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Corkscrew
“Wine gives courage and makes men more apt for passion.” –Ovid (43 BC - 17AD) ‘Nuff said. G/S
Rating: PG-13; Published on 06/06/2005 - Reviews 0
Chapters: - 1 -
Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I wasn’t a millionaire television producer. Darn it. The characters aren’t mine.
Summary: “Wine gives courage and makes men more apt for passion.” –Ovid (43 BC - 17AD) ‘Nuff said. G/S
A/N: Thanks Marlou, Danielle and Ann for the quick beta. This is lame fluffiness in all its glory. Danielle, I’m indebted to you for the title. I think I laughed for an hour.
They’d kissed before. Several times actually. Small kisses. Some slow, awkward forays into intimacy with brief plunges into passion—several bumbling moments doomed for interruption.
Tonight was different. Everything about tonight was different. The sweet kiss he gave her when she arrived at his home was welcoming, yet deep enough to garner her full attention. The twinkle in his eye caused her to do a practically comic double take.
He knew things were different, too.
“I’m not a big wine drinker,” Sara said when he started pouring, giving her a doubtful look.
“I’m serious. It goes straight to my head, not like beer at all.” She smiled and shrugged and let him serve her some incredibly cheesy lasagna. It was true. Beer was like soda to her. She always seemed to have her wits about her. (Thus leading once to a dangerous almost DUI) Wine was just not like that. Wine was like a fine mist before her eyes and a thick cloud in her brain, which was why she generally avoided it.
Well, half a glass wouldn’t hurt. Besides, she was with Grissom.
She knew when she snorted with laughter she was in trouble. Straight to her head, and for some reason, she couldn’t care less. Something was so different tonight. Things were progressing, she knew. Grissom had made such an effort in the past few weeks. She literally scratched her head and thought for a moment. When had this all become so utterly plausible? How did he weasel his way back into her heart? Into her life?
Oh yeah, she realized rather quickly, he’d never left. He just started…putting on the moves one day.
Now she was laughing out loud at her own thoughts, and the dopey, perplexed look on his face only encouraged her sniggering. Okay, two glasses was clearly her limit.
She would make efforts too, she decided, blinking at him with a tight smirk. Grissom was lovable. Period. He deserved to be loved—by her. No reason this had to be a fantasy anymore. “Can I wash your dishes?” she asked, picking up her plate and immediately bursting into another giggle.
“Are you drunk?”
“No. I’m sorry. Wine makes me…silly or something,” she managed, clearing his plate as well.
“You don’t have to do the dishes,” he said, picking up a few things and following behind her.
The coziness of his kitchen proved too much for Sara. Tossing silverware into his sink, she spun around and landed squarely in his arms. “Just kiss me,” she instructed, smiling into his mouth.
He obliged. Lord, did he oblige. His mouth was hot and hungry, and it stirred something so deep inside her, she was sure her knees would buckle beneath her. Mmmm…sloppy. Wet and…damn, she wanted him.
“You are drunk,” he announced, stilling her wandering hands. She laughed again.
“I swear, I’m not.” They kissed again, and a long time later, she added thoughtfully, “I think I’m happy.”
He studied her face for a while, and everything went heavy for Sara. Her body felt heavy. The wine. Screw the wine. She was feeling silly and horny, but Grissom…he was right here in front of her. All masculine and sexy. Suddenly everything made sense. They could so do this. They were dating. Clearly, they were dating…and kissing…frequently. This was really going on. No reason they shouldn’t be sleeping together.
Just keep it up, she thought, swirling her tongue against his and giving a subtle squeeze to his rear end. His surprised gasp pleased her enormously. She would never tire of throwing him off guard. It was entirely too entertaining.
Twenty minutes later, sprawled across his leather couch, he mumbled against her throat, “What are we doing here, Sara?”
She didn’t answer right away, instead licking slowly along the shell of his ear. “Foreplay, Grissom.”
His flustered sigh gave way to another passionate kiss, and his hands were in all the right places, spurring things along exactly the way she wanted.
“God, I want you,” she blurted in a whoosh of breath, and his fingers connected with the skin of her breast beneath her shirt. So fucking good. Surely she’d never been this aroused in her life.
She heard him say her name, kind of desperately. Beautifully. This was really happening.
