Reclamation

She trembled as she entered the cold apartment. The sun had beaten against her skin the entire day as she combed the desert for evidence, any clues they could possibly find that might give Brass some sort of lead. They'd come up with nothing on a full day's work; today had not been a good day.

The scene was one of only a few that had left her so unsettled. She was covered with blood, having meticulously examined the gore of two bodies, two female bodies, bludgeoned while still alive. It hadn't helped that she had had to work the scene with Grissom. Things had become even more strained between them lately and he watched her like a hawk the entire day, continually asking if she was all right. It was her job, God damn it! Of course she was all right.

Yet deep down she wasn't all right. Their forensic work had matched the DNA to both victims, placing their ages about twenty years apart. Mother and daughter they'd assumed. Two beautiful women, splayed across some barren wasteland, and she still wore the front of being perfectly capable of handling it all. She was fine and that's the way she wanted it to be.

The cold air in the room sank into her sweaty clothes and Sara trembled again. She had shed some of the layers she had worn to the investigation, opting only for the tight sleeveless t-shirt that had been under all her clothing. She drew her knees up into herself as she sat on the couch in her living room thinking about the day. Wrapping her arms around them, she shook her head and silently chastised herself. It would do her no good to keep reliving it. She needed to let it go.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She opened the door and was surprised to see Grissom. "Hey," she drawled tiredly, "What's up?"

Leaning against the frame his eyes took her in, fairly unused to her scantily clad form. He wore an expression of concern, his eyes returning to her face. "I was worried about you. You didn't look like you were feeling too well out there today."

He watched as anger crossed her face. She lifted a brow and drew her arm up to wrap it around her chest, cupping her other shoulder. "Yeah, well, working the desert in a hundred and ten degrees, knee deep in guts tends to do that to a person. A regular person," she added under her breath.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I just wanted to check up on you, that's all. Mind if I come in?" His hand reached up to pull the sunglasses off, giving her his sexy grin.

"Yeah, sure." Standing aside she let him pass, his body brushing hers as he walked by. Involuntarily she trembled once more, only this time not from the heat of the desert, the cold of the apartment, or the grizzly nature of one more crime scene. This tremor was caused by him. Just one simple touch... just one bare brush of his body.

Grissom looked around, shrugging out of his coat, laying it on of her rather contemporary chairs. "It's cold in here. Are you cold?"

"Yeah," she smiled, walking over to the thermometer on the wall kicking the temperature up a few degrees. He surprised her when she turned around to find him standing so close. She jumped, startled by his nearness, her breath catching in her throat to silence her surprise.

"Sorry," he barely whispered, standing back to allow her room to move. "I just wanted to see what you had it set at in here. It's cold enough to freeze meat."

They both laughed and the unexpectedness of it eased their tension. Sara offered him something to drink and they both settled back into the couch.

Sara laid her head back against the covered pillows and closed her eyes breathing a sigh of relief. "Today was rough out there. I can't believe we didn't come up with anything."

"It's a big scene. Forensics may come back with something from the rape kit and then there's always whatever the autopsy shows."

"If there's anything left," she groaned, shivering once more with the sudden flash of the things she'd had to wade through that afternoon. She felt the space between them lessen as Grissom slid close her to her, wrapping an arm around behind her, pulling her into him.

"You know, Sara," he murmured, speaking the words matter-of-factly, trying to hide his concern for her, "you don't always have to be strong. You don't always have to be so brave. Not with me."

For a moment she began to relax into his embrace, but anger soon flared inside her. How could he say these things after all the times she had pursued him and been shot down? With one rough push to his chest she was out of his arms and standing, turning on him with irritation. "Dammit, Grissom. You can't just come into my house and try to get inside my head! You can't just... argggggg!"

Turning away in frustration she swung her balled-up fists, then spun back to face him. "Look! You were the one that pulled away, not me. You want me to be something with you that I can't. Don't come here and expect me to fall apart in your arms when... when..."

He rose from the couch and stood before her, reaching out to brush her matted curls from her forehead. "Don't," she spat back at him, tears beginning to well within her eyes.

"Sara," he whispered, his hand stroking a long wet path, tracing the tear from her cheek to her neck. Once more she trembled. He watched her so closely, her anger turning to sadness, her sadness a cold desperation. The woman before him, so painfully beautiful, so uniquely alive; he had denied his desire for her, but how long could he last?

"You'd better go," she swallowed roughly. His hand had settled at the hollow of her throat while his eyes seemed to devour her image. "Please," she choked. "Just go."

"No," he interrupted. She looked up at him with a new tide of anger, but he stayed it by placing his other hand to her cheek. Her cold skin grew warm with the caress of his palm. "No."

