2005. It was a Sunday.

Sara Sidle didn't dare move.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled as quietly as she could. Trying to return her breathing to a semblance of its normal rhythm. She willed her heartbeat to slow down, trying, but failing miserably, not to let her mind venture there.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed. Minutes. Hours. A lifetime.

Him, holding on to her in a tight embrace, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, the other coming to rest firmly in the small of her back. Her, not sure how to react, her chin against his shoulder, her lips within dangerously close proximity of his neck and the scruff on his cheek. It took all of her willpower not to taste his skin right there and then.

No. She didn't dare move and break the spell, so she just waited. Waited for him to say something. Waited for him to not say anything and walk away perhaps.

But he was still there, so she held on to him. Moving her hands in lazy circles on his back, feeling the occasional shiver of his body under her touch, wanting very much to let her finger roam past the waistband of his pants and grab his-

She caught the laugh before it got out.

The welcome but incredible quality of the situation was conjuring up all kind of scenarios- some ridiculous, some plausible, some she felt were inevitable. In fact this very moment was reminiscent of another that took place ages ago, wasn't it?

He loosened his grip on her. She thought he was about to speak but no words came forward and he leaned into the embrace again. The fleeting presence of his hands on her ass might have been accidental but given the situation she couldn't be sure.

"Grissom?" The man would never cease to surprise her. Her smile grew against his shoulder.

"Uh..." He finally replied.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Okay."

"I figured."

They had been standing in her living room for only a brief moment and he had already repeated the same two words twice. She was halfway between amused and annoyed, fighting the grin that kept creeping back. He cleared his voice one more time and looked down at his hands- the hands that were holding hers. Sara squeezed them gently in encouragement. She was enjoying this fumbling side of him. Perhaps a little too much.

"I figured..." He tried again. "I finally figured it out."

She waited for the rest. It didn't come. "Figured what out, Grissom?"

His eyebrows shot up and he glanced around, his eyes darting back and forth, looking everywhere but at her.

And then she got it.

"Oh.."

"Is it..."

"No." She deliberately paused, letting him dangle for once. "No, it's not too late." She grinned again. His own smile was merely a smirk, but it was there.

His hands suddenly let go of hers. And just like that, her stomach dropped. Her smile faded. The moment was over, whatever it was, whatever brought it on.

Except that it wasn't. Because his hands were now making their way up her body. Trailing up her arms, across her shoulders, leaving goosebumps in their wake, until they finally landed on each side of her face. His right thumb traced the outline of her lips, ever so gently.

And then she kissed him. She always knew that's how it would happen. That she would kiss him.

On his own term, of course.

She had been waiting so long for that kiss, she poured her soul into it. And her heart. And her tongue.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was hard and deep and demanding. And she could tell that he was losing himself in that kiss. His hands were everywhere, so much so that she thought he must have grown two more in the last several minutes. It was intense. He was intense.

She could barely register the sounds she was hearing. Was that her, moaning? Was that him, panting? Her body was quick to react to his hands as they explored the expanse of skin above her bellybutton, the curves of her breasts. Her nipples were erect and aching and ready and she thought she would surely come on the spot if he dared to take one in his mouth.

She had dreamed about this so many times since the first kiss, but all her fantasies paled in comparison to the moment.

It wasn't the first time they had kissed, but it was the first time since they'd really gotten to know each other. The first time since they'd fallen for each other. They were acquaintances then, no matter how immediate their connection had been. She had been young and carefree, and he had been less guarded than the man she would grow to know. Their encounter had seemed temporary then, maybe the implications weren't as big for either of them.

This moment, however, was a point of no return. And if the relentlessness of Grissom's mouth and hands were telling her anything, it was that he didn't seem to mind.

Coherent thoughts disappeared the second Grissom's tongue touched the peak of her breast. He guided her to the nearby couch, his mouth moving on to worship the other breast as his hands pushed down her pants. His fingers worked their way past her panties to find her center, and her world exploded. She could hardly breathe. She knew what she needed but she was unable to put the words together.

As if reading her mind, or at the very least reading her body, Grissom pushed two fingers inside of her, thrusting them in and out, trying to find the rhythm she needed. When her head fell backwards and her words came out in a jumble of "yes" and "more", Grissom took a nipple in his mouth, suckling it between his teeth, and she came undone.