CSI: LV N/G: Speculations on the Sexual Orientations of Certain Hollywood Types: The Return of Greg Sanders

Title: Speculations on the Sexual Orientation of Certain Hollywood Types: The Return of Greg Sanders
Characters: Nick/Greg
Rating: Very Dirty Warnings: Just sex
Disc: Not my characters, not my universe, etc.
Sum: Nick and Greg are stuck together in a cheap motel room. Greg isn't happy about that, nor the quality of the rest of his day, but when the lights go out, it gets better. The original idea for this came from the One Bed Fic Challenge ages ago, but when I looked, everybody was doing Nick/Greg for it so I put this idea on the back burner and did a silly Trigun fic for it instead. Finally finished this one just recently. Kind of an iffy premise, and definitely not my best writing to date, but I got what I wanted out of it. Enjoy.

"We got no choice. We have to keep them all here. It's regulations. I know....No I know. Not my regulations. The fuckin' city. That's what the D.A.'s office said. Hey what about the witnesses. Stokes and Sanders. They know each other....Why don't we ask them....Nah, they didn't say anything about the witnesses. Just the jurors. They ain't allowed to come into contact outside the court. The witnesses are fine. Yeah, I'll ask those two if they mind shackin' up for the night...No...No-...Look-...Don't have a fuckin' cow. They know each other. It won't be a big deal."

~*~

"This is so stupid."
"Come on, G. It's not a big deal."
"I live twenty minutes from here."
"Closer to like sixty, but whatever."
"There is no reason either of us needs to be sequestered. We're expert witnesses, not jury."
"It's a high profile case, G. The D.A. is itchin' to put this guy away. He wants all his bases covered and then covered again. And it won't be so bad. There's a pool."
"My apartment complex has a pool."
"And there's room service."
"We still have to pay for it."
"Um. Mini bars of soap," Nick offers.
Greg just glares at him and drops his suitcase on the cheap red carpeting. Nick is impervious to his mood, though. So is the throng of people they're mired in.
"What happened to you man? You always used to be the optimistic one. Nothing bothered you." Nick says it with a smile and a worried brow. He doesn't like to see Greg so down. If Greg is low, it could mean the rest of the world actually is falling apart.
Greg wants to reply to that, And then I got pulled out of my car and beaten half to death, but he knows he's just grumpy and tired after sitting in court all day. "And look what optimism got me," he says instead. "A night on the taxpayer's tab in a sleazy high-rise hotel without my Sega and without beer. Who's gonna feed my fish?"
"Hey," a man on a cell phone turns to the two of them, phone still clutched to his ear and looks affronted as he directs that 'hey' at Greg, but too busy to finish the thought. Nick and Greg just look at each other with a shared moment of incomprehension, and then continue to stand in the lobby, milling, waiting for someone in the noisy, crowded room to tell them where they were supposed to be going. The man shuts his phone with a snap. It rings again immediately with the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song and he flips it back open. "No. No....Put them up on the third floor. We need that first floor room for Mrs. George. She don't like heights....Yeah....Right."
"Come on G, let's muscle our way up to the desk and get our rooms."
Greg sighs. "Ok. You muscle, I'll be right behind you." They pick up their bags and are just about to start picking through the writhing mass of people when they both have to turn around again.
"Stokes! Can I have Nick Stokes and uh...Gregory Sanders!" It's the guy with the cell phone again. He still has it attached to his face. They approach him cautiously. "That you two?" They nod. "I'm Claude. I'm the manager here." Greg thinks he looks and sounds more like a Vinny, or Frankie, or some other Italian Vegas gangster cliche. "Listen. You two work together, right?"
"Yeah."
"We're in a bit of a bind here. We're over-booked with this convention and the trial and evr'in'." Greg is just about to roll his eyes. He's this close to going all-out school girl temper tantrum. "Would you two mind sharing a room? I know you ain't here on vacation or nothin', and I'm willin' to give you something for your trouble."
