine (and that was overheard, not intended for her ears in the first place) no one had really brought it up. Again, Sara forgot that it was even happening. Not that something like that was surprising; in the grand scheme of things, the impeding nuptials of a lab tech were low on her scale of priorities.

That was until it had come down to the last day to RSVP. Nick had been pacing all day, biting his lip, stuffing his hands into his pockets and studiously avoiding the print lab, although he was waiting for results.

And then, in a turn of events that she couldn't have predicted if she'd actually tried, she found out exactly why.

Nick wanted to go to the wedding but hadn't wanted to go alone (whether it was because he'd been on a few dates with Mandy two years previous before she broke up with him or the promise of really amazing, free shrimp puffs, no one could tell) and so he'd gotten Greg on board with the idea.

Greg, with his pseudo-charisma and boyish charm had managed to wrangle Sara in to the weekend getaway to Tahoe, promising a reprieve from the gaudy glitz that Vegas had to offer. He even, to her astonishment, said that he would foot the hotel bill, a promise that she couldn't ignore. With her 'annoyed' face firmly in place, she'd begrudgingly agreed, walking with a huff into the layout room, secretly wishing to smile.

When the weekend rolled around, she'd already had her one 'wedding appropriate' dress packed away in a small suitcase, her swimsuit and normal clothing tucked in for good measure. When Greg had shown up at her apartment with Nick in the passenger seat, it was all she could do to remind herself that the fresh air would do her good, and it was an opportunity for good food and a few days to remember what nature was even if she had to spend time with her coworkers.

Catherine would be making her way up the next morning, having stayed behind to cover shift while the three started off early. No one was sure if Warrick was coming and everyone had put good money on Grissom's absence.

It was the promise of pine and lake mist that had her putting up with a seven hour drive into the mountains, listening to Greg regale tales of Donner's Pass that he'd supposedly learned as a child. Sara busied herself with paperwork, catching up on journal articles and indulging in an impromptu 80's sing along that Nick had prompted with his version of "Material Girl."

By the time they'd reached the modest resort at the top of an incredibly winding, steep hill, she was haggard. Her legs barely managed to carry her as she stepped from the car, heavy boot crunching on the thin gravel. All three of the CSI's took off their sunglass in the late-afternoon light and gazed at the magnificent hotel. It was classic, almost reminiscent of Victorian architecture, but was modern enough to promise hot tubs and televisions. "How the hell did she afford this?" Nick whispered, nearly to himself, snatching Sara's bag out of her hands without so much as a glance.

Chivalry. The move made her smile.

Greg chuckled and hit the Texan's shoulder with his own, "Maybe he's loaded," Greg surmised as Nick scowled and made his way up the lengthy staircase to the wide, expansive porch. Once inside, Greg spoke with reception and secured two sets of keys, one for him and Nick and one for Sara.

"You didn't have to do that, Greg," Sara said, pressing the heavy, antique key back into the young man's hand, "I could have crashed on the floor with you and Nick." She said it, but she didn't really mean it. The promise of a room all to herself in the wonderful hotel felt like Christmas morning and she was suddenly, giddy and excited. Maybe this was just what she needed.

Greg shook his head and tossed the key into the air, forcing her to catch. "That wasn't the deal, I said I'd put you up." After he served her a delightfully large grin, she submitted and they made their way to the back of the establishment to the bank of elevators.

Their rooms were lavish, but not overly audacious. There were jetted tubs in each; small flat screen televisions perched on antique dressers, modest balconies with chaise lounges and-she was delighted to find-a large king-sized bed. Sara had indulged herself upon seeing the inviting-looking mattress by flinging her long body onto the expanse. Just as she'd managed to situate herself comfortably, her cell phone had trilled and a rather annoyed Greg had sounded in her ear. "They gave us a king sized bed rather than two fulls, we're getting moved downstairs."

