CSI
Dying To Please by QueenOfTheUniverse [Reviews - 7]

CSI: Dying To Please: one shot



A/N: I promise to get the epilogue to Live and Love posted as soon as possible but this plot bunny appeared in my brain yesterday morning and just wouldnít leave.

WARNING: This is a VERY DARK story not meant for the faint of heart.

OTL, please donít kidnap Greg from me, I really do love him! Also, although this isnít the smut everyone wants, it does cross the line into things I said I would never write. This is only half consensual, because sometimes, you have to do things to survive you might not want to do. You have been warned.

+

ďPlease!Ē I whisper, trying to let my voice carry to his ears without making itís scratchiness worse. ďPlease! Just a dollar!Ē Iíve been reduced to begging these days. ďSomething, anything...Ē

But the man doesnít seem to care. His wide grin from a few minutes ago turns into a sneer as he zips up his pants and turns to leave.

ďYou werenít that good,Ē he says and turns to walk out.

On another dirty mattress on the other side of the plastic sheet dividing us another man is getting paid. I donít even know his name. I know I will never get out of here. I only work for tips, my boss makes the real dough and he doesnít share. I keep wondering how I got here, but these days it doesnít matter anymore. I know it was Ecklie who fired me, that Grissom had nothing to do with it. I know why he fired me too, and yes, it was wrong, but there was no one to stand behind me, to back me up, because no one knew what was going on. And the next day my landlord says the whole buildingís evicted so he can build condos there instead of our tiny low rent apartments.

And now Iím here. In this dump of an old building. I see rats all the time. Thereís never any food. The plumbing doesnít work. The plaster is falling apart, thereís holes in the walls, where small animals have died behind the sheet rock. Clear plastic sheeting has been duck-taped to the ceiling to provide some form of walls for privacy for the clients. This is my job now, catering to men who canít get it on their own. This is where I live because there is nowhere else. And I never know when I might be able to turn a buck. Must avail myself twenty-four/seven.

I see him coming towards me, eyeing me like a piece of candy. And maybe I am. And maybe I can please him enough that heíll pay me something decent for my efforts. But I doubt it. I learned long ago not to get my hopes up in this dingy place. My boss approaches him and he points in my direction. I can see the large bills swap hands before he comes over to me. He has no reason to pay me. None of them do after paying my bossís fee. He looks like all the others, just a man looking for a good fuck to get off on. Thatís all he is. That, and my possible meal ticket.

Iím still on my knees from my last customer and he doesnít seem to want any different as he lowers his pants for me. I do my best not to sigh. I am here to please him as best I can. I need to eat soon or I feel like I might pass out. Heís waiting and hard as I take him and work my pleasuring magic upon his member. My tongue works expertly and I can hear his moans of agreement. He didnít tell me if he wanted this quick or not so I decide to take my time with him. Sometimes men pay more if I go slow, let them go into agony until they just canít hold it back any longer.

I really have my boyfriend to thank for all of my physical talents. Ex-boyfriend now, I suppose. He taught me everything I know, though I donít think he ever figured Iíd end up in a place like this. Heís probably back home now, and hopefully heís forgotten all about me. He wonít find me here. No one will. I canít even remember when I saw him last. Must have been a few months ago by now. Time slips by these days and I can hardly tell one day from the next. I think itís late December, the way it gets so cold at night with no heat and all the windows broken, letting in the frigid air. But Iím only guessing. I miss him. Thinking about him brings tears to my eyes, but no one ever seems to notice or to care. If I know the man Iím pleasuring has money, I try to imagine heís my boyfriend so that Iíll do my best on him, in hopes that heíll pay well. I feel horrible and ugly inside afterwards, but sometimes it does pay off and I can find some food.

I keep my tongue moving over, under, and around him, as my customer moans louder and begins to grunt.

ďOh yeeeeaaaahhhhh!Ē

Heís getting off, enjoying this, which means Iím doing a good job. Maybe heíll come back again after Iím done. Maybe he wonít want to leave for awhile after this. There are other ways I can please him and I hope he takes me up on my silent offer. Any chance for a payment Iíll take and it might keep me warm for a little while.