"Yeah sure man. That's no problem," Nick says without even a glance in Greg's direction.
"Great. Thanks a lot. That's nice of you to be so accomadatin'," he says with a funny shrugging gesture like he has something crawling up his collar.
Very accomadatin' to be sure. For one, Greg wasn't expecting that to be the solution. He thought it meant they were going to ship them out to another hotel even further away from home, and it would mean getting up even earlier for the extra-long bus ride. That case not presenting itself, he was equally surprised Nick just stepped in and agreed. Greg was afraid in the split second before then that he'd have to come up with some reason on the spot why that was impossible, some really good reason besides the real reason, that reason being that he's never going to be able to sleep with Nick in the same room. Not unless he has a wank-fest in the bathroom. Which if he did he is pretty sure Nick would notice. But Nick took care of that. No explanations necessary. He agreed for both of them.
"You guys will be up on three. Last room in the house." He hands them their key cards. "And what can I do to thank you? Want me to turn on the Skinamax for you up there?" he asks, and to his credit, without a stupid smirk on his face, "Or maybe send up a couple burgers and fries? Kitchen is still open."
Nick is about to refuse the offer Greg can tell, on his behalf again, so he jumps in. "Beer?"
Claude chuckles. "Yeah I ain't doin' that."
"Burgers sound great, Claude," Nick steals in to rescue the rapport and puts a hand to Claude's shoulder. "Thanks."
"Alright. You boys enjoy your stay."
Greg stands there slumped. At least with beer he could have drunk himself to sleep, possibly. Vinny heads off into the crowd again talking into his phone and plugging his other ear with his finger.
"This is stupid. I want my water bed."
"Water beds are bad for your back."
"I don't care. I'll take orthopaedic surgery over this place any day."
"Come on, Gregory. It won't be that bad."

~*~

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."
"This must be the wrong room."
"He said this was the last room in the house. Not the last bed in the house."
"This must be the wrong room."
"I'm calling the front desk."
Nick drops his bag and looks around while Greg is on the phone. They haven't closed the door yet. No way is he closing the door with only one bed in here. It's actually not a bad room outside of the missing bed. Little balcony outside the sliding glass door. Big enough for two people and absolutely nothing more, but it's still a balcony. Dark blue carpeting with a dizzying pattern that he tries not to look at. Beige walls with the blandest of decoration. The bathroom is efficient and clean.
"They're bringing up a roll-away," Greg grumbles and hangs up.
Nick grimaces. "I think I'd prefer the water bed. Or the floor."
Greg sits on the bed and faces the window, trying not to think about stupid Nick on his water bed. Nick is going through his suitcase. He can hear the zipper behind him. His cock twitches in his pants at that sound. He can so easily imagine Nick sliding down his own zipper. Oh God. That's going to happen tonight at some point. Nick isn't going to sleep in his suit. Frankly Greg can't wait to get out of his, but at the same time he is wondering how he is going to keep an erection hidden all night. Has one every damn time he's around Nick. Though it never used to bother him. He used to be the kind of guy who liked anticipation, didn't mind unrequited lust. He used to like seeing Nick in a hallway at the lab and feeling his body react instantly. It didn't matter that Nick wasn't interested. Greg was used to that. The guys you wish were gay never are. Except for Orlando Bloom. There's no doubt in his mind which side of the bread that guy has buttered.
Greg gets up and opens the balcony door, steps outside. The desert is cooling off nicely. The wind brushes across his face and three stories up, it's not all that bad. Doesn't smell too much like cars, and they're far enough from the strip that it's reasonably quiet. Greg sighs. Nick is right. He isn't the same Greg he used to be. Sometimes wishes he could be. Even wishes sometimes he could go back to being a lab rat. But he never got to work side by side with Nick in the lab. Never got to spend the night with him in a hotel room when he was in the lab. Suddenly he can't remember why he was so pissed off about this. Orlando Bloom? Had something to do with Orlando Bloom. Hot little fucker. What makes him so special? Greg bets he and Jude Law are are porking each other right now.
