FANFIC: A Hundred Minus One by Caroline Crane

Part of The Fetish Series:
Title:A Hundred Minus One
Author:Caroline Crane
Rating: PG13 (See happy reading in sidebar!)
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: There's something to be said for planning ahead. (Follows Safe Harbor)

Greg's stuff has been in Nick's house long enough for it to start feeling like their house. There are still a few boxes left to be unpacked, but their things are mingling together already and it's kind of nice to walk in and feel like he's home instead of just visiting.

It's not like he's never lived with anybody before – there were roommates in college, then that brief thing that led him to New York and taught him a lot about himself, like exactly what he's willing to compromise on and what constitutes a deal breaker. Since then there hasn't been anyone serious enough to change his phone number for, but this thing with Nick…well, it better be permanent, because he's got the evidence inked on his left hip.

And that's probably the dumbest thing he's ever done; he's still not sure why he did it, if he was trying to freak Nick out or just force him into making a commitment. He definitely didn't expect Nick to take it so calmly, and asking Greg to move in with him was the last thing on his mind. But it worked out in the end, and that's all that matters to Greg.

It worked out better than he ever could have predicted, and that's why he's still a little nervous that Nick might change his mind. All the times he's moved in the past he's taken his time unpacking, getting a feel for the place before he decides where things go. This time, though – this time he unpacked half his stuff that first night, and Nick finally had to drag him to bed to get him to stop.

He'd never admit it to Nick, but part of him thinks that if he insinuates himself far enough into Nick's life it'll be harder for him to change his mind and kick Greg right back out again. So he's mixed up their books and stashed all his video games in the box with Nick's, hung his clothes in Nick's – their – closet and stocked the bathroom with an alarming number of hair care products. And it feels…right, letting himself in with a key that he doesn't have to give back and seeing his things alongside Nick's in every room.

When he finishes with the CDs – most of which Nick will probably never let Greg listen to while he's around anyway – there's one box of books left to unpack. He considers leaving them in the box, stashing them in the spare room closet where he can forget about them until he needs something, but Nick's well into a double shift and it's not like he has anything better to do.

There's not much room left on the bookshelf, but he squeezes old college textbooks onto the shelf between Nick's yearbooks and the crime novels he reads sometimes. When he runs out of space he sits back, head tilted to one side as he considers which books Nick wouldn't miss if he took them off the shelf to make room for his own. He briefly considers packing up the paperbacks before he decides Nick might notice that, passes by Nick's back issues of Sports Illustrated and finally comes to rest on the row of carefully ordered yearbooks.

Greg's not even sure where his own yearbooks are anymore – in his parents' attic, maybe, if they didn't sell all his stuff in a yard sale when he moved to Vegas. He's not surprised to find all of Nick's stacked side by side, though, sorted by year starting with grade school. He grins and pulls one out, flipping through the pages until he finally finds a twelve-year-old Nicholas Stokes grinning back at him. He finds another picture of Nick in his junior high Science Club, barely making out the familiar face in the rows of teenagers.

He reaches for Nick's freshman yearbook next, flipping to the page with Nick's picture before he turns to the club section. And he's sure Nick's parents still have all these pictures in color, carefully framed in their family room along with pictures of all his siblings. He shakes his head and scans the pages for the Science Club again, finally locating Nick in the back row. He has to squint to make out Nick's features, but he grins anyway and flips through the rest of the club section looking for another mention of Nick's name.

He's almost given up when he spots it – he recognizes Nick before he sees his name, but he has to look twice because he's positive he's seeing things. Only the caption under the picture is clear – Nick Stokes ropes the first calf of the season. There's a whole page dedicated to the Rodeo Club, but Greg barely notices because he's too busy staring at Nick's fifteen-year-old ass in jeans and a pair of leather chaps.

The second he starts picturing Nick without the jeans he closes the book, shoving it back in place and reaching for Nick's senior yearbook this time, because if he's going to lust after his boyfriend in leather he wants Nick to at least be closer to legal in the pictures. He skips Nick's senior picture, flipping right to the back of the book and another full-page layout of the Rodeo Club, in color this time and…God, Nick must have been the star of the show.

He's facing the camera this time, smiling that smile Greg would recognize anywhere, wearing one of those hideous western-cut shirts and there's no way Greg's ever going to be able to look at him without blushing again, because seventeen-year-old Nick's holding a lasso. He's still wearing the chaps too, and even though Greg can't see much of them in the picture, he can picture them. And he knows Nick's from Texas so none of this should surprise him, but he never figured Nick Stokes for a cowboy.

The front door opens behind him and he looks up, ignoring the tension in Nick's features as he holds up the yearbook. "You've been holding out on me."

Nick frowns until his gaze focuses on the yearbook, then his features relax into a smile and he starts forward, lifting the book out of Greg's hand. "God, I haven't looked at this in forever."

"Do you still have those?"

"Have what?"

"Those," Greg answers, standing up and gesturing impatiently at the picture. "The rope, the leather, the gloves…everything."

"G, this was a long time ago," Nick answers, and he sounds almost wistful for a second. "I haven't even been on a horse since college. I probably couldn't rope anything if my life depended on it."

And he's missing the point, but he's probably tired so Greg's willing to be patient. "You don't have to rope anything. Unless you want to. I just want to know if you've still got that stuff."

"No," Nick says, and Greg's disappointment must show on his face, because for a second he looks almost guilty. "What, you've got a thing for chaps now?"

"I like to try new things," Greg answers, and when Nick laughs wearily he has to swallow a rush of affection. "There's a western store in Henderson."

Nick shakes his head and closes the yearbook, reaching around Greg to set it on the bookshelf. "I'm not playing dress-up with you after a double shift. Right now all I want is a hot shower and bed."

"Hey, I can wait. Just as long as I know there's something to look forward to."

That gets him a grin and Nick's hand on the front of his shirt, pulling him forward to press their lips together. "There's plenty to look forward to. Starting with that shower."

"That an invitation?"

"Just as long as you don't start making rodeo jokes."

"So jokes about riding are out too?"

Nick groans and buries his face in the crook of Greg's neck, breathing in deeply before he looks up again. "If I wasn't so beat I'd make you pay for that."

"Promises, promises," Greg murmurs against his skin, pressing his mouth to Nick's neck as he drags the other man toward the back of the house. By the time they reach the bathroom there's a trail of clothes marking their path down the hall, and he pulls away from Nick long enough to turn the water on before he steps out of his boxers.

He's already hard by the time Nick pulls him into the shower, pulling him close for more slow kisses as the water warms his skin. And he was only half-joking about the western store, but even if Nick's not into a little role-playing it doesn't really matter. This is enough – Nick's hands on him, his mouth feathering kisses along Greg's shoulder when he leans across Nick to reach for the shampoo. Anything else is just a bonus, and there are still times he wants to pinch himself just to make sure he hasn't dreamed up everything that's happened between them.

"How was work?"

Nick groans, although whether it's the result of the word 'work' or Greg's hands working shampoo into his hair he's not sure. "Pointless. Twenty straight hours and we still came up empty-handed. Gris is probably still at it."

"He's one of those guys who's going to drop dead on the job someday."

"Probably."

"You're not going to, are you?"

"What?" Nick asks, his expression a mixture of humor and confusion when he glances over his shoulder at Greg.

Greg tightens his grip enough to turn him so he's facing forward again, letting the water rinse the shampoo out of Nick's hair. "Go out like that. I don't want to get a call someday that you stroked out at a crime scene because you were too wrapped up in your job to take care of yourself."

Nick laughs at that, but it's a little shaky and Greg wonders if he's ever thought about this. Greg hasn't – not until right now, anyway, but suddenly it seems important.

"You just moved in. Shouldn't you wait until I put your name on the mortgage to start planning my death?"

Greg lets out a heavy sigh and pulls his hands out of Nick's hair, letting the other man turn to face him. "If you want to die on me, fine. But it better be in bed so at least I can brag about my killer virility. When you're eighty, and I’m still a youthful seventy-seven."

"You planning to stick around that long?"

It was just a joke – Nick's smiling, ready to laugh it off if that's what Greg wants, but there's a question in his eyes and Greg finds himself nodding in spite of the sudden knot in his stomach. "Figured I might. I mean I'm already branded."

Nick laughs and covers Greg's tattoo with one hand, fingers splayed possessively across wet skin. "I thought I said no rodeo jokes."

"You said it, I never agreed to go along with it."

The sound of Nick's laughter is swallowed in the kiss as Greg leans forward, fitting their mouths together. He's pretty sure he just proposed – sort of, anyway, and even though he didn't say the words he knows Nick agreed. He knows there's not going to be any ceremony at some tacky chapel with their friends gathered around – he's never been much for tradition anyway, so that doesn't really bother him. Still, it gives him plenty of time to talk Nick into a new pair of chaps, and if he plays his cards right he might even get the lasso.

fin

FANFIC: Safe Harbor by Caroline Crane

Part of The Fetish Series:
Title:Safe Harbor
Author:Caroline Crane
Rating: R (See happy reading in sidebar!)
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Nick thought he'd memorized every inch of Greg.