After she had a laugh at their expense, she had a long, long, *long* bath in the tub. The room was designed for lovers, she surmised. It was cozy and quaint and delightful. The picture window in the bathroom looked out onto the lake, trees framing her view, the last of the sun dying behind the lofty pines. Arms on either side of the tub she decided that she was okay with that fact and resumed her relaxation in the lightly scented bubbles. She would never tell Greg, but she was glad that she had come. It didn't even irk her that the place setting that she'd purchased for the newlyweds had cost her over a hundred dollars.

Once a prune, she'd climbed from the bath and met her compatriots on the ground floor of the establishment for a light dinner and a few beers and retired for the evening, dreaming of nothing but clear blue skies and the sound of birds chirping.

Upon awakening the next day, she was greeted with bright sun and the image of the early morning mist rolling down off of the Sierra Nevada's. It was a sight to behold and, in a mood to take it all in, she brewed herself a pot of the complimentary coffee left by the tiny coffee maker with the intent of relaxing in the clean, Nevada air. She padded to the French doors and swung them open, accepting the cool morning air that was peeling off of the trees with a heavy sigh.

Settling into the fluffy chair, she swung her feet up, sipped her dark roast and noted that she'd have to find some way to thank Greg for talking her into coming. She needed this, this tiny reprieve away from the real world in a mountain paradise.

It was almost as though she could smell California rolling across the ridges of the cliffs, wrapping her in memories. Crossing her legs and settling the warm mug in the vee of her thigh, she closed her eyes and sifted through all of pleasant memories she had fought to keep.

Sara nearly slipped back into sleep again, but was pulled from her blissful bubble by a sharp knock at the door.

Veering into the bathroom to retrieve the fluffy complimentary robe, she answered the door, stepping back to allow Greg and Nick entry. It didn't really strike her as odd that she was comfortable with the two of them seeing her in a state of technical undress; then again, she wasn’t really all that awake. "Mornin’ sunshine, you made coffee?" She nodded and Greg meandered over to the little table by the door to retrieve a mug, helping himself .

Nick hopped up onto her bed and waited for the other man to return. Once he did, Nick spoke. "So we were thinking of heading down to the lake for a bit and coming back up here around four to get ready for the ceremony. Cath should be here by then." He shoved his thumbs into his pockets and sighed heavily. “It’s weird, it’s like a lab party, almost. It’s weird…”

Sucking down the dregs from her mug, she nodded and placed the empty cup down on the bedside table. After she changed into her swimsuit and grabbed a towel, they headed out to the small beach.

Upon her return to her room, she noticed that the sun had done her good, but had managed to coax her subtle freckles to the surface. She was tinged pink, but not so much so that it looked as though she had burned. Sara looked at her reflection, noting how relaxed she looked, how relaxed she felt, and fell back onto the bed with a sigh. If only she could feel that good all of the time.

After stripping herself of her swimsuit, she examined the tan lines she had acquired, running an index finger over the line above her ass. Not bad for three hours in the sun. After smoothing down her hair for good measure, she went to her suitcase and retrieved her dress, taking it with her to the bathroom. Once it was hung on the back of the door, she climbed into the shower, turning up the hot water until it was nearly scalding.

After scrubbing down her body, she patted herself down with a towel and slid herself into her one strapless bra, a lacy, pink thing that pressed her breasts up-to where she thought was-just beneath her chin. It wasn't at all comfortable, but it did the trick. Admiring her semi-nude form in the mirror, she slid her dress off of the hanger and slid it down over her head, smoothing the silky fabric at her hips.

It was a pale pink with an a-line silhouette and natural waist and double v-neck. The satin felt cool and light beneath her fingers as she tied the thin sash at her waist. Sliding on her modest, strappy sandals, she examined the silver color of the heels in relation to the moss of her dress. Finding that it didn't clash (and no one would be looking at her shoes), she secured a thin strand of faux pearls around her neck and yanked the towel from her hair. Her cheeks were pink, eyes light; she looked happy.

She liked it.