The door slides open behind him and Nick steps out onto the balcony carrying two foam containers. Greg grins for the first time all day as he hands him his. He looks into the room and sees the second bed has arrived as well.
Nick smiles back, glad to see Greg in better spirits, and turns around carefully on the tiny balcony, checks the door to make sure it isn't locked, and closes it behind them. He turns back around and leans on the railing like Greg is, digs into his burger. He only gets a bite into it before Greg drops his. It's like gravity just shifts suddenly around them and scoops Greg's entire container from his hand and sends it hurtling to the bushes below. Greg watches it wide-eyed, and Nick stuffs his bite into his cheek and leans over the railing to watch the open container flutter like a sea bird, dump it's contents and float to the ground.
Greg's face crumples. He isn't really crying, but he flails and grimaces as the immense dissatisfaction of this day finally consumes whatever was left of the old Greg. "God damn it!" He turns, clunks his head against the stucco wall, which hurts, and growls, more sort of whines actually, at the unfeeling hotel facade.
Nick just stands there and lets him have his moment. Then as Greg turns back around, he sighs and takes his burger in both hands and pinches it in half.
Greg has never seen anyone rip a burger before. He hands the unbitten half to Greg which he takes with more reverence and care than he thinks he has ever received any gift before.
"Got it? Sure?" Nick asks. He's not splitting his half into quarters if he drops this one.
They eat in silence, and Greg licks ketchup and mustard from his thumb, grease from his fingers and wishes he could have had a whole one, now that he's actually hungry, but it is still a really good half-a-burger. He chews and looks down to the bushes again and thinks he sees a glimpse of the white container under a palmetto. Hard to tell though. It's getting too dark to see.
"OW! Son-of-a...."
"What happened?"
Greg is holding a hand over his mouth and squinting hard, curled up on himself.
"Bite your tongue?" Greg nods. "You ok?" Greg nods again even as his eyes tear up a little. "Is it bleeding?"
He nods again, swallows the last bite of his burger carefully. "Just a little," he mumbles.
"Want some ice?"
"No. 'M fine." Greg keeps his hand over his mouth for a time and lets his tongue throb and tries not to move it. The iron tang of blood in his mouth is mild and subsiding, unlike the pain.
Nick sighs. "Come on Greggo. Gotta get up early. Lets hit the sack." He thumps Greg on the back once and goes inside.
Nick gives Greg the queen bed, gets in the lumpy roll-away himself. It's really low to the ground, and Nick thinks again that maybe the floor would be a better option. The light is still on because Greg is still in the bathroom, but he closes his eyes and tries to drift off anyway. He's been in there a while.
Greg can't get off. He's been in here too long. He thought if he got undressed in the bathroom he wouldn't have to watch Nick get undressed, and he didn't, but just the knowledge that he was standing outside that door in boxers and a thin, worn-out, muscle-enhancing tee-shirt, if he knows Nick, made him hard as a fucking frozen salami. He shucked his own suit and started pumping. He thought, armed with the knowledge that Nick was just on the other side of the door half naked he might be able to make this quick, since it gave him a hard on nice and quick, but it isn't happening. Frustrated, he gives up and tries splashing cold water on his face. When that doesn't work he tries cold water on his privates. That's soothing, shocking but soothing, but it only takes him down a notch or so, and not down to a presentable level of turned on. He takes his clothes in a wad and holds them at waist height as he exists the bathroom.
Nick cracks an eye open as Greg finally emerges from the bathroom and has to roll over onto his side to keep his erection from tenting the blanket. He looks absolutely fuckable. Tousled hair, cheeks pink, not sure why. Wiry body covered in pale cotton. Those dark little freckles all over him. He turns out the lights and Nick sighs because he knows he isn't going to be able to sleep right away. Even if Greg wasn't hiding there in the dark, he's been on second shift a long time. Sleeping at night is just unnatural.