He hasn't been gone that long, so it surprises him how much he's looking forward to seeing Greg. Going home is usually so full of family and old friends and people to catch up with that he barely thinks about Vegas unless somebody asks how his job's going, but this time…this time was different.

He spent a week in his parents' guestroom, saw his brother and all his sisters except Holly, who he hasn't seen since she moved to Corpus Christi with her husband. And mostly it was a normal visit – lots of family gossip, nieces and nephews who are taller now and old enough to make him feel his own age – but for the first time since he moved to Vegas he spent most of his trip home thinking about what was going on back there.

If he'd been distracted by a particular case it would have been one thing, but the truth is he didn't spend a week in Texas thinking about work. He spent the whole week thinking about Greg, and even though he tried not to let on his family noticed. His mother was the first to say something – that part wasn't surprising, because she's always been the spokesman for the family and she's always the one to ask him questions about his personal life.

He still remembers the time she got frustrated enough with his non-answers to flat-out ask him if he was ever going to get married and settle down like the rest of the family. He remembers the flicker of disappointment in her eyes when he said no, and he remembers how quickly she swallowed her surprise when he told her why. And it's not that he doesn't think he could be happy with 'a nice girl', as his mother puts it, but it hasn't happened yet, and he doesn't like to lie to his parents.

So he wasn't surprised when his mother asked what was on his mind, but he was surprised to hear himself answer her. He could have said something vague about work, but instead he looked her right in the eye and said 'I met someone'. Which is kind of a stupid way to put it, because he's known Greg forever and there are a few years in between meeting Greg and finally doing something about the way they feel about each other.

He'd said it, though, so he didn't bother to correct himself before he told her about Greg, and by the end of the conversation he found himself wishing he'd invited Greg to go home with him. Before he left he'd considered it once or twice, but he'd never brought a guy home before and he wasn't sure how his family would react. And okay, that probably made him a coward, but he likes the way things are between him and Greg and he worries sometimes that doing something as big as introducing Greg to his family will change that.

It's been almost six months now since they started sleeping together and they still haven't really talked about what they're doing. A few people at work know, but for the most part they keep things pretty low-key and Nick's always thought that was the way he wanted it. Only now he's seen the look on his mother's face when she asked how long Nick and Greg have been involved, he's seen the flash of hurt and suddenly it feels like he's been keeping a secret.

They spend more time together than apart, but he's never asked Greg if he's seeing anyone else. Nick knows he's not, but he's been thinking about it the whole way back to Vegas and he's starting to think that's not the point. The point is that they don't talk about it – they talk about work and their pasts and they spend a lot of time joking around, but they don't talk about them, about what they're doing and what they want. It's not a conversation he's ever wanted to have with anyone before Greg, and it's a little weird that it took his mother to make him realize it.

He shifts his weight impatiently as he waits for Greg to answer his door, and the apartment's not that big so Nick's not sure what's taking him so long. A few endless seconds later the door finally swings open, and when Greg grins at him Nick forgets to be annoyed. Instead he lets Greg grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him inside, barely managing to kick the door shut before he's up against the wall with Greg pressed up against him. Not that he's complaining, because this is something else he's been thinking about all week.

"You working tonight?" Nick manages to gasp when Greg lets him up for air, his hands already pushing Greg's shirt up his back.

"Nope," Greg murmurs against his neck. "Switched with Dorsey."

Thank God for Dorsey, Nick thinks as he pushes at Greg's arms until he lifts them to let Nick tug his shirt off. Nick's hands are on his back before the shirt even hits the floor, fingers mapping skin he's had memorized for months now, but never gets tired of touching. He can picture each scar as his hands brush across it, pictures the single freckle on Greg's shoulder blade as his fingers trace the angles of his back.

This isn't what he was planning for his first five minutes back in Greg's apartment. The kiss, sure – that much was a given, but when he'd thought about this on the plane he hadn't planned on methodically undressing both of them as he pushed Greg toward his bedroom. He isn't surprised that his default reaction to Greg is wanting to get him out of his clothes as quickly as possible, but there's a part of him that feels like they should talk first, like he should maybe ask Greg how work's been, or maybe just what he did all week without Nick.

He can't really stop to ask what's new at this point, though, and when he drops to his knees to slide Greg's jeans down his legs all his questions about what Greg's been up to are eclipsed by the one thing on Greg's body he hasn't memorized. "What…did you get a tattoo?"

His fingers trace the design as he says the words, and before Greg answers he's already thinking that only Greg would get a strand of DNA tattooed on his hip. He finally tears his gaze away long enough to glance up at the other man, and he's surprised to find that Greg actually looks a little nervous.

"It was a last minute thing," Greg answers, although something about the way he says it tells Nick it wasn't as last minute as Greg wants him to believe. "It's kind of boring around here without you."

And now he wishes even more that he'd taken Greg home to meet his family, because that, at least, wouldn't have been boring. Besides, he's pretty sure Greg's never been to Texas, and it would be something to be the one to show Greg something new for a change. "You got bored so you got a tattoo of DNA."

He's still tracing the design, and he can't help stealing constant, quick glimpses at the blues and greens and reds against pale skin. It's not exactly beautiful, but it's definitely Greg, and he finds himself wishing he'd been there to see it happen.

"Well it's not just DNA."

As soon as Greg says it Nick knows – he doesn't even have to ask, and when he looks up again he knows he's right. He's still on his knees, fingers still pressed against Greg's hip, and it takes an effort to push himself up until they're face to face again. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume it's not yours."

Greg rolls his eyes but it's even easier to see how nervous he is from up close. Nick's hand is still pressed against his hip, thumb moving in little circles and he's not sure he's ever going to be able to stop touching that spot. That spot that says Greg's his, and it should be terrifying but mostly it just makes Nick want him even more.

"It could be anybody's," Greg says, his voice a little breathy and Nick's not sure if it's because he's scared of Nick's reaction or if it has something to do with what Nick's doing with his hand.

"But it's not."

"No."

Nick knows Greg doesn't want to say it, but he really wants to hear it, and they both know he can be a lot more stubborn than Greg. He presses his mouth to Greg's neck, smiling at the gasp that escapes Greg's throat. His mouth moves along Greg's jaw to the corner of his mouth, a kiss that's meant to coax quickly turning into something more like reassurance. And he's known for awhile that Greg loves him, even though they never say that kind of stuff out loud, but this…this is permanent, and they both know exactly what it means.

It's one thing for Nick to paint his initials on Greg's hip. That was just paint – just a joke, really. As soon as he thinks it he realizes that Greg's tattoo is on the exact spot where Nick painted his initials that first time, and he remembers thinking at the time that he wished it was permanent. It scared him then how much he wanted to claim Greg, but it was a turn-on at the time, and it's even hotter now.

Greg's kissing him with an urgency that makes Nick even harder, and he groans when hands slide between them to work his jeans open. He helps Greg push them down his hips, kicking his boxers off too before he pushes Greg back onto the bed. "So are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Greg asks, but the nervousness is gone and now he's smirking, his mouth forming an 'o' of mock surprise when Nick grabs his wrists and forces his hands over his head.

"I think I have a right to know whose DNA is tattooed on my boyfriend." Another first, because Nick's never had much use for words like 'boyfriend' or even 'commitment', but he knows Greg likes that stuff and he makes a promise to himself to say those things more often. Greg shifts underneath him and Nick bites back a moan when their cocks brush together, leaning forward to pin Greg more firmly to the mattress. "Not until you say it."

"Uncle." Greg laughs when Nick growls low in his throat because he knows Nick's pretending to be more frustrated than he is. "Okay, okay. It's yours."

He doesn't have to ask how Greg got his DNA in the first place – he's spent as much time in Greg's apartment over the past six months as he has in his own house. He's got a toothbrush here and clothes in Greg's closet, and when he stops to think about it he realizes how stupid it is that they're not living together. "Move in with me."

"What?"

Greg's eyes are wide and Nick knows he wasn't expecting that – Nick's not even sure where the idea came from, because until right now he's never even thought about it. He says it again anyway, move in with me, like it's something he's been thinking about for a long time. "I'm serious, G. We spend all our time together anyway."

"So you're not freaked out about the tattoo?"

"What, you wanted me to freak out?" Nick laughs, but the sound dies in his throat when he sees that Greg's serious.

"I wanted you to do something," Greg admits, and there's that nervous look again, the one that tells Nick that Greg's nowhere near as sure about how Nick feels as he thought. "I didn't really expect that."

"You're not as smart as you want everybody to think," Nick says, but his voice is rough and another kiss soothes all the sting out of the words. And it's just like Greg to do something so crazy – so permanent – to show Nick how he feels, but maybe he thought that was the only way to get his point across.

