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The
characters of CSI were created by A. Zuiker, and are the property of CBS
and its affiliates. All
other characters depicted in this story are fictional; they are not even
distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author.
Although the locales in this story may be real, all events,
incidents and characters are pure invention. Author’s Note: This is something new for me. A short story inspired by a song, and which also pays homage to Canadian Idol and its wonderful 2004 Idol song: Awake in a Dream. The story is equally inspired by the Gum Drops episode that never aired. I want to thank my trusted beta, Jo, and all who have read and taken the time to review my stories in the past. There are no words to express the thrill of knowing that something I wrote touched you. I hope this little story will put a smile in your heart. And as an aside, Summerhouse is not abandoned, just on a sabbatical until I can give it the attention I think it deserves.
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Awake in a Dream _________________________________________________________________________________ I
never thought, ____________________________________ A deep moan penetrated Sara’s brain. She found herself in that luxurious place between sleep and wakefulness in which her body was utterly relaxed and her mind oblivious to the physical world around her. It felt like floating, like a feather on a warm summer breeze, and she subconsciously clung to the sensation, resisting the sounds that persisted in yanking her from this delightful semi-conscious state. But as her brain slowly edged to consciousness, Sara became aware of a warm weight pressed alongside her body, and a hot, moist breath grazing her neck. She jerked awake as in a flash it came back to her. Grissom surprising her at her door in the dead of night, mumbling something about Greg keeping him awake; his desperate whimper when he realized there was only one bed in her room; and his biting, “There were two in ours,” which sounded very much like a reprimand to her tired mind, as if she were responsible for the sub-par facilities they’d been subjected to. “Why are you here,” she’d asked him, too tired and annoyed to keep the irritation out of her voice. “I need sleep.” “Join the club.” Returning to bed, she’d crawled in and turned her back to him. When a cool draft reached her, she mumbled, “Close the door,” and pulled the warm blankets up to her chin. Thirty hours without sleep had numbed her brain to a lethargic state, incapable of making a big deal out of the fact that Grissom was in her room, looming over her bed as exhaustion lulled her back to a deep slumber. But her brain was very alert now, her eyes wide open, and she dared not breathe until she devised a plan to extricate herself from this bed without waking him. She willed her body to relax, though that was easier said than done with Grissom snuggled tightly to her side, his right leg bare and flung over hers, and his arm— Sensations stumbled through her as he mumbled something and nuzzled her neck, his whiskers scratching the sensitive skin there, and despite her resolve to remain perfectly still, she gasped when his hand moved under her shirt to spread over her ribs just below her left breast. Heat suffused her body and her heart raced; her nipples tightened to painful nubs. Oh, God! She wanted him to touch them, to squeeze them between his fingers, or better yet, to suck them into his mouth. Her breath caught and her eyes squeezed shut as a pang of desire shot to her crotch so strongly it forcibly jerked her hips up and against a very hard, very aroused Grissom. He grunted and thrust against her, once, twice, and his hand grew impatient as it stroked her, his fingers brushing the underside of her breast. His lips were buried in her neck, his hot breath sending shivers along her skin, and she was no longer devising plans to leave the bed, but willing him with sheer force of mind to roll on top of her and nestle his erection between her legs. And then he inhaled sharply and went very still. Slowly, he raised his head and looked down at her. His eyes were heavy with sleep and dark with unmistakable passion. Sara watched as awareness then mortification made them grow wide in the space of a heartbeat. They didn’t speak or move, only gazed at each other until his skin darkened to an embarrassed flush and he rolled away, casually lifting a knee and tenting the blanket to cover up the evidence of his arousal. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” “You don’t usually wake up with an erection?” He turned his head sharply and looked at her. Sara shrugged. “I thought all men did—most of the time,” she delivered with enough mock innocence to make his lips twitch. