FANFIC: Fruit of the Vine by Caroline Crane

Part of The Fetish Series:
Title:Fruit of the Vine
Author:Caroline Crane
Rating: NC17 (See happy reading in sidebar!)
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary:Nick's jealous.

He'd tried to be patient. He'd kept his mind focused on the game, done his part to carry the night shift team to victory just like he did every year. But it was hard to take pleasure in kicking day shift's ass at softball when he was preoccupied by the fact that his boyfriend was flirting with someone else. And it wasn't just Greg's usual flirting; he was laying it on thick this time, and any second now Nick just knew Sara was going to give in.

Sure, she pretended she wasn't interested, but nobody could resist Greg forever. Nick would know; he'd tried to ignore the way Greg flirted with him for a long time, but not even he could hold out forever. What he didn't get was why Greg was flirting with Sara when he'd said a thousand times that he already had what he wanted with Nick.

He waited until the equipment had been picked up and the rest of the team started wandering toward the parking lot before he caught up with Greg, gripping his arm firmly to stop him from following Sara toward the parking lot. The shocked look on Greg's face just made the ball of tension in his stomach tighten even more, and he frowned and dragged the other man toward the small building between the dugouts that served as an equipment room.

"What the hell are you doing?" he said as soon as they were inside, safely out of the earshot of any coworkers.

"What are you talking about?" Greg twisted in his grip and Nick realized just how hard his fingers had tightened on the other man's arm. He took a deep breath and forced himself to let go, taking a step backwards before he answered.

"You and Sara," Nick said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the softball field. "Something you wanna tell me?"

Greg rolled his eyes and Nick's temper flared all over again, but before he could turn and walk out of the equipment room Greg was moving, somehow managing to get between him and the door. "Are you kidding me? I was just trying to distract myself. Every time I looked at you in that uniform I wanted to drag you off the field in front of everybody. And I had a feeling you wouldn't appreciate it, so I found a diversion."

"A diversion."

"Yeah, what'd you think?" Greg laughed and suddenly embarrassment mingled with Nick's righteous indignation, making his cheeks hot and his pulse race a little. "Have you even seen yourself in that thing?"

"You didn't have that problem during last year's game," Nick shot back, but he knew he was just trying to find a way to hang on to his anger. He hated feeling completely deflated by Greg's explanation, and he hated even more how obvious the truth should have been.

"That's because I hadn't seen you out of your uniform last year," Greg answered, giving Nick a meaningful look that crumbled the last of his resolve. He'd been determined to stay angry at Greg at least long enough to get them home, but at least they were alone and with any luck nobody had seen him drag Greg into the cramped equipment room.

And Greg must have been thinking the same thing, because his hand closed around the front of Nick's baseball jersey, pulling him forward until their chests were pressed together. "You were pretty good out there today," Greg said, his breath skimming Nick's already hot skin and sending a shiver straight down his spine.

"I played in college," Nick murmured as he leaned forward and brushed his lips across Greg's.

"You do a lot of scoring on your college team?"

Nick laughed at that, a soft sound that tapered off into a groan. "You're really gonna start with the bad puns now?"

"What, you afraid of a little baseball humor?" Greg grinned and let his hand wander down the front of Nick's jersey, stopping long enough to tug it out of the other man's pants before his hand slid underneath to slide across bare skin. "If you're lucky I'll let you get to third base."

His hand slid up Nick's chest as he spoke, and when Nick laughed and leaned forward to press his forehead against Greg's shoulder Greg's fingers found a nipple and twisted. Nick gasped against his shoulder and turned his head until his mouth was pressed against Greg's neck, mouthing hot kisses up to his ear.

"We should go home," he whispered, although parts of him were already insisting rather loudly that there was nothing wrong with where they were now. Still, the part of his brain that was still thinking rationally knew that the field had probably been booked for the rest of the afternoon, and there was a good chance some Little Leaguers would stumble into the equipment room and find a lot more than they bargained for. Only Greg was pressed against the door, effectively blocking anyone from interrupting them suddenly, and his hands were doing things that were making it hard to think straight.