He hears the bed creak as Greg gets in and doesn't hesitate to put a hand around his cock just to hold it sadly.
Nick is tossing and turning on his little roll-away bed, and Greg is really starting to feel guilty. Gave him half his burger, gave him the queen bed, the real bed. Even said he could use his conditioner because he forgot to pack his own - though he isn't really sure why Nick has conditioner with him. He doesn't currently have much in the way of hair. Greg's cock jumps. Unless he likes to masturbate with it. Greg wants to groan out load. Why does he have to think about things like this? Why now? Nick turns over again in the bed and it creaks horribly.
"Hey Nick."
"Yeah."
"Thanks for the burger."
"You're welcome," comes the weary reply.
Greg is still lying awake facing the ceiling. Sleep does not appear to be anywhere in sight. He decides he's hot, that maybe the cool air and drone from the a/c would help lull him to sleep.
"You hot?"
"Little."
Greg gets out of bed and feels his way in the dark to the air conditioner stuck into the wall. Nick follows him with his eyes, though he can't see him at all. The only time he can see him is when he passes between Nick and the sliding door. The pale city lights coming through the curtain back-light Greg as he stumbles past, and Nick is frozen to the bed as he sees his silhouette, slim and sexy, and hard. The angular outline at his waist is unmistakable. Nick can feel his eyes bugging out of his head though there is no one to see that bit of comedy, just the comedy in the front of Greg's underwear. He almost laughs except that it's not funny in so many painfully arousing ways. The a/c hums on low and Greg gives him another quick show on his way back to his own bed. Nick squeezes his own cock really hard.
It's always odd sleeping in an unfamiliar room. Greg has never liked it. Never was able to get used to it, no matter how many times he traveled. Probably the only reason he decided not to be a movie star instead of a CSI. All the traveling. Would have fucking ruled though to sleep with Orlando Bloom. Or if not him, you know. He probably knows lots of other really hot gay guys. Like Antonio Banderras. Somehow he doubts that Bloom and Banderras hang out though.
"Hey Nick."
"Yeah."
"You ever see Brokeback Mountain?"
The laugh is explosive. Nick absolutely falls apart laughing, Greg can hear it. He's only heard Nick laugh like that maybe one other time. When Hodges called Warrick a fag because he said he kinda liked George Michael. That was one time anyway. Right now his laugh is slow and high and agonised sounding, like he is going to die in a moment, muffled by the pillow. He sighs and chuckles some more. "No. No I haven't," he says finally and some more of that infectious giggling escapes him. Greg can't help but smile in response, though he isn't sure if the emotion behind Nick's laughing is ironic or nervous or angry. Either way he hasn't seen it, so he wouldn't get the double entendre, just half of it. The gay half. Wasn't a very good double entendre anyway. He was just hoping he wouldn't have to ask him to come up here.
"Oh. Well. Anyway. This bed is big enough for both of us. You don't have to sleep down there."
Nick continues laughing, though now it is hissing through his teeth and throat. He sighs again with a high chuckle blended into it. "Um," he coughlaughs once, "No, I'm good, really. But thanks."
"Seriously. It has to be more comfortable than that thing. That's all I meant. You'd know what I meant if you saw the movie. Cuz they're like sleeping and one is in a tent and the other is outside and it's cold an uncomfortable, but they don't share the tent, cuz, you know, they're guys. One of them though, clearly the braver of the two, said, you know this is stupid, and told the other one to stop being a shithead and get in the tent. And you know. I didn't want to have to do that. Which is why I mentioned. But for some reason I assumed you would have seen it. Um."
Nick chuckles a little more, though quietly, as much under his breath as he can. It was a cute sentiment, if badly placed. And it's true. It's lumpy, it has a crease in the middle where it was folded up and never unfolded for years at a time. It's thin, is scratchy. "Yeah. Alright," he says, grinning at the darkness, and sits up. If he's not going to be able to sleep with Greg in the next bed, then there's no reason he shouldn't not sleep in the same, more comfortable bed, with Greg.
