One Thing On My Mind
Summary: It started when they got stuck in that damn elevator… Sandle.
Author's Note: My first ever full-blown Sandle romance fic. No action, horror, or angst in this one, just Sandle fun. I've never done this before, so stay with me. This is smuttier than I'd originally intended. It kind of reads like a corny romance novel. You have been warned. EDIT: Also, thanks to those who went and reviewed "Your Guardian Angel" after my very selfish and compaining author's note. I'm content now. :o)
"Hold the door!" she cried, scurrying around the corner as she made a dive for the elevator. She felt somewhat like Indiana Jones as she watched the doors come together, but then, suddenly, a hand shot out and became her saving grace. It seemed to push the doors back open and she slowed her running and beamed at the familiar face of Greg, who was beaming right back at her.
"Going up?" he asked with a small bow to mimic a bellhop. "What floor, Miss?"
She smirked as she slid into the small elevator. "Whichever floor the bar is on," she quipped.
Greg punched a button and the door closed. "No drinking on duty," he said with mock sincerity. "I thought you were off today."
"Yeah," she said with a roll of her eyes. "So did I."
"Well I guess if you have to pull someone in on their day off, it might as well be you," Greg said as he stared at the numbers progress. 2…3…
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "What's that supposed to me?"
He cast her a furtive glance before his eyes returned to the numbers. "Nothing, just that you're kind of married to your job, aren't you?"
"That's not true…" Sara mumbled with a pout. He gave her a look and her lips twitched. "It hasn't exactly proposed yet."
"If I was your job, I would have proposed eons ago," Greg said. 6…7…8…
"Is that so?" Sara said.
He glanced at her again. "I think you should dump it."
"You think I should quit," Sara deadpanned.
He snorted. "No," he said. "I think you should get a better love life."
"Oh…" Sara was suddenly not in the mood for joking. She folded her arms.
He noticed this subtle shift in mood and turned his eyes away from the numbers in order to giver her his full attention. His eyes narrowed and she felt like he was scrutinizing her.
"What?" she snapped, unable to tolerate his gaze any longer.
But he simply shrugged and turned back to the numbers. 11… 12… 12… 12… "What?"
And then, they felt a jolt like an earthquake and Sara went tumbling towards Greg who braced himself on the walls, both CSIs dropping their kits. Her arms were flung around his neck to keep herself from falling down and when he had stabilized himself, one of his arms swung beneath her shoulder blades and lifted her back onto her feet. Her arms were still around his neck and their faces were inches apart, both pairs of eyes wide with surprise and confusion about what had just happened. The lights went out, and both their heads tilted up to look at the dead florescent bulbs.
Sara suddenly pushed Greg away from her and backed up against the wall of the elevator. "Uh… I don't like this, Greg."
He chuckled. "Well, at least we're not claustrophobic."
"Speak for yourself."
He looked over at her and saw her outline as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Her chest was rising and falling rather rapidly, and what he could see of her eyes were darting everywhere.
"Hey," he said, taking her by the shoulders. "Calm down, it'll be OK."
"I don't mind elevators when they're moving," Sara told him. "But now it's stopped, and we're trapped somewhere between the twelve and thirteenth floor."
"There is no thirteenth floor," Greg said. "Hotel superstition."
She exhaled sharply through her nose, reminding Greg of a dragon. "Whatever they want to call it Greg, it'll still be the thirteenth fucking floor."
He laughed, but his laughter quickly died. "You're shivering."
"Well I'm cold," she snapped.
He wrapped his arm around her and rubbed his hands up and down her back as he rested his chin on her shoulder. He felt her chest heaving against his as she began to hyperventilate, her breaths crawling down his back and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He stroked her hair and tried to sooth her. "Sh," he whispered. "Relax, things will start again soon. These things never last for long, trust me."
"Right," she said with a hysterical, barking laugh.
"Breathe," he told her. "Slowly."
He felt her nod against his shoulder and try to control her breathing. "This isn't working," she said, pulling away from him. "I need a distraction."
"I don't know what to tell you," Greg said.
"Tell me a joke," Sara pleaded.
"You won't like my kind of jokes," Greg replied skeptically.
She growled. "Men…"
"What about us?" Greg asked, sounding slightly offended.
"You always only ever have one thing on your mind," Sara replied.
"Bacon?" Greg asked, seeming confused. She rolled her eyes and he smirked.
She pushed him away and strode past him, beginning to pace the dark elevator. "I don't like this Greg, I'm freaking out here. I think the ground's still moving."
"It's not," Greg said. "Stop pacing, you're beginning to make me nervous." He could hear her breaths become shorter and louder. "And stop hyperventilating for God's sake or you'll pass out!"