"We could," Greg answered, his hands sliding back down Nick's chest to trace lazy patterns on his stomach, "or we could stay here and get in a little batting practice."

Nick knew laughing at Greg's lame jokes was only encouraging him, but it was hard to keep a straight face when Greg looked so pleased with himself. He laughed against Greg's neck, and when Greg shuddered his cock twitched and his hands gripped the other man's hips a little harder. Greg was wearing jeans and a baseball shirt, one of those old-fashioned ones with red sleeves and a band at the collar. It looked really good on him, though, and if Nick hadn't been so distracted by the Sara situation he might have spent the game distracted by the way Greg looked in those jeans.

Still, knowing how distracted Greg had been during the game made him kind of glad he'd held onto his old college uniform. He didn't get a chance to wear it much anymore, but if he'd known how much Greg liked it he might have found a reason before the annual softball game. He laughed again at the thought of putting on his uniform just to turn Greg on, his hands sliding down the front of Greg's shirt as he finally pressed their mouths together.

"First base," Greg murmured when Nick relinquished his mouth, his teeth dragging across the other man's bottom lip.

"Technically," Nick answered, his fingers working Greg's jeans open as he spoke, "you already got to second."

Greg grinned at that, then let out a soft moan when Nick's hand slid past his waistband. He thrust automatically into the touch, his expression a mixture of unfocused pleasure and what felt to Nick like ever-present amusement. "Third."

Nick just shook his head and tightened his grip a little, watching Greg's face as his eyes slid shut and he arched back against the door. There were very few things that could actually shut Greg up for any length of time, but Nick had learned pretty quickly that this was one of them. And he loved watching Greg's face as he thrust into the warm circle of Nick's fingers, his eyelids fluttering and his mouth frozen in a little 'o' of pleasure.

He wanted to lean forward and press his mouth to Greg's, breathe against him as Greg clutched his arms and rode the wave of pleasure building in his belly. At the same time he wanted to keep watching, to catalog each change in Greg's features until it finally got too much and he came with a tortured little gasp that made Nick hard just to think about. And he knew Greg wouldn't mind if he just kept up his firm, slow strokes until he couldn't stand it anymore, but that would be messy and they still had to make it back to their cars. Besides, he had no idea how much time they had before someone showed up, either another team or the Parks & Rec guy looking to lock the place up.

In the end he pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Greg's mouth, then dropped to his knees and glanced up to make sure Greg was watching before he closed his mouth around the tip of Greg's cock. A low moan escaped Greg's throat and his hands slid through Nick's hair, flexing against his scalp as Nick slid his tongue down the other man's length. He laughed softly at the stream of nonsense words that escaped Greg's throat, the vibrations making Greg shudder and lose his footing a little.

Nick gripped his hips and pushed him back against the door, holding the other man steady as he swallowed around Greg's length. He knew Greg was close when he heard a familiar groan from low in the other man's throat, then Greg's fingers tightened almost painfully in his hair and he gasped Nick's name as he came. He was still struggling to catch his breath when Nick pulled away and stood up, knees dirty and sore from the concrete floor as he tucked Greg carefully back into his jeans.

"Aren't you gonna go for the home run?" Greg asked between gasps for breath as Nick tugged his zipper up and buttoned his jeans again.

"What, here?"

And Greg's grin was tempting, especially when he raised an eyebrow and slid a hand across Nick's stomach. "Don't tell me you're gonna settle for a triple."

Nick grinned and pulled Greg away from the door, leaning in for one last kiss before he let go and reached for the door handle. "You're not allowed to watch baseball anymore," Nick said as he steered the other man through the door and out into the thankfully empty parking lot. "My place?"

"My place is closer," Greg pointed out as they reached their cars, parked side by side in the center of the empty lot.

"I've seen your place, man. There are health codes, you know."

"Chicken," Greg called cheerfully over the roof of his car. Nick rolled his eyes and stopped with his own car door halfway open, glancing over his shoulder long enough to grin at the other man.

"Home field advantage," he shot back, closing the door against Greg's laughter.

fin