Nick crawls in under the covers, and yes, it is still a hotel bed, but it's a hell of a lot better than that lumpy piece of shit on the floor. He sighs a real sigh of contentment as he stretches out on his half.
"Better?" Greg asks him, surprised that his own answer to the question would be yes.
"Yes," Nick grumbles and relaxes into the pillow.
There is an infinite amount of silence in the room after that. Every once in a while Nick will swallow or Greg will scratch his nose, but these sounds do not penetrate the stillness of the muffling dark. Greg stares at the box of light cast on the wall from the window. Tries to make shadow puppets in it but his hand can't reach the beam from where he lays. His arm flops back down to the bed.
"Hey G."
"Yeah."
"You still have a boner?"
Greg is silent. Absolutely fucking silent, holding his breath, Nick thinks, and grins to himself. "Yeah," he squeaks, almost inaudibly.
Nick is still grinning. "C'mere."
Greg switches on the light to see his face, see if he's serious. Nick is smiling mildly at him when the blinding properties of the light subside. Looking right at him.
Greg sits up in bed, then kneels on it to face and address him with his hands animating at his sides. "Holy fuck. Nick I thought you liked girls. Seriously. Like. I thought you were the straightest of the straight."
Nick shakes his head. "Not exactly."
"Are you serious right now? I mean. I don't care if you know I'm gay. Most of my friends know, and I consider you a friend, but...Are you serious right now? I don't want to take you seriously only to find out you were fucking with me and then have you all weirded out later. Cuz I'll take you seriously. And even if you aren't serious I'm not going to be all overcome with grief, man."
Nick doesn't say anything in response at first, just reaches a hand up and tugs him by the waist band, then curls his fingers idly around his hip. "Relax, G. I wouldn't lie to you."
Greg just breathes a second and licks his lips. "Yeah. I know. Sorry. Automatic defense mechanism."
Nick's movements are fluid and careful as he takes Greg by the wrist and pulls him back down to the bed. Greg's heart is hammering so hard he's having trouble getting any other part of his body to function on command. Nick takes care of it though, and as Greg tips over and loses his balance over him, he puts up one of those huge arms, places a rough hot hand on Greg's chest and lowers him down on top of him.
Greg thinks he might just come in his shorts. Strange how it wasn't good enough to have Nick half naked in the room with him, but Nick half naked in the room with him, and hot and hard from head to toe lying under him could be more than enough.
The heat this man puts out is stifling. He wishes he could turn the air conditioner up a notch or two, but it's a very very small wish at this moment because Nick is pushing the covers down first with his hand, and then kicking them with his feet, bringing Greg down right on top of him with nothing between them but thin white tee-shirts and boxers.
Nick has this long delicious man laying on him, his arms holding much of his weight up, still tentative, still nervous, but definitely on board, judging by the cock laying at the junction of his hip. He thinks, and though it's difficult to do at the moment, he thinks there is a question that needs an answer. Is Greg horny because he's sharing a room with a man and perhaps hasn't done so in a while, or is Greg horny because he's sharing a room with Nick and has wanted to for a while? Nick knows why he's horny. He's been ogling Greg for years. Years. He's just so...smart, and Nick finds that irresistible. Granted, Grissom is probably smarter, but really that's like saying he wouldn't sleep with Orlando Bloom if presented with the opportunity, because Johnny Depp is hotter. And while neither of them presumably want to sleep with Nick, out of Grissom and Greg, one of them seems to. Hard to bring it up though. Hard to suggest it to a coworker, to someone who by at least some appearances, seemed to be straight. Some. Well. Maybe he should just let Greg answer when he's ready.
