After the movers left a few hours later, Sara looked at piles of stacked boxes cluttering the living room and dropped her hands on her hips. She glanced over at Grissom, who was staring at his feet, hands deep in his pockets. The moment of truth, hot and awkward stretched on between them, and Sara wasn't sure how to breech it. She ran a hand over the nearest carton to cover her emotions.

"You look nervous--" Grissom blurted softly. Sara looked up at him.

"I'm standing here wondering if I should just leave everything in the boxes or not--I mean, it's not as if anyone's going to LIVE here, so why bother, but I haven't seen some of this in a few years, so I'm caught between those two conflicting urges--"

"Unpack," Grissom urged softly. "Leaving things in boxes doesn't do anyone any good. You forget what you have, you lose track of WHO you are when your past sits in cartons."

Startled, Sara met his compassionate gaze and then let her glance flick to one of the dusty bookcases. Grissom followed her eyes and gave a shrug.

"Let me show you something--"

Turning, he walked to the side door leading outside to the free standing garage, and Sara trailed after him, intensely curious. He reached for the keyring once again and found the one for the rusted Yale lock that closed the hasp of the garage door.

The lock was stiff, but he finally opened it, and pushed the door open, reaching overhead for the dangling chain. A quick pull, and a sickly yellow light from an overhead bulb lit the garage.

Sara let her eyes adjust to what she was seeing. She cocked her head at the sight of cartons. Dusty footlockers, drape--covered crates all neatly stacked against the far wall. Grissom sighed.

"This is the legacy of an amazing, proud, strong woman--all that's left of my aunt Doreen."

Sara stepped closer to the nearest box, looking at the neat label printed in a curved feminine hand: Native Wildlife Files 1967-68 Buzzard through Gila Monster. Native Wildlife Files 1967-68 Horned Toads through Yucca Mice.

The next box held records for 1968 through 69, and Sara could see other years stacked up behind them in other cartons. Grissom stepped closer to her.

"In those boxes are twenty years of field reports on all native fauna for the Las Vegas area as sent in by various rangers, geological survey teams and conservation workers. Aunt Doreen spent her career compiling them into reports for the Department of the Interior and the Wildlife Commission. First on manual typewriters, then on electric. By the time she retired in 1974, she'd been tracking the rise and fall of animals native to this region for almost a quarter of a century, Sara."

"It's--" She began, slightly stunned, but Grissom shrugged.

"--Sweetly sad. She was dedicated to her work, and good at it, but ultimately it's all anyone but I remember of her. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of these copies."

Sara looked at a few of the other boxes, reading labels as Grissom moved behind her, slipping his arms around her waist, burying his nose in her hair.

"Over and over, the same lesson keeps rolling through my days, Sara, a lesson I THINK I've learned until I realize I haven't."

"And that is--?"

"Simply that a vocation is NOT a life, sweetheart. Dedication is well and good, but can never replace the tangible beauty of that heavenly connection to someone else."

Sara swallowed hard. After a moment she spoke softly, glad she couldn't look at him while the words flowed out of her, the quote she recognized even from the first time she'd seen it.

"Yeah I read something about that connection once. It went--'I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where 'I' does not exist, nor 'you', so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep'--"

"--Pablo Neruda--" he breathed, his grip tightening around her in a delicious ferocity. Sara moaned low.

Wordlessly she turned, wrapping herself about him tightly, pressing as if she wanted to meld with his very frame, and Grissom easily lifted her, clutching Sara in an embrace that left them both breathless.

"Sweetheart--?" his voice, low and hungry, sounded strained in the dank garage. She said nothing, simply nodding her head in sweet agreement to the unspoken plea in his voice.

Acquiescing.

The light had changed in the bedroom, tinting everything with golden hues of late afternoon as it glinted off the walls. Sara's huge Chinese armoire sat against one, the beveled mirror on the door reflecting the image of the four-poster bed. Still holding Sara in his arms, Grissom turned and studied the glass thoughtfully.