He's panting when Nick pulls back again, letting go of Greg's wrists to work his way down the center of Greg's chest. His mouth marks a trail across warm skin, stopping at Greg's hip to press a kiss to the spiral pattern of his own DNA. He curls one hand around Greg's cock, smiling against Greg's hip when he moans. And he thinks about making Greg come just like this because he wants to keep looking at the tattoo, but when Greg's hand threads through his hair Nick gives in and shifts until he's kneeling between Greg's legs.

He presses kisses to the insides of Greg's thighs, working his way slowly upwards until Greg's panting and babbling a litany of nonsense words peppered with the occasional 'please'. His fingers press against Greg's hip just below his tattoo, his other hand still working his length as Nick finally closes his mouth around the head of Greg's cock.

There was a time when he thought it would get boring, being with the same person long enough to know exactly what they liked. He always told himself he didn't want to settle into a routine, but his life was pretty routine before Greg, and he likes the fact that he knows exactly how to turn Greg on. He likes knowing just where to apply pressure, right when to pull back to stop Greg from coming too soon. But most of all he likes how much Greg wants him, and when Greg comes moaning his name he can't imagine ever giving this up.

He takes his time making his way back up Greg's body, stopping every so often to reacquaint himself with Greg's stomach, his elbow, the spot where his neck and shoulder meet. By the time he reaches Greg's mouth again his eyes are open, and he's watching Nick with a mixture of affection and smug self-satisfaction.

"You never answered me," Nick says, punctuating the words with a kiss to the corner of Greg's mouth.

Greg laughs breathlessly, and Nick feels the curve of that smile under his lips. "You're kidding, right? I got your genetic code tattooed on my hip. I'd be kind of insulted if you didn't ask me to move in."

"You're crazy."

"You love it," Greg answers, pushing hard on Nick's chest until he takes the hint and rolls onto his back. He pulls Greg with him, hands sliding along his back to curve around his hips again.

"Yeah, I do."

Greg swallows his surprise almost as soon as it registers on his face, but it's not fast enough for Nick to miss it. There are a lot of things he never says out loud, but he's starting to think he should say them more often just to see that expression. Then Greg leans forward to kiss his way down Nick's chest, and he stops thinking at all.

fin (But there is a follow up: A Hundred Minus One:)

FANFIC: Among the Curves by Caroline Crane

Part of The Fetish Series:
Title:Among the Curves
Author:Caroline Crane
Rating: NC17 (See happy reading in sidebar!)
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Follows "Petal By Petal". Body paint take two.

This is his idea of heaven; he never thought he'd find himself in this situation, being able to touch Nick whenever he wants. Sometimes he wonders if he really did die in the explosion, and his eternal reward for being a decent human being is Nick. He doesn't say it out loud because he knows exactly what reaction he'd get; Nick doesn't talk about the explosion, and he doesn't think it's cute when Greg jokes about it.

But it gives him an idea, so he stops touching long enough to reach for the tube of white paint, squeezing a little onto the center of his palm and then rubbing his hands together. He sweeps paint-covered hands over Nick's back in broad strokes, watching the skin turn a ghostly white. Nick murmurs his approval and arches up into Greg's touch, muscles flexing under his fingers as his hands slide from Nick's shoulders all the way to his waist.

More paint and his hands sweep up Nick's arms, bent at the elbows and he slows down to trace the curve before he continues on to cover Nick's fingers with his own. When he pulls his hands away again there are thin, skeletal impressions of fingers on the backs of Nick's hands, delicate like the bones of a bird. Greg smiles at the effect and reaches for the paint again – black this time – and refocuses his attention on Nick's back.

He starts at the broad sweep of Nick's shoulders, only the tip of his index finger tracing a fine pattern across the quickly drying white. Nick shivers at the soft touch and starts to turn his head, but Greg catches him and pushes him back down with his free hand. "No moving. You'll ruin my masterpiece."

"Tickles," Nick murmurs, but he settles back down on the pillow, his muscles flexing under Greg's fingers as he searches for a more comfortable position.

When he finally stops moving Greg picks up where he left off, tracing careful lines across the top of the other man's shoulders. And he's never considered himself much of an artist, but he's always had a good eye for detail, and by the time he reaches the second row he's pleased with how his design is taking shape. Nick's back rises and falls steadily under his fingers, and when his breathing deepens and evens out Greg grins and leans over to press a kiss to the unpainted skin at the base of his neck.

A murmured 'mmm' escapes Nick's throat, letting Greg know that he's not quite asleep. He's not quite awake, either, and Greg's heart seizes up a little when the noncommittal 'mmm' is followed by a very committed 'I love your hands'.

I love your hands, like that's the kind of thing Nick just goes around saying. It's the closest he's ever gotten to 'I love you', though, so Greg will take it. He'll take pretty much whatever he can get from Nick, because after years of flirting and hoping and feeling a lot like a high school kid with a crush on the hot-but-unattainable young teacher, he's not going to mess things up by rushing anything.

So he takes all these little moments and puts them together, and even though he's pretty sure they all add up to Nick loving him he never asks. He never says the words out loud, even though he's felt them for a long time now. He's pretty sure Nick knows it, pretty sure he likes that Greg's crazy about him – at least that's the way it feels when they're naked and sliding together and Nick's buried inside him. And he doesn't mind that Nick knows, because Greg's always been the kind of guy to go for what he wants and let the details take care of themselves.

But it's the times like these that make it easy to believe Nick feels the same way – the times when they're the only two people in the whole world, and Nick lets his guard down long enough to let himself just feel.

It doesn't happen very often. Greg's known Nick for a long time, watched him play the hero on the job enough times to know that it's a big part of who Nick is. He needs to save people, needs to be the one to take care of everything. So it's hard for him to let someone else take care of him, hard for him to lie back and let Greg take over. It took them a long time to get to this point, but it was worth every second Greg had to wait just to see Nick completely relaxed. It's a secret only they share, and that means Greg has a piece of Nick that nobody else can touch, not Sara or Warrick or Catherine or any of Nick's frat brothers that show up in town every so often to relive their glory days.

He tries not to resent the infrequent reminders of Nick's past, but it usually means getting shut out of Nick's life for a few days or at least relegated to 'my friend Greg' status, and it's hard not to resent taking a back seat to Nick's image problems. It's the only thing they've fought about since they started sleeping together. Maybe Greg should have walked away then, but in the end it came down to the fact that he couldn't give up what Nick was willing to give him, no matter how little it was.

It makes him feel pathetic when he thinks about it that way, but when they're alone like this and Nick's pliant and relaxed it's worth it. Because he's got this, this part of Nick that nobody else every sees, and even if they never talk about it, that's enough to let him know how Nick feels about him.

He's just past Nick's shoulder blades when the other man stirs, not quite turning his head before he catches himself and settles down again. "What are you doing back there?"

Greg laughs low in his throat, and when the sound catches a little he prays Nick doesn't notice. "I'm doing what you asked me to do. Genius takes time, you know."

"Lucky for me you're worth the wait."

He hears the amusement in Nick's voice and he knows he should come up with some kind of response, something witty and self-satisfied that will turn it all back into a joke. But the past few hours have given him way too much time to think, and for once he doesn't really feel like playing along with their usual game. Instead he focuses on the skin under his fingers, stark white but still beautiful, smooth and perfect under his hands.

He watches the little shivers that roll through Nick's body when he hits a sensitive spot, wanting to chase them with his tongue until Nick's panting and pressing back against him. But he's only half finished with his design and he knows if he stops now he'll never finish. So he reaches for the paint again and keeps going, dipping his fingers into the valley along Nick's spine and then back up again, across the small of his back to start all over again on the other side.

Nick's arms are last, from the top of his shoulder all the way to his wrists, then down his hands to trace the bonelike impressions of his own fingers on Nick's skin. When he's done he sits back on his heels and admires the effect, grinning when Nick pushes himself up on his elbows and turns his head to try to catch a glimpse of Greg's handiwork.

"Too bad you used all the film," he says, picking absently at the coat of latex covering his palms. And it is too bad, because he'd really like a picture of this. He wants it bad enough to consider getting dressed and running to the gas station down the street for an overpriced roll of film usually reserved for the few tourists who wander into this part of town.

Before he can go through with it Nick shakes his head, the movement making his shoulders flex and just for a second Greg can almost imagine the pattern on Nick's back is real. "There's another roll in your desk drawer."

He flashes his most dazzling grin and pushes himself off the bed, planting a quick kiss at the base of Nick's spine before he heads to the living room in search of film. Less than ten seconds later he's back, fumbling with the camera for a few seconds until his brain catches up with him long enough to remember how to switch out the used roll for the fresh one. And he almost wishes Nick could take the pictures himself, because he does this for his job and he's better at it than Greg.

He uses almost the entire roll before he's satisfied that he's captured Nick from every possible angle, including several close-ups that will probably come out blurred and unrecognizable. It doesn't matter, though, because when he looks up again Nick's giving him that indulgent smile and Greg can't help it, he has to take a picture of that too. As soon as the shutter clicks Nick's reaching for him, his grin replaced by a mock-stern expression as he pulls the camera out of Greg's hands and sets it on the nightstand.

