CSI
Let Go by The She Devil [Reviews - 0]
<< >>

Nick felt like he'd only just closed his eyes before an alarm was shrilling in his ear. The room was dark now, indicating nightfall, and he was acutely aware of a warm body flush to his. A long arm reached across him to hit the clock on the nightstand, the display reading eight in the evening. Three hours until the night shift started; enough time to grab a quick shower and some dinner and perhaps some other things, if the naked body beside him was any indication. The arm rested on his chest, fingertips idly tracing up and down his ribs. Skimming lower, over his hip bone, until they gently twirled the dark hairs on his thigh. Lower still, to the soft skin of his inner thigh, brushing against his balls so lightly Nick wasn't sure he'd imagined it. He had already had morning wood, could feel those fingers dancing across the soft skin of his erection as his eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

The body beside him shifted. Nick caught sight of bright brown eyes full of mischief and an endearing sleepy smile in the moonlight creeping in between the blinds, right before they disappeared beneath the down comforter. Sweet kisses made their way down his chest, his stomach, his hip. Soft skin nuzzling against his thigh, warm breath ghosting over his dick.

Nick screwed his eyes closed and hissed through clenched teeth as a warm, wet mouth enveloped his cock, fingers circling the base in a firm grip. Tight lips sucked up and down his shaft, the firm grip moving in tune with Greg's mouth. The young man was moaning as if sucking Nick's dick was truly a pleasure, his audible enthusiasm only serving to heighten Nick's arousal. He tried to restrain himself from thrusting into Greg's throat but it was so good and he wanted nothing more than to fuck that pretty mouth.

"Fuck, Greg, take it, take it all," Nick gasped. He carded his fingers through Greg's hair, gently urging, and Greg happily obliged, taking Nick all the way down his throat until Nick could feel Greg's nose pressed against his groin. Greg remained for just a moment longer before gagging and backing off, the obscene noise almost throwing Nick right over the edge.

Faster, Greg's hand moved up and down Nick's shaft, his tongue swirling around ridge of the sensitive head of Nick's cock. He could hear Greg's voice from beneath the covers, loud and clear as if he were right in his ear. "I wanna taste you, Nicky. I bet you taste so good." And then a spit-slick finger was sliding into his asshole, searching, finding Nick's prostate, pressing against the sensitive gland and Nick was sure he was going to lose his mind right here in Greg's bed.

"Greg," he breathed, gripping Greg's hair in his fist, pushing that face back onto his cock, pushing into that hot wet mouth, down that warm, velvety throat. "Oh, fuck. I'm gonna come. I'm gonna "

He groaned as his orgasm overtook him, fire spreading from his belly to his balls and straight out of his dick and into Greg's waiting mouth. The young man eagerly sucked Nick dry, until he gently pushed Greg away, his over-stimulated member too sensitive to handle any more attention. Greg crawled up his body, straddling Nick's hips and placing his hands against Nick's chest.

"Do you..." Nick began, pausing to catch his breath, to regain cognitive thinking, form coherent sentences. "Do you want me to...?"

"I took care of myself," Greg responded, appearing sheepish. "You're so hot I couldn't help it."

"You're incredible," he said softly, and was rewarded with an adorably bashful smile. He placed his hands on Greg's hips, his thumbs brushing over the angles of Greg's pelvis. "What are you in the mood for? To eat, I mean."

"There's a Chinese food place nearby that's pretty good."

"I don't like to eat anything too heavy before work," Nick stated. "What else?"

"Umm...there's an Italian place across the street."

"Too many carbs."

"Mexican?"

"Heartburn."

Greg laughed. "How about you pick, then?"

"What about that vegan place over on Belmont?" Nick suggested.

"Eww." Greg grimaced. "You've been hanging out with Sara too much."

"Wait until you're my age," Nick warned, running his hands over the taught muscles of Greg's abdomen. Delighted at the way Greg's stomach tensed, he tickled the younger man gently until he was rewarded with delicious squeals. "When you have to actually work hard to stay in shape."

