cropper1818 - Day Is Done

Title: Day is Done

Author: Cropper

Rating: Mature/NC-17 for Adult Situations

Spoilers:  None.

Pairing: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but wish I did. I will give them back when I am through playing with them, I promise.

Author's Note: Cheryl? You rock. Who else but you would put up with my insecurities while trying to write this?

Summary: This is nothing but smut.

 Despite all physical evidence to the contrary, despite the fact the relentless afternoon sun had reached its zenith and was attempting to poke, prod and slither a blazing trail through miniscule slits in the tightly shuttered windows, Sara’s day was fading, dancing delightedly into evening. She need not stand at a window or beneath the vast desert sky to witness the breathtaking spectacle of another day wending lazily towards a rich multicolored finale. The effervescent tints and hues that pulsated violently behind her eyelids as Grissom made love to her, the tangy, earthy scent of their mutual arousal, were as astonishingly vibrant and windblown as any waning dusk ever to descend and sizzle into blackness, swallowed by the ocean waves breaking far away along the horizon, dusk-striped pinks and purples and glowing oranges mixed with a whisper of salty spray kicked up by a placid wafting current sweeping along a lonely, cloistered beach.

The object of her wistful musing was finally slumbering peacefully, sprawled on his stomach, his strikingly handsome face partially buried in the depths of his pillow. His sensual lips were slightly parted and his breaths came slowly and heavily. She smiled at the boyish picture he presented; his greying hair rumpled and distinguished features softened, years of worry and stress evaporating with each relaxed exhalation. She leaned over and whispered a kiss across his cheek and, like a shimmering spectre floating on a midnight breeze, slipped silently from their bed.

Sara prepared a cup of tea and let her mind wander, sifting through a myriad of emotions wrought throughout the course of the past three days. Her lover, her love, was exhausted. Grissom had been summoned to court every morning for the past three days on the slim chance that he might be needed during a prosecutorial redirect to refute any testimony or evidence presented by hired gun forensic experts paraded before the jury by the defense. He had neither investigated nor consulted on the case in question, but his intelligence and reputation could very well prove essential in bringing the case to a successful conclusion. Normally he did not mind attending court sessions and assisting the District Attorney’s Office whenever possible. It was part of his job. However, these particular calls, this particular case about which he knew very little, had intruded at the most inopportune of times. Grissom had spent the past three mornings joyfully making love to Sara, bringing her to her pinnacle time and again and on each of the last three days, when he was finally preparing to sink deep within her silky depths and complete his own tempestuous journey, his cell phone had blared.

For the past three days he had sworn like a deranged, rum-crazed sailor while shivering beneath the sting of a frigidly cold shower, grumbled under his breath while donning a starched white dress shirt, suit and tie and sullenly suffered through eight long hours of juris prudence on the off chance that he would have to take the stand and testify. He drove directly from the courthouse to the lab and locked himself in his office to review all of the evidence in the case currently being prosecuted to make certain that he possessed adequate knowledge of what testimony and facts would be placed before the jury the following morning. After his review session, he changed into clothing more befitting fieldwork only to grouse and snarl his way through another aggravating shift filled with little more than pile after endless pile of paperwork due to the fact that the seedy criminal element usually prancing conspicuously through the neon-bright streets of Sin City was uncommonly quiet, as if it had sensed Grissom’s vile mood and decided to take a small vacation from the expected raping, pillaging and plundering.

This morning, Grissom had bypassed breakfast and fallen heavily upon the neatly made bed completely clothed as soon as they returned home from work. Sara followed him once her morning cleansing ritual was complete and, after struggling to pull down the comforter and sheets, helped a nearly comatose Grissom out of his work clothes and into the soft cotton pajama pants and grey t-shirt he preferred for sleep before planting a solid kiss on his temple and settling down beside him.

Sara finished her tea and glanced at her watch noting that she had less than two hours before the alarm clock would chime. She moved to the bathroom and as she showered, devised a plan to satiate her teddy bear turned fearsome growling grizzly, a sultry scheme to completely satisfy and soothe the savage beast lurking just beneath Grissom’s civilized veneer. After drying her hair and donning a robe to hide her secretively purchased lingerie, Sara stalked through the house turning off cell phones and pagers, unplugging the landline and powering down the computer and fax machine. There would be no interruptions today. The LVPD, DA’s Office, Forensics Lab and general populace of Las Vegas would have to muddle along without them for a couple of hours. Grissom was unavailable to everyone and everything except her.