“You want to go to my bedroom?” he whispered, and she almost laughed at his uncertain shyness. Sex with Grissom would be incredible—to love him and be loved by him. To be one with the unattainable man she had chased for so long that she’d forgotten how to do anything else.
She merely purred against his face, and they clumsily made their way. It surprised her that he wouldn’t stop his sensual assault on her neck. He grumbled when she undid his belt, and she snorted a quiet laugh.
Sara fell backwards onto the bed and watched him open a drawer in his nightstand. She wiggled herself closer to the pillows while he impatiently shifted things around in there.
A moment later—success.
He tossed the condom on the bed and returned to her, sliding over her body fully clothed and not caring. Sara moaned and sighed, content to give him not only control, but also total use of her body. She could seriously sit back and be mauled. Two seconds later, she realized how much more thrilling it would be to attack him back. “I need your clothes off,” she said matter-of-factly, like his shirt and pants were critical evidence in a new hot case.
The crinkle between his eyes set off a new wave of giggles. He was so rarely confused that seeing him slightly puzzled amused her. That only seemed to urge him to continue, and he began removing her shirt.
She’d never remember the feel of his sheets against her skin, or how long they lay there kissing, but she would definitely always remember the first time she felt his naked body against hers. It made all the breath leave her lungs and tears form in her eyes. Then he was touching her, and coherent thought became a struggle.
“Tell me you want me,” she blurted helplessly, desperate to hear him say something--anything.
His lips didn’t leave her clavicle when he replied softly, “C’mon, Sara. You know I love you.”
She didn’t mean to cry. But she did nonetheless, and it seemed to break his heart. He took her face in his hands and stared at her, blinking, with eyebrows twitching nervously. “I love you,” he said again, as if in defeat.
Sara never considered herself a needy woman, but where Grissom was concerned, anything could happen. She actually blurted stupidly, “Do you really?”
He kissed her and scooped her into his arms, momentarily ignoring how close they were to consummating their relationship. “God, I’m sorry, honey. I—I didn’t know how. I still—”
She reached for him then, silencing him with a passionate kiss and moving, sliding her legs apart, encouraging him closer. Idiot, she thought. He did know how to love her, and he would. Period.
“I…I just need you,” he said, surprising her with a half smile before tenderly returning to her lips.
She helped him put the condom on, and purely by accident, their eyes met. For a moment, they paused, and the spell of the fantasy was broken. Sara slowly grinned at him, and a second later, his cheek twitched in response. He slid his fingers down her arm and blindly reached for her hand.
Reality was even better.
Their movements were slow, but purposeful and incredibly satisfying. Neither could quiet the groans filling the room. “Love you,” Sara whimpered, meeting his thrusts enthusiastically, encouraging a quicker pace. “So much.”
It was hot, literally. Sara wondered briefly if the heat was on. How could it be so damn hot in his bedroom? They were sweaty and slippery together; it was so hot. She couldn’t think much more about it because as far as sex went, it was magnificent. Outstanding.
She’d always fantasized that with Grissom, she’d be comfortable—utterly at ease with herself, with him, the situation, with everything. She’d be loud and demanding and utterly satisfied, and damn if it didn’t go down like that. Just like her fantasies, only he was surprisingly loud, too, growling once in her ear and shocking her with a profanity-ridden version of her name. She liked that.
She liked all of it. He pulled her close to him afterwards, like she belonged in his arms. He sighed against her skin and left lazy kisses here and there as drowsiness set in, and Sara realized how insanely content she felt. Logic was still there. Grissom was difficult, often detached and distant. She still wrestled with a turbulent past that affected and continued to shape who she was. He was her direct supervisor at a job that often had important political ramifications. Their friendship was delicate, and they would surely struggle to communicate effectively on a personal level.
But in his arms, in his bed, none of that seemed to matter. She wondered if he felt it too.
Tipping her face to his, she enjoyed the sight of him with his eyes closed and his face relaxed and happy. She kissed him slowly, sucking softly on his top lip, drawing it sensually between hers. He opened his eyes and kissed her nose, giving her an impish, charming smirk.
One day at a time. She had tomorrow off. She would go grocery shopping. Maybe she’d have him over for dinner. Wine. She should get some wine because…wine with dinner was a really good thing.
THE END.
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Chapters: - 1 -
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Copyright 2005, Laura Katharine
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