"Life is entirely too short to worry about that now," Greg said, pushing Nick's hands away. "Live dangerously, Nick. Let's go eat some pasta and garlic knots and meatballs and "

"Okay, you win," Nick conceded, as Greg climbed off of him. "You had me at garlic knots."


Dinner was filled with interesting and enthusiastic conversation dotted with laughter and banter and entirely too many carbs. Nick still found it hard to believe that two people who couldn't seem more opposite had yet to run out of things to say. In a stark contrast to most of his dates if he dared to call this a date, which he did not he found himself actually interested in what Greg had to say. He may have been a bit of an embellisher, but it was amazing how much experience with so many different places and things he had. And here all Nick had to talk about was growing up in Texas, which, surprisingly, enthralled Greg to no end, and Nick couldn't help but feel flattered.

"Need anything else, boys?" the waitress Mary, asked, touching Greg on the shoulder much too casually for Nick's liking. Greg must've come here often for her to know him by name, and she must've really liked him, because she flirted with him relentlessly.

"No, we're fine," Greg replied. "Thanks."

"If that girl threw herself at you any harder, she'd knock you over," Nick said, after she had left the table.

"Dude, she's sixteen," Greg whispered. "She's the owner's daughter. Be nice to her, she comps my desserts."

"I don't like it, that's all I'm saying," Nick huffed.

"She's not saving herself for me or anything, jeeze," Greg stated. "Just relax, there's free cannolis in it for you."

Nick was rewarded with a cannoli to go, so he supposed he could live with the Virgin Mary's come-ons if it meant free desserts. Greg insisted on paying for dinner, since he had forced Nick to eat carbs against his will, promising to let Nick get the check next time. Nick had a slight heart attack at the mention of a next time, knowing his track record when it came to calling someone after a date (which this certainly was not), but he forced himself to swallow down his growing panic.

They had driven separately to the restaurant so Nick could stop home for a quick shower and a change of clothes, but he found himself reluctant to leave Greg behind as they stood in the parking lot.

"Thanks for dinner," Nick said, nodding as he clutched the small Styrofoam box in his hands. He made a small sound of surprise as Greg slipped his hands on either side of Nick's face and pulled him into a sweet, slow kiss. A strong, lithe body pressed against his, and he wrapped his free arm around Greg's slender waist, pulling him closer. Tongues dancing against one another, fighting for dominance, and if Nick was hesitant to leave before, he sure as hell didn't want to go now.

"Mmm," Greg murmured, breaking away and leaning his forehead against Nick's, strong hands on his shoulders. "Can we go back to bed?"

Nick sighed. "I wish. I'll see you at work, okay?"

"See you."

Nick's house was empty and cold. The shower was uneventful. The ride into the crime lab was quiet. Everything his time spent with Greg was not. Slightly disconcerted, he shook off the absurd feeling of loneliness, chalking it up to the recent dry spell in his love life.

He arrived into work ten minutes early, enough time to grab some coffee before heading into Grissom's office for assignments. Crossed the threshold into reception and realized that work would never be the same. Not after what he and Greg had done this morning. There would be no more platonic touches or innocent banter. No more casual glances. Everything would mean something. How was he supposed to handle this? How would Greg handle this? They hadn't talked about it. They should've talked about it, how could Nick have made such a stupid oversight? Oh, God. Was Greg going to blab everything to all of his closely-knit tech friends? Would he tell just one person he trusted, like Archie or Jacqui, just one person that would tell someone else, who would tell someone else, and then before he knew it the entire night shift would know that good old southern boy Nick Stokes was fucking Greg Sanders, irresistible DNA tech extraordinaire.