The alarm clock bleeped at promptly at 5:00 pm and Sara lowered the magazine she was reading. She cocked her head in the direction of the bedroom as she listened for sounds of Grissom stirring, curious as to whether he was going to actually awaken or slap the snooze and try to catch fifteen more minutes of sleep. She smiled smugly as she heard him stumble out of bed and make his way to the shower. He was a creature of habit and routine, boringly precitable in some of the more mundane aspects of daily life, and Sara planned to shamelessly use the more regimented facets of his personality and lifestyle to her advantage. She knew that she had exactly twelve minutes to mount her attack before Grissom finished his shower.

The water dripped to a splattering stop and Grissom shuffled into the bedroom, a cream colored towel knotted securely about his waist as he blearily rubbed his eyes and made his way to his chest of drawers in search of clean shorts and socks. He stumbled to a stop when he noticed two tea lights, their flames coyly frolicking upon small silver chargers, the gentle scent of a fresh, salty ocean breeze flowing through the room. He looked around, counting ten more shimmering lights before finally turning his gaze towards the bed, blinking a couple of times to assure himself that he was not hallucinating in the muted light flickering ineffectually at the deep shadows shrouding the room. The bed linens had been neatly folded at the foot of the bed and an open bottle of Chablis peeked from a shimmering ice bucket which sat waiting beside two crystal goblets on his bedside table.

Grissom swallowed heavily, large hands fisting helplessly at his sides, as he beheld the luxurious oasis nestled upon the sand-dyed sheets before him. Sara was reclining on one elbow, demurely clad in rather conservative yet elegantly sexy LaPerla Capri demi bra and Brazilian bikini panty set, the melon green gingham highlighting her translucent skin shimmering in the lambency of the delicately glowing flames. She slowly raised a hand and crooked one slim finger, beckoning him with a sultry sirens’ call, its wordless, rasping melody ageless and impossible to resist. 

He approached the bed slowly and settled next to her, his eyes never wavering from her body, roaming hungrily over her lean form with adoration and purely masculine appreciation for her shy sensuality and understated femininity. She reached up with both hands and tenderly stroked his strong bearded jawline before slipping her hands behind his head to pull him into an innocent, almost not there kiss. Silky brushes of lips mingled with gentle nibbles, mouths fitting together in a breathy, whispered waltz before retreating slightly only to begin anew. Sara languidly rolled on her back, encouraging Grissom to follow, their mouths never ceasing their chaste conversation. There was no need to hurry; both overwhelmingly content to bask in the sweetly flowing current of shared love.

When they finally separated, satisfied sighs were the only sounds heard. Words were unnecessary and neither wanted to break the mood of absolute eroticism whispering and flitting about the room, darting in and out of the shadows formed by the glinting candlelight. Grissom motioned for Sara to sit and solemnly poured two glasses of wine. They raised their lead crystal glasses in a silent toast, his lips swiftly capturing hers as soon as she swallowed, tasting the wine and the provocative bouquet of Sara as he moved further inside to swirl his tongue seductively against hers; speaking to her in a private argot mutually penned in love, desire and need. Propped comfortably against the headboard, they sampled the wine and kissed as the taste lingered in their mouths, not hurrying, just savoring, relishing in the heady flavors passing between their lips. When their glasses were empty, Grissom gently slipped hers from her hand and returned them to their temporary perch atop his nightstand.

She could feel the intensity of his gaze sweeping over her face despite the fact that his face was completely hidden in the darkened depths of their lair. All she could really discern were the glittering cobalt chips of his eyes flaring brightly as he swooped in to ruthlessly capture her lips in a bruising, demanding kiss. There was nothing gentle in the way his mouth moved over and into hers with impassioned fervor. His tongue spoke of devotion and love and all of the roiling frustration he had been feeling for the past three days. He slowly pulled her down on the pillows and settled on top of her, deepening the wet caress as if he would swallow her whole. He could not get enough, wholly intoxicated by both Sara and the remnants of wine still clinging to her playful tongue.