Taking the complimentary hair dryer off of the shelf, she smoothed some frizz-easing lotion into the ends of her hair and began drying it, twisting her fingers around sections to create haphazard curls. Afterwards, she fluffed her hair up and put on some mascara and lip gloss. Giving herself one last look in the mirror before grabbing her small purse and heading out.

She met Nick and Greg as they were stepping off of the elevator. She whistled in appreciation and Nick blushed. Greg, however, dipped his head as though he were tipping his hat and spun around in a move that Michael Jackson would have been proud of. Laughing, she stepped past them into the elevator, punching the button for '1'. The two men jumped on behind her, "You guys are looking good."

Scuffing his shoes against the carpet, Greg mumbled a, "You look great, Sara," and Nick agreed with cool detachment. Once on the ground floor, they made their way out towards the back patio.

Sara stumbled and bent, her buckle slipping out of the clasp. "I'll catch up with you guys!" she called after them and they nodded, continuing on. Swearing, she hobbled over to a chair and passed the strap through the buckle, securing it tightly. Standing and tossing the hair out of her eyes, she spun around to take off down the corridor and walked directly into a large mass. "Oh, I'm so-Grissom?"

He blinked at her, willing his eyes to stay connected with hers and not stray down her body. "Hello," was all that his addled brain could come up with, and it seemed to suffice. Sara, noting that her hands had flown to his shoulders at the impact, tore her palms away and stepped back to look at him.

"I uh, Mandy's wedding?" she asked and he nodded, a little sheepishly. She too nodded and then bit her lip, trying to halt speech. "Everyone said you weren't coming," slipped between her lips as she was about to find a different area of skin to bite.

A hand flew to the knot in his tie and she watched as he pretended to straighten it out. "Catherine," was all he said by way of explanation. Sara understood and just nodded, looking off in this direction and that, trying not to look at him for fear the moment would become even more uncomfortable.

Clearing his throat, Grissom broke the silence. "You look good, nice," again, he fidgeted, "You look fantastic." His eyes were trained on his shoes so he didn't see the stunned gape that Sara wore as her head snapped back to focus attention on him.

Swallowing the shock that had climbed into her throat, she nodded a little belatedly, "Uh, yeah. Yeah, you look... good too," and then she took another step away from him. "We're uh, going to miss the ceremony so maybe..." With a jab of her thumb, she pointed over her shoulder towards the open doors and he nodded, following her outside.

The sun assaulted them immediately and they managed to grab a program before slipping into two empty seats on the bride's side towards the back. Grissom said nothing as he watched Sara arrange the hem of her dress against her thighs and said nothing when she tucked the thin booklet beneath her bottom. Fixing his cufflinks, he swallowed thickly.

It hadn't been entirely out of the realm of possibility that Sara would attend the wedding. It was even less likely that if she was that he would run into her. But he hadn't planned for either scenario and both were happening at once and she looked so fantastic and amazing and light and...

The flower girl skipped down the white-blanketed pathway, tossing rose petals into the crowd as onlookers laughed and cooed. Once at the end of the runway, she laid a wet one on the ring bearer's cheek, causing him to burst into tears and run into the arms of his parents. Grissom chuckled at that and having been caught in the moment by a smiling Sara, tucked in his resignations and smiled right back.

His eyes were soft, unguarded and it prompted her lips to separate and treat him to a toothy grin, the moment interrupted by Pachabel's Canon.

The rustling of clothing as everyone stood intrigued her and had Sara looking around at the audience instead of at the bride. The late afternoon sun cast a bright red glow over the crowd, making it appear ethereal. Sara blinked, willing the image to remain imprinted on her mind.

The ceremony itself was simple and beautiful, and Sara found herself smiling lightly at the entire event. She couldn't remember when she'd felt so oddly at ease; watching Mandy exchange her vows with her husband, her fingers absently trailed to her ring finger and began twisting the skin there. It was a subconscious reaction that she’d seen Catherine perform more than once.