"Well I can't help it!" she yelled. "Whoa…" she said and he saw her stumble, holding onto the walls for support. One hand flew up to her temple. "I feel dizy…"
"Hey…" he said quietly as he approached her. "Hey, don't fall down now. I've got you."
She was still shivering as she leaned into him again, her arms drawn up close to her chest as she laid her palms on him. She then proceeded to lay her head on his shoulder as her head continued to spin. His arms enveloped her and he felt her heart beat slowly begin to slow down. "You're warm," she told him.
"Thank you…?"
"The ground stops moving when I'm with you."
"I think you're delirious."
"Maybe a little."
They didn't speak for a long time. And then, something peculiar happened and Greg frowned. Sara's hands began to move up and down his chest until they eventually rose up to his shoulders and wrapped themselves around his neck. He smiled softly to himself. He liked standing there in that elevator with her, all alone in the dark, just holding her, making her feel safe. He breathed in her scent, a soft vanilla and cinnamon and something uniquely Sara. It wasn't too strong, and it comforted him. Every part of his body that was touching her was hypersensitive. He felt her fingers, lightly tickling the back of his neck. He felt the weight of her arms on his shoulders, and her soft breath on his upper arm. Subconsciously, he held her tighter, and hoped he would never have to let her go.
She shifted in his embrace and pulled away from him slightly, her arms still resting on his shoulders as she frowned at him. "What are we doing?" she asked.
"You were feeling claustrophobic," Greg replied quickly. "That's all."
Her frown deepened. "Is that all?"
He nodded quickly. He didn't want to give her the wrong idea. He didn't want her to know how much he wished there was more to it.
"Huh," she said, looking away a moment. A small, mischievous smirk appeared on her features and she turned back to Greg. He had no idea what was going through her mind when she leaned forward and softly took his lower lip in her mouth. His lips parted and he returned the kiss, her tongue softly slipping a little into his mouth. He took a deep breath through his nose and pulled her closer and deeper into the kiss as her arms folded around his neck.
She pulled away and leaned her forehead against his, that playful smirk in place. "Too bad this is just because I'm feeling claustrophobic."
"What?" Greg said, his eyebrows shooting up, almost panicking. "Well, I'm game if you are."
She nodded. "Good," she said, and kissed him again, this time with much more fire. He returned it eagerly, holding her tightly against him. He felt her heartbeat quicken again, but doubted it was because of her anxiety. Her hands began to explore his torso and she pushed his vest off as he did the same to her. Her hands slowly traveled south to the hem of his shirt. They traveled underneath it and went up again, her fingers charting the fissured landscape of his chiseled torso, and she took his shirt up with her hands. His lips traveled down her jaw line and he softly planted kisses down her neck. She let out a soft moan. He broke contact only long enough for her to pull his shirt up over his head and then returned to her shoulder, pushing back the collar of her blouse and slowly unbuttoning it with one hand while the other rested on her back. His lips continued to travel south down her neckline, following his unbuttoning of her blouse. He stopped between her breasts and rose up again to meet her lips with his, pushing the blouse off of her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, forgotten along with his own shirt. His hands cupped her chin as hers explored his back.
He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He had dreamed this for so long, had so many scenarios in his head, but had never imagined that Sara would ever be a willing participant in real life, let alone initiate it. It drove him wild that she was as into it as he was, and he wanted to savor the moment, make it go as slowly as possible, despite how incredibly aroused he was by the whole situation. There was something about being trapped in a dark elevator with no idea when it would start up again that was incredibly sexy, and the fact that he was sharing this moment with the incredible Sara Sidle nearly made him explode. His hands traveled symmetrically down either side of her neck and pushed the straps of her bra down and they fell down her arms. She kissed up his jaw line until she reached his ear, which she nibbled softly, making him shudder.
"I don't have a condom," she whispered, to which Greg reacted immediately. One of his hands left her right shoulder and dug in the back pocket of his jeans before he pulled something out and showed it to her with the goofy grin of a high school senior about to lose his virginity on prom night.
She laughed. "You even carry one when you're on the job?"
"Men only ever have one thing on their minds," he replied with a smirk.
"I know," she said. "Bacon."
His heart swelled at her small little smile and the glimmer in her eyes. She was so beautiful, even in the dark. He pushed the hair back from her face, relishing this moment with her, and thinking to himself that he must be the luckiest guy alive. "You are so beautiful…" he whispered.
"Please," she said, and he knew she must have been blushing. "You can't even see me properly."
"I don't have to," he said. "I memorized your face a long time ago."