There are days when I wonder what the hell Iím doing here. I was born a chemist. I went to Stanford and I ended up here, in this dump. I only own the clothes on my back, which only amounts to a pair of jeans since my shirt got ripped to shreds last month by an upset customer. I almost got tossed out of here for doing a bad job. The shirt was my only protection, hiding what I really look like, with all the bruises on my chest and back from customers, from tripping and falling. I bruise easily now and I have horrible balance. I canít even walk straight without bumping into something. Some people turn away from me because they donít like to see ribs. I promise Iíll do a good job, but they donít want me anyway.

Iíve been reduced to begging. Iím lonely on the inside and it hurts. I do my best with my current customer even with the tears free flowing down my cheeks. My boss wonít be happy if he catches me. No one will want me if Iím a crying mess and heíll lose out on the money I could be bringing in. But the customers only notice my tears when theyíre choosing which of us they want to fuck for an hour anyway, and by then Iíll make sure theyíre gone. This man is too much into what my mouth is doing to care about my eyes and the salty water leaking from them.

A hard hand lands on the side of my head and I almost fall over.

ďSpeed it up Bitch!Ē my customer yells.

I can do nothing but obey.

Sometimes when I make money and I feel I can leave without losing my mattress to another body ripe for harvesting of sexual needs, I try to find food. Though usually itís only broken glass I find around here and I wonder what it would be like to end it all. This is no way to live. I donít call it living. Itís existing. And nothing more. I have no friends. My old coworkers I havenít seen since my last night on the job. I donít even think I went back to clean out my locker. Itís a wonder I havenít seen them at a crime scene around here. This area is ripe for that. Plenty of gun running and drugs too. I donít do those. Canít afford it. The glass would be an easier, cheaper escape if I really wanted it. I donít know why I still hang on to my small existence.

Iím sick already anyway, without the drugs. I know I am. I do my best to hide it, but I know somethingís wrong with me. I can feel it in my chest. Sometimes my breathing isnít right. I have a scratchy throat. Iím barely hanging on sometimes. My head hurts a lot, and I get chills when itís a hundred degrees outside, and the sweats when itís forty. Maybe Iím dying and maybe I wonít need the glass soon. I can just ride this out, right? My stomach hurts from being empty for so long. The pain building in my chest right now will go away in a few minutes. But I know itíll come back later and I wonder how much more of this I can take. Can I ride it out? Let myself go as naturally as possible? Suicide isnít any easier than this as much as people want to believe.

The man grabs my hair, entwining his fingers in my now long, curly locks, ensuring I stay put as he begins to buck his hips into my mouth, thrusting deep into my sore throat. I keep my tongue moving to please him better. I know itís this job thatís slowly killing me, but I have nothing else. If I canít please men the way they want then for sure I will die. This is the only chance I have of making any money now, of getting any food. I have a mattress here, I can sleep a little when Iím sure no customers will come calling.

I miss my boyfriend. I love him. I wish nothing had happened to him. That he hadnít been kidnaped and buried alive. Then he wouldnít have gone to Texas for a month long camping trip with his dad to help him recover. I remember that week after weíd gotten him back, I had him all to myself as his family worked out plans to take him home. He felt better when he left me, though camping wasnít what he really wanted to do. He told me himself all he wanted was to stay with me but that he had to please his family too. When he left, he told me he loved me, and that was the last I heard from him.

I was fired the day after he left. Conrad told me it was because there was no other shift to put me on and that because Nick and I were together we couldnít work together. Of course, Nick was the better CSI whoíd just gone through a hell of a traumatic experience so he couldnít fire him. That left me. Things spiraled out of control after that. I had two days to move out of my home. I couldnít tell my friends what was going on. It was too embarrassing. Ecklie fired me because I was dating Nick. And there wasnít anything I could do about it. Though I donít really remember how I ended up here.

Thereís a long, hot spurt into my mouth, sliding down my throat and I realize my customer has cum. Iíve made him happy, I hope. Making sure I have gotten everything, I let him go and look up at him through my long lashes to see how pleased he is.

