Biology: Or, What Doing Comes Natural

Title: Biology: Or, What Doing Comes Natural
Author: scullyseviltwin/scullyastrinity
Rating: Adult, dearies.
Category: PWP? Prolly???
Spoilers: Another one of those first time fics that are just so darn popular, and probably not true to canon in any sense, but whaddya gonna do, right?
Thanks: Okay, Mary, you really rock. Even though you almost spoiled my ass for Dexter. :::shakes fist vehemently::: I really can't do most of these without you, so yeah.
Notes: This is up there with "the sappiest shit I've ever written," (also SUPER generic) but I suppose it's better than writing, bitter, angsty fic, which is what you all know I want to write. C'mon now.



A slow caress over the taut skin at her hip before he dipped down and slid the calloused palm of his hand over the tight muscles of her calves.

There was stubble; she was mortified, he didn't seem to mind. His nimble, soft-strong fingers lingered for an inordinate amount over time over the dip and press of bone at her ankle, circling around the bump with a hurried sort of care, as though he'd never encountered the joint before.

She was on the bed, clad in panties (stark white, not a pair that she thought anyone would see in the light of day) and a long-sleeved shirt, the one she had worn to work that morning. It was an interesting picture to be sure: she, flushed and embarrassed and aroused with him exploring at his rush and leisure, still fully clothed.

"I uh, I..." she was trying to speak, break the itchy silence that rubbed against her ears, tried to make him look at her. But he was focused on her skin, on the tint and hue of the spread of light freckles pulled over her forearm. "I..."

Grissom sighed, allowing his head to fall slack; tilting his face to the side, he looked up at her from beneath dark lashes. "I..." he managed to speak in the same tenor and tone she had just spoken in. "Am very glad I decided to stop by this afternoon."

Breathlessly, taken aback by his all-too-casual tone, she chuckled and relaxed her muscles a bit, sliding her elbows further apart on the bedspread. "Me too," she murmured and, while balancing her weight on one arm, brought the other hand up to sweep through his hair. "I'm not sure how to handle you right now, to tell you the truth," came her own sigh, a sweet relief ebbing alongside the sizzle of nerves in her veins.

There was a sedation to his smile, a sweet seduction that had her throat pulling and her heart lurching. "Well, I suppose we should handle the situation," with a pop and a shift he moved his body up alongside hers, his cheeks flushed too, but only a bit. "With practical ease," his lips inched closer to hers and a smile curved his lips up until she was sure his face would crack with the force of it. "We do what comes... natural."

The last words were spoken against her lips and thus had her too grinning, their noses brushing barely. Their lips brushed lightly, a fraction of a whisper and then he chuckled and moved in, pressing his lips against hers hard, her body taking the assault and falling onto the heavy comforter. They both laughed then, a warm, welcome sound that neither of them had been accustomed to in the bedroom.

"You have a nice mattress," Grissom claimed as he slid his hand against her stomach, testing her reaction; it was a shiver and a squeak as Sara turned on her side and glanced over at him.

Licking her lips, "Uh, thank you?"

Against her neck, he replied laboriously, "You're welcome."

There wasn't much talking after that, because his mouth was against her skin, pressing sweetly, slowly, easily. Grissom lapped beneath her ear, nipped at the lobe and maneuvered around to steal another kiss. With a sluggish shift, Sara placed her hands on his face and held him there, humming something unrecognizable. So, he hummed back and slid her shirt up until it caught against her bra, lifting it up and off, tousling her hair something terrible in the process.

Grissom laughed again.

Sara laughed too.

She was sweating, the pinpricks of salty perspiration peeking out of her skin to slide down her back; he trailed his fingers against it as he reached around to unhook her bra with only a bit of trouble. Her breath hitched in her chest as Grissom rolled back to take in the scene before him. Smooth skin, slight freckles pulled over long, hard bone. Beauty. With a slightly-lopsided grin, he moved in and placed a kiss to the side of her neck, granting him access and a sigh. With Sara against the pillows, he began trailing over her collarbone, pausing to savor certain spots as he made his way to her breast and suckled.

A hiss of air passed between her teeth and a moment later, he felt her nails digging into his scalp. "Gil..." It was a question or a plea, it just was and he smiled against her skin as he gently worried his teeth against her nipple. "Jesus." Maneuvering to give attention to her other breast, Grissom brought this right hand up the cover the warm mound of flesh he had just abandoned.

Below him, Sara squirmed and sighed, her legs parting to allow his body to settle between them. As he did so, his length ground into her thigh and she groaned, eyes popping open; Sara's fingers tightened their grip in his hair and tugged; a moment later their lips were sealed together as she ground up into him. "This seems natural," she gasped as he chuckled into her mouth.

"Very natural," he agreed and rolled off of her to sit at the side of the bed and untie his shoes.

Sara kept her position on the bed, watching his back muscles play beneath the fabric of his shirt. "I always hate this part," she muttered lazily, suddenly much less self-conscious than she had been before.

Grissom tossed a glance over his shoulder as he peeled off his socks and placed them inside of his loafers. "Which part would that be?"

On another sigh-she sounded so sated *already*-Sara said, "When you have to take a pause in the action to get naked."