He stood there like a teenager unsure of himself. The hand at her throat slid slowly around her neck, settling behind the fall of her hair. He felt her shudder as his thumb began to slowly stroke her skin and he stepped closer to her. Sara... Sara Sidle... the woman that had so utterly captured and beguiled him; he was holding her in a way he had only imagined and two things warred inside him: fear and longing. He hadn't pushed her away because he didn't want her; he had refused her because he needed her too much to risk her walking out of his life forever. Now in these silent moments, he could think of no where on earth he'd rather be.

"Gris," she drew in, gauging his response. "I just can't make myself vulnerable, not... not like this."

"Shh," he soothed, stroking his other hand over her lips. Her lips caressed his fingers, surprising them both with her kiss. With a smile he leaned into her, kissing the back of his own hand that hovered over her lips before removing it suddenly. His hot breath replaced his hand and she whimpered under the heat of it. He stared intently into her eyes, his mouth parting, touching hers, sucking against her bottom lip before kissing her fully.

Sara couldn't move. Her body froze solid to that spot, the hot moisture of Grissom's mouth eating at her lips. A thousand thoughts crossed her mind in that second. Why was he kissing her? Where would it end? Would he let her touch him? God, she wanted that more than anything. His soft lips nibbled at hers, his eyes finally closed and she felt him moan quietly as she kissed him back. Her hands slid down his shoulders, fingertips memorizing his shape until they settled at his hips, pulling him roughly to her.

With an unexpected jolt he met her body and her arm wrapped around his shoulder as she clung to him. He pushed her to the wall, her mouth now consuming him, his body responding to every urgent touch. The small shirt she had worn climbed up her bare stomach, giving his hands the first touch of her skin.

Breaking away from their initial kiss his lips found her neck. He suckled her flesh, kneading her skin, his fingers climbing up her narrow waist, her muscles taut beneath his hands. Her body was heaving as she panted beneath his command, her legs drawing up and around him, her head thrown back to give him more room to explore. And explore he did, tasting every inch of her chin to collarbone, listening to each breathless cry until he finally looked up to meet her eyes.

"You said you can't, Sara. But I think you can." His voice was deep and gravely, powerful and imposing.

"Tell me you want me, Gris. I can feel it," she whispered low, dropping her hips to grind against the rigidity pushing against her thigh, "but I want to hear you admit it. Say it. Tell me you want me."

"Oh, Sara," he smiled, leaning back but still holding her to the wall. "I think you already know I want you, don't you?" With a skeptical smile he returned to the apex of her neck and shoulder, sliding his tongue along the salty groove.

"Say it, Gris. Say it," she demanded, groaning with the feel of his tongue.

"Sara," he whispered. "Saraaaaaaaaa," he sang even more urgently, "Sara, I want you. I've wanted you for so long. I need you, Sara. Please."

She had imagined those words for years, fantasizing them spoken to her in every way, but nothing had ever come close to the eventuality. Here he was and he had finally admitted he needed her. He was giving in to desire and the words made her weak with her own craving. "The bedroom," was all she could say and grabbing her hips he carried her to it, laying her down against the soft unmade sheets, and then turning to shut the door.

She looked at him from across the room, the light outside fading into a dark amber glow. He smiled to her, walking slowly to the bed, sinking down to sit against her side. His hands fell to the flat of her visible stomach. "I have never seen anyone more beautiful, Sara," he spoke, his voice rich with emotion. She desperately tried to blink her fresh tears away, but his hand met them again, tracing them across her skin.

Sliding up to the headboard, she pulled him to follow, to lean over her prone body. She urged him into her kiss, listening to him whimper as her tongue slid slowly and ardently over his. Her hands pulled at the navy t-shirt he still wore from the scene, smelling his aftershave or cologne, marveling at the sweet and musky smell of him. He was erotic, every inch of him and she wanted more. He was tantalizing and if at that moment he meant to stop, she would die.

"Gris," she moaned, pulling away from their kiss. Her eyes opened and scanned his face as a swift rush of panic washed over her. "I'm... afraid," she whispered meeting the weight of his gaze.

He understood completely. Here they were, so close to giving in, and the thought terrified them both. She was so much younger, having had her heart broken before, and he ... he had everything to lose by taking that next step. Yet... yet, he reasoned, there was so much to gain. Sliding in behind her, his hand traveled the small of her belly once more, his lips to her ear, kissing the lobe before finally murmuring into the outer shell, "Don't be afraid, Sara. I promise I won't hurt you. I've loved you for so long. So long," he signed, his body molding to hers.

Love... had he truly spoken that word? "Love?" she questioned, swallowing the thickness of the sentiment that threatened to overwhelm her.

"I love you, Sara Sidle. I've loved you from the first day I met you. I've just been too afraid to admit it; too afraid to risk losing you forever."

It was all she needed. She turned slowly in his embrace, dragging her leg up to wrap around his, her hands moving the long expanse of his chest and then down to his hip. "I love you, Gris. I've wanted you for so long. Make love to me."