ďYou werenít half bad,Ē he says with a satisfied smile. ďToo bad youíre not half bad looking, otherwise Iíd consider taking you home with me. I can always use a personal servant around the house.Ē

That would mean a proper bed to sleep in. Food, clothing, shelter. All the things I need.

ďI can do that for you! I would be happy to!Ē I find myself begging.

He looks at me with a funny look when he hears my raspy voice that sounds worse than a six pack-a-day smokerís.

ďYouíre too thin and bruised for my liking. If Iím going to have all around sex I want him to be healthy. Youíre going to take a lot of work. Too much work to get you up to my standards. And I donít think youíd even make it half way there no matter how hard I worked on you. Sorry.Ē He zips up and walks away without a second glance.

I hang my head, staring at my bruised knees. I hardly notice the constant pain they hold after kneeling on them for so many hours a day. I hardly notice anything these days.

But then a voice catches my ear. Itís desperate. Someoneís looking for somebody. I donít even bother to look up. This is normal. Usually a mother looking for her lost child around here. I wish it wasnít normal, that there was something I could do, but there isnít anything. Not in my condition.

Iím waiting for my next client, trying my best to steady my breathing, and stop the hitch every time I breath in. I need to be collected in order to attract the next man that walks in.

ďHave you seen him?!Ē itís a manís voice. Heís sounds desperate and heartbroken.

I can hear others saying no. No, they havenít seen whoever heís looking for. But one voice changes, says he doesnít look like the picture anymore. I sigh, itís all background noise for me. I just canít help listening in. I have nothing else to do until my next client.

A new pair of feet are now walking into the room and I look up in a submissive gesture, intent on feeling alert, feeling good about the services I can provide, so maybe heíll take me up on my offer.

I see him, but I donít believe him. I drop my eyes to stare at my knees again. No! It canít possibly be! I thought Iíd never see him again. I donít want him to see me this way, this wasted. This far gone from life.

ďGreg?Ē his thick Texan accent falls beautifully on my ears as he falls to his own knees beside me. ďOh my God, Greg?Ē

Tears are rolling down my face again, but I canít bear to look up at him. Iím too ashamed of who Iíve become. Of what Iíve become. I shake my head, wishing heíd go away. But I know he wonít. And I donít want him to. In his hands I see a bunch of fliers. A missing person heíd been looking for. And I remember that picture, the day it was taken, when weíd had our first year anniversary. Iím sobbing now, realizing that heís been looking for me. Me.

ďGreg, honey, please say something!Ē he begs me.

ďI lost it,Ē my hoarse, gritty voice whispers. I havenít really used it in so long, Iím so sick I can hardly talk anymore. ďI lost it,Ē I manage again, my voice this time a little stronger. ďAnd you werenít there.Ē

ďOh, baby, itís ok. Everythingís going to be ok. Iím gonna get you out of here. Ok?Ē

I want to feel his arms around me so bad, but my life is gone now. Iím too sick. Iíve missed him so much. I needed to see him so long ago and I couldnít. Iím dying and Iím not sure I want to break his heart with that news. It would probably be best if he left me here.

Nick doesnít wait for an answer, only scoops me up into his arms and begins to walk out. My boss is not happy. I can hear him complaining.

ďThereís a line of men waiting for that spot outside. Take one of them. Youíre not getting Greg back.Ē

ďGreg?Ē

My boss is confused. In this business no one cares about your name. They just care if you can give a good fuck or not.

I burrow my head into the crook of Nickís neck, as my breathing starts to hitch and wheeze again. Nick holds me tighter in his arms as we head for the truck parked across the street. Heís so comfortable, I wish he would never let go.

+

The next thing I know everything looks white and sterile. I wonder where my boss is and how I ended up here. I canít help but think about how I surely must have lost my mattress now, which means I lost my job, the only meal ticket I had. I can hear voices not too far away and I struggle to hear what theyíre saying.