Her hands flying apart, she grabbed the fabric at her hips and focused her eyes anywhere but at the man to her left. She couldn’t have said what went on during the rest of the ceremony because she was to focused on his presence, his strict postured body seated at her side, that she could think of nothing else.

Sara was only snapped back to the present when everyone stood and clapped, and she did the same, hopping up just as the newlyweds passed by their row.

It was uncomfortable, as the audience filed out from the front to the back and they just stood in front of each other, shifting uneasily on their feet until it was their turn to leave. But again, they had to wait in the line of people that were exiting, and found themselves next to each other, walking down the aisle… backwards.

“So are, uh, you going to the reception?” she asked, hand flying to scratch at her head in a reflexive gesture.

Grissom turned and smiled at her, “I suppose it would be pointless for me to come all the way up here and skip the reception,” he paused at the end of the aisle and stepped to the side. “And plus, Catherine’s my ride.”

She nodded and bit her lip, feeling so intensely out of place standing beside him in formal wear. “And well, the… the free food.” Sliding her bottom lip between her teeth, she waited for him to say something… anything. When he didn’t, just continued to look at her, she shifted her feet and took a step away from him, “So… I’ll… see you there.”

Grissom pursed his lips and bounced on the balls of his feet, hands balled in his pockets; he still said nothing. “Okay,” she followed up and turned around to walk away, “Or not…”

She’d made it all the way to the doors of the hotel before he caught up with her, “Sara, we’re at the same table why don’t we…” With a gesture of his hand and tilt of his head, they set off in the direction of the banquet hall. “You look nice,” he said again quickly, his eyes flitting to hers and then flickering away.

A flush broke across her cheeks and she said the only thing she could think to say, “You said that already.”

“Yes…”

When they reached the hall, she had to pause; the late afternoon sun was filtering in, casting the ivory walls with a strange hue; the small floating candles on the tables added to the odd atmosphere. She shifted her teeth against her lips and looked up at him, “This is nice…”

His eyes widened and he took in the room, “Yes, yes it is.”

They sought out their table and sat, chatting aimlessly with their co-workers. David’s girlfriend did most of the talking, regaling them with stories from the OR. They didn’t talk about work, which shocked Sara. She actually indulged herself in polite conversation, speaking easily and intelligently, all the while attempting not to stare at Grissom. Instead, she sipped on her champagne and nodded and laughed and pretended that the scent that was rolling off of him didn’t have her entranced.

The toast was made and they drank more champagne, and some eased their way onto the dance floor, their movements much less calculated after a few drinks. Sara couldn’t be cajoled, but not for lack of Greg’s trying. And Catherine had somehow managed to drag Grissom out onto the floor once before diverting her attention to Warrick.

She was currently groping his ass as they swayed to a Beatles song, Warrick trying to look inconspicuous but failing miserably. Sara watched, leaning her chin on her hand, wondering how the hell they were getting away with that. After a sigh and a shake of her head, she drained the last of her glass and sat back, starting when she realized that Grissom was standing behind her, his hands curled around the back of her chair. “Jesus!”

He looked vaguely uncomfortable but pushed through it, “I was going to go for a walk and I was wondering if you’d… like to join me?” She assessed him, noting the pinker cheeks and the bottle of champagne dangling from his hand and suddenly she didn’t care; didn’t care that he was probably drunk, didn’t care that she was probably too.

Standing and taking a moment to steady herself, Sara followed him outside to the sloping lawn, staying close behind until he paused at the end of the grass where it stopped at a bluff. Sara waited for him to do something, but again, he did nothing. So, she plopped down on the grass, her dress fanning out around her knees. “Gonna sit?”

Grissom blinked and then handed her the bottle, bending with a cringe, to sit on the grass. “I’m really not getting any younger.” It was said under his breath, but she heard it. It was the first time that he’d referred to his age in… years. Not to her personally, anyway; she didn’t count a conversation overheard with one-way glass in between as talking.