"Give a guy some warning," he murmurs when Greg slides down onto the mattress next to him, his arm around Greg's waist as he presses their lips together.

"Trust me, you looked perfect," Greg answers when Nick lets him up for air, his face flushed and his fingers twisted in Nick's hair.

Nick grins again and glances over his shoulder at the pattern on his back, shaking his head before he turns to look at Greg again. "You forgot to sign it."

Heat blossoms in the pit of Greg's stomach and sweeps outwards, making his whole body flush as Nick rolls onto his stomach and makes a show of stretching out next to Greg. And he can live with Nick's ownership kink as long as it goes both ways, so he grins and straddles the other man's legs, letting his weight settle on Nick's thighs as he pretends to consider how to sign his work. Finally he picks up the black paint again and chooses a spot right in the center of Nick's left cheek, carefully painting his initials on pale skin.

"I'm not done yet," he says when Nick shifts underneath him, ignoring the impatient grumble as he reaches for the red paint. He almost changes his mind when Nick props himself up on his elbows to watch, but finally he musters his courage and draws a cheerful red heart around the letters. When he's done he drops the paint back onto the paint-stained sheet and leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to the smooth skin just above his initials.

Automatically Nick shifts underneath him, and Greg mouths his way along Nick's skin, using one hand to push Nick's legs further apart. The other man groans and lets his head drop back onto the pillow, the groan shifting to a helpless moan when Greg's tongue slides inside him. And this is something else they don't do very often; Greg doesn't fool himself that he's the first, but he knows it means Nick trusts him. It took Nick awhile to relax enough around him to let Greg take over, to let him find all the spots that make Nick helpless with the need to come rightnow, so much that he can't help begging for it.

Knowing that he can do that to Nick is almost as big a turn-on as letting Nick do it to him; it doesn't happen nearly often enough, so he always tries to make it last as long as possible. He sets a slow pace, his hands on Nick's hips to keep him from pushing back against Greg's mouth. And he knows this drives Nick crazy, but that's part of the reason Nick likes it so much, so he ignores his own painful erection and sets a steady rhythm of short, quick thrusts that always leave Nick panting and begging for more.

His hands grip hard enough to leave more permanent marks than a pair of painted initials, and even that thought makes his cock twitch because there's a twisted part of him that gets off on the thought of Nick seeing the outline of Greg's fingers on his hips every time he takes a shower for the next week. There's another part of him that thinks it's a shame to mark up all that perfect skin, and he has to laugh at that because they've spent the entire afternoon marking each other.

He feels his laughter vibrate through Nick's body, and when he catches the movement of Nick's fingers twisting in the sheets on either side of him he pulls away abruptly, gripping Nick's hips and pulling him onto his knees. Those broad shoulders flex with the effort to push himself up, and for a second Greg watches, mesmerized, as two perfect wings stretch across Nick's back. Just for a second he almost believes that if he reaches out and touches them they'll be soft. He tests the theory by sliding one hand from the top of Nick's spine all the way to the base, over his hip to urge his legs just a little further apart.

Nick complies instantly, and when Greg slides inside him they groan in tandem, the sound vibrating through Greg's cock. And he's always been willing to go along with pretty much whatever Nick wants, but he can't deny that he loves the way Nick feels around him, tight and hot and pressing back, demanding more before Greg even starts moving. He pulls out and then slides right back in again, his eyes rolling back for a second before he reins in what little control he has left and forces his eyes open again. He doesn't want to miss a second of this, because Nick's back is arched and moving with each thrust, and Greg can almost imagine the wings he painted unfurling on each upstroke.

There are a thousand things he wants to say but can't, so instead he reaches around Nick to close a hand around his cock, wishing he'd taken the time to peel the latex off his hands. He can still feel the heat of Nick's cock, though, and when he slides a thumb over the head Nick still moans and thrusts erratically into his grip. He presses kisses to whatever skin he can reach, his fist working in time with his thrusts in and out of the body pressing back against him. And he can feel the pressure building at the base of his spine but he ignores it because he wants this to last, wants to draw it out for as long as Nick can stand it.

Then a hand closes around his own and Nick's fingers are gripping hard, the arm still holding him up trembling against his weight. The movement makes Nick's temporary wings look even more real, and Greg wants to touch them again but before he gets the chance Nick tenses and comes. He closes his eyes against the sudden tightness around his own cock, but he's already too far gone and before Nick even stops shaking Greg's thrusting one last time and moaning his own release.

He slides out of Nick before the other man collapses onto the sheet again, his back slick with sweat and making the wings look almost iridescent in the soft light of his bedroom. The only word for it is 'beautiful', but he knows Nick would hate that so he doesn't say anything at all. Instead he collapses next to the other man, turning onto his side to watch Nick's eyelashes flutter against his cheek. He's almost certain Nick's asleep when his eyes open suddenly, and Greg's breath catches in his throat when Nick grins lazily at him. Then he leans forward and breathing doesn't matter anymore, because his hand's in Greg's hair and he's sucking on Greg's bottom lip like he can't get enough.

Long moments later Nick finally pulls back to look at him again, fingers still stroking through his hair and sending tiny shivers of pleasure down Greg's spine. "How do we get this stuff off, anyway?"

And he can't help laughing at that, because it just figures Nick would come up with a practical question at a time like this. He lifts one hand and picks at the edge of the latex until it pulls free, then tugs a long strip down the center of his palm. "Soap and water works too."

Nick props himself up on one elbow and reaches for Greg's hand, pulling the rest of the latex off his palm with careful fingers. Greg waits until both his hands are clean, save a few spots of stubborn paint around his fingernails, then he slides a hand around Nick's neck and pulls him forward until they're sharing the same breath. "But it won't hurt anything if we leave it on for awhile."

fin

FANFIC: Petal By Petal by Caroline Crane

Part of The Fetish Series:
Title:Petal By Petal
Author:Caroline Crane
Rating: NC17 (See happy reading in sidebar!)
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Body paint and voyeurism.

"Hold still."

Greg sighed, but he fought the urge to fidget when Nick's fingers brushed his skin again. When he'd brought out the body paints he'd expected Nick to laugh, maybe even tell him he was crazy and refuse even to consider it. Once he'd gotten them out of their clothes Nick seemed strangely fascinated with the idea, though, and Greg was more than happy to encourage his artistic side, especially when he was the canvas.

And who would have ever suspected that Nick had an artistic side? He was the most pragmatic guy Greg had ever met, which was sometimes as frustrating as it was charming. Then again, he hadn't actually seen the results of Nick's efforts yet, so he had no idea whether whatever Nick was doing counted as 'art'.

"You're not painting the yellow rose of Texas on my ass or anything, are you?"

A low chuckle warmed his skin, then Nick's lips brushed across his shoulder blade. "Have I touched your ass?"

"No, and I'm starting to take it personally," Greg answered, shifting his hips for emphasis. "Something wrong with my ass?"

Another chuckle, deep and rich and sending a shiver down his spine, and he felt Nick move down his body to plant another kiss at the base of his spine. "There's nothing wrong with you," Nick murmured against his skin. "Nothing at all."

Greg grinned and spread his legs a little further, hoping Nick would take the hint. He'd been flat on his stomach for almost an hour now, half-hard just from the anticipation as Nick hovered over him, taking his time creating his 'masterpiece' on Greg's back.

"Are you done yet?" he asked, his breath hitching when Nick's lips brushed across his upper thigh.

"This was your idea, you know," Nick reminded him, and Greg swallowed a resigned sigh when he felt Nick straighten up and reach for the paint again. Now that the latex had started to dry he could feel the thin layer over his skin, a little tight and tingling just enough to make him impatient for more. He wanted Nick to forget the paints and just keep touching him, to cover Greg's body with his warm, heavy weight and slide inside him.

He knew he could probably persuade or distract Nick enough to get him to give in, but it wasn't that often that they got the chance to spend this much time doing nothing. As much as he wanted Nick to fuck him, he wasn't ready to give that up yet. Besides, he couldn't help being a little curious about what Nick was doing back there, and he was looking forward to seeing the finished result.

Then there was the way Nick's hands felt on him, slick with paint and moving in broad, careful strokes across his skin. Greg had given up long ago trying to figure out the pattern, and now he just focused on the shivers of anticipation that ran straight to his cock with each new touch. Nick was leaning close enough that Greg could feel the steady beat of hot breath against his skin in counterpoint to the rhythm of Nick's fingers. It was erotic in a way he never would have expected, and he wanted to turn around and see if Nick was as hard as he was.

That would ruin Nick's efforts, though, and Greg wasn't about to do anything to spoil the mood. A strong hand slid down his side to curve around his hip, Nick's thumb pressed against his back and his fingers tracing little circles on the juncture between his hip and groin. And there was no way he was going to make it through this if Nick kept that up, but it felt way too good to ask Nick to stop. His other hand moved across Greg's back in broad, confident strokes, and Greg couldn't help smiling at how much more sure Nick was of himself than he'd been an hour ago.