ďIs he going to be ok?Ē

Itís Nick! And I remember him finding me there, kneeling on the dirty mattress waiting for my next customer. I can feel the shame of it all wash over me. The job, I know how I got it. I wasnít given a choice. Things couldnít have gotten any worse after losing my CSI position and then being evicted. But they did. I got drunk, because I was so upset and couldnít contact Nicky. And then I had to hit this guyís BMW. Busted it up big time. He cleaned out my bank account and that alone didnít cover the cost of the car. He left me with no home, no money, and no job. I had nothing. I was grateful when my boss took me in. At least there was a roof over my head.

ďYou caught him at deathís door,Ē someone else is saying. ďHeís one lucky man. Itíll take some time, but I think thereís a chance heíll pull through. Iíve got an IV in him now. Heís horribly dehydrated and it doesnít look like heís eaten in days at least. Nothing substantial in a few weeks probably. And some of those bruises are weeks old from what I can tell. Weíll keep him on oxygen for awhile, see if that canít help regulate his breathing. Thereís a lot wrong with him. Iím guessing heís been sick for a long time and nothing was ever done to help him. Weíll just have to heal things as theyíre uncovered.Ē

ďOk, thank you doctor.Ē

I hear footsteps walk away and silence reigns over the room. I feel cold and alone. I donít want to be here. I donít like it here. Iíll have to pay them for taking care of me and I canít do that. Even if my boss took me back not all of the men I could pleasure in a year could pay for this.

I donít want to be alone. But I know what I did. I know how dirty and used I am. My last customer wouldnít even take me as his personal servant. Iím that broken. I want nothing but comfort from the one man I love, but do I deserve it? Heís so perfect and clean. I donít want him to touch me. I donít want to dirty him too.

ďNicky?Ē I manage, my voice still not working properly.

Heís by my side.

ďShhhh, donít talk baby. Everythingís going to be ok. We got you here in time. Just donít talk.Ē

I can feel the tears slipping down my face as I look up into his warm, loving, brown eyes. Does he still love me? I could have waited for him. I could have camped out on his doorstep until he got back from his camping trip instead of wandering the city like a homeless man until I found my boss. Why didnít I? I feel hollow inside. I donít know what I should be doing. I feel like Iíve forgotten the chemistry and the biology. All I can remember is the pleasuring. And I can still taste the bitterness of my last customer in my mouth. Many months ago I would have cringed, knowing it wasnít the taste of Nick and knowing in a few moments there would be yet another man taking the place of the one whoíd just left. But Iím used to it now.

ďYou know Iíve been looking for you ever since I got back from that dumb camping trip. Iím so sorry things happened the way they did, Greg. I knew I shouldnít have left. Or I should have at least given you the key to my place. I know they fired you because of us. I quit when they gave me the stuff from your locker and finally told me what happened. Iíve been using what little I had saved up to spend my time looking for you.Ē

Heís leaning over me and I see him raise his hand and heís brushing my tears away as his own are falling from his eyes. I can barely feel his gentle fingers against my bruised skin. He moves a lock of my hair out of my face.

ďIím too sick,Ē I whisper.

ďShhh, itís ok. Donít talk now. Just rest.Ē

ďNo, Nick. Iím dying. I know I am. You know where I was, you know what I was doing for money. You know.Ē

ďNo baby, youíre not gonna die. The doctor said youíre going to be just fine.Ē

But heís wrong. I donít want to break his heart. But my lifeís gone. I can feel my chest tighten in pain and with a sharp intake of breath I can hear the hitch and the wheeze, and suddenly, I canít breath. I canít breath. The realization sinks in. My stomach hurts and Iím shivering worse than ever before. Is this what it feels like to die?

In my last escaping breath I manage a few words I have to get out, ďI love you, Nicky.Ē

The long steady beep of the heart monitor is the last thing I hear as my world goes black.

+

When I open my eyes the room is dark. Am I waiting at the gates to heaven? I thought they would be whiter, brighter. But no. This must be the gates to hell after what Iíve been doing. I feel a cold shiver run up my body and I try to hug myself to keep warm as I lie on my side. It feels like Iím in a comfortable bed. But itís so dark out I canít tell.

