Rating: M

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I do not own Grissom, Sara or CSI. If I did, we'd all be having a lot more fun. No profit has been made in the writing of this story.

A/N: Since Grissom and Sara seem to bring out the smuttiness in me, I thought it would be fun to do a little series of bedtime stories (aka fantasies). (I have several planned, but suggestions are welcome.) This is the first one, and is based on this week's prompt "fireplace" over at gsrdrabbles on Live Journal…as you can tell my initial idea got a little out of hand because this is not a drabble. These stories exist outside the current storyline on the show, and make no reference to any particular episode.

Acknowledgements: Thanks especially to Elle for being the most patient beta ever. All misplaced commas are mine alone.

I also wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been reading my work, and especially to those of you who so thoughtfully commented on my workyour words meant a lot. Hopefully this will inspire sweet dreams for all of you.

The Bedtime Stories: Shelter

She liked to watch.

She liked to come around a corner and catch him unaware. It made her feel a little like a voyeur, but she couldn't help it. If he was nearby, her eyes were drawn to him.

She was standing like that now, perfectly still behind the French doors that led out to the patio, watching as Grissom crouched low to the ground. He began crushing newspaper and stuffing it under the grate in the fireplace. He was moving with a grace and precision usually reserved for a crime scene; wood was stacked perfectly before him, a box of matches on one side of him and newspaper on the other. She could tell he was immersed in the ritual of building the fire; he found his comfort in the tiny sacraments of everyday life, finding his peace in the smallest of acts.

He provided a stark contrast for her; after a particularly bad night at work, she had to get away, to find a way to leave it all behind, if only for the hour that she was gone. Just the act of tying the laces of her running shoes was freeing to her. Perhaps it was a throwback from her childhood when running was the only thing that kept her safe. When she was ready to come home, he never bothered her with questions because he already knew the answers. He just held her in his arms as if he was never going to let go.

She waited until he'd finished his preparations before stepping outside. She cast a glance up at the night sky and the brilliant pattern of stars that hung above her, smiling a little at the wonder of it. The little pockets of bliss she found in her life sometimes took her breath away.

He sensed her presence immediately, and turned away from the hearth so he could look at her.

"Hi." She said softly, running her fingers through her still damp hair.

"You're back." He said, pleasure evident in his voice.

"A while ago," she answered, "I took a quick shower." She, watched as he touched a match to the paper, hearing a breeze rustle in the trees around them as the flame consumed the paper and licked the kindling stacked above it.

"Feel better?" When they'd first begun living together, she would disappear for hours on end, and though he would wonder where she went, he never asked her. Then one day she appeared in the kitchen, hot and sweaty, with her hair pulled back in a pony tail and sat down. She told him about the running away and how this was the first time in her life she'd ever had a reason to come home. In that moment, he knew he would do anything for her, that there was nothing he wouldn't give up for her. All he wanted was to breathe in the scent of her skin, to know the taste of her on his tongue, and when everything else fell away, be able to hold her in his arms.

"I do." She smiled at him, "You've been busy." Grissom had pushed their patio furniture back creating a large open space in front of the fireplace. There was a bottle of wine already breathing on a small table and he'd spread a snow white rug over the slate that looked so deep and soft that she couldn't help but run her bare toes along its edge.

"It's a beautiful night. I didn't want to waste it." He replied catching her eye and sharing the joy he found there. He watched as she stepped onto the rug he'd so carefully chosen, fascinated by the way she brushed the ball of her foot over the faux fur. The movement wasn't meant to seduce him, but it did. Maybe it was the gentle twist of her ankle as she moved or the sweet smell of her skin that seemed to permeate the air. The reason really didn't matter, though, because it was always her; Sara stirred something deep within him at once familiar and new, but always enchanting.

She pursed her lips, her eyes dancing, "Neither do I." She agreed, knowing the reason they had both fallen in love with their house at first sight was because of moments like these. The beautiful silence that had fallen over them when they'd stood hand in hand in the secluded backyard with its breathtaking patio had sealed the deal. It was the closest thing they would ever have to peace and she delighted in it almost as much as she delighted in him.

He held his hand out to her, and she took it, allowing him to pull her down to the ground with him. She settled on top of him, framing his face with her hands and capturing his eyes. "I love you." She whispered.