He barked out a startled laugh, in response to which she smiled. "Well, otherwise there would *be* no action," he claimed and stood to begin unbuttoning his shirt.

"Unless you're creative," came her remark as she sat up and crawled over to the side of the bed where he stood. "Lemme do that."

Before he could respond, her fingers were working the buttons out of their holes, her face set in a determined mask. "I used to have... fantasies about you doing this," Grissom claimed.

"Oh reaaaaaaaally?"

With a nod, he explained, "It was one of my favorites, thinking of you, walking up to me in the hallway, or at a scene, or simply coming to my door, knocking and then beginning to undress me." Sara chuckled. "I must admit, the reality is much better."

"Glad to hear it," and with that, she pushed the material off of his shoulders and then peeling his undershirt up and off of him. "And I managed not to mangle your shirt... my hands are shaking." Sara held up her hands for him o see but would not meet his eyes. Immediately, Grissom them in his and bent to kiss her tenderly.

"Lie back," he asked of her and she did as he finished removing his clothing. Once bare, he climbed into the bed next to her and she closed her eyes to him once more, a darker blush painting her cheeks and chest.

Sara cleared her throat and reached over to touch his hip, "Now... my whole body is shaking, Grissom..."

"Honey... calm down," he murmured, smoothing a hand over her hair.

"Hmmm," she hummed, breathed, relieved herself of the weigh that seemed to be crushing her chest and almost-snuggled into him, placing a kiss on his neck. "Touch me," she asked quietly, nestled into his chest.

Angling his chin down, he dropped a kiss on her cheek, "Where?" He placed his hand at the waist of her panties. "Here?"

He felt her smile against him (he smiled too, he liked this feeling, liked feeling so beautifully lost) and nod, and he slipped two fingers beneath the waistband, rubbing lightly. "Yeah?" A low groan slipped out of her throat, a sound so alluring that he repeated the gesture; she did it again, only louder.

A digit slid inside of her and she gasped out a laugh, clinging onto him tighter. "Jesus Gil..."

And then her hand strayed past his him and wrapped around his length slowly. He felt each individual finger curl around him. His groan was much more pronounced that hers was; his hand went slack and his head slammed back into the pillow hard. "Fuck, Sara," and she was twisting her body, managing to kiss him deeply whilst sliding her body on top of his. "Sara..."

"Shhh," she whispered and shook, shook like a leaf as she settled over him and took a deep breath. "You, uh, okay," Sara said and bit her lip as she allowed her body to familiarize itself with him. A moment later, she moved, pressing her damp palms to his chest for leverage.

"Jesus," she sobbed and stopped moving, "Fuck, I..."

Grissom blinked and smiled and groaned and placed his hands lightly on her hips, "Here," he muttered and with another groan (this one more out of pain that pleasure) and maneuvered her off of his cock. "I want to be... over you," he grunted with some difficulty and she acquiesced quickly, fluidly, and laid back against the sheets.

A moment later, he was settled over her, kissing her again, deeply, sloppily, lazily, and she was spreading her legs, slipping them up onto his waist while a hand abandoned the nape of his neck to seek out his cock, running her hand over it, once, twice, before she brought it to her core.

"Okay," she breathed into his mouth and pulled her hand away as he slid in. Another sob slipped out of her as her hips bucked up to join them completely. "So this is what it feels like," Sara said with a breathless laugh.

"Yeah," he managed as he stuttered out and then back in. The slick press of him inside of her, stretching her, made her dig her nails into the skin at his shoulders, leaving little red half-moons. She was sure Grissom didn't mind.

Sara hitched her legs a little higher, changing the angle; for a moment he stalled, pressing his face into the side of her neck, inhaling. "Jesus *christ*," he groaned and moved again, harder than before, faster. She shook with the force of it, securing her arms around his neck with all of her might.

"Please," came her beg, her hands slipping against the sweat of his neck. "Pleaseplease," it was a rasp, like there was no air left in the room and he moved even faster, placing his lips against the pulse point in her neck, sucking. Securing her hand on his neck, weaving two fingers into his hair, Sara managed to slide her right hand between their bodies and pressed against her clit, attempting to set up a circular motion.

It took only a few hard thrusts and a press of his body against her fingers and she was coming, gasping beneath him, bucking up into him, pulling him down onto her, needing to feel his hot weight. "Come," Sara asked, through gritted teeth and he let out a strangled moan and plunged into her harder, faster, faster, faster.

A moment later he stiffened and she felt his heat bathe her, causing her to sigh; Sara's hands slid down his back and held him as he half-heartedly continued thrusting and then collapsed on top of her. After regaining her breath, Sara laughed a little, pushing a hand through her hair as he slid off of her and onto his side.

He had a hand in his hair too, while his vacant one sought her vacant palm. It took a moment but he managed to grasp it and squeeze. "Did that feel natural enough?" he asked, throat scratchy.

Sara sat up and looked at him, smiled and thwacked him on the chest. "In comparison to what?"

Grissom chuckled and pulled her down to him, "I have no idea, why are we talking?"

"I don't know," she whispered and laid herself down next to him.

They stared at each other until they slept.