Thousands of Words
Title: Thousands of Words
Author: Mingsmommy
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of its characters.
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Spoilers: None, really
A/N:Thanks, as always, to my marvelous Beta, 
dreams_of_him who is so generous with her time and talent.
Leslie, You are a wonderful, amazing, brilliant and stunningly talented human being. I hope you have the happiest birthday ever, followed by an amazing year. I thought about your question for their first picture together and this is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy.
He was mumbling to himself, not loud enough that she could make out his words, but enough that she would look up from her magazine article and glance over at her bedmate. She watched him, balancing the camera in one hand and holding the manual in front of his face, moving it periodically to check a button on the camera or a setting according to the LCD screen.
She found his intense concentration endearing and felt one side of her mouth lift. She nudged his calf with her foot. “Not to diminish your joy with your new toy, but you do realize you paid more for that than I paid for my first car?”
He grunted softly. “As long as it didn’t cost more than your last car.”
She smirked slightly and went back to reading an article in Vegetarian Times about the benefits of switching to all natural, non synthetic make-up.
Sara was actually glad he had made the purchase. He was always so practical and she knew he had wanted a good quality camera that belonged to him and not the lab. It had taken her some time to finally convince him to indulge. She actually had considered buying it for him for his birthday but decided against it. He was too particular in his stipulations and enjoyed doing the research on the different models and their features. She understood part of the joy of the purchase for him was in knowing the camera he chose was exactly right.
She would save birthday surprises for things she was sure he would like, like new lingerie for her.
The flash was so quick she wasn’t sure she had actually seen it.
“Hey!” She looked up, indignant. “Did you just take my picture?”
“Maybe.” Grissom studied the camera’s screen, lips twitching, eyebrows raised. “Maybe not.”
Laughing, she rolled towards him, making a grab for the camera but he held it out of her reach. “C’mon, let me see.” She was half lying on him, half of her chest pressed against his stomach, one long leg pressed over him as she reached for his raised arm, but he held the camera just out of her reach.
“Ah-ah,” his tone was playfully professorial, “look with your eyes, not your hands.”
“Let me see,” she whined, wiggling, stretching, waving her fingers toward the camera.
“I don’t know.” He puckered his lips and twisted them, first to the left, then to the right, giving his face a look of comical thoughtfulness. “You always erase the pictures I take of you.”
“That’s because I don’t like the way I look.” Her voice was firm. “Now, let me see.”
Startled, he lowered his arm but retained a firm grip on the camera. “You don’t…what?” He blinked down at her.
She shrugged from her position still half lying on him. “I don’t like the way I look.” She had stopped reaching for the camera and appeared to be uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. She was staring, seemingly fascinated, at his t-shirt.
“Sara…” His free hand caressed her cheek, glided down and tilted her chin up. “How could you not like the way you look?” She lightly shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. “How could you not know that you’re beautiful?”
She half smiled. “I’m glad you think so…but…I’m not.”
Gently, he smoothed her hair back from her face. “But you are.” She shook her head again. “You are, Sara.” She still wouldn’t look at him, their light moment having changed to something deeper, less certain, more tender. “Come here.” He patted the space next to his side on the bed.
Slowly, she moved off of him and scooted up to sit beside him. He wound his arm around her, moving her in to his side and moved the camera into her field of vision. He pressed a button and her image lit the surprisingly large LCD screen. She saw herself, head bent, obviously intent on her magazine, hair slightly mussed, face cleaned, expression calm. “How can you not see the beauty in that face?” he asked huskily.
She felt a lump gathering in her throat and leaned her head against his shoulder. “It’s enough that you see it.”
“But I want you to see it.” His tone was earnest. “I want you to see yourself the way I see you.”
Silently, she shrugged.
“Here…” He moved his arms around her and stretched the camera as far out as his reach would allow, and pushed the button. He brought it back towards her and showed her the picture of two of them. “Can’t you see how gorgeous you are?”
She studied the screen. “Wow, that’s our first picture together.” She absorbed that thought, then frowned at the image. “I need a hair cut.”
He studied her, completely baffled. He tried another thought. “I like kissing you.” He placed the camera carefully on the bedside table.
She gave an inelegant combination of a giggle and a snort. “I like kissing you, too.” Her agreement was fervent.