Sara’s hands glided over his back, reveling in the way his muscles twitched as his mouth slid down her jaw to explore the hollow of her neck and collarbones. He toyed with the two tiny buttons holding the cups of her bra together as he nibbled on her fragrant skin, pulling the plastic squares free from their hasps and sweeping the fabric impatiently aside to reveal her proud perfect breasts, nipples taut with excitement. Grissom pulled back, mesmerized by the sight beneath him. Sara’s hair fanned out across the pillow forming a burnished halo atop the tawny sheets. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes half-closed and her breasts quivered alluringly with each strangled, feverish breath.

Grissom grabbed the bottle of wine and carefully poured a small stream into the hollow of her throat, smirking at her hiss as the cool liquid splashed upon her heated skin and lapping greedily as it ran down her sternum and abdomen to pool in her navel. He tilted the bottle again and trickled a bit upon her chest, briefly tickling the undersides of her breasts before slurping one of her hardened nubs into his mouth to suckle hungrily. Sara clutched and pulled at his hair, mewling in helpless satisfaction as he relentlessly nudged her ever closer to ecstasy.

His thumb continued to rub tight circles over one of her nipples as his mouth ventured lower, pausing to drink the wine pooled in her belly button. He nipped the sensitive skin along the rise of her hips before bringing both hands to play with the tiny buttons adorning her panties, little emerald green squares framing her femininity and hindering his quest. The buttons were small but years of handling shards of fragile evidence allow his thick, graceful fingers to nimbly stretch the threadlike elastic bands over the buttons and lower the flap. He sighed happily at the sight of her dampened curls framed by the luscious green gingham, her lush brown garden surrounded by sultry greenery in a stunning and welcome affirmation of life and vitality amid their world all too often filled with death and despair.

Grissom nuzzled Sara’s satiny fur, a guttural oath escaping unbidden from his throat as he absorbed the unmistakable scent of her arousal mingling with the soft aroma of the candles in a heady mist of gentle trade winds puffing the tangy, moist scent of waving blue seas and revitalizing femininity. His hands were shaking as he removed the towel from around his waist and carefully folded the damp terrycloth in half. He nudged at Sara to lift her hips and hurriedly replaced her panties with the towel before stretching again towards his nightstand. 

He grasped the bottle and, pausing a moment to admire the silvery condensation twinkling diamond-bright in the flickering candle light, trickled a blushing trail of cool wine down Sara’s silky cleft. She gasped at the sensation, closing her eyes tightly and writhing with abandon as the chilled liquid tickled her aching clit, barely able to draw a shuddering breath before Grissom’s hungry mouth descended to guzzle the Chablis and spicy sweetness that belonged solely to Sara. He toyed with her, intoxicated by the rich flavors, adding more wine and drinking her in, sweeping her along the tide before receding and slowly pushing her to the brink once again.

“Please, Gris…” she stuttered, almost mindless with pleasure, the white-hot tension coiled tightly between her thighs demanding release. He quickly slipped two fingers inside of her, stroking in time with the rhythmic flicks of his tongue against her hot little bud. Sara exploded; her world shattering into blinding cataclysmic flashes of brilliant color, a panoramic burst of wildly pulsating tones and hues.

Sara’s world coalesced slowly, awareness returning in fits and starts as her Grissom-induced sunset finally faded to blanched slivers of practically transparent light that oozed sluggishly into the deeply shadowed corners of the room. As she reveled in her blissful euphoria, it slowly dawned on her that this whole scenario was supposed to be about Grissom, about making him feel good and relieving the extreme frustration he had been suffering for the last three days…for taking him out of himself, making him lose all semblance of control and affording him the opportunity to experience a glorious sunset of his own.

She moved her arm lethargically to give his hair a gentle tug, half-heartedly pulling his attention from the nuzzling adoration he was lavishing upon her over-sensitized nipples. He raised his head to look at her, an unasked question forming in the keen arch of an eyebrow.

“Roll over, baby. This was supposed to be about you, not me.”

He willingly complied with her raspy command but Sara sensed his curiosity and perhaps a touch of apprehension.

