Title: Crash Into Me

Author: ScullyAsTrinity

Rating: PG-13, that's right. It's REASONABLY PG-13. And don't tell me it isn't. I had SEVERAL PEOPLE read it. It's PG-13. And if you don't like balancing the line between truth and reality, for the love of my sanity… DON'T READ IT.

Summary: She fumbled and fell back on the unruly sheets, he followed, moving over her, onto the other side of the bed. Kissed some more, kissed, kissed, kissed.

A/N: This is truly for Kat, who had a CSI/Buffy/Scrabble marathon with me last night over take-out and scotch. One thing Kat... EJECTIFY!!! Yeah, I said it!

This fiction was written hastily, listening to 'Crash Into Me' by Dave Matthews Band. It took me three times of the song on loop to have what I wanted down... and here it is, for all of you to enjoy.

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His hands skimmed down her sides at an agonizingly slow pace, but it was because he was shaking. His entire body was shaking with his need, with his want, for the simple woman in his arms.

She wanted to control her breathing, but all the control she had had disappeared as soon as he had come to stand next to her in her kitchen.

The hands at her sides, fell lightly on her hips, gripping there gently for a moment before circling around to rest on the sliver of bare stomach between her jeans and tee-shirt.

She took her tongue between her lips and bit, closing her eyes for a moment, screaming at herself to regain some semblance of control. It was futile.

He moved behind her, in slow time with the music, bringing her hips back into contact with his, and she whimpered low and helpless, her head falling against her chest, the coffee she'd been about to retrieve forgotten. Her bottom lip came to rest in between her teeth and she moved with him, his palms pulling her hips along for the ride.

One of his hands came up and stole some of the hair out from in front of her face so that he could watch her. Eyes closed in what he hoped was some semblance of pleasure, lip bit to contain the words that she knew she shouldn't speak. The flush creeping up her neck.

He slipped his arm around her stomach completely, drawing her even closer to him. Like the patient man he was, he waited to hear if she would object, and when she did not, his free hand touched her forehead.

She jumped.

He gently pulled her head back to rest on his shoulder. They were dancing backwards, and it was perfect. Her hands, formerly lethargic on the counter, gripped his forearm around her stomach. Sara sighed, so, so slowly, and he felt a flutter of butterflies under his forearm.

Grissom grinned, brought his teeth down to capture her earlobe, a tame first move for anyone else, incredibly bold for him. Sara gasped, her fingers tightening around his arm, holding him there, against her.

Plundering, his lips took siege of her neck, slowly and methodically, tasting and cataloguing the skin there. She allowed her head to loll to the side, eyes still closed. He pulled back, just moving with her again, and her head fell to the other side, her breath tingling where it fell on his shoulder. Her lips, just slightly open, almost panting.

A strangely erotic sight to him, he took the opportunity to kiss the side of her mouth, as it was the only thing that he could reach in such a position. She stood there, mouth still partly open, as he kissed her, just, just slightly. It was the most erotic thing she had ever felt.

Releasing her, he moved around to stand in front of her, as she had lost all motor function, her bones clay. Tender, as he looked at her, face between his calloused hands, willing her to open her eyes by passing his thumbs over her cheeks. She cracked them open; half-lidded she looked to his eyes, the passion and confusion in hers juxtaposing the wonder and tenderness in his.

He smiled; the phantom of what it should have been, passed his fingers over the smooth skin of her cheekbones and once more and kissed her. Took the bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled before delving into the velvet softness between them.

Her hands, shaking now too, reaching to grip hard biceps, but she couldn't hang on. She was tingling too badly and they slipped to the juncture that met at his elbow. And he, he continued to kiss her, deeply and slowly; hands still soft on her face. And she was sure she hadn't been kissed like that before, hadn't been touched like that before.

He broke off from kissing her and still in front of her face, his eyes closed now too, breathing heavily, taking it all in, noticing that the world hadn't been thrown off kilter due to his irrational emotions.

Sara Sidle wanted to smile but she couldn't. Couldn't bring the muscles in her face to function into a smile, a grin. So she stood there, hair askew, mouth agape, cheeks flushed. He opened his eyes and surveyed the scene before him, the speechless woman who he had just kissed. It was strange, he thought the kiss might release him of some of the pent up frustration that he had gathered along the way, but it only served to heighten the feeling exponentially.

Sara's jittery fingers served to function and she brought them to the low buttons at her chest, she began to undo them one by one. And then she began to cry as she peeled the material from her skin, all the while feeling his intense, but still soft, gaze on her.

Fingers passed over her cheeks again, willing her to voice her emotions. "So, so good." She whispered between ecstatic and terrific sobs.

He kissed her again then, feeling the heat of his naked skin against her clothed chest, feeling like he was drowning. Making space between them, as he kissed her, he worked at the buttons on his shirt, tears spilling from her eyes to his cheeks.

Absurdity, disrobing in the kitchen.

They tore apart long enough for him to shuck off his shirt, and then she returned to his arms, head falling against his chest. Sara blew out a few calming breaths and her eyes fell closed as he kissed the top of her head, her ear pressed firmly to his heart, finding it beating erratically.

Grissom disengaged from her, bent to gather their clothes and silently motioned to her bedroom. He's never been there, and yet he knew where it was. She nodded, and shut off the lights in the living room, leaving the case files they'd been reviewing scattered all over the coffee table.

They walked to her room together, side by side. And that's how they sat on the bed together, side by side, silent. Moments passed without action, until he reached out to push her hair behind her ear while pulling her to him for another kiss.

She fumbled and fell back on the unruly sheets, he followed, moving over her, onto the other side of the bed. Kissed some more, kissed, kissed, kissed.

For air, they separated, both on their sides looking at the other, two hands twined in between them on the bed, his free hand in her hair, touching. He couldn't stop, just touching.

The ache inside him grew, grew until he was sure he'd burst with the pure fury of it. And so, after moments of basking, he moved towards her, helping her to remove her pants, his pants, her bra, his boxers and so forth until the only barrier between them was the one he was attempting to break through in his head.

Her tiny smile did it for him, and they were lost. She grimaced, panted, and he stopped, but she smiled again and his head swam.

Until they were swimming together.

Agonizing tenderness, slow, very very slow and sweet. Until she asked him to be otherwise, at which point he acquiesced, succumbing to her warm skin, claiming her lips though, as easily as he had before.

After twelve years of wanting, there was still no haste in his movements and she basked in the sweat on his skin. Tasted it as she tasted his lips. Still, still she was left wanting in his tight embrace.

He spoke her name on a sigh, a sated sigh and she clutched his head to her when he collapsed beside her, kissing his hairline slowly, soothing his erratic heart back to its normal pace.

"How you affect me, Sara Sidle."

Falling asleep, her head on his chest, hours after their encounter, she found that his heart had not slowed at all.