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” “Well, I was, but you woke up,” she deadpanned, knowing of no better disguise for the truth than to deliver it tongue-in-cheek. In all honesty, if Sara hadn’t been so aroused and frustrated, she might have found something genuinely humorous in the situation. If it had been Greg or Nick, or Warrick in bed with her now—not Warrick, he was married—but anyone else, it would have been hilarious. Then again, she wouldn’t have let it get to this with Greg and Nick. Her nipples wouldn’t be burning with the need to be touched. There wouldn’t be an ache so sharp between her legs that it made her fingers itch to relieve it. But this was Grissom, and there was more truth in what had just happened than he’d ever be willing to admit, which made casual humor a perfect foil for the jumble of emotions breeding in her belly and in her heart. It was also a protective tactic and Grissom seemed to approve. He regarded her with surprise at first, but his eyes were twinkling now. “Are you saying I’m more…entertaining when I’m asleep?” “I don’t know.” She cocked a brow. “Are you?” For a moment, it looked as though he was considering her question. Then suddenly he laughed. He actually laughed, and Sara’s lips tugged up in response and a fabulous release of tension. Which was strange because she’d never felt this sexually aroused by him. _________________________________________ Though
I feel like I’m flying Gil knew what she was doing. Somewhere in that place that had always kept him safe from completely losing himself in those incredible brown eyes, or that pretty gapped-tooth smile, or the generally adorable woman that was Sara Sidle, he even appreciated it. They could pretend to each other that his morning erection was just that and nothing to do with her. She didn’t have to know that he’d been waking up wanting to make love to her for years. They could both pretend that they weren’t aroused, though he could see the evidence of hers through that thin, cotton nightshirt she was wearing, and he was certain she knew that he hadn’t left the bed yet because he still needed the cover of a blanket. Or he could be honest and admit to himself that something stronger than his will had led him to her room last night. Greg’s snoring had been a convenient excuse. If it had been any other woman occupying the room two doors down from them, he would have either suffered the sleepless night, or bunked out in the back of the Tahoe. Sara was astute enough to realize that he’d had other options. And she was astute enough to know that in the bright light of day, he might be regretting the choice he’d made. He wasn’t regretting anything. “I was dreaming,” he admitted. She turned on her right side, facing him. “So was I. Only I was awake in mine.” He felt that familiar flutter just beneath his heart, and rolled on his left side to face her. “In my dream, I was kissing you. Did I kiss you, Sara?” “No.” “Good.” He wanted to be awake the first time he kissed her—if she wanted him to kiss her. He frowned. “What happens now?” A delicate shoulder rose in a slight shrug. “Shower and work.” Gil lowered his eyes to hide his disappointment. “Or…” she continued, “You could kiss me.” _______________________________________ ‘Cause
now, now it seems If
he hesitated, it was too briefly for Sara to fret about it.
The tips of Grissom’s fingers were on her cheek, gently
brushing back her hair, and his warm, serious gaze stroked her face,
pausing on her mouth. She
could only lie in wait as he braced himself up on a forearm and dipped
his head to hers for a soft, gentle kiss that lasted only a few seconds,
but made her heart pound and her breath catch in her lungs.
It came out in a rush the moment he released her lips. “Is
this how you kissed me in your dream?” He
cocked his head a little and inhaled past a cautious smirk.
“Is there something wrong with the way I kissed you?” “N-no.” “Want
to see what else I’ve got?” Her
smile was answer enough. Grissom
dipped his head once more, and this time his lips were more purposeful,
more ambitious, as was his hand as it slid down past her shoulder,
brushed the side of her breast, and then settled on her waist, searing
her skin through her nightshirt. Heat
again suffused her body, yet she was trembling.
With need, she realized, need to touch him, to feel his skin…a
need that had been there for years, perhaps since the first time she
laid eyes on him. And
he was there now, touching her, kissing her, and she could finally touch
him. She slid her hand up
his arm and felt him tremble. His
upper arm and shoulder muscles were bulky and powerful beneath his
T-shirt, the pulse at his throat strong and fast.
His mouth left hers on a groan and nipped at her jaw, then slid
to her throat where he tasted with his tongue, and Sara thought she
would faint from the pleasure. She
sighed his name, and his mouth returned to hers, lips moist and open,
tongue seeking. He was hers,
she realized, if only this once, he was finally hers for the taking as
she was his. His
arm closed around her and pulled her snuggly against his body.