His heart was hammering in his chest as he traveled down the hallway and focused on the floor, unwilling to meet the eyes of anyone who passed in fear of what he'd see in them. Coffee forgotten, he felt the heat in his face, in his ears, blushing like a chaste school girl as he avoided greeting anyone on his way to his boss' office. Heard the unmistakable laughter of his maybe/maybe-not-so secret lover, dared to look up to see him chattering away with Sara, enthusiastically telling her some well-spun tale. Probably about how Nick kissed or fucked or what he looked like when he came.

Sara's eyes met his, and he braced for impact. She smiled at him, silently nodding her hello, continued past him in the hall. Nothing. She knew nothing. Greg hadn't said anything to her, and if there was one person in this lab he would've told, it certainly would have been his closest friend Sara. Finally, Nick allowed himself to look at Greg, whose expression remained unchanged. The young man only smiled and nodded as well, so captivated by his conversation with Sara he hardly had any time to acknowledge his coworker Nick.

Nick paused in the hallway, hardly able to believe what he'd just witnessed. And he should've been relieved that Greg had practiced discretion. He should've been glad that the young man had said nothing to no one about what they'd done this morning. Glad that nerdy Greg Sanders hadn't gushed to anyone about how he'd managed to nab somebody like Nick Stokes. He was glad. He was so glad. It wasn't like Nick was anything special, after all. It wasn't like he was any kind of Adonis. He wasn't out of anybody's league or anything like that, certainly not Greg's.

He didn't realize he was clenching his jaw until he heard the grinding of his teeth in his ears. Wondered how it was that Greg could remain so calm, so cool, after Nick had utterly and completely fucked his brains out just hours earlier. At least Nick had thought his efforts had been somewhat impressive. Did Greg not think so? Was Nick so uninspiring that Greg could just walk around this place like nothing had happened?

Nick turned on his heel, heading in the direction Greg had been going in. Found him alone in the break room brewing coffee, reading the back of the package of his coveted Blue Hawaiian. Stood in the doorway until Greg stiffened, sensing his presence. Waited until Greg slowly turned to look at him.

"Nick," he said, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. So cocky. So self-assured.

"Greg."

The young man turned back to the bag of coffee that was so intently holding his interest. One second, two, and then he looked up, compressing a smile before considering Nick once more from beneath dark eyelashes.

"Something you need?" Greg asked.

"No." Nick crossed the room to stand close to the younger man. Too close for comfort, and Greg shifted nervously from the proximity.

"Something you want?" Greg asked, making an attempt at coy but his voice wavered as he struggled to maintain his composure beneath Nick's intense gaze.

"Maybe," Nick replied. "Are you busy after work?"

"No."

"You will be," Nick stated, leaning close so his warm breath could ghost over Greg's ear, and there it was, the reaction he'd been looking for. Unnerved, a blush crept up into Greg's cheeks, a sharp intake of air as Nick brushed his fingers against Greg's as he slid past him and headed towards the opposite doorway. Made sure he was in the hallway and out of sight of the young man before allowing himself to smile.


"The oily substance found on Michael Webster's skin is olibanum," the Trace Lab technician stated, and offered nothing more except an expression of complete indifference, as if Nick or his results weren't worth his time. "It was found on another victim, deceased: Gordon Crudo."

"What the heck is olibanum?" Nick asked, trying to remember if he'd ever seen this guy before. He must've been new.

The man sighed, as if everyone should already know. "It's an aromatic resin obtained from trees of the genus Boswellia. It's used in incense and perfume. And here's the results to your other sample."

"A snake scale?" Nick regarded the technician dubiously from over the printout that had just been handed to him. "What is a snake scale doing on my victim?"

"I don't know," he replied dismissively. "Conjecture is not part of my job description. My name tag says Trace, not Crime Scene Investigator. See?"

Nick flicked his eyes over the tech's ID badge, not to verify his admission but to catch his name: David Hodges. Nick smiled tightly, wondering where they'd found this one and why he was on the night shift, because everybody had a reason to work nights. Whether it was the timing of college classes, to spend time with children during the daytime, sometimes it was simply due to the desperation of needing a job regardless of the hours. Or maybe it was because no one on the day shift especially upper management could stand to be within three feet of you. Somehow, Nick guessed Hodges' particular issue was the latter.