"It fits the room."

Sara smiled. She had seen a pair of stockings amid the other supplies Grissom had bought, and a little shiver of pleasurable anticipation ran through her this time, a frisson of eagerness at the thought of being under him again--if not in the literal sense then the metaphorical one for sure.

"A serendipitous circumstance, really," She sighed, snuggling into his neck, which smelled good.

"A sign of things to come--" he corrected with a smile, "Wait here--"

Sara did, peeking into the armoire drawers while Grissom was gone, delighted to find a few items she'd forgotten were still in there when she'd packed it. Clean underwear for one--certainly a lucky break, she chuckled to herself. Before she could delve further, Grissom had returned, a plastic drugstore bag in hand.

She arched an eyebrow at him, but he moved closer, driving her along until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the bed. Grissom loomed over her as she slowly landed on the mattress and planting his knuckles on either side of her head he dipped his face and kissed her quickly.

"Sara, Sara--" he smiled, his eyes bright and hot; so blue they practically gleamed, "Will you play a game with me?"

She held up her wrists, but he merely kissed the pulse points on them and shook his head. Sara frowned.

"But--I was starting to--look forward to it--" she didn't MEAN to pout but did anyway; Grissom laughed, cocking his head.

"Stockings yes, but not on your wrists, not this time. I'm giving you a little more freedom than that, sweetheart."

Puzzled but intrigued, Sara rubbed noses with him, drifting into a kiss of delicious intensity that left them both gasping.

"Ohhh you're so good at that. Okay Grissom, what's the game?" she gurgled when she could catch her breath again. Grissom smiled.

It was the slightly dangerous smile; his anticipatory look of sensual craving that she was beginning to recognize now. He sat up and stroked her cheek.

"They say love is blind, Sara."

Licking her lips, tasting him on them, she glanced down at the bag. Slowly Grissom fished out a single stocking, dangling it between his fingers, his voice low and soothing.

"A blindfold. You won't see me, but you'll feel me, taste me, hear me, honey. Think of it as a workout for your other senses."

"Blindfolded?" Sara asked softly, feeling her face flush.

"If you think you can handle that," Gris nodded, watching her expression carefully. Sara reached out and touched the stocking, her skin hot now, tingling.

"But I won't be--tied up," she quavered.

"No, not--physically."

She nodded. Grissom waited a slow tingling pulse of a moment, then stroked her cheek again, his eyes locked on hers, brows slightly furrowed.

"Good. Take your clothes off for me, Sara."

Fumbling, she pulled her shirt off and shimmied out of her pants, leaving them in untidy heaps on the hardwood floor. Grissom didn't touch her, but the weight of his greedy stare was as palpable as a caress when he sighed.

"You're like a secluded beach, Sara Sidle--long and curved and unforgettable. Cool and hot, a feast for the soul, and a siren's call to the untamed beast in a man like me--"

So saying, he moved behind her and looped the stocking over her eyes, wrapping the stretchy fabric twice around her head before knotting it in the back with the quick release loop and letting the long ends dangle to her shoulders.

Sara stood by the edge of the bed, trembling a little, chills racing through her as this outrageous assault on her senses began.

The still, warm air of the bedroom. The scent of dust and wood and sex drifting on it. Grissom's breathing, quicker now--

He touched her arm and she jumped, lips parting in a gasp.

"You're naked for me, Sara. Alone in a house with a bed and we're going to use it, aren't we?" he purred into her ear.

"Oh God I HOPE so--" she laughed nervously, head jerking a little back and forth. Her hand came up, reaching for him but met empty air. Sara sensed him shifting away and around her; she tried to turn but Grissom was quicker, coming to press up against her long spine, his clothed heat a lovely shock against her bare skin.