ďHey,Ē a quiet voice says from behind me as a warm arm wraps itself around me, holding me close, keeping me warm. I jump a little at the initial contact. ďSorry, I didnít mean to scare you. You were having a nightmare and I couldnít wake you up.Ē

Nick. Itís Nick. Heís behind me. Iím at his apartment, sleeping in his bed with him. I reach an arm out and study it in the darkness, but I canít see much. I touch it with my hand, afraid to turn on the light, least I see something I donít want to. But I canít feel my bones. Nothing hurts. I stop and think... Nothing hurts!

ďNicky?Ē my voice is normal.

ďYeah honey?Ē

I turn over in his arms to face him. Heís there. Nothing happened. It was all just a dream. Iím ok. Weíre ok. I burrow deeper into him beneath the covers welcoming the warmth from his body.

ďPlease, just donít leave me. I donít want to lose you again,Ē I whimper without meaning to sound so dejected. He was the one in the box after all. I couldnít expect him to take care of me after only having a nightmare. Heíd lived a nightmare and I had to take care of him too.

ďI wonít baby. I wonít. My Dad thought it would be a good idea if I went home with them tomorrow to go camping with him for a whole month, you know, get away from it all after what happened.Ē

Fear is rising within me. He would go away, Ecklie would fire me, and Iíd be evicted with no way to talk to tell him. No, it couldnít really be happening. It couldnít.

ďWhy didnít you tell me about this sooner?Ē

I try not to panic.

ďHe only just asked this afternoon. I know I need to please my parents and if they want me to go home for a little bit I really should go.Ē

My stomach tightens and I can feel my nerves kicking up. No! He isnít going to leave me! He wouldnít!

ďBut I told him no.Ē

ďWhat?Ē

Had I heard him correctly?

ďHeís a little pissed. But youíre what I really need. I need you too much and I love you too much to be apart from you for so long. Youíre the half that makes me whole, Greg. How could I leave you for that long?Ē

Relief and happiness flood throughout my whole body.

ďThank you,Ē I whisper, relaxing into the soothing touch of his hands rubbing my back.

+

White. Sterile. Where am I? Whereís Nickís bedroom? I thought I was with Nick. What the hell is going on?

ďHow are you feeling?Ē someone asks me.

I look up into a kind face Iíve never seen before. Is that a lab coat? Iím at the lab. And this is the new person who was hired to take my place in DNA so that I could join Nick in the field. Right?

ďIím...Ē I stop. My voice is all wrong, all scratchy.

My lungs are struggling to take in the air I need to breath.

ďJust relax,Ē the man says. ďYou left us there for a little bit but we brought you back. Youíre going to be ok, though itís going to take awhile. I would strongly suggest you donít talk, let your throat heal. And try to breath evenly. Your lungs arenít doing so good right now. But donít worry. Weíll have you up and walking in no time. Ok?Ē

I nod. Iím back in the hospital. It wasnít a dream. I did leave this world and my sleeping with Nick was the dream.

The doctor smiles at me before nodding to someone else in the room. He leaves and Nick is by my side again, taking my thin bony hand with its long piano fingers in his.

ďI love you too,Ē he says. ďAnd youíre not leaving me that easily. I only just found you and I donít intend on letting you go any time soon. So donít try to check out on me again. At least not until youíre an old man.Ē

Thatís the best thing Iíve heard in a long time. I try to laugh but can only manage a smile. He really is the only person who can make me truly happy. Iím glad heís here, glad he found me. I feel a cold shiver run up my spine and the next thing I know Nickís lying beside me on the bed, with his arm around me. My breathing hitches and I let out a wheeze.

ďJust breath easy, take it slow,Ē Nick coaches, moving his hand to rest gently on my chest so he can feel me breathing.

As my lungs calm down and my breathing slows I can feel the weight of sleep coming over me. I canít remember the last time I was allowed to sleep. Men seem to like my looks when Iím sleeping and enjoy waking me up for a fuck.

ďShhhh, just rest baby,Ē Nickís soothing whisper calms my sudden, erratic heartbeat and lulls me deeper into sleep. ďIíll be right here when you wake up. I promise.Ē

And the last thing I feel before a deep sleep takes over is his warm lips brushing against my forehead.

I love you, Nicky. So, so, so much...
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