"Something you want to get off your chest there, Hodges?" Nick muttered, focused once again on his printout, but he could see the other man perk up out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, since you asked..." the tech began, and Nick immediately realized his mistake. Never ask a pretentious attention-whore how they were doing, not if you had anything to do for the next few hours.

"You know what, I'm so sorry," Nick drawled, offering his sweetest smile. "I am so busy right now with these cases, but we'll finish this conversation later, okay? I'll bring you some coffee, how about that?"

"Sure," Hodges agreed, leaning over his workstation as Nick quickly retreated. "I take it with cream, no sugar!"

"Bringing coffee to the new Trace tech?" Nick heard, as Greg joined him in his walk down the hall. "Something I should be concerned about?"

Nick offered his companion an incredulous look. "Have you met Hodges yet? Because if you did you would know that no, there is absolutely, positively no reason to worry ever."

Greg laughed as he followed Nick into the break room. He leaned against the counter as the CSI pulled an apple out of the refrigerator.

"He kind of grows on you though. Like a fungus," Greg added almost thoughtfully, and then yawned deeply.

"Tired, G?" Nick asked, gently touching Greg's elbow. "It's only two."

Greg waved away his concern. "I'm fine. Just working all these extra hours while we're shorthanded. Besides, somebody did kept me up all morning."

"Oh, yeah? Who?" Sara asked, smirking as she strode into the room. She sat down at the table with a brown bagged lunch.

"No one," Greg blurted out with more force than he intended, and she frowned slightly. He continued to clumsily trip over his words as he attempted to recover. "That you know. You don't know her. She doesn't work here. She's hot though. A real tiger in bed. Rawr." Greg pantomimed tiger claws as Nick struggled to bite back laughter. Flustered was a very cute look for Greg. "Jealous, Sara? Because you know, if you're going to make me choose, there's really no competition."

"No," she responded, but she was smiling, flattered.

"Just say the word," Greg assured, before quickly exiting. Nick rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefingers, shaking his head in amusement.

"Do you think there's truth to anything that he says?" Sara wondered aloud, around a mouthful of a tuna salad sandwich.

"You know what they say," Nick offered, shrugging. "There's a grain of truth in every lie."


Greg frowned as he sat on the stool in his lab, arms crossed over his chest. Stared at the small blond girl sitting in the stool across from him as if she were some sort of foreign specimen beneath his microscope that he couldn't quite identify.

"What's your name?" the little girl finally asked, the first to break the tense silence.

"Greg."

"I'm Lindsey," she stated.

"I know who you are."

"Do you know my mom?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to find her?"

"No," Greg replied, and immediately backpedaled at her horror. "I mean, not me specifically. I just stay here in the lab."

"What do you do?"

"Lab stuff."

Lindsey scrunched her nose at him in distaste as Greg narrowed his eyes.

"Nick," Warrick said quietly, as they watched the standoff with bated breath from the other side of the room. "I know Greg is three times Lindsey's age in years, but he's gotta be twice her age in maturity tops. Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"Do you want to babysit her?" Nick asked out of the corner of his mouth. "Or would you rather find Catherine?"

Warrick sighed. Catherine had been gone for hours, seemingly involved in some kind of kidnapping scheme against her will. She had been leaving them clues all over the desert, but they had yet to piece them together. It was an especially difficult task when they were distracted by watching her eight-year-old daughter, until Nick had suggested leaving her with Greg.

"Are you as old as Uncle Nicky?" Lindsey asked.

"No," Greg said, as if the notion was unfathomable. "And I'm definitely not as old as Uncle Warrick."

"Easy," Warrick warned.

"Are you cooler than them?" she asked.

Greg snorted with laughter. "Please. I'm cooler than both of them combined."

"Picture that!" Warrick exclaimed, as Nick said, "You wish."