"Mmmmmm--I love you in your nudity. If I could have my way you'd never wear much in this house--"

"That's going to make winter a little rough--" she reached behind her, running her hands along his hips, feeling the fabric of his Khakis, the material smooth to the touch. Grissom gave a little growl and pushed forward, unsubtly, rubbing himself against her ass. Her fingers cupped the straining ridge of his hard on and she laughed deep in her throat.

"Is that a mountain range or are you just happy to see me?"

"Why don't you do a little hiking and find out--?" he countered saucily into her ear, his hot breath sending quivers down her spine. Sara nodded.

She turned around and let her hands slide up to find the buttons on his shirt. Working by touch gave a new sensitivity to her fingertips and she marveled at the sensation of warm fabric and under it, hotter skin. As she struggled with his shirt, Grissom's hands were sliding along her bare hips, stroking her.

"Appropriate language for appropriate situations and God, I don't feel like being polite at the moment."

She leaned closer, tugging the shirt from his shoulders, pressing her teeth against the flesh there and nipping; he sucked in a laugh. She lifted her face, unable to see him as she smiled her own dangerous grin.

"Bad language, Gris? I'll believe it when I hear it."

His hands guided hers downward, to the zipper of his tented fly.

"I'm going to fuck you, Sara, harder than you've ever HAD a man before, sweetheart--" he crooned, ruthless sincerity in his bold words.

Sara flushed, delicious shock filling her system. Words like that from Grissom--her fingers twitched, but he pressed them to the tab of his fly.

"Show me you want it, honey, make me yours--"

She tugged, pushing his slacks down, letting her fingers find the hot pulsing shaft surging up between her palms.

"H-hot--" she muttered feeling the burn of his flesh, the ache of her hard nipples as she stood swaying, caressing his cock. Grissom's breathing rasped against her cheek.

"Hot--" he agreed thickly. "I love it when you touch me Sara."

He guided her down onto the bed, the combined weight making the mattress creak under them, but Sara was utterly caught up in the muscled heat of their bodies pressing together, thighs and hips and stomachs. Not seeing, only FEELING Grissom was a heady experience and her fingers were flying everywhere, touching as much of him as she could while she cataloged his body.

Soft tangles of curls at his nape, the warm heavy weight of him pressing down on her, his skin scented of clean musk and ardent arousal. The scrape of his faint whiskers against her cheek, the heat of his breath on her shoulder.

"Naked in my bed, oh so sweeeeet, Sara--" Grissom sighed, one hand cupping her chin, turning her face as he lay next to her. His tongue flicked out along the seam of her lips, seeking entrance and she moaned. Sara kissed him eagerly, delighted to taste the silver-sweet flavor of his mouth. Her hips wriggled.

"Mmmmm--" carefully Grissom cupped her face in his hands; she felt the weight of his stare.

"What can you see, honey?"

"--Nothing--" she admitted with a low helpless laugh. She heard him sigh happily.

"I can see YOU. No panties on, nothing but satin skin and big hard nipples--"

She gasped as his mouth dropped onto one, his mouth slick as porcelain and hotter than a furnace. Arching, Sara slid her arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him as he suckled one nipple, then the other, his tongue a silken rasp on tender flesh.

"God I want you so much, Sara. I want to slide into that lovely slick clench of your body, feel it grip my cock while you make me moan--"

Sara fiercely clutched him, her nails digging into his shoulders. He laughed.

"Too much bad language?"

"Damn it Gil Grissom! I am going to ride you like a rollercoaster--" Sara growled in a hot squeak, "--One slow fucking incline at a time."

He tensed in her arms, her words delighting him and she took advantage of the moment. Sara snaked a long leg around him and pulled, using her leverage to shift his bigger body under hers. Grissom went willingly, a chuckle warming her ear. She slid herself on top of him, enjoying the sensation; Grissom was a big man, solid and stocky under her fingers. Sara touched the thick silky tufts of hair under his arms, let her fingers sliding across his chest, pausing over the strong beat of his heart.