Fingers ghosted across his shoulder blades, then pressed more firmly down either side of his spine. A groan escaped Greg's throat when Nick pressed hard at the base of his spine, then swept his fingers out to Greg's sides again. It was sort of like a really long massage, only with the lightest of touches sprinkled here and there with a firmer hand. And he should have known that Nick would be meticulous about this; his whole job was about details, after all, and he could be incredibly patient when he wanted to be.

Right now he seemed intent on driving Greg crazy, and if Greg complained he knew Nick would just laugh and remind him for the hundredth time that this was all his idea in the first place. Not even Nick could hold out forever, though, and when warm fingers cupped his ass again Greg knew Nick's resolve was starting to waver. "Where's the camera?"

"Camera?" Greg echoed, blinking and trying to focus on the question instead of the hand stroking his skin.

"Yeah, I want a picture of this. Don't tell me you're going to get shy on me, because I'm not buying it."

Greg grinned and nodded in the direction of his living room. "I think there's one on the bookshelf. Or in the filing cabinet."

Another kiss against his shoulder and Nick was off the bed, pausing next to Greg long enough to admire his handiwork from the new angle. "Don't move."

He wasn't sure if there was actually film in his camera, but by the time he thought of it Nick was already gone. Greg groaned at the thought of being told to stay put while Nick got dressed and went all the way to the store for film, but he knew he'd do it if Nick asked. He should have known Nick would want to capture the moment for posterity anyway, so he should have thought to pick up extra film just in case. Greg had always figured Nick wouldn't go for photographic evidence of their relationship – at least not this kind – but now that he knew differently he'd have to remember to keep a few rolls of film on hand.

Endless minutes later Nick was finally back, and Greg lifted off the bed just enough to catch a glimpse of the other man fumbling with the settings on his camera. "Remind me to bring my camera next time," Nick said as he climbed back onto the bed and planted his knees on either side of Greg's legs.

"Next time?" Greg said, grinning against the pillow as he stretched out again to give Nick the best view possible.

Nick laughed and ran a possessive hand over Greg's ass. "I didn't get to the yellow rose of Texas this…damn. Wait a second."

"What?" Greg asked, craning his neck in a futile attempt to see as Nick scrambled off him. All he could see was a swirl of colors across his skin, but he couldn't focus enough at that angle to tell whether there was an actual design.

"Quit moving," Nick said, one hand pressing on Greg's shoulder until he laid down again. Greg sighed but let Nick push him back down onto his pillow, and a few seconds later a slick finger traced a small design right at the top of his hip. He was tempted to look, but he fought the urge to twist his neck and watch as Nick finished drawing on his skin.

A few seconds later Nick seemed satisfied, and he wiped his fingers on the sheet they'd laid out before they started and reached for the camera again. The tell-tale click of the shutter and brief flashes of light in Greg's peripheral vision let him know that Nick had moved on to preserving the evidence, and he grinned at the metaphor and pushed himself up on his elbows. "Are you done now?"

"Hold it," Nick said, and when Greg heard a sharp intake of breath he couldn't help looking over his shoulder. "Yeah, just…stay like that for a second."

More clicks of the shutter, and this time Greg could see enough to tell what Nick had spent the past hour painting on his skin. He'd never really pictured Nick for the abstract type, but the colorful swirls all over his back were definitely abstract. Greg's back looked sort of like "Starry Night" with less realism, and he had to admit that Nick had done a better job than he'd expected. The most he'd hoped for was a few cartoon-like images, maybe stick figures or Nick's fraternity symbol emblazoned on his shoulder, but this was kind of…beautiful.

When Nick finally ran out of film Greg pushed himself off the bed, careful not to move too fast and smear any of the latex that might still be a little wet. "Can I look now?"

Nick just nodded and set the camera on the bed before he followed Greg to the bathroom, switching on the light as Greg turned his back to the mirror. It was still hard to get the full affect while he was craning to see over his shoulder, but he could see more of Nick's work now that he was standing up than he'd seen while he was on the bed. He felt Nick stop in front of him, warm breath on his cheek and then familiar hands on his hips as Nick watched him in the mirror.

"Wow," he murmured, his gaze wandering from the bright swirls of blue and yellow near his shoulder blades down to the dark green stripes at the base of his spine.

"Not a flower in sight," Nick said, smiling as he dipped his head to press a kiss against Greg's neck.

His neck was starting to hurt but he kept looking anyway, trying to memorize the haphazard pattern Nick had painted on his back. And Nick was just full of surprises, because an hour ago Greg never would have believed he was capable of something like this. He wanted to get dressed and drive the film to the one hour place down the street just so he could see the results without the slightly distorted perspective of looking over his shoulder, but that meant getting dressed, and Nick was naked and warm and sucking hard at his neck.

The sensation was really distracting, and Greg was just about to give up on admiring his own back and turn his attention to Nick when he caught sight of Nick's last minute addition. It was hard to tell what it was in the mirror, but it was far enough up on his hip that he could see it without looking over his shoulder. When he finally made out the design he laughed, running his fingers over the dark blue initials at the top of his hip.

"What's this?"

Nick pulled his mouth away from Greg's neck long enough to follow his gaze, a soft, vaguely nervous laugh escaping his throat when he realized what Greg was looking at. "I had to sign my work, didn't I?"

"So this is the official Nick Stokes brand?" Greg asked, arching an eyebrow when Nick looked up at him again.

"Something like that." Nick slid one hand over the initials he'd painted onto Greg's skin, sliding his free hand around Greg's neck to tug him forward. He pressed their lips together for a hard, possessive kiss, groaning against Greg's mouth when Greg ground their hips together.

And he knew he shouldn't read too much into it, but there was something alternately terrifying and exhilarating about Nick wanting to mark him. Maybe it was just about the paints and the fact that Nick had spent over an hour perfecting his work, but his hand was still pressed over his initials and he was kissing Greg like he had something to prove. He knew how Nick felt about him – at least he thought he did – but somehow this felt even more intense than usual.

He moaned when Nick pulled his mouth away and took a step backwards, but before Greg had a chance to protest he was being turned toward the mirror, then Nick was gripping his hips again and pressing hot, wet kisses to the side of his throat. They'd had sex in every room of both their places; there had been beds and couches and showers and that one time in the kitchen, but they'd never done it in front of a mirror before. Watching Nick suck on his neck was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen, and when a hand closed around his cock Greg was sure he was going to come just from the sight alone.

He'd watched Nick jerk him off before, but watching Nick watch him…it was ten times hotter than he ever would have imagined. A thousand times hotter, and he couldn't help pressing back against Nick's cock as Nick's hips worked against him. Nick's eyes squeezed shut and his mouth dropped open, and then that was the hottest thing Greg had ever seen. He spread his legs in invitation, bracing his hands against the counter in front of him as Nick's free hand left his hip to dip between them.

One finger slid inside him and he had to squeeze his eyes shut, but he forced them back open almost immediately to watch Nick's reflection in the mirror. He didn't even register the sound of his voice begging for more until another finger joined the first, and he knew Nick was torturing him on purpose, dragging this out for as long as he could. Greg's legs shook with the effort to stay upright, but he wanted this more than he wanted to be comfortable, so he locked his knees and leaned more heavily against the counter.

Three fingers inside him and Nick's hand was still working his cock, hard and rough and before Greg knew it he was coming, coating Nick's fingers and his own chest. He was still panting when Nick's hand left his cock, sliding through the sticky wetness on his chest before he pulled his fingers out of Greg and reached between them with his other hand. A few short, come-slick strokes of his own dick and Nick was pushing Greg's legs further apart, lining himself up and sliding inside in one long, slow thrust.

Greg groaned way back in his throat when Nick pulled out, forcing his eyes open to watch in the mirror as Nick thrust forward again. One of Nick's arms slid around Greg's waist to hold him up, the other hand smoothing over the designs on Greg's back as Nick fucked him. He moved slowly at first, pulling out almost all the way before he slid back inside, torturing both of them by angling his hips to hit Greg's prostate every few strokes. It was almost too much so soon after coming, but the pleasure-pain combined with the look on Nick's face were enough to make Greg wish they could stay like this forever.

He pressed back into each thrust, pulling Nick a little deeper inside him until the other man was panting against his neck and gripping his hip hard just above the spot where he'd marked his initials on Greg's skin. The sight of Nick's hand against his skin made Greg's spent cock twitch, and when Nick thrust forward again Greg clenched his muscles around him to pull him even further inside.

"Fuck," Nick muttered against his skin, and Greg grinned and did it again with Nick's next thrust. Nick's hands shook against his skin and Greg knew he wouldn't last much longer; two hard, uncontrolled thrusts, then another and Nick finally lost control, gripping Greg's hips hard enough to bruise when he came. And Greg was going to have a hand print burned into his skin on top of Nick's initials now, but even that image was enough to make him want Nick to fuck him all over again.