He looked up at her and she read him like and open book, but he said it out loud anyway. "I love you too."

"Show me." Her voice was deep and husky, and full of desire.

He felt his pulse double at the sound of her voice; she was irresistible to him in every possible way. Reaching for her, he brushed her bottom lip with his thumb before pulling her close and sucking it into his mouth. The first taste of her alone, almost drove him to distraction. A tiny groan escaped her lips, urging him on, as he deepened the kiss.

The warmth of his lips made her melt a little inside as she molded herself to him. She reached up, raking her fingers through his hair, allowing him to press a thigh between hers. She could feel the need building between her legs already and marveled at the things he could do to her. She reached out, finding his hand, and brought it to her chest.

Grissom found the top button of her shirt deftly, freeing the buttons one at time, allowing his forefinger to skim the pale skin between her breasts, dragging it down further as the fabric fell away. Her skin felt like the softest silk, still radiating the warmth from her shower, and she smelled of coconut and pineapple. As he breathed her in, he recognized the preciousness of this perfect moment, the distinction sharply drawn by the horror he saw every day.

She knew he wanted to take her away from all of it, erase her pain, and heal the nightmares that plagued her; yet as much as she wished for it, she knew it would never happen. It didn't matter, though, that he couldn't rewrite her history; he was the only person who'd ever loved her so deeply, so completely that she knew she was safe, and that his arms would always be open when she came home.

She ran her hand over his chest, letting it gravitate to the top of his jeans. She released the button, sucking the lobe of his ear into her mouth. She slid her hand inside of his pants, and he groaned as her fingers encircled him. She felt him swell under the stroke of her hand. "Take them off." She said quietly, her mouth against his ear.

Grissom eased out of his clothes quickly, removing hers as well. The shallow pool of firelight held them just within its glow as he slid back down beside her, pressing his warm skin along the length of her body. She watched as he passed his hand over her body, the tips of his fingers skimming her shoulder, the flat of his palm over her stomach, his nails tracing a path over the roundness of her hip. His hand moved between her thighs, teasing her with feather light touches.

Sara sighed as she opened herself to him, wanting him to deepen his touch. She felt the hard throb of him against her thigh, and thrust her hips impatiently. He laughed softly at her eagerness, but acquiesced as he moved his attention to her center. He slipped a finger into her warmth, drawing it back, slowly building her need until he heard a moan start in the back of her throat.

He rolled onto his back, drawing her with him in the circle of his arms, as Sara's legs came down on either side of him. Her hips ground down of their own accord and she rocked against him as pleasure rose from her center. He pushed up, sucking in a breath at the slick, wet feel of her.

"Honey." His voiced was strangled with want, and Sara shifted, freeing him.

He slid into her slowly, eliciting a long purr of contentment from Sara's lips. He was thick and deep, and she loved the feel of him inside of her. She found herself surrendering to his touch, her hips following the rhythm he set with his impossibly slow strokes.

He was high inside of her now, and she looked down at him, at the crease on his brow, and the intensity in his eyes. He was a man possessed, as possessed by her as she was by him. They were woven together in the deepest of ways, so blended in places that sometimes she was unsure of where she ended and he began.

His breath was coming hard and fast on her skin. She heard him cry out her name, felt him release inside of her, and she let him carry her along with him. All at once everything blended together, the coolness of the night air, the warmth of the fire, and his hard body between her legs, touching off an explosion inside of her. She collapsed against his chest, a slight shudder traveling her body from the intensity of their joining.

They remained there together, her head on his chest and their bodies entwined. After a while, he pulled a blanket over her, and held her close as they watched the fire burn down.

"This is beautiful." She said, basking in the warmth of Grissom's body around her, and the glow of the fire in front of her. "I needed you tonight." Her fingers stroked his arms lightly as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I know." He pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, savoring this amazing thing that existed between them; to say he loved her was far too simple of an explanation of what she was to him. It was as if she was his oxygen, breathing life into every part of him.

A sigh of contentment escaped her lips as his arms tightened around her. She brought her hand down, sliding it into his. He wrapped his hand around hers, bringing to his lips.

She'd been lost for such a long time, she never expected to be found, yet he'd discovered something to love in her long after she'd given up. She closed her eyes, content to lie under the stars, safe in the shelter of his arms. She couldn't help but wonder when she'd stopped running away, and started running to him.