The night was cool, a breeze rolling up and over the rocks, the lake catching the light of the moon. Sliding her legs up, she wrapped her arms around her knees. “So what are we doing?” Her voice sounded thick and tired and he adored it, toying with the cork of the champagne.

“In a minute,” he said through gritted teeth, “I hope for us to be drinking champagne but this cork…”

Rolling her eyes, she reached over and took the bottle from his hand, placing the bottle between her knees whilst twisting the cork. After a moment, it popped and she jumped, sloshing some champagne onto the grass. With a laugh, she held up the bottle in a gesture of a toast and then took a tiny swig from the bottle before handing it over to him.

“I feel like I’m seventeen again,” Sara stated around the edge of a burp.

Grissom accepted the bottle and after glancing at the label, took a swig himself and leaned back, settling the bottle between his thighs. “You were drinking at seventeen?”

Rolling her eyes, Sara tilted her head to the side, “I was a freshman in college when I was seventeen, Griss.” Reminding him of this, she felt sad but she couldn’t place why. “Of course I was drinking.”

He nodded. “I forgot, I don’t know… I forgot about that.”

They were quiet for a time, and it was a few minutes in before she realized how close they were sitting. Perhaps if she wasn’t so tipsy she would have been able to feel the heat rolling off of him, been able to smell him. But the simple knowledge of his proximity made her feel much more lightheaded than any alcohol could.

“Yeah,” she sighed and tipped her head up to look at him.

And there was the moment; right then. That one moment that’s make or break, the one moment that holds all the promise-not just some of it, not just a fleeting hope. The moment that’s fragile as sugar glass, and time sensitive like a pipe bomb. One of them had to take the opportunity. One of them had to turn it into something…

“Sara, I-“

“Hey guys!” Grissom’s chin immediately fell to his chest as he sighed and chuckled sadly, knowing that the moment had been ruined, that he had been foiled.

Warrick bounded toward them with Catherine in tow, she clutching their own bottle of champagne. The only difference was that she had remembered the glasses. They sank down on the lawn beside them, and Catherine flopped out straight against the coolness of the night grass.

It was then that Sara felt defeat, sliding her legs down onto the grass, grasping her knees until her knuckles turned white. Warrick was speaking, but she wasn’t listening, just nodding politely, wishing that she could be swallowed by the carefully-rippling lake water beneath them.

And Grissom watched her and felt the very same defeat seeping into his bones. He felt it even more concretely when Greg and Nick and Mia found their way to them.

Sara half-heartedly attempted to join in the conversation but failed miserably, resigning herself to toying with the lip of her champagne bottle. And then suddenly it was relieved from her grip and she turned just as Grissom rolled his eyes and took a large chug.

Sara smiled and looked down at her hands just as Grissom wedged the bottle back between her thighs. That resulted in a flippant chuckle from her and a delighted smile from him.

They group spent a few more minutes talking quietly on the lawn before Nick and Greg pulled Mia up and meandered back to the hotel; Warrick pulled Catherine to her feet and as she slung her arm around his neck, she called out, “Goodnight Sara, Gil… help her get back to her room, huh…”

He said nothing and neither did Sara, who again was toying with the lip of the bottle. “It’s fairly late,” he said and waited for her to reply, but her only response was a slow, shy nod. They stood and wobbly made their way up the lawn to the hotel.

Nothing was said as he steered her by the elbow to the bank of elevators; nothing was said as they stood looking at each other as they waited for the car to arrive. Nothing was said as they retreated to opposite sides and pretended to listen to the soft music.

The ding shook them out of their silence as Grissom muttered a quick, “After you,” and gestured forward with his hand.

Sara stepped off of the elevator and turned to bid him goodnight when her ankle turned and she fell against the wall, the small heel on her shoe snapping off. "Son of a," she began as Grissom appeared at her elbow, slipping his palm beneath, helping her to stand.

Balancing precariously on one shoe, she set her lips in a frown and met his eyes. "Can you, uh-"

Smiling, he nodded at her and began to walk slowly down the hall. "Let's get you to your room."