"Hey, Lindsey," Greg said in a stage whisper, as he leaned forward. He gave a cursory glance at the two men watching before turning back to her. "I'll let you read all my teenage magazines that you're too young for on two conditions."

She regarded him suspiciously. "I'm listening."

"One: don't tell these two nerds where I hide my stash. Two: promise me when your mom gets back you'll tell her how much cooler I am than them and you think she should let me take her to the movies."

"That's three things."

"Do we have a deal or not?" Greg leaned back on his stool and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "If you want, I can just give you some crayons. But crayons are for babies, aren't they? Wouldn't you rather read about trashy L.A. socialite Paris Hilton?"

Lindsey didn't even hesitate. "I'll take the magazines."


Nick and Warrick were changing into their street clothes in the locker room when Catherine entered, carrying a sleeping Lindsey in her arms. The little girl was clinging to her mother's chest like a reverse backpack, her tiny feet dangling in the air.

"Thanks again for everything, guys," she said over her daughter's shoulder, and then cocked an eyebrow. "But really? Greg Sanders? Are you trying to corrupt her early?"

"Hey, give the kid a break," Nick said, grinning. "Rather him than David Hodges, right?"

Catherine seemed only mildly comforted by that fact. "I've had to explain at least three times why I won't go on a date with Greg. I even found a note on my desk addressed to Mrs. Robinson asking for a date and time and 'my place or yours?'"

"Maybe Hodges would've been a better idea," Warrick reconsidered, closing his locker door. "You want a ride home, Catherine? I'm sure you're pretty beat after the night you've had."

"Thanks, but I'll be all right," she responded. "See you, boys."

"Man, I'm going straight to bed," Warrick said, stretching his arms over his head. "How about you?"

"Nah, I've got plans," Nick stated, hardly able to wait to meet Greg after work and make due on his earlier promise. It hadn't been easy seeing the young man all night and having to keep his hands to himself; he felt like he'd been holding his breath all shift, and now that it was finally over he could breathe again. He still had so much to learn about Greg, so much to discover, mind and body and everything in between. It was like the young man was an addiction, all chatter and energy and warm skin, and Nick couldn't get enough. Briefly, he wondered how healthy it was to so quickly need someone.

"Hello? Earth to Nick?"

"Hmm?" Nick blinked, turned to face Warrick, who had obviously said something to Nick while he had been lost in messy bed sheets and exploring fingertips and tangled limbs.

"I asked what kind of plans you had, but it's pretty obvious now," his friend said, grinning knowingly. He clapped Nick on the shoulder roughly. "Be safe, killer. I'll catch you later."

After bidding Warrick farewell, he found Greg nearly sleeping on his feet inside of the DNA lab, bent forward with his elbows on the counter, the GCMS softly whirring beside him. His face was leaning against one of his fists, pen loosely held in the other hand but he didn't appear to be writing anything. Upon closer inspection, Nick noticed there wasn't even any paper in front of him.

"Uh, Greg?" he asked tentatively from across the table. "Greg."

The young man's eyes shot open and he stood up, one hand pressed against his heart, the other still clutching his pen. "I didn't hear you come in."

"You were sleeping," Nick said, eyebrows raised.

"I was not," Greg stated adamantly. "I was just resting my eyes while waiting for my results to print out."

Nick pulled a piece of paper that had been sitting in the printer. "You mean these results?"

Greg narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting from Nick to the paper and back to Nick before snatching it out of Nick's hands. "Yes. Thank you."

"Are you about done here?" Nick asked, as Greg began logging the results into the computer system.

"No," Greg said forlornly, and then yawned. "Watching a kid all night really eats up a lot of your time. Even when she fell asleep, I was afraid she was going to wake up and get into something. I mean, do you know how much glass is around this place? All this expensive equipment? What if she went into the refrigerator and accidentally ate one of Grissom's experiments?"