Nick pulls him closer with a funny little smile. And Nick's smiles have a gravitational pull much larger than is accountable by their mass. They are dark matter smiles. Mysterious and deadly and irresistible to the imaginative mind. Greg is very imaginative. Bravely he closes the gap and has to suck in a great breath through his nose to keep his brain from shutting down completely. He's kissing Nick. He's kissing Nick. Nick Stokes. The man he's been trying not to visually molest every day since he met him. The guy he thought was not only way out of his league but straight and therefore not a realistic objective. He never really allowed himself the luxury of fantasizing about kissing him. Fucking, sure. Sex by itself does not equal anything more. So it was cool to jerk off with his name on his lips, but he never allowed himself to imagine kissing, touching, the smell of his breath on his face, the strength of his hands on his shoulders, the wild and wet, uncontrolled lick of his tongue. Greg is imaginative and curious, but this was always off limits before. Now it's here, and for some reason he's just a little bit scared. Not sure why. Hard to think with hard on.
Greg's mouth is warm, minty-sweet from his toothpaste, his lips soft and unsure. He's actually trembling a little above him, and this isn't exactly what Nick was expecting. He wasn't expecting much, since he had no idea this was going to happen until two minutes ago, but he didn't expect bold and beautiful Greg to be so shy. Maybe it's just an excited tremor rather than a nervous one. Either way, it kind of turns him on even more. The fact that Greg has some kind of response is thrilling. When the idea crossed his mind as he crawled into bed with him, he imagined a bright and cheerful roll in the sheets, something that would make the night pass quicker and easier, something that would lift Greg's mood, relax himself, maybe even something that would set a precedent for the future. Nick has no qualms with having a fuck buddy, and if it's Greg, all the better. He wasn't expecting, didn't dare hope that Greg would have been holding onto a greater wish than that, but he knows that feeling, can recognise it in others. Greg is acting like Nick feels, like he's been thinking about this for a long time. Nick delves deeply into his mouth and runs one hand up to thread through his hair and cup his skull, and the other down to grip his bottom with four fingers, sliding his thumb under the band of his shorts. Greg whimpers just a little.
Nick rolls them over, plants Greg back on his side of the bed and lifts himself up on stiff arms to look at him. His lips are wet and rosy, eyes dilated. He smiles at him, grins, because it's funny how he's just lying there. "You ok?"
Greg blinks. Then his brain catches up finally. "Yeah! No I'm good. Just still in shock."
"Ok. You ok with this though? I don't want to push you into anything just cuz we're stuck sharing a room. I just thought it'd be...fun. You know. No pressure, no guilt in the morning, promise."
"No absolutely! I'm...I'm with you." Greg grins. "Reading you loud and clear."
"So um." Nick says and grins back. He feels like he's high.
Greg laughs and sits up to kiss him. God that feels good. To just reach up and kiss him like that, like they've been doing that forever and not just five minutes. Nick puts gentle fingertips under Greg's shirt and pulls it up and over his head. He reaches for the shorts next But Greg stops him and picks at Nick's shirt until he obliges and pulls it off, tosses it to the floor. He's seen Nick with his shirt off once before. Nearly blew a fuse. This time, up close, close enough to count the hairs on his chest, he isn't going to faint dead away from want, because, guess what, it's right here, he has it. Greg reaches up and runs both hands down and then up that gorgeous chest, over soft, super-heated skin and just a little hair here and there, then up over his hard round shoulders. Most of the guys Greg manages to go home with are like himself. Kinda skinny nerdy types with healthy, if less than amazing bodies. He just puts brains before looks most of the time, and other people with brains tend to do the same it seems. Nick is every gay boy's wet dream, though. Greg would know. His chest is smooth and strong, and his nipples are the tiniest little things and they point out hard under Greg's thumbs. Nick just smiles at him as if to say, yeah, I know, and runs the backs of his fingers down Greg's chest as well. Mostly ribs there, and Greg is suddenly self-conscious, tries to distract Nick away from his own body by lavishing his. Greg bends upward and kisses down Nick's chest, bends himself in half to get at his nipples and lick with his sore tongue. Doesn't much care that it's sore right now though. Nick lets him for a moment but Greg soon finds himself being manhandled back down to the bed.