He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers…once, twice, three times. “Good.” He nodded and then traced his tongue along the seam of her lips, causing her to shiver. “But sometimes, I stop kissing you just so I can look at you.” He pulled back and studied her face for a few minutes, watching the flush rise to her cheeks. He traced her eyebrows, her nose, her lips with a finger, his gaze bluely intent on her as if he could imprint her face in his mind forever if he just concentrated hard enough.
She felt herself melting at the look in his eyes as he studied her. The intense heat to his gaze caused her to flush even more and she knew she was beginning to grow wet. He leaned into her again, murmuring against her lips, “Close your eyes, Sara.”
Unhesitatingly, her eyelids slid closed and his mouth covered hers, his lips moving against hers in a heated press before deepening the kiss, his tongue entering her mouth and lazily stroking against hers in a sensual dance, a lazy Samba that spoke of need and desire. As he kissed her, she felt his arm move and she waited for his hand to land on her, on her breast, on her hip, at her core, but the expected touch did not come. He just continued to kiss her, over and over, deeper and deeper.
When she was nearly boneless from the intensity of his kisses, he moved away from her, leaving her laying there, eyes closed, chest heaving. She felt more than saw the flash from behind her eyelids. Her eyes shot open, panicked and alarmed.
He was there, holding the camera, studying the screen.
“Grissom?” Had she not still been locked in a sensual haze the sound of his name would have been an indignant yelp rather than a confused question.
“Look, Sara…” He lay down beside her, resting his head against hers and held the camera so she could see the captured image, a close-up of her face…eyes closed, dark lashes fanned over flushed cheeks, lips moist, slightly open, hair a riotous halo around her head. “See how beautiful you are?”
She looked at the screen, wide-eyed. “I don’t…” She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, wasn’t sure it was even her on the screen, in the frame, in that image.
“See? I need you to see, Sara.” His voice was sweet, almost pleading and she looked at his eager face, so full of love and sweetness and passion and took what anger she felt she should have had and only melted further. She nodded slightly and he continued, his voice rough around the edges and shot through with arousal. “You are so beautiful…” He shook his head. “Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it.” His free hand snaked under the pink tank top she was wearing, his long, strong fingers stroking against her stomach, stoking tiny fires under her skin. “You take my breath away, no matter what you’re doing…reading, sleeping, eating, thinking, singing…all the time. But, here, with me…when you love me, Sara, I…” he swallowed heavily. “There is nothing in the world more breathtakingly gorgeous than your face, here, where only I can see.” He looked at her face on the pillow and then looked at her face on the screen. “Let me show you?”
“Gil, I…don’t…”
He nuzzled her neck, then traced the outline of her ear with his tongue. “Please? I just want to show you.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. It was difficult to let go and trust anyone that much. He wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that, but it was still so difficult. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Slowly, slightly disbelieving, she nodded. He gave her a quick kiss and put the camera down again. He took off his shirt and then helped her remove hers. She rested, half raised on her elbows and watched him reach again for the camera. He gazed at her bared breasts and ran his tongue over his lips, studying her with his eyes, then through the eye of the camera. The flash went again and she winced; he made an apologetic noise and pushed some buttons and then, took another picture. “There,” he said happily when the picture froze on the screen without the flash.
He reclined beside her, camera in one hand, the other stroking slowly up and down her torso. His thumb brushed over a nipple, his finger traced the valley between her breasts, fingers splayed and skated down her stomach and back up again. He cupped one breast, marveling at the weight and the softness, breathing out again, “Beautiful.” He used two fingers and trailed the outline of her breasts, her rib cage, down her stomach, around her navel and they slid, delicately under the waistband of her panties, lightly tickling through the damp curls there, eliciting a throaty moan.
Camera still in hand, he leaned down and swiped the broad expanse of his tongue over a nipple leaving a wet trail where his tongue had been captured by the next image. He kissed her again, pressing into her and she could feel the hardened ridge of his arousal through his pajama bottoms and she moaned slightly, as his tongue passed her lips and dipped into the warm wetness of her mouth, just as his fingers passed her lower lips and dipped into the warm wetness of her core.
She tugged on his pajama pants, “Off,” she mumbled into his mouth. He pulled his body slightly away from her, and snapped another picture just as his thumb bumped against her clit and she arched into his hand automatically. “Beautiful,” he groaned as he saw her aroused expression.