"I think the smell would've stopped her from ingesting anything Grissom puts in that refrigerator," Nick assured him. "Come home with me."

Greg pouted. "I hardly got any work done tonight, and I hate dumping all this stuff on the day shift."

"Why?" Nick shrugged. "They do it to you."

Greg seemed to consider this, and then shook his head. "I can't. I don't have it in me."

"Well, when you're done here, stop by my place," Nick said, and then examined his fingernails casually. "That is, if you aren't too busy dumping your hot new girlfriend for Sara and then leaving Sara for your movie date with Catherine."

Greg leaned forward over the counter with a shit-eating grin, gazing up at Nick from beneath sooty eyelashes. "Don't worry. I'd totally ditch Catherine in the middle of the movie for you."

"Before or after you pull the popcorn trick on her?"

"Guess."

Nick bit back a smile as he felt his cheeks grow warm, taking a step back from the table as his body responded to the heat between them. He was suddenly struck with the notion that, yes, he had in fact been flirting with Greg all these years, and wondered how he had never realized just how forward their easy banter could be before. The way they leaned into each other when they spoke, how they smiled and laughed and made eyes at each other. It was all so obvious now.

"Just come by when you're done here," Nick said, heading for the door. He turned back briefly, winked. "I'll try not to get started without you, but I can't make any promises."

He was satisfied at the small whimper he heard behind him as he left.


Nick startled awake at the sound of his front doorbell. He sat up on the couch, twisting his neck until he heard a satisfying crack of bones. He must've fallen asleep while watching the Texas A&M University/Texas Christian University game that he'd recorded, which said a lot regarding his exhaustion, considering the game had been the final competition of the 2001 college football season and the teams had been rivals in the Southwest Conference for many years.

He looked at the clock as he crossed the room to the front door, realizing it was nearly noon. When he opened the door to reveal an incredibly weary-looking Greg holding a messenger bag in one hand and a large green ceramic coffee mug in the other.

"Hey," Nick greeted, stepping aside so the young man could enter. "You were held up for a while, huh?"

Greg sighed, dropping his bag unceremoniously to the ground and placing his coffee mug on the kitchen divider. "Don't even get me started. When Ecklie saw me this morning, he practically creamed his pants and starting asking me to run all this stuff for one of his high profile cases."

Nick grimaced "I really didn't need the image of Ecklie coming in his pants over you. I got you a breakfast burrito like, three hours ago. I don't know how good it is anymore. Is that okay?"

Nick could hear the insecurity laced in his own voice, wondering where the question had come from and why he was unsure whether buying someone breakfast was okay. Maybe because the considerate gesture was too close to something someone would do for a boyfriend, or maybe he was afraid Greg would think Nick was too doting. Jesus, Nick, doting? He thought to himself. What the hell about a breakfast burrito is doting? Since when do you even use words like doting? Immediately, he remembered why he didn't do relationships. He was an idiot, and didn't have the energy to wrap his mind around all the nuances of dating.

Nick was thankful Greg was too tired to notice his slight panic attack.

"I don't care, I'd eat..." Greg floundered for the words, before waving away the thought. "My brain is too fried to think of anything witty. Just give me the burrito. I'm starving."

Nick popped it into the microwave before handing it to Greg, who was sitting on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, which Nick didn't usually condone. He rewound the tape in his VCR and settled down next to Greg, continuing to watch the game while his companion happily ate his breakfast burrito like it was the best meal he'd ever had. He crumpled the wrapper into a ball and tossed it on the table before leaning back and sighing heavily.

"You saved my life, Nick," Greg gushed dramatically.

Nick leaned closer to Greg on the couch, brushing the young man's hair behind his ear. The spiky hair was surprisingly pliant beneath his fingertips, and he briefly wondered what kind of product Greg used as pressed his nose into Greg's neck and inhaled lemon and coffee and chemicals. He was rewarded with a contented sigh as his lips found warm skin.

He murmured, "How will you ever repay me?"

