DISCLAIMER: CSI and its characters are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILERS: S04E16, 'Getting Off'.
"If you found something that got you off ... wouldn't you keep it?"
I watch Sara undress from a dark corner of the locker room. She doesn't usually change at work. She usually does anything she can to hide the scars decorating her back. But when she feels me watching her, she's willing to show more skin than she's normally comfortable with. I know she does it just for me. I've felt those hands on me, and I know that her gentle touches have very little to do with lust, no matter how I try to deny it.
I smile appreciatively as she takes off her shirt. Just because I usually rip her clothes off doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eroticism of her undressing.
But even as my eyes rake over her near-naked form, I can't help but think back on Mrs. Maguire's words. I've kept Sara for a long time. No one has ever been able to satisfy me the way she does.
I need to end this. Months of fucking each other- and someone who gets off on clowns is the one who makes me realize that I can't keep doing this. I don't love her. She loves me. That's part of why our relationship is so satisfying. I get to feel her body writhing under mine, and the way she touches me makes me feel loved.
I don't know what she gets out of it. I've made it clear that I only want her for sex. Me getting a boyfriend highlighted that, and it's been a few days since we've fucked. I'd like to ignore how much pain there was in her eyes when she found out about him. But I can't.
We aren't really friends. Since we've started having sex we've stopped fighting, but we don't spend time with each other outside of work, and I don't want to.
The first time we had sex, I fucked her up against the door of her apartment. She made no attempt to push me away, and I figured that she needed to relieve the tension between us just as badly as I did. When she touched me, I realized that there was so much more to it. I decided to ignore it.
And now I can't. I can't keep doing this to her.
I take a final look at what I'm giving up before it's covered again, and almost groan in frustration. But I don't. I just grind my teeth and focus on how much pain our relationship must be causing her. The only time she's ever slipped was last week with the cough drops. Everything else the circles that are always under her eyes don't have to be my fault. They probably are, but they don't have to be. The drinking I forgot my cell phone at her apartment. Five minutes had passed since I'd left. She answered the door with a beer in her hand. My fault.
I don't want to end this. I have to, but I still don't want to. I'm being completely selfish, and I should be disgusted with myself. But I'm not. Because it's only Sara, and I never stick around long enough to see the anguish in her eyes.
I continue to stare for several seconds before realizing that I'm no longer looking at her bare skin. I sigh and look into her eyes. Desire; pain; love; sadness. The first one is the only emotion I can bring myself to acknowledge. The others God I don't want to end this. I don't want to know that ending this is the right thing to do.
I walk over to her and stop a foot away. I take a deep breath before I place my lips gently against hers. I don't pull away when she doesn't respond. I wait for her to respond, and she does so tentatively at first. Her tongue traces its way around my lips before slipping into my mouth. I brush my tongue against hers and she moans desperately. I give her a few more moments of pleasure before pushing her away.
She's breathing hard and looks almost hopeful. My heart clenches, and I almost cry in relief when I also see a hint of dread in her eyes. If I were a better person, I would ask her how she became so insecure. I'm not though, so I just offer up the explanation for our first and last kiss without even meeting her eyes.
"I won't do this anymore."
I want to keep her with all my heart. I want to so badly. But I won't. I walk out of the locker room and ignore the way she's touching her lips. I make my way through the hallways and walk out the door. Chris is out there, sitting in his fancy sports car. I take a deep breath and try not to think about how badly I want Sara to be the one sitting there.
I had to end it. It was the right thing to do.
So why am I having so much trouble fighting back tears?
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