"God, it's like a continental shelf," she blurted, and he DID laugh at that, one big hand sliding down her shoulder.

"If that's a comment about middle-aged spread--" Sara lunged to shut him up with a kiss. Quietly she whispered,

"I'm seeing you through my hands, lover--It's so different. I never actually realized how big you are, how strong."

His palms glided down the back of her ribs, coming to grip her ass in a tight possessive clench.

"And you have NO idea how long I have broodingly lusted for this peach of your ass. One of your dangerous charms."

"Dangerous?"

"I caught Greg eyeing it once when you leaned over a counter and took appropriate action--" his fingers tightened and Sara moaned, rubbing shamelessly against him. Under her, his cock throbbed against her pubic bone.

"A-action?"

"Three hour mandatory seminar on sexual harassment in the workplace."

"For looking at my ASS?" shocked and delighted, Sara raised her blindfolded face to him, feeling him flex hard against her fur.

"Yes it was petty and jealous and I'd do it again in a moment, Sara. Newsflash--Gil Grissom does not Share Well with Others," he admitted bleakly.

Sara pursed her mouth and tipped her head to one side, unaware of the beautiful picture she presented to him when she did so.

"You know--I don't either--" came her sultry whisper. He sighed at that, pulling her forward and into a kiss of questing sweetness, enfolding her in his arms. Sara shifted, rubbing herself along the ridge of his cock, letting herself writhe a little and feeling a surge of delight at his low groaning.

"Damn it Sara--" he warned her, his voice shaking a little. She purred, rising up, bracing her hands on his chest, proud of her sense of power.

"I WANT you this way--can I have you, Gris?" she sighed. His hands slid up her long thighs.

"Yessss--" he growled, his hips bucking her up as he pushed himself against her. She lightly tapped his chest.

"We need something--"

"--Here--" Sara felt the little plastic packet thrust into her fingers and laughed again.

"Ohh a challenge! Think I can get you sheathed with my eyes closed?"

"I'm COUNTING on it--" Grissom snapped impatiently. Sara tore open the packet and fingered the thin latex. She rose up on her knees and tilted her head as she brought her hands around her slender spine.

"Blindfolded AND behind my back--" came her brag. Grissom groaned loudly as her fingers slid the condom on; he gripped her ass and lifted.

"Amazing--here, let me show you my--appreciation--" Grissom rasped as he slid her down onto his thick shaft. Sara lifted her head and a low happy howl rose out of her slender throat. She quickly braced her hands on Grissom's chest, her entire body thrumming with pleasure as she impaled herself on him, savoring the magnificent FULLNESS stretching her from within.

"Ohhhhhhhhh--" Grissom groaned, thrusting up, surging hard against the counter rhythm Sara made as she bounced on him, little chuffs of delight echoing in the room. She wiggled a little, losing herself in long moments dedicated to the luscious tug and tension, hearing the lovely slick sounds of their bodies striving into each other.

"Oh Goddddd--" Sara gasped, feeling the hot spiral of erotic tension tighten relentlessly through her muscles. Her fingers scrabbled on his chest, seeking purchase, trying to hold on as her body rocked harder.

"Sara I can see us in the mirror--" Grissom hoarsely whispered, "Naked and wild--honey, you're going to make me come so hard--"

And that did it; Sara shuddered, fingers digging into the damp skin under her hands as the fiery weightlessness of her orgasm rolled through her slender frame, squeezing the air from her lungs and leaving her utterly dazed.

"SaraSaraSARA!!!"

She slumped a little, and dimly felt her hips gripped hard, felt the powerful deep throbs of Grissom's cock thrumming deep within her, each one like the gift of his heartbeat.

She dropped onto his chest and into that twilight consciousness, the wash of afterglow welcome after such exquisite focus. Softly, one of Grissom's hands came up and tugged on the stocking, but Sara shook her head no, and contentedly drifted off into that deep sleep of utter satiation.