She could feel the urgency in him now, in the way his hand roamed
her lower back, the curve of her ass, the back of her thigh—his harsh
breath when his fingers slipped under her shirt and encountered nothing
but wet heat. He groaned and
unbuttoned her nightshirt, then captured a nipple in his mouth as his
fingers returned to soothe that sweet ache in her, and continued to
excite her until there seemed to be no limit to the heights he could
arouse her. They’d crossed
the point of no return; they surrendered body and mind; clothes were
quickly stripped away, and then the warm weight of him, his scent, the
feel of his skin against hers, made her whimper and plead for more.
“Gris…” His
mouth returned to hers for a deep, lingering kiss as he slowly slid into
her. Together they moved,
their bodies flushed, moist…connected, their breaths shallow and harsh
as his hands and mouth and each thrust into her helped her climb higher
and higher to a sensational place she’d never been to before, until
she cried out and there was nothing else in the universe but him and
her. He
rode her through a shattering climax, then soothed her with tender
kisses to her temple, her cheek, the tip of her nose, which would have
made her melt if she hadn’t already.
He’d stripped her bare, body, and heart, and soul, and she
wanted nothing but to stay in his arms forever. “If
this is a dream, I never want to wake up,“ he whispered. His
breath was hot on her lips, and when she opened her eyes to look at him,
it caught. She raised her
hips as he began to thrust again, encouraging him to go deeper.
“Sara…this is—“ “—perfect,”
she finished for him when a deep, guttural sound took the place of words
and he spilled himself into her. _______________________________________ Everything
I'll ever need, For
a while, Gil simply couldn’t move.
He lay on top of her trying to absorb most of his weight on his
forearms, but doubting that he was succeeding.
His body felt heavy, relaxed, but his mind hadn’t completely
disconnected. There was the
awe and wonder of having finally made love with Sara, something he’d
fantasized about for so long that it didn’t even feel new. And
it was everything he’d dreamed of…’perfect’, just as she said. He
should be thinking about what came next, but he didn’t want to.
He’d crossed a line with her that he never thought he would
cross, except that somewhere along the way, it had stopped being a
choice. Knowing she was
sleeping so close to him…he couldn’t go to sleep knowing that.
Greg’s occasional grunts hardly qualified as snores, but he’d
convinced himself they were
keeping him awake. He went
to her room angry, telling her he couldn’t sleep, but what had really
angered him was that he couldn’t stay away from her a minute longer. “Gris,”
she whispered. “Sorry.”
He rolled off her, sending her an apologetic smile.
They
both lay on their backs, not touching, and then he felt her gaze on him
and he turned his head to look at her.
Her eyes were soft and…wet— “Sara—“ “It’s
okay, I’m just…a little emotional.
Don’t worry, I understand…this.
It doesn’t have to mean forever.” Charmed
and more than a little flattered, and downright happy with her response,
he reached for her and she came willingly into his arms.
Sara’s warm body snuggled next to his, her cheek on his
chest…it didn’t get better than this.
He knew that now. “What
if I want forever?” he asked, pressing his lips to her temple. She
lifted her head and looked at him in that quizzical manner of hers.
She was seeking the truth in his eyes.
“This was great, Grissom. I’ve
always wondered…, but—“ “Me
too.” She
frowned. “You have?” “Yes.” “Oh.”
He
smiled and kissed her forehead. “I
want forever, Sara, but I’m not as confident that I can pull it off as
you seem to be.” “Why
not?” “Well,
I can’t imagine that I’d be an easy man to live with.” She
smiled and snuggled closer, her limbs wrapping around him like a
contented feline. Her lips
grazed his neck. “I’ve
got news for you, Grissom. You’re
not an easy man to live without.” That
flutter beneath his heart came stronger, like it had when she told him
he was more than a boss to her; that she came to Vegas because of him.
It was that and…more. All
he could do was tighten his hold on her.
He wanted to take her into his body and never let go.
His eyes wanted to cry for the perfection of the moment.
And, suddenly, he wanted her to know exactly how he felt about
her. He wanted to tell
her— “What
happens now, Gris?” Such
a big question. He was still
her boss; there were still very strict rules against them being together
as long as she reported to him. And
he wasn’t sure he could face work if she didn’t.
Part of his daily pleasure was to see Sara, to work with her, to
argue a case with her. But
that wasn’t enough for him anymore. “Now…I love you,” he whispered and he felt her smile against his throat. "Am I dreaming, Grissom?" "I think we're both awake...in a dream. "Yeah..." THE
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