His hands passed up over her stomach to drag the thin material over her head. His mouth captured her skin wherever it could, his breathing matching her own: shallow and desperate. Nimble fingers sought the clasping lock to the simple white bra that held her sheathed from his inspection. With one easy tug it came free, and he dropped it to the floor before brushing his eyes from her face to her breasts. Perfection; her body was as perfect canvas of cream colored skin, peppered with a fine assault of darker freckles, her breasts tender peaks with soft pink nipples. Trailing two fingers between their supple valley, his eyes met hers once more. "Beautiful," he whispered again.

She lay almost too subconscious under the burden of his perusal, but the admiration in his eyes took it all away. He bent toward her, pulling her nipple into his mouth and her arms wrapped around him as she moaned. He was finally touching her and all she could think of was more... more... more.

Her hands pushed between them, working open the button and zipper to his jeans. Under her hand she could feel him hard and ready. His mouth worked hungrily at her breasts, drawing each stiff point between his lips to suck, kiss, and bite. His hands mimicked hers, dragging the zipper to her jeans down before they both let loose and watched each other slip the denim off and to the floor. Grissom lay beside her then, hand smoothing over the thin slip of material, the only thing left covering her, before drawing her thighs apart.

"Off," she smiled, her hand running over the smooth plane of his ass.

"Yes, ma'am," he smiled back, helping her rid him of his briefs.

Sara lay beneath him, naked and firm, looking up into his eyes. No words were necessary between the two of them as his fingers pulled away the final barrier and her hand led him home.

In her hands he was hard as steel, resting at the entrance to her body. Grissom balanced his weight on his forearms and without warning pushed inside her slowly, watching her eyes shut, her lips part suddenly, and her body shudder. He sank within her, pulling back slowly to level his hips with hers once more and then drove into the hilt. The action caused them both to mimic the other, arching toward each other for more, pulling away to find relief from the pleasure.

Gil's hand leisurely swept the length of her body, pulling her leg up higher around him, giving himself more room to move. It gave him the impetus and the angle he desired, burying himself into searing, unyielding warmth. The sensation she caused inside him was building too fast. His mind was a blur of images and sound and if he didn't stop it would all be over too soon.

With a gruff grunt he pulled out of her, hovering carefully over her watching the mask of pleasure fade from her face. She searched his eyes, suddenly afraid he meant to leave her. He smiled down on her and shook his head, a smile slowly creeping across her lips. No words were spoken as he began to kiss his way down her stomach, stopping to caress her bellybutton with his tongue.

Snaking it wetly down her body he met the place he'd just left. The scent of her was driving him mad. He wanted to laugh, thinking of all the things he could say right then... telling her about ancient sexual rituals, regaling her with his knowledge of the Kama Sutra, but no, he said nothing. Instead he kissed the small patch of curling black hair. Sara jumped but his hand came up over her stomach to hold her still, the other parting her so easily. He wanted to taste. Closing his eyes he slid the tip of his tongue from top to bottom and bottom to top. Her legs closed around him, trapping him there but the consequences were far worth it. Slowly he began to nibble at her, sucking each silken wall into his mouth, caressing her delicately, finally finding the small throbbing tip that so anxiously waited for his touch.

Sara felt as though she would die... burst into a thousand pieces when he took it into his mouth and flicked it over and over with his tongue. She lost all sensation beyond complete pleasure then, pulling his face against her, and the scream that finally registered when she came was her own.

Grissom swallowed all she gave, lapping it from the small opening of her body to the place that made her jerk and shudder again and again whenever he touched it. Finally he crawled back up her body, kissing her as he climbed, positioned himself above her and thrust back inside. Her screams had hardly mellowed in the room when he forced her back across the threshold, riding into her like a man possessed.

Seething, Grissom clenched his teeth, his hands holding her shoulders, and tore his way through her until the walls of her body were convulsing without stop.

"Cum, Gris!" she managed, the last coherent sound before he did, arching his body into her as he filled her to overflowing. He called her name, over and over and over without relent, leaning in to kiss them both silent.

Shifting his weight from her, her hands reached up to hold him there, pleading with her eyes for him to stay. He parted his legs, pulling from her body and relaxed his tense muscles until he was lying partially on top of her. "Sara... that was, everything I ever thought it would be." It seemed too simple to say, but it was true. It was more than he had ever hoped it could possibly be with Sara in his arms.

"I hope this means you're staying," she smirked, biting her lower lip as his looked up and found her eyes.

"Actually I have a pile of work on my desk just waiting for me to get back..." The look on her face was enough and he laughed gently, leaning forward to kiss the tip of her nose. "I'm staying Sara. I promise."

She relaxed in his arms, her legs twining around his and slowly she fell into a quiet slumber. Gris continued to watch her for hours, holding her close in the circle of his embrace. His world was changing profoundly around him and nothing could take away the contentment he held inside him as his eyes gently drifted shut.