His arms shook when he finally let go of the counter, biting his lip against the loss when Nick pulled out of him. Warm lips landed on his neck, affectionate kisses feathered against his skin as Nick's breathing slowly returned to normal. He wasn't sure how long they stayed that way, but finally Nick pulled back, running a hand over Greg's back as he straightened up. Greg waited until Nick looked up again before he turned around, his heart skipping a beat when he registered Nick's expression.

"Your turn," Nick said, pulling him forward to press their lips together again.

Greg grinned against Nick's mouth, his hands sliding down Nick's back. An image flashed in his head of Nick braced against his bathroom counter, watching Greg in the mirror as Greg thrust deep inside him. "You want me to fuck you?"

Nick grinned and shook his head, brushing their lips together one last time before he let go and backed toward the door. "First I want you to paint me. Then you can fuck me."

And Greg had to admit, it was a pretty fair deal.

fin (but there is a follow up: Among the Curves:)

FANFIC: 405 Past Midnight by Caroline Crane

Part of The Fetish Series:
Title:405 Past Midnight
Author:Caroline Crane
Rating: NC17 (See happy reading in sidebar!)
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Nick's got control issues. Mild bondage warning.

When he stops at the desk to pick up his messages the receptionist hands him an envelope, raising an eyebrow that Nick barely notices as he tears it open. He shakes a key out of the envelope along with an unsigned note; the lack of signature doesn't matter, because he knows that handwriting almost as well as he knows his own. He grins and puts the key and the note in his pocket, ignoring the receptionist's pointed stare when he walks away.

He tries to put it out of his mind during his shift, but he can feel the key heavy in his pocket, and he can hear the promise in the note even though he's only read it once. It makes him antsy – anxious and half-hard all the way through a long, routine night. When he can't take it anymore he goes to Grissom, uses the date and the lack of activity as an excuse to leave early. Grissom gives him that look that means he suspects something's going on right under his nose, but Nick just musters his best grin and waits until his supervisor cracks an ironic little smile and nods.

It takes him less than five minutes to get his stuff out of his locker and out to his car. He drives faster than he should, cursing under his breath at the ever-present traffic on the Strip. Finally he pulls up in front of the hotel, hands over his keys to the valet and goes inside. He doesn't even break his stride on the way through the lobby, bouncing on his heels while he waits endless seconds for the elevator.

When he reaches the right floor he fishes the key out of his pocket, checking the room number and smiling to himself as he makes his way down the deserted hallway. He's not really sure what he's expecting – candles, maybe; music, definitely – but when he lets himself into the room he's met with silence. There are no flowers, nothing to indicate anyone's been there except an overnight bag sitting on the luggage rack.

An overnight bag and a pair of handcuffs, that is, and he laughs softly when he spots them on the bed. At the same moment Greg finally makes his appearance, emerging from the bathroom wearing a towel and a mildly surprised smile. "You're early."

"It was a slow night," he answers, dropping his keys and his wallet on the table before he kicks off his shoes.

"Nice to know I didn't miss anything." Greg grins and drops his towel, and Nick whistles appreciatively when he turns toward the bed and bends down to pick up the handcuffs. "I was going to take care of this before you got here, but since you're early you can do the honors."

Nick laughs again, low in his throat as he crosses the room in a few long strides. He reaches out, closing his hand around metal and Greg's skin and pulling him forward for a long, slow kiss. He lowers them to the bed, hands sliding up Greg's arms as they kiss. They don't do this often – they don't talk about it at all – but Greg knows Nick loves it. He probably even knows why, and Nick loves him just a little more for not calling him on it.

He kisses Greg one more time while he locks the cuffs around one wrist, then pulls away to slide them through the headboard and around Greg's other wrist. The first time they did this they used plain metal handcuffs. It took six day for the marks to fade, and even though Greg seemed to get off on it Nick insisted they use padded handcuffs after that. They still leave the marks Greg likes so much, but they aren't quite so angry and it doesn't make Nick's chest ache like it did every time he saw angry red stripes peeking out from Greg's sleeves. It's a compromise, because Nick doesn't think he could give this up, but he can't live with hurting Greg either.

One last kiss and Nick pushes himself up, ignoring Greg's disappointed moan as he takes a few seconds just to look. He loves seeing Greg like this, lips swollen and muscles tense as he arches against the metal, searching vainly for some contact to ease the steadily building ache in his groin. When he dropped the towel he was already half-hard, and now his whole body is flushed and Nick knows it wouldn't take much effort to make him come. He's probably been thinking about this moment for even longer than Nick has; he's obviously been planning it for awhile, especially if he had time to stop by the lab and drop off the room key before Nick even started his shift.

"Did you drop off that envelope yourself?"

"Yeah," Greg answers, his voice shaky with the effort to keep from struggling against the cuffs. Nick can tell by the way his fingers twitch how much he wants to touch, to help Nick out of his clothes as fast as possible. Immediately he slows down, forcing his fingers to move in slow motion while he takes his belt off.

Nick nods and manages somehow to keep his features neutral as he drops his belt on the floor, then he leans over the bed until his mouth is right next to Greg's ear. "Cara saw me open it," he whispers against Greg's skin, one hand closing around his cock and forcing a surprised gasp from Greg's throat. "By tomorrow everybody's gonna be talking about us."

"Good," Greg chokes out, his body stretched tight as Nick strokes him. "It's been a little…oh God…boring around there…any-anyway."

Nick chuckles against Greg's skin and straightens up again, releasing his grip on Greg's cock and laughing again when Greg glares at him. "Our sex life isn't what I'd choose to liven things up with."

Greg doesn't answer right away; his attention is completely focused on Nick's chest while the other man pulls his t-shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor next to his belt. When he's naked from the waist up he pauses, taking another long moment to admire the way Greg looks stretched out on the bed.

"Our sex life is the most interesting thing going on there," Greg finally says, his gaze following the progress of Nick's watch from his wrist to the night stand. "Would you hurry up?"

"This was your idea, Greggo," Nick reminds him, grinning when Greg rolls his eyes. He leans over for a long, slow kiss, laughing against Greg's mouth when he feels the other man straining uselessly against the cuffs. "But if you've changed your mind…"

Greg shakes his head and Nick's surprised at the relief that floods through him. He loves the way Greg's hands feel on him and he wouldn't trade Greg's enthusiasm for anything, but there's something incredible about harnessing Greg's energy, forcing him to focus everything into his reaction to Nick. It's a bigger turn-on than he expected it to be, especially considering he never would have come up with this on his own. Until Greg he hadn't thought much about a lot of things, but that's the thing about Greg – he seems to know what Nick needs, sometimes before even Nick does.

"Perfect," he murmurs against Greg's mouth, releasing him with another hard kiss. His pants hit the floor next, followed by his socks and then finally, so slow even Nick's not sure he can stand it, he peels his boxers off.

"If I'd known you were in the mood to put on a show I would have brought some music," Greg says, the ever-present grin lighting up his features when Nick climbs onto the bed again to settle between his legs. "I probably could have borrowed something from Cath-"

"Don't," Nick warns, trying and failing to keep his lips from twitching with a barely suppressed grin. He doesn't want to think about anyone at work right now; CSI is too much a part of their lives as it is, and right now he just wants this to be him and Greg. It's the reason Greg surprised him with a hotel room, because it's too hard to leave the job behind when they're in their own place, surrounded by the evidence of their daily lives.

Greg nods and presses his lips together, a silent – for once – promise to keep his mouth shut about things Nick doesn't want to think about right now. Then Nick's hands land on his legs and they both forget all about work and the entire world beyond the hotel room. He's already arching up into Nick's touch, trying to force Nick's hands higher. And Nick knows this is the kind of torture Greg likes best so he takes his time, ignoring both their erections as he reacquaints himself with Greg's body. Every so often he leans forward to press a soft, possessive kiss to the side of Greg's knee, the top of his thigh, the hollow just above his hipbone.

It feels like an eternity before he reaches Greg's mouth again, willing lips parting under his tongue to pull Nick deep inside. He fucks Greg's mouth with his tongue because he knows it drives Greg crazy, the promise of what he'll be doing with his tongue and later his dick once he's finally done with Greg's mouth. He's careful not to come into contact with any other part of Greg's body, and by the time he pulls away to let them both breathe Greg's wrists are already red with the effort to get closer to Nick.

He works his way back down Greg's body, stopping to lick the baby-soft skin inside Greg's elbow, to mouth his way along the sensitive juncture of arm and shoulder. He lives for those little shudders, the panting gasps he knows Greg couldn't control even if he wanted to. Only Greg doesn't mind being out of control, something Nick will never understand but it makes him want Greg even more. Sometimes he thinks that's what attracted him to Greg in the first place, that recklessness that lets Greg go for what he wants without thought to consequences.

Consequences have always ruled Nick's life – he almost let the thought of imaginary consequences ruin this for him, and he'll be thankful for the rest of his life that Greg wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. Because now he has this…this perfect thing, this romance that he never saw coming and never would have thought possible. And they're both flawed in all the wrong ways, but somehow their flaws all add up to the undeniable fact that they're right together. No one at work would believe it even if they saw it, but lately Nick finds himself not caring if they do.