She felt warm and light, the champagne having infiltrated her brain and taken up residence. Her smiles were faster in coming, cheeks pinker, hands just slightly more daring. Sara grabbed his bicep as they rounded a corner and they paused, allowing her a moment to pull her key from her purse. After swiping it, they pushed through the door and Grissom brought her to the bed to sit.

"You okay?" he asked gently and she noticed that his cheeks were pinkened too. Heightened sexual tension, alcohol as a lubricant and such close proximity was a bad, bad cocktail, but she couldn't remember why she cared. "Let me see your ankle," he prompted, sinking down onto his knees. They let him go with an audible 'pop' and he cringed even as he drew her foot up onto his right thigh.

Grissom drew in a deep breath and leaned in to "closely" examine her ankle. Pressing an index finger around the tendons of her foot, "Looks okay," he whispered, trailing his eyes up the exposed portion of her leg.

Sara's hands were splayed on the comforter as she looked down at him; her hair had fallen into her eyes and her lips were slightly parted, moist. Grissom blinked and licked his lips, fingers tightening on the skin and bone in his hand. "Griss," she whispered, feeling her skin ignite in a burst of tiny tingles.

"Hm?"

"Kiss me," she asked with a coy little innocent smile, straightening her back to lean closer to him.

Sara could see him swallow and almost grinned at it. "Huh?"

Curling her fingers into the bedspread, she took a long moment to blink, peeling her eyes open on his shocked expression. "I want you to kiss me..." She drawled, tilting her head to the side as though she couldn't hold it up anymore.

He cleared his throat audibly and leaned back on his heels, "Sara, that's not-"

"It's easy," came her happy little whisper as she sat up properly on the bed. "What you do is, you lean in," Sara leaned down into his personal space, "And just go like this." Quickly swooping in, she brought her mouth to his, pressing them together for a brief instant. "That easy," was the rushed explanation she gave as she pulled back to resume her reclining position on the bed.

Grissom's eyes were darker, his chest heaving with exertion born from somewhere he couldn't place; after licking his lips and curling his fists into balls, he stood briskly and after a second of looming over her, bent down and kissed her hard, taking her breath away with the swift press of his hot mouth.

Sara happily wrapped her arms around his big shoulders and pulled him down, his large body looming over hers. Her mouth slipped open on a gasp and he pulled back to look into her eyes, making sure all was well. "Easy, right?" Sara asked with a shy little smile and he volleyed it, nibbling her bottom lip before delving his tongue in to slide against hers.

Rough fingers slid over the smooth skin of her neck, meandering into her hair to pull her as close as he could. Whether he knew it or not, he began humming, drawing his kisses down her neck and over the crest of her ear, down her collarbone and across her shoulder. "I like you in a suit," it was said as if painful, on the edge of a moan.

Nuzzling the patch of skin where her neck met her shoulder, he murmured, "And that dress is gorgeous. It looks like it was made for me to take it off."

A rush of heat slithered down her spine and nestled itself between her thighs, "Hmmm, then do it." repercussions aside, Sara could say that this was the best weekend she'd had in... well... ever.

Grissom spent hours learning her body, tasting her skin, whispering things to her that he’d never say in the light of day. He spent the night loving her with his body and when he was done, he stroked her arm until she fell to sleep, leaving him to ponder over the events that had taken place.

Morning dawned just as bright as the day previous though gray and foreboding, but the room seemed brighter with all of that pale skin spread before him.

Sara was stretched haphazardly in the bed, as though she were a rag doll tossed there; it was a miracle that her head was still on the pillow. The curls she had set in place the night before had softened, spreading out to create large twists in her hair. Mouth parted, fingers spread beneath the pillow, she was irresistible.