"I'm sure I can think of something," Greg responded breathlessly, before abruptly pulling away. "Wait. I stink like work. Can I shower before we get into anything?"

Nick grinned. "Only if I can join you."

Wet Greg was Nick's favorite Greg, Nick decided, as the hot water cascaded over their naked bodies in the shower. They were pressed chest to chest, Greg's hands traveling up Nick's back, gripping his shoulders as he pulled the older man closer. Nick's hands cupped Greg's ass, their dicks easily sliding against each other, slick with soapy water. He pushed Greg back against the shower wall, moving one hand to brace the wall, the other sliding under Greg's thigh, pulling his leg up. Felt that leg wrap around his waist as his teeth scraped against the soft skin where Greg's neck met his shoulder.

His mind briefly imagined the blue waters of Costa Rica, where he'd traveled with some of his fraternity brothers during a break between semesters his second year of college. He imagined draping his body over Greg's on the sand, warm water swirling around them as the waves crashed on the beach. Sighing softly into Greg's open mouth as their tongues danced together.

"You seem distracted," Greg said, offering Nick a curious glance. "Where are you?"

"Costa Rica."

Greg pulled a face. "What's in Costa Rica?"

"Warm water. Sandy beaches. Me. You."

Greg bit his bottom lip and smiled, and Nick couldn't tell if he was blushing or if the steamy shower had caused his skin to flush. Kissing again, enthusiastic tongues warring for dominance, and Nick felt a thrill run through him, straight down his spine and right to his dick. Thrust his hips into Greg's harder, faster, felt Greg moaning into his mouth or was that Nick? Hands roaming, fingers clutching, wonderful hardness between their bodies, fire burning within Nick's belly and he arched his body into Greg, biting into his shoulder as he came hard, spilling his hot seed between them. Greg was not far behind, gripping Nick's biceps as he threw his head back, his body shuddering as he groaned into the sky.

They stood there under the water for a few moments, leaning against one another. Greg's head rested on Nick's shoulder, his arms limp at his sides, and Nick actually wondered if he'd fallen asleep.

"Hey, G?" he asked softly, nudging the younger man. "You awake there?"

"Mmm," was the response he received, and then Greg perked up, albeit infinitesimally. "Yes."

"Let's get to bed," Nick stated, rinsing off the stickiness between them before shutting off the tap. He stepped out and grabbed a towel from the bathroom closet, turning to face a very sleepy Greg. The young man closed his eyes and smiled as Nick rubbed a towel over his hair, down his back and legs, before draping it across Greg's shoulders.

"Thanks," Greg murmured, stepping past Nick and into the bedroom. Nick only realized what a ridiculous smile he was wearing when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He cleared his throat, remembering that he was not a love struck teenager but a thirty-year-old man.

When he finished drying off, Greg was already under the covers, lying on his back with his eyes closed, and Nick liked the look of him in his bed. It was dark in the room with the curtains drawn, save the light spilling in from the bathroom. Nick turned off the light, climbed into bed, and laid down beside Greg, bizarrely tense as he wondered if he could touch the young man. He didn't know why he shouldn't be able to, considering what they had just done in the shower had been nothing but delicious, fantastic, intense touching, but he still wasn't yet entirely sure of the rules of the game they were playing. Wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with the amount of self-restraint it took not to reach out to the other man in his bed, as if he needed to.

There was movement beside him, and then Greg was turning to face him. Skimmed a hand up his belly and rested it over his heart. Pressed his body close to Nick's and nuzzled his face into Nick's shoulder. Almost hesitantly, Nick draped an arm around Greg's shoulders, pulling him closer, heard a contented sigh escape Greg's lips. And finally, finally, Nick was able to relax, and fell into a deep, restful sleep.


To be continued.

<< >>
This site is not in any way associated with CBS or Bruckheimer Productions. This is a not-for-profit fan site for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. Archive script powered by eFiction version 1.1. Webspace provided by Starthosting.nl.