He finally closes his mouth around Greg's cock, hands pressing down hard on boy-slim hips to keep Greg from thrusting too hard and ending this before Nick's ready. He works his mouth in a steady rhythm, just hard enough to tease because he wants to hear Greg beg for it before he gives him what he needs. It takes less time than Nick thought before the babbling starts, a steady stream of nonsense words peppered with the occasional plea for Nick to please, God, let him come.

When he hears the words he's been waiting for Nick pulls off completely, his own cock twitching painfully at the sight of Greg panting and flushed and straining to find that contact again. He crawls up Greg's body, running two fingers along a full bottom lip and fighting back a moan when Greg takes the hint and sucks them into his mouth. He knows what that mouth feels like on his cock, and it's hard to remember to take his time when Greg's sucking on his fingers like they're some kind of lifeline. He's been thinking about this all night, though, and he's not going to screw it up by rushing.

When Greg relinquishes his fingers Nick fuses their mouths together again, tasting mint and a mixture of salt-sweet on Greg's tongue as he slides his fingers inside the other man. Greg gasps against his mouth and arches up hard, pulling Nick as far inside as he can get him. Nick allows a moment to regret that they didn't bind Greg's ankles too; the image of Greg on his stomach, arms and legs spread and bound, makes Nick's cock twitch painfully, and he breaks the kiss with a groan and moves back down Greg's body.

He slides his tongue along the head of Greg's cock, rolling the bitter taste around on his tongue before he slides his mouth down Greg's length and swallows around him. He knows how to work his throat muscles around Greg's cock, how to get him to come in no time flat, but he's intent on drawing this out for as long as possible. Greg's whole body is taut and Nick pictures the raw red marks he's going to have on his wrists when this is over, a shudder running down his spine as he works his fingers a little harder in and out of the other man.

Greg's chest heaves with the effort to breathe, his body rocking back and forth between Nick's fingers and his mouth. He's been tense since this started, but they know each other so well that Nick can tell when Greg is close, and he knows the exact moment to pull back until only the head of Greg's cock is still resting against his lips, bitter liquid filling Nick's mouth.

Nick waits until Greg stops shuddering before he lets his cock slip out of his mouth, spitting into his free hand and then reaching down to run slick fingers over his own cock. It takes all his tremendous focus not to come from that touch alone, especially after a long, boring night spent trying not to fantasize about this exact moment. When he's sure he's got himself back under control he pulls his fingers out of Greg, taking a deep breath before he angles the other man's hips and slides inside.

When he's buried as far as he can get he pauses, squeezing his eyes shut and working to catch his breath. It takes a few beats before he thinks he can move without losing control, but when he finally forces his eyes open and looks down at Greg his control flies right out the window. For a few seconds after Greg came he relaxed completely, but now he's arched up against Nick again, heedless of the padded metal cutting into his wrists. His lips are parted and his eyes are closed, his face flushed an appealing shade of red and Nick can't help it, he has to lean forward and kiss Greg again.

Again and again, his hips moving slowly at first, tiny little thrusts in and out of Greg as they kiss. And he wishes he could do this forever, moving lazily into tight heat as he breathes in the scent and the taste of Greg. The pressure at the base of his stomach is already building to a fever pitch, though, and without really thinking about it he starts thrusting harder. His mouth leaves Greg's, his hands under Greg's thighs to push his legs toward his chest as he angles his hips until he finds the spot inside Greg that makes him clamp down hard on Nick's cock.

And he loves that, the almost punishing pressure of Greg losing control all over again, forgetting everything but the feeling of Nick inside him. He thrusts again, harder this time, hitting Greg's prostate over and over until finally his vision flashes white and he collapses forward, gasping his orgasm against Greg's neck.

It takes him a few seconds to remember where he is, then a few more to remember why he doesn't feel the familiar warmth of Greg's hands tracing soothing patterns on his back. He pushes himself up with some effort, ignoring the little twitch of regret at the thought of unlocking the cuffs. "Where's the key?"

His voice sounds foreign to him, deep and rough and he wishes he hadn't worked all night so he'd have the energy to do this all over again.

"Next to your watch," Greg answers, eyes still closed when he nods in the direction of the nightstand.

Nick stretches far enough to fumble for the key, then slowly unlocks the cuffs, dropping them on the floor and reaching for each of Greg's abused wrists in turn. He feathers soft kisses along red skin, his heart in his throat when he realizes how enthusiastic he was this time. He makes a mental note to get his hands on some silk or something, because there has to be a way to do this that won't make him feel guilty afterwards.

As soon as the thought surfaces Greg's eyes open, and Nick can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows exactly what Nick's thinking. He doesn't say anything, though, and Nick's chest actually hurts with the force of his gratitude. He releases Greg's wrists to claim his mouth again, kissing him long and slow and thoroughly before he pushes himself up to look down at the other man.

"Happy birthday," Greg says, grinning and finally -- finally – touching him.

Nick laughs, low and just a little shaky, and dips his head for a second until he's sure he can talk. "Thanks."

"Do you want your present now?"

"I thought this was my present," Nick answers, his hand pushing through Greg's hair.

"This you can have any time you want." Greg shifts his hips a little to emphasize his point. Nick's body responds with a shudder, and he buries his head in the crook of Greg's neck so he doesn't have to look at the other man. "I got you an actual present, too. Something you've been wanting for awhile."

He smiles against Greg's neck, breathing in the scent he knows so well before he lifts his head to look at Greg again. "Yeah? What is it?"

Greg rolls his eyes and pushes at Nick's chest until he rolls to his side, letting the other man slide out from under him. He watches as Greg crosses to the overnight bag on the other side of the room, his gaze wandering down Greg's frame as Greg digs in the bag and finally comes up with Nick's present. He can tell by the shape of the box exactly what it is, and he grins when Greg climbs back onto the mattress, straddling his hips and dropping the wrapped gift on Nick's chest.

He makes a show of shaking it, laughing when Greg squirms impatiently on top of him. Finally he gives in and pulls the paper off, smiling at the new video game he's been talking about getting since it was released. And maybe this is why Greg sent him the note and the key, because if they were at home right now they'd already be on their way to the living room to try out the new game. Part of Nick wishes they could, but there's another part of him that's glad they can't, because being alone in the hotel room means they can focus completely on each other until it's time to check out.

He pulls Greg forward, pressing their lips together for a quick kiss before he lets go again. "Thanks, G," he says, and he's pretty sure Greg knows that he's not just talking about the video game. "You wanna go get some breakfast?"

Greg just shakes his head and reaches for the phone, tugging it off the nightstand and onto the bed. "This is a full service birthday," he says, matching Nick's smile with one of his own.

Nick listens while he dials room service and places an order for more food than either of them can eat. Normally he'd argue about the cost and insist they go out and grab something to bring back to the room, but he knows better than to question one of Greg's plans. Besides, his birthday only comes around once a year.

fin

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

FANFIC: What Makes the Man by Caroline Crane

Part of The Fetish Series:
Title:What Makes the Man
Author:Caroline Crane
Rating: NC17 (See happy reading in sidebar!)
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary:In which Greg discovers a kink he didn't know he had. Post-ep for "All For Our Country". (S4Ep2)

'A souvenir,' he'd said as he slid an arm around Greg and waved a bottle of Sprite in front of him. It didn't matter that Greg had never actually found the soda bottle he was sent out to the scene to retrieve; what mattered was that Nick was thinking up excuses to come back to his lab and see him, even after Gris had already bitched them both out for goofing off when they should have been working.

At the time Greg had laughed and taken the soda, pressing back into Nick's body heat for a second before he turned and gave the other man a devious grin. "You mean I don't get to keep the cop uniform? Could be fun, you know. You up for a little role-play?"

Nick had just smiled and shaken his head, said 'that's evidence, Greggo', and reached for the soda again. Greg had watched while he unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, then handed the bottle back with a smile Greg knew was supposed to be seductive. It was cute, watching a guy like Nick try to be sexy in the middle of such a public – and completely inappropriate – place. If Gris had caught them again Nick might have regretted the sudden burst of spontaneity, but luckily for Greg Grissom was nowhere to be found.

"I gotta get back to it," Nick had said, letting his fingers linger against Greg's as he handed the soda back. "Come by my place after shift?"

"I'll be there," Greg had answered. Just for fun he'd wrapped his lips around the top of the bottle and taken a long, slow swallow of sweet liquid while Nick watched. It had exactly the effect he'd been hoping for, and when Nick groaned and muttered something about long shifts as he turned away Greg didn't bother trying not to laugh. It had definitely been a long shift, but it had been one of the best shifts of his life. He'd found a key piece of evidence all on his own, Grissom trusted him out in the field, and later Nick was going to fuck him until he couldn't remember his own name.

At the time he'd told himself life didn't get much better than this. That was before he'd let himself into Nick's house.