Sara pulled against the pants, divesting him of them in a fevered hurry. “Sit back,” she motioned to the headboard while she eyed his bobbing erection hungrily. She sighed as she crawled between his legs. “That is beautiful,” she breathed across the engorged purple head already weeping pre-ejaculate. Lightly, lovingly, she traced her tongue over the tip and around the head. She gently bit her cheeks to cause an influx of saliva into her mouth and then brushed her tongue wetly up and down the length of him, aware he was taking pictures the entire time.
“God, Sara,” he rumbled. He was having trouble keeping the camera steady enough for the images not to be completely blurry. But the camera in his hands kept him from closing his eyes in ecstasy when she put his cock in her mouth and sucked him in long, slow strokes. She left a slick trail as she moved her mouth on and off him, in a little and in deeper, slick and hot and wet…one hand cupping his balls, the other grasping the base of his shaft as her mouth moved, fucking him with lips, cheeks and tongue. She looked up at him, her mouth around his hardened length, her eyes nearly black with desire.
He took another picture…her eyes, his cock, her lips…he moaned.
“Stop…” he panted.
She pulled her mouth off him with a slick wet sound. “What’s the matter, Baby?”
He grasped the camera as she came up to her knees and he really never had seen as anything so beautiful. “Will you do something for me?”
“Anything,” her voice was firm.
“Would you…touch yourself?” He flushed slightly, even as his erection jumped at the thought.
Half smiling, fully aroused, she covered one breast with her left hand and slipped her right hand into her panties, sucking in a breath as her fingers found her clit. Her eyes closed, her fingers pinched and rolled a hardened nipple while her head fell forward on a moan, her hair swinging forward. Her hips thrust forward against her fingers and he had never been so hard as he captured image after erotic image…her face partially obscured by her hair, a hardened nipple peaking out between the fingers of one hand, the ridge of the other hand moving beneath her panties. He watched her moving, hips and fingers; he could smell her arousal, hear the little noises she made as her fingers danced with her clit.
“Panties,” he rasped when he couldn’t take any more.
Quickly, she slid the panties down her hips and legs, kicking them off her feet as she crawled up his body.
She straddled him, grasping his erection. She brought him to her opening, lining him up and sinking onto him in a slow, sensual, slide. “Yes,” she hissed, as he pressed up into her. Fully impaled on him, she savored the feel of him filling and stretching her. Throwing her head back and arching her back, her breasts thrust forward and the elegant column of her neck was exposed.
He steadied the camera and captured the image both in the instrument and in his mind of Sara swayed over him like some sort of pagan goddess, all sensual lines and passionate energy. Then all thought was gone as she began to ride him. She rose up slightly and rolled her hips forward on the down thrust, pressing herself fully on to him, rubbing her clit against him with every down stroke. Slowly at first, savoring every stroke; she made needy, greedy sounds in the back of her throat as she melded into his body. Then at his urging, she began to ride a little faster, a little harder…thrusting, grasping, riding, fucking.
He was moaning non-stop. “Oh, god, Sara…fuck me…god, yes, you’re beautiful when you fuck me. Yes.”
The speed of her strokes increased, her legs tightened against him. Using her thigh muscles to steady herself, she rode him hard and fast listening to him become incoherent, knowing he was close and she wasn’t far behind.
She could feel it tightening, coiling within her, responding to each slide of his thick cock inside her, every press of her clit against him.
“Can’t stop…Coming,” he ground out, using his free hand to hold on to her hip as he arched up into her, his other hand remaining on the camera.
The feel of his spasms as his hot semen shot into her and the extra pressure of his upward thrust sent her tumbling, out of control into her own shaking, shattering orgasm…panting, crying out his name.
Slowly collapsing over him, she narrowly missed the camera resting on his chest. She adjusted her slide onto him as he slid out of her.
After her breathing returned to near normal and she could hear more than her own heartbeat in her ears, she placed a kiss against his sweat covered chest. “Thank you.”
“Hmmm?” He pressed a kiss into her hair.
“For making me feel…beautiful.”
He pulled her close. “You are beautiful, Sara.”
She shook her head. “If I am, it’s because loving you makes me beautiful.”