“I want to make love to you. I…want you to see what I see when I close my eyes.” With that sincere yet seductive promise echoing in his ears, Grissom grabbed the sheets with both fists as Sara began her assault on both his senses and his sensibilities.

She kissed, licked and nipped her way down his torso, one hand pinching and scraping a hard, rivet-like nipple, the other slithering lower, nails raking through the thin trail of fur below his navel before gently wrapping her cool fingers around the base of his erection. He was breathing heavily, guttural growls interspersed with primitive grunts as his thick chest heaved and strained with the effort to draw a steadying breath, a command from his lungs that his lust-addled brain could neither process nor fulfill. Sweat had damped the disheveled curls along his hairline and traced a path down his sideburns to melt into his beard. His eyes were glazed, twin typhoons of unfathomable aquamarine swirling dangerously as his skin flushed a magnificent shade of rose in the delicately shimmering candlelight.  

Sara situated the towel beneath his hips and groped blindly for the wine, smiling with satisfaction when she located ice bucket. She carefully upended the bottle and poured a dainty stream of the blushing liquid over his throbbing shaft. Grissom hissed with momentary discomfort and slammed his eyes shut as the ice-chilled wine ran down his heated length to pool beneath his testicles. Before he could choke out a whimper or even growl, Sara’s white-hot mouth had engulfed him, searing away the chill to leave him gasping and trembling, his back arching high off the mattress in primal response.

Grissom’s right hand gave up its death grip on the abused sheet to tangle in her hair, following the movements of her bobbing head as she enthusiastically worked him with the same zeal and skillful attention with which she worked a crime scene. Her attention was wholly devoted to him, willing him to forget the job, the last three days of absolute frustration, everything but the here and now. She was tenacious in her ministrations, pulling his entire focus onto what she was doing to him, for him. She wanted him to feel nothing but his own pleasure for a change. She wanted to make him lose control.

Grissom groaned aloud, straining not to thrust hips. The well-defined muscles along his thighs were clenching tightly and Sara reluctantly let him slide from her mouth with a resounding “pop”, knowing full well that he was uncomfortable finishing in this manner. She slid back up his damp, shivering body, grinning a bit as she heard him mumbling incoherently. Before she could even begin to contemplate her next move, Grissom had rolled them both over and sheathed himself in one fluid motion.

Sara’s eyes had fluttered and when she once again regained her focus she found Grissom regarding her with barely restrained passion. He was buried to the hilt, his testicles resting against her sweet ass, shaking with the urge to move, his control hanging by a swiftly unraveling thread but he waited, making certain that she was with him. She reached up and with one unsteady hand, palmed the back of his sweat-slickened neck and pulled his mouth to hers. Their lips crashed together in a frenzy, tongues clashing and twining, and Grissom finally started moving. His thrusts started slowly but quickly gathered speed and intensity as he could no longer restrain himself. He quickly lost himself in the silky heat of her slippery folds and slammed his hips into hers with wild abandon. Sara rode the furious storm of his lust, tilting her hips higher to allow him deeper penetration and moved both hands to his ass, pulling and tugging, forcing him to move harder, faster, to fill her completely. The repeated grinding of his pelvis against her clit coaxed her into another orgasm and as she clenched around him, Grissom finally let go.

With a fierce shudder and animalistic grunt, he collapsed bonelessly atop her slight frame. Grissom had been reduced to a quivering mass of flesh. He was usually very considerate about keeping the bulk of weight balanced upon his forearms but Sara, while a bit uncomfortable, was not about to complain. She knew that Grissom was unaware of nothing save the aftershocks still racing through his body. He gradually returned to himself and tried to relieve Sara of the burden of his greater weight, but she tightened her vaginal muscles to keep him in place as her arms wrapped more securely around him, soothing him, gentling the wild spirit she had finally managed to release.

After long blissful moments full of nuzzling and delicate caresses, Grissom rolled to his back and pulled Sara onto his chest. She glanced towards the window, noting the passage of the late afternoon scurrying towards evening. “It is getting late,” she murmured. “We missed the sunset.”

“No we didn’t,” he murmured wonderingly. “I saw every color of every sunset we have ever shared imprinted on my mind’s eye.”

They drifted out to sea, reliving the hues and storms, the vibrant colors of dusk crashing into the pink-tinged ocean.