He'd had the spare key for awhile now; since after the explosion, when Nick had finally stopped screwing around and told Greg how he felt, then overcompensated for taking so long to spit it out by more or less forcing Greg to move in with him. It had been kind of annoying to have Nick fussing over him like he couldn't take care of himself, but at the same time it had been kind of…nice. Comforting, in a way, even though he'd been ready to kill Nick by the time he moved back into his own place and went back to work.

Still, he'd needed help with the bandages, and if Nick wasn't the most patient nurse in the world, he more than made up for it in other ways. He wasn't even that hard to live with, and Greg was sort of looking forward to the day Nick realized that he kind of missed having Greg around on a permanent basis. The fact that Nick had never asked for his key back said more about where their relationship was going than either of them had actually said out loud. That wasn't surprising; Nick was more a man of action than words, Greg had known that long before they started sleeping together.

And this…this definitely counted as action. He dropped his keys on the first available flat surface, dropped the overnight bag he kept in his car on the floor, and crossed the room in a few short strides. He stopped just in front of Nick, looking the other man up and down as his brain tried to process the image in front of him. He knew there was something he should be saying, but the only thing he could think was ohmygod over and over.

Nick cleared his throat and shifted under the scrutiny, and even through Greg's lust-induced fog he could see that the other man was uncomfortable. Still, he was the one who'd done it, so he couldn't be that uncomfortable. "Where did you…?"

"It's my old uniform," Nick answered, his hands landing on the gun holster slung around his waist. The radio was missing, of course, and he didn't have his badge anymore, but the overall effect was still pretty amazing. Greg had never actually tried to picture Nick in his police uniform before, but now that he was seeing it with his own eyes he knew he'd never forget it.

"I…I didn't…you kept your uniform?"

It was the closest to speechless Greg had ever been. It was kind of a weird feeling, but he couldn't get over the fact that Nick had actually dug out his old uniform. For him. Just for him, and all because of an offhand comment Greg had made hours ago. There were a million things he could say, like 'you look amazing' or 'I can't believe you did this for me' or 'God, those pants are tight', but he was too busy staring to remember how to form words.

"I forgot I had it until you said that thing about the uniform," Nick answered, shifting uncomfortably again. His thumbs were hooked into his gun holster in that way the cops on TV always did, and Greg's hands twitched with the need to touch. "Look, were you just kidding around before? Because I'm starting to feel pretty stupid here."

When Nick's words sank in Greg snapped out of his stupor long enough to realize that he was about to ruin this, that any second now Nick was going to go take that uniform off and then Greg would probably never get to see him in it again. He shook his head and reached for the hem of his own shirt, yanking it over his head and tossing it on the floor. "Not stupid," he muttered as he reached for the button on his pants. "Really, really, not stupid. You look…Jesus, you can frisk me any time."

Nick laughed at that, sharp and surprised and Greg grinned as he watched two bright spots of pink bloom on the other man's cheeks. "Looks like you're more interested in a strip search."

"I'm easy," Greg said as he kicked his shoes off and stepped out of his pants. "You don't still have your handcuffs, do you?"

"They make you give those back when you turn in your badge." Nick looked him up and down, raising one eyebrow at the sight of Greg in boxers and a pair of athletic socks. "I would have picked some up, but this was kind of a last-minute thing."

Greg grinned and closed the distance between them, running his fingers along Nick's gun holster. "Next time I'll bring mine. So am I under arrest or what?"

Nick laughed again, sliding one arm around Greg's waist and the other into his hair. "For what? Excessive use of bad clichés?"

"Whatever." His hands found their way to Nick's shirt, working the buttons open as the other man tilted his head and pressed their mouths together. He knew putting on the uniform had been a pretty huge deal all by itself, and he wasn't expecting Nick to get into character. Not that he would have complained if Nick wanted to use excessive force or talk dirty to him in his best 'bad cop' voice, but he was willing to take what he could get. The uniform alone was more than he ever would have expected, and when Nick started to shrug out of the shirt Greg reached up to stop him.

"Leave it on," he said, pulling back far enough to catch the flash of lust in Nick's eyes. Nick nodded and reached for Greg's boxers, pushing them down his hips in one quick motion. Greg just managed to kick them off before Nick pulled him forward again, practically lifting him off the floor in his hurry to get them to the nearest flat surface. The floor would have been fine for all Greg cared, but when Nick stopped behind the couch Greg realized he didn't have a flat surface in mind after all.

He grinned when Nick turned him around, bracing his arms on the back of the couch as strong hands slid down his sides. Nick's mouth landed on his neck, hot breath making him shiver as the other man trailed kisses up to his ear. "Spread 'em," Nick whispered, and Jesus, Greg was going to die of shock before Nick ever let him come. He never would have thought Nick had it in him, but when he felt a hand on his ass he spread his legs a little wider. And he wasn't lucky enough to think that Nick might actually use the words 'assume the position', but there was always next time, because they were definitely exploring this whole role-playing thing again.

One of Nick's hands gripped his hip, the other sliding down his ass to dip between his legs. Greg gasped and jerked back into Nick's touch, shivering again when Nick laughed against his neck. "Like that?"

He wasn't sure when Nick got so talkative, but he sure as hell wasn't going to complain. "God, yes," he answered as he pushed back against Nick's hand, a low groan escaping his throat when a finger slid inside him. The hand that had been on his hip reached around to grip his cock, stroking slowly as Nick worked his finger in and out.

And this…this was enough to make him come, just Nick's hands on him and the buttons of his uniform shirt pressing into Greg's back. He didn't even care how he looked, his head back against Nick's shoulder and his jaw slack as he stood there in just his socks and let Nick jerk him off. His eyes were closed and he was well on his way to losing himself in the combined sensations when Nick's hands stilled, and before Greg had time to complain he felt the other man drop to his knees.

The first touch of wet warmth more than made up for the endless seconds of waiting to be touched again, and Greg leaned forward and spread his legs even further as Nick's tongue slid inside him. He closed his eyes tighter and pictured Nick on his knees, shirt hanging open and loose and his erection outlined against already tight pants. The image made him jerk back a little harder, and a second later Nick's hands landed on his hips to hold him in place.

He was so hard he wanted to cry from frustration, but Nick stubbornly refused to touch his cock again. And the worst part was that he couldn't even see anything, because he was sure if he could he would have come just from the sight of Nick on his knees in that uniform. When he couldn't stand it anymore he let go of the couch with one hand and reached down to jerk himself off, but as soon as his hand closed around his dick Nick grabbed his wrist. Greg let out a frustrated whimper as Nick pulled his hand away and stood up, his whole body pressing against Greg.

"I don't remember telling you to touch," Nick murmured against his neck, and Greg's cock twitched at the lust in the other man's voice. Nick worried Greg's earlobe with his teeth, one hand still holding Greg's wrist as the other reached between them. Greg heard a muted 'snap', then a soft thud as Nick unbuckled his holster and let it fall to the floor. He didn't try to turn around and look; if Nick wanted to be in control he was more than okay with that, especially if it meant he'd get to see this side of his boyfriend more often.

The next sound was a zipper opening, followed by the rustle of fabric as Nick's pants slid down his legs. Then Greg was being pressed forward again, a hand landing on his hip again as Nick lined himself up and slid inside in one hard thrust. Greg grunted against the sudden invasion, his grip on the couch tightening as he struggled to adjust. Nick's free hand landed on his back, the soothing strokes a direct contrast to Nick's sudden aggressiveness.

Greg took a deep breath and relaxed, pushing back in a silent invitation that Nick took with a soft, grateful sigh. He gripped Greg's hips and thrust forward again, angling his strokes until he found the spot that made white flash in Greg's vision. His legs trembled as Nick found that spot over and over again, his thrusts quickly growing more erratic.

When he was sure he was going to come without even needing to be touched again Nick reached around him, reading Greg's mind as his hand closed around Greg's cock and began stroking in counterpoint to his thrusts. Greg gasped and thrust forward into Nick's grip, and by the time he came his legs were shaking and it was only the fact that Nick was still holding onto him that kept him standing.

He was still shuddering when Nick thrust once more, then again and came inside Greg, his chest pressed against Greg's back and an arm circling his waist to keep him standing. Hot breath warmed his neck as Nick panted against him, their skin sliding together when Nick finally slipped out of him and pulled them both to the floor. Greg collapsed gratefully, sprawling on the carpet to watch as Nick pulled first his boots, then his uniform pants off the rest of the way.

He felt like he should say something, maybe thank Nick for digging out a uniform Greg hadn't even known he owned just because he thought Greg would like it. Words didn't seem adequate to explain just how much he'd liked it, though, and when Nick stretched out on top of him Greg gave up trying to find the right thing to say. Talking was kind of overrated anyway; that was one of the things he was learning from Nick. In the end he decided to let his actions speak for him, his hands gripping the collar of Nick's shirt to pull him forward for the first in what he was planning on making an entire day full of long, slow kisses.

fin