DISCLAIMER: CSI and its characters are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My thanks to the lovely mrswoman for the amazing beta work.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Fighting Back
By Ann


A flash of blonde catches my eye just before the stinging sensation of teeth lightly biting down on an engorged nipple sends shivers down my spine. I quickly swallow the hiss that threatens to escape. For the first time since my rescue, I feel alive, and the thought that it's not Grissom who's the reason for my body's state of arousal only serves to make me feel guilty. But not because it's not his lips currently wrapped around my nipple, no! It's because I haven't had the guts to break it off with him. It's because I haven't allowed him to touch me other than hold my hand. Instead, I find myself in bed with Sofia for the fifth time in as many days.

Swiping her tongue over the abused flesh, Sofia begins to toy with my abandoned nipple, squeezing it between her thumb and forefinger, her intent clear. She's hoping for some kind of reaction from me.

"Let me hear you, Sara. Tell me what you want."

I bite down on my lower lip and turn my head towards the closet door, but the move doesn't deter Sofia in the least. Just as she's done five times before, she squeezes harder, bound and determined to get a reaction from me. Stubbornly, I resist, instead focusing on the closed door. It's served me well this week, the symmetry of the knots in the wood grain keeping my mind occupied while my body revels in Sofia's touch.

But something's different this time; I just can't quite put my finger on it. Speaking of fingers, Sofia certainly knows how to put hers to use, that's for sure. My mind fails me as I obediently spread my legs for Sofia's talented digits as they work their way lower.

She chuckles at my eagerness.

Once more, I narrow my focus on the closet door, determined not to give in, and that's when I notice the difference, it's open. Slowly, the area behind the crack in the door takes shape, and I notice the mud-caked laces of my boots, lying helplessly on the floor, just as helpless as I was with Natalie. As Sofia makes her way down my body, kissing and nipping my skin along the way, my body stiffens at the unwanted memories.

This is the moment where I usually place my free hand on her head and force her lower, but today my mind has taken over, allowing flashbacks of my captivity to gain control.

Not even when Sofia dips her tongue into my navel and swirls it around in the delicious way she'd done the other times do I react, lost in memory. All I can feel is the water surrounding me, drenching my clothes and boots. Once again, I'm trapped; once again, I arch my back to try to pull myself free from the car.

Pressure to my lower legs causes me to pause in my memories, and I break free for just a moment to glance away from the boot's laces. The sight before me takes my breath away much like the water as it was rising, forcing me closer and closer to the undercarriage of the car.

Sofia has moved her hands to grasp the outer portion of my thighs as she holds me in place, keeping my knees apart so that I'm fully opened to her. She looks directly at me and grins cockily.

"You're mine, Sara, all mine."

She doesn't allow me any time to agree or disagree with her assessment; she simply lowers her head and drags her tongue through my abundant wetness. This time, I'm not able to keep a low moan from escaping, and when she pushes my legs further apart and spears her tongue inside of me, I cry out.

"Oh, God."

Funny the things that go through your mind at the most inopportune moments. Throughout my recent ordeal, I never once called out to God for help, relying instead on my own survival instincts.

Needing to regain control, I turn my head back towards the closet and bite down hard enough on my lip to draw blood. My vision is hyperactive for some reason, and I'm able to see through the tiny opening, zeroing in on the desert sand which coats my boots. In the minute crack, I manage to spot the exact location where my pants had come down over the top of the boot. The area is almost spotless, and I frown at the shiny black portion that is oddly out of place with the rest of the sand-coated boot. I try to make sense of the strange inconsistency, but my focus shifts once again with Sofia's next actions.

Releasing her hold on my left leg, she moves her hand to join her busy tongue. After a couple more thrusts, she removes her tongue from my opening, and I start to protest, in vain. Two long digits prove to be adequate substitutes, very adequate substitutes. Jeez, she's got my full attention now. Screw the damned door.

Sofia looks into my eyes; holding my gaze, she works another finger inside, increasing the speed of her thrusts. He never looks at me like that when he's inside of me. In fact, he never looks at me at all. It's almost as if he's embarrassed, but not Sofia, no, her entire focus is on me; she wants me to know she's the one inside me, the one who's controlling me, the one who's fucking me.

I force my eyes to stay on hers, pushing out the sounds of our combined moans and the obscene fucking sounds. I struggle to hold onto the moment, the only true moment I've had since my abduction, the only true moment I've had since I've moved to Vegas.

That's all it takes, that moment.

Sofia adjusts her body so that she's above and to the side of me, her eyes never leaving mine. Her thrusts have become so powerful that I have to push my heels down hard against the mattress to keep from hitting my head against the headboard. She easily adds another finger, never slowing her piston-type action. I release a satisfied moan, and she smiles.

"That's it, Sara, let it go. Let it all out, baby. Let me have you."

And, I do. No more thoughts of Natalie or Grissom. No more rushing water or sun beating down on me. No more physical or mental pain; no more pain, period. No more attempts to disengage myself from these feelings by staring at the closet door and its contents. No more living in the past.

I jog my hips in a frantic attempt to match her movements, and finally, I come, staring into Sofia's smiling blue eyes. She slows her thrusts and kisses me for the very first time; a gentle, reassuring kiss that holds so much promise.

Easing a sweaty strand of hair from my forehead, she whispers, "You okay?"

I look up into eyes so full of caring and sincerity and something else that I can't quite put a name on.

I lower my guard and smile. It's time to take my life back.

"I'm perfect."

The End

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