She must have liked that because her lips encompassed his and she aggressively pushed him against the wall of the elevator, her hands traveling down his chest and fumbling with his belt before making for his zipper. On his part, his hands caressed her back, his fingers running up her spine as he unclasped her bra and it fell from her shoulders. His hands traveled down her sides and traced the waistline of her jeans. His fingers pinched the zipper when he abruptly stopped.
"What are we doing?" he asked, suddenly unsure of himself.
"Hm?" she asked, as she left ghost kisses down his shoulder that made chills run under his skin. Her hands were slowly traveling southward…
He took her by the shoulders and pulled her back so he could see her face, which looked up at him with confused bright eyes and tousled hair. Her breathing was heavy, but he doubted it was the claustrophobia this time.
"What are we doing?" he repeated, looking at her seriously.
She laughed, breathlessly. "I would have thought that had been obvious by now. Are my signals not clear enough? I should work on that, here let me give you a more definitive hint—" And she started kissing up his shoulder and nibbling on his ear again as her hands slipped under his boxers, her delicate fingers closing around…
"Whoa!" he said, catching her by the wrists and making her stop again and look at him.
"What's wrong?" she panted.
"You are," he replied. "This isn't you."
"Of course it's me," she said. "Who else would it be?"
"I think this claustrophobia thing is getting to you," Greg said.
Sara narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. It was a very strange silhouette for Greg to see when she wasn't wearing a shirt. "I thought we went over this. I need a distraction."
His heart plummeted into his stomach. "Oh," he said. "No… No, I don't think we covered that."
She looked confused. "What's the matter? I thought this is what you wanted?"
Greg sighed and bent over to pick up their shirts and her bra. He handed her her clothes. "No," he said. "It's not." He turned away and walked across the elevator before putting his own shirt on, his back to her. He zipped up his pants and buckled his belt. He felt her eyes boring holes into his back.
"I don't get it," she said. "I always thought…"
"You were right," he said, leaning on the railing by the wall, "when you said I only have one thing on my mind."
Sara put her shirt on and pulled it around her, but left it unbuttoned as she approached her friend and put a concerned hand on his shoulder. He moved away at her touch.
"But it's not sex," he continued. "As much as you may think it is. It's you. Just you."
His face burned and he was glad for the darkness that shielded him from view. Even though his shirt was back on, he felt more exposed to her than he had ever been before. He tried to hide in the corner, praying that the elevator would start again so he could get out of there and get far, far away from Sara and this whole incident. Why had he stopped her? Why was he making such a big deal about this? It obviously wasn't a big deal to her. Why was he the one acting like such a girl?
"Greg…" she began, but he held up his hand to stop her.
"Don't," he said. "I know what you're going to say and I… I don't want to hear it, OK?"
"What do you think I'm going to say?" she asked quietly, probingly.
"Look," Greg said, turning to face her. "I… know what you think of me. I know how you feel, and I know it's not the same way that I feel. I know you don't want what I want. And, I mean… we could go through with this. This one-time thing, and you could walk away from this like nothing happened. But I won't be able to do that. So I can't do this, I'm sorry, but I can't be your… distraction. Because I don't want to be a convenience you're just taking advantage of. I don't want to walk out of here knowing that the only reason this happened was luck, that if you were in here with… with Nick, or Warrick, or Grissom…"
"What do you take me for?" she asked suddenly, making him falter. "You think I'd just jump anyone who happened to be stuck in an elevator with me?"
"Well that's the impression you've given me, yeah," Greg said.
And then, the lights flashed on for a moment, blood red behind his closed eyelids and his brain was spinning and his cheek was stinging like mad, and his jaw was throbbing. He had bit his tongue. He rubbed his sore cheek. "What the hell was that for?!" he screamed at the woman who had just punched him.
"I can't believe you!" Sara exclaimed incredulously. "After all this time, you think I'm just some easy mark? Some slut who will just sleep with a guy for kicks?"
Greg wished he could somehow dislodge his very large foot from his mouth. "Oh my God…" he said, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. "Sara, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate that—"
"Oh just shut up, Greg Sanders," Sara barked. She took his chin and made him look at her and her expression softened. "I really did a number on you, didn't I?"
"You always do," he replied with a sad smile.
She returned the smile and ran her hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, too," she said. "For underestimating your emotional maturity."
"Yeah, well my general maturity is often underestimated," Greg said with a wink.
"You were wrong, you know," Sara told him.
"About what?"
"When you guessed what I was going to say," Sara explained. She tilted her head down and grinned at him seductively, moving closer to him until she was pressing up against his chest.
"So what were you going to say?" Greg asked, his heart pounding so loudly against his ribcage he was sure she could hear it.