"C'mere," Nick says and just does with him what he wants. The man has to be twice as strong as Greg, easily. He just scoops under his knees and plants him back on the mattress like nothing and pulls his shorts out from under him. His cock gets pulled forward with the motion and then fwaps back down to his belly. Greg may not have an overly impressive physique, he's not bad looking, but whatever he's lacking in musculature, he knows he makes up for with the big guy he keeps stashed in his pants. He smiles just a little smugly and thinks, yeah, I know. Nick doesn't say anything, though. He looks, but he doesn't look surprised. Nick turns then to hang his legs off the side of the bed, strong tan back flexing for Greg, and pulls off his own shorts. Then he turns back around and Greg can see why a cock like Greg's wouldn't be an unusual sight to him. Greg lets out a huffy breath of appreciation, and gulps as Nick straddles him, lays their cocks together. He gets his knees up and lays down on top of Greg, forcing much of his breath from his lungs and starts kissing him again. Sweat is breaking out all over Greg despite how the room has cooled off. It's just so damned good to feel all that weight on him, so much gorgeous, hot and hard Nick everywhere he turns. He reaches down between them, and Nick flexes to allow it, and strokes at Nick's cock while trying to keep Nick's lips between his own. It feels big in his hand, and Nick thrusts slowly but powerfully into his fist. He grunts a little, rolling his hips against Greg's and Greg has to keep sucking in great big deep breaths just to keep himself calm.
Nick wants more than this. That's obvious. Hand jobs really aren't all that much fun. Blow jobs, now that's fun. Only one problem with that though, and Greg wants to cry again. "Um. Nick."
Nick comes up with a little "Hm?" and a 'pop' from where he was sucking on Greg's ear. Greg groans and then meets his eyes mournfully. "I um. I bit my tongue."
Nick looks confused for a second and then his eyebrows pop up. "Oh! I forgot. I'm sorry, was I hurting you before?"
"No. No, I mean. I don't think I should..." he half shrugs and looks at Nick with remorse, strokes his cock lovingly a few more times. Nick responds to the strokes with fluttering eyes and a little groan of his own before responding to the news.
"That's ok. Doesn't mean I can't." He grins and moves down Greg's body. A second later, and Greg isn't sure how it happened so quick, his cock is between Nick's lips and he is bucking under him. Nick laughs and holds him down easily. Greg pants and whines high and needy because all that heat and slick wetness, all that sweet writhing muscle all at once he thinks he is going to rip in two. Now he knows how that hamburger felt being torn apart and swallowed by such a gorgeous mouth. Absolutely glorious. Then he's licking at his balls, a few wet stripes, just to confuse him, then back down on him, taking him deep into his throat. Greg clenches his teeth and makes an unearthly noise. Nick drags his lips up over him, swirls his tongue around his cock head then sucks his way off. He looks Greg in the eye and addresses him softly. "G. We're in a hotel room," he warns softly. "I guarantee you juror number five heard that."
Greg pants, then laughs a little. "You're killing me. What do you want me to do? Lay here like a rock?"
"I think I want..." Nick doesn't finish his sentence, just licks his red swollen lips. "Do you have any condoms?"
Greg shivers a little. Yes. This is what he needs. Wait. No. "No...Do you?"
Nick looks at him again, cock head an inch from his parted lips. "No."
They just sort of look at each other a moment before Nick puts his cock in his mouth again. It feels good but it isn't enough to distract him from the reality. "Wait wait."
"It's ok G. Lots of ways we can have fun."
"Oh no," he says and starts to squirm away. "No way. I've been thinking about this for too long. I am NOT letting this one go. We got stuck in this place because of that dickhead D.A., we got shortchanged a room and a bed, I bit my tongue, I lost my burger, and now, you're telling me I don't get to do this? We're going to leave here tomorrow and go back home and to our jobs and then this is never going to happen again, Nick. I know it. We might even try to hang out or something but it'll never happen again if we can't make it happen tonight."