His chest tightened and he leaned in, placing his hands so they flanked her torso. Slowly, deliberately, Grissom brought his lips to her tailbone and began kissing upward, his mouth falling to each notch in her spine with care. Sara stirred beneath the pleasant onslaught but she let the sweet torture continue until he had reached the back of her neck; when he did, she slid her hand behind her and into his hair. "Hmmm, what time is it?" she managed, willing herself not to turn over and look at him for fear of bringing him back to reality.

His gruff voice replied, "It's nearly seven, I need to get back to my room before Catherine gets up, suspects something." His words were low, soft, regretful as he sifted through her hair with the tip of his nose. Grissom placed one hand on her back, spread his fingers wide and trailed the palm down until he reached her bottom. "God you're gorgeous," came his rushed whisper, making her smile into the down of the pillow.

"Get going then," Sara urged, with equal parts regret and loss. Twisting her body oddly, she managed to draw the heavy sheet up her torso as she lay on her back, "Last night was..."

But he wasn't listening; his eyes were fixed on her collarbone, his gaze being dragged down to the line of the sheet where the skin halted. His eyes flickered to hers for a second before he brought his left hand up and delicately peeled the sheet back, exposing her breasts to the quaint daylight that was filtering through the pines. "Jesus," his voice was haggard as he dropped his lips to the swell of her left breast and kissed it with reverence. "Last night was..."

"Yeah," Sara gasped as he moved to her other breast with care. "Yeah, yeah."

"I have to go," he said, face finally resting in the crook of her neck. Grissom peeled himself off of her and sat at the edge of the bed, exposing the tan line of his back for her viewing pleasure. Sara watched, nude from the waist up, as he went about the process of collecting and reapplying his clothes. He made her think about constant mornings waking up next to him, made her think of wearing his body as she slept at night. Grissom made her think of forever and she tried not to hurt too much as he unlocked and unchained her door and slipped out with a sad smile.

After stretching out her incredibly sore muscles, she let the sheet fall away from her body and stood to cross the room, looking out the doors to her balcony. Fog was rolling in between the crevices of the mountains, the sky grey and gloomy. The left side of her lips jumped up in a sad smile; she wasn't going to analyze the weather to conform to her feelings. Pulling a tee shirt from her suitcase, Sara trailed to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, her forehead landing against the cool, smooth tiles of the wall.

It was true, she hadn't thought about it in the moment; neither had he and she could only imagine the plethora of regrets pacing single-file through his conscious. He was probably in his own shower, mentally kicking himself, attempting to wash away any memory of the encounter.

Twisting the knob for the water, she stood under the hot spray until her back went numb with the constant pressure. Reaching for her shampoo, she was ready to squeeze some into her hand when she heard a loud thumping coming from the main room. Sara stuck her head out of the shower, "Hello? Greg? I'm in the-"

The door opened and she steeled herself to unleash unholy fury on whoever the intruder was. Grissom appeared after a moment, voice screwed up in pain. "Who puts their suitcase in the middle of the floor?" he asked and then paused when he noted her shocked expression. His gaze trailed down her wet arms to her naked form behind the frosted glass. "Did you, uh, did you want me to... leave?"

The shampoo bottle slipped from her hand and startled both of them; she disappeared behind the glass for a moment before looking back out at him. "What are you... doing here?"

Blinking, he took a step forward; it was then that she saw how wide his eyes were and it shocked her. Maybe he hadn't considered regret... "I uh..."

"Shower yet?" she rasped, surprised by her own daring. And there she was, stepping back into the shower with an inviting look. Biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the nerves away before he could step in with her. When he did join her, he immediately pressed her back into the tiles with his big body, his hands falling to her hips immediately.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," he gasp, his tongue seeking out the crest of her ear in earnest. "I was..."

"Hmm?"

Grissom cleared his throat and let his lips rest against her temple, "I had plans." He sounded so defeated, it was adorable. "To seduce you, peel off your clothes... touch every," she felt him shudder against her skin and her thighs parted just a bit more. "Every inch of skin... Jesus," his cock was nudging her folds delicately.