"I was going to say that was the sweetest thing that anyone has ever told me," she answered. Her hands traveled down the sides of his face, and his neck, until she reached his chest again and her fingers clawed at his shirt hungrily. She pushed him against the elevator wall again. "And it really turns me on. I've been looking for an excuse to do this for the longest time. It's all you, Greg. It's only you that does this to me. The ground stops spinning when I'm with you."
Those words, coming from her mouth, were the best aphrodisiacs in the world and all of a sudden, Greg was back and he knew that she wanted exactly the same things that he did. Her hands tore his shirt off again and she shrugged her blouse off of her shoulders and they were right back where they had left off and her hands raked down his chest before she fumbled with his belt again. But Greg was being taking it more slowly this time, savoring the moment as he kissed her lips. One hand went up and into her soft hair, the other traveled down her shoulder blade where he found her small breast. He felt her smile against his lips, her fingers looping into his jeans and boxers and pulling them both down. It didn't take much longer to get her out of her own pair of jeans and seconds later, she had brought up her legs and hooked her feet together behind his back. He pushed her up against the buttons by the door to the elevator and she started laughing.
"Too rough?" he asked.
"Not enough," she replied and kissed him fiercely to prove her point. He held her close, kissed her, made her moan, and a sense of euphoria that began in his heart and ran through his groin began to encompass him. Her fingers tightened on his back and her nails dug into his skin, and he felt her rise up there with him, both of them at the peak of their exhilarations. He felt her tense around him, her muscles spasming, sending him over the thresholds of his wildest pleasures, his most desired fantasy slowly coming to a close.
Her back arched and her mouth was open in a silent scream before she relaxed and leaned her head back against the wall. Greg was breathing heavily and grinning from ear to ear as he softly kissed her neck, feeling her chest heave up and down against him. She moaned his name, quietly breathless.
"Oh my God, Greg…" she said as their heartbeats slowed. Greg leaned his head against the wall next to her as he caught his breath and her legs slid down his thighs.
"You're incredible…" he whispered in her ear. Her hands moved up and down his back and she simply let out a contented groan in reply.
"Hm…" she said happily.
And then, all of a sudden, the lights came on again and the elevator jolted and Sara fell forward into Greg, who caught her yet again. Only this time, she was laughing. "Oh my God…" she said, as she crouched down to collect her clothes. "We need to get dressed fast."
"Or I could hit the red button over there and we could just do it again," Greg said mischievously.
She rolled her eyes and threw his shirt up at him as she pulled on her pants. "Shit…" she was saying, scouring the floor on her hands and knees. "Where the hell is my bra?"
She felt something hit her back and realized it was the subject of her search. She looked up at Greg and narrowed her eyes, shaking her head.
"Hey," he said, pulling on his pants. "You threw it at me with my shirt. It's like you wanted me to have it, as a souvenir."
She snorted as she hooked her bra and put on her blouse, buttoning it up. Greg watched her smugly and shook his head.
"You really are beautiful, you know," he said.
She looked up at him, one button to go, her cleavage clearly visible. "You look like I feel."
"I didn't know ruggedly handsome was a feeling," Greg responded.
"Satisfied," she returned, before slipping her arms around his waist and kissing him again. He stumbled backwards into the door of the elevator. There was a ping and he felt the doors sliding behind his back, but Sara was relentless and he ended up toppling over into the hallway, Sara falling down on top of him, both of them laughing. She put her hands on either side of his head and pushed herself up, smirking at him as her hair fell down, framing either side of her face.
"You know, we really oughtta try it in this position," she said.
"I guess pushing you up against those buttons helped get the elevator moving again," Greg said.
"What the hell are you two doing?!" someone demanded from behind them. Greg saw Sara look up and her expression told her she was trying to suppress a giggle. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was glowing, which told him she was as happy with what happened as he was.
"Hiya, Nick," she said. "Elevator broke. Sorry we're late." She rolled off of Greg who sat up and looked into the elevator at their two kits and forgotten vests. He kicked the vests out with his feet and handed Sara hers. She picked up her kit and walked out of the elevator and briskly down the hall past Nick, who was giving her a curious smile as she passed.
Nick looked back at Greg, who was collecting his own kit and striding out of the elevator, the doors to which closed behind him. "The elevator broke," Nick said skeptically.
"It did," Greg said in his own defense.
"You know, her buttons aren't done up right," Nick said with a smirk.
"What can I say?" Greg said with a shrug. "She doesn't know how to dress herself."
"Your shirt's on inside out," Nick added.
Greg grinned. "It's a fashion statement," he replied, before heading off after Sara.