"Sounds nice," she sighed, arching her hips into his, "Maybe we can try it next time." They gazed at each other for a moment before Grissom bent slightly and captured her mouth in a heated kiss. Moaning against his tongue, her hands sought his back, short nails digging into the curve of his spine with intent. Plying his tongue with hers, Sara took control of the kiss even as he was forcing her against the wall. The little squeaks and moans she was emitting fueled him, moving them under the spray as he held her body molded to him.

Sara pulled away from his lips and traced a few droplets of water over his collarbone and down to his chest. Delicately nipping at each nipple, she grinned when he groaned and tossed his head back. Sliding down cautiously, Sara spread her knees so that she had leverage and leaned in to press a kiss to the tip of his cock, a dollop of precum resting on her lips. Sara laughed, naughty, and then dipped down to envelop his cock with her mouth, sucking hard. "Hmmmm," came her delicious hum, the sound vibrating through his shaft to his balls.

"Sara!" he shouted, his knees nearly buckling as she tipped her head and sucked him in as far as he could before pulling off of him with an audible 'pop'. His chest was heaving when she glanced up and it made her smile wickedly. Turning around, she bent at the waist and offered him her ass, bracing her forearms against the tiles.

Grissom just stood there for a minute, the water pelting the top of his head. Looking back at him over her shoulder, Sara delivered a sultry smile, inviting him to play. With a heave of a breath, he took the step forward and ran his hands over the smoothness of her backside. "Sara, I," his voice was choked and she couldn't stand to hear it, wouldn't.

"Just, please," she gritted between tightly clenched teeth.

Running a hand over his face, he gripped his hardness with one hand and brought it between her folds, pressing in just a fraction of the way. "Ooh, ooh, shit," came her sob as she wriggled her hips back in order to take more of him in. They both stilled as he slid the last of the few inches home.

And then all hell broke loose.

Sara's hips bucked back and she muttered some obscenities he wasn't sure he'd heard anyone say. His own hips slammed forward of their own accord, nearly sending her through the wall. Her sobbing keens for more had his head spinning and he could help but plunge away into her ruthlessly. One of Sara's hands managed to reach back and grab his thigh.

Letting go of him hastily, Sara slid her hand between her thighs and swiped at her clitoris a few times. A low, deep hum was her response as her body shuddered in time with the jerks of her hand, clamping down on him hard. A few stuttered grunts and a wave of warm heat later and he was finished, doing all that he could in order not to slump down onto her.

Straightening out her spine, he wrapped his arms around her torso in attempt to keep them both standing. His chin fell hard to her shoulder and they both sucked in heavy breaths. Sara attempted to formulate words, but found none, leaning her head back onto his shoulder in defeat.

The side of his beard scratched against her cheek as her short breaths puffed against his wet skin.

Sara turned in his arms, slowly, and latched her arms around his neck; he couldn’t get away from her, couldn’t. Grissom nudged her wet hairline with his lips and pulled the door back, holding her body as he moved them out of the tub.

Without speech, they shuffled back into the bedroom and fell onto the springy bed.

Sara landed on her back, legs and arms spread at haphazard angles, his body falling at her left side, his left palm gently cupping her breast.

“What’s happening?” Sara asked, her hand finding its way into his hair.

Grissom shifted his head and allowed his hand to trace down over the curve of her breast to skim down her ribcage; his lips sought out the underside of her left breast and kissed it tenderly, “What’s supposed to be happening, I think.”

“Supposed to be happening?” she asked, twisting and curling her body before she managed to untuck a corner of the comforter, sliding her head onto a pillow.

Grissom looked at her and then stood, sliding his body under the heavy fabric as well. “It’s what I know is supposed to happen… that’s happening.” He accepted her body as a warm weight against his chest as their legs slid together, looking out at the mountains that were leisurely accepting the fog that was intertwining with them.

And just so you know, this is the dress that I pictured Sara wearing, though not necessarily from Ann Taylor... just... THIS dress.