Nick doesn't point out that if half of that didn't happen they likely wouldn't be naked in bed together. He doesn't want to hear that right now. Disappointment is tough, especially if there is enough of it. It's like walking through tar to get unmired from that feeling. He props a forearm under his head and says through his fingers, "So what do you want to do?"
Greg's brow flattens and he gets up quickly. He starts throwing clothes on, his slacks and his shirt. "In five minutes, I'm going to come up the south stairwell. You distract the guard away from it, and I'll sneak back in the room."
Nick gapes at him. "Distract the guard? Greg."
"Just get him out of the hallway and I'll meet you back in the room." He shoves a key card in his pocket with his wallet.
"How are you going to get out?"
Greg grins at him and opens the balcony door and disappears. Nick throws some pants on and runs out there as well. He bites his lip, looks around but Greg is just gone. He looks down over the railing just in time to see Greg land quietly on the ground. Looks to Nick like he hung from their balcony, dropped to the one below it, hung from that one and dropped to the ground. "What a monkey," he mutters to himself as he watches Greg bolt across the dark street toward the nearby glowing signs of a corner store. He wonders if Greg landed on his burger.
Nick closes the balcony door and pounds his fist into his palm. "Distract the guard, distract the guard..."
There's a beat cop outside, sitting in a chair at the end of the hallway. They saw him when they got to their room. No one they knew. Nick spends the next four minutes or so trying to decide what excuse would be least likely to cause him to lose his job should Greg get caught. In the end he can't think of a way in which either one of them would remain employed if he got caught, so the damage being done already, he decided the best plan would be the one that doesn't allow him to get caught. Which means getting out the door right now. He was about to put a shirt on, but then stopped, just in case the cop outside was gay too. Wouldn't be the first time he used his body to his advantage.
He trots down the hall toward the forty-something guard sitting in his chair with his newspaper, nods at him and pushes the release on the door to the north stairwell. "Ho ho ho," he says and Nick hears the newspaper shuffle as he drops it and stands. "You aren't allowed to leave."
Nick smiles. "Oh, no I'm just gettin' my burger. I dropped it."
"What?" Magic. Confusion is your friend, and the best lie is the one closest to the truth.
"I was eatin' my burger on the balcony and I dropped the whole damn thing, container and all. I'm just going to see if it's still edible. Prolly isn't but I might get lucky and it might have stayed in the container, you know." He takes another step into the stair well, drawing the officer in with him.
"No, I'm sorry, sir. But you're not allowed to leave. You'll have to call room service to have them bring you another one or something, but I can't let you go outside."
Nick glances past the uniform once and smiles. "Alright, man. Just seems kinda silly." There is the sound of a door shutting quietly and the cop looks blearily down the hall, sees nothing.
Nick edges past the cop through the door he holds open for him, tweaks his pecs at him a couple of times at their closest proximity, smiles, and heads back to the room, trying to walk normally despite the leaden weight of his cock in his pants.
He enters the room and grins at Greg who is quietly unpacking the paper bag from the convenience store as if this was normal, as if he hadn't just accomplished a very risky, stupid thing, as if they did this kind of thing all the time.
"I got condoms, I got chips, cuz I'm still hungry, I don't know about you, and I got beer."
Nick laughs out loud and moves in to grab hold of Greg and kiss him thoroughly, emphatically. It sounded like he was about to say something else, but it couldn't have been as important as this.
Nick breaks the kiss eventually and looks into Greg's lax face. He still has his eyes closed and lips parted, still swamped with the kiss, and Nick chuckles and feels just a little smug too. "As daring as your escape was, Greg," he starts. Greg's eyes flutter open to look at him, "we could have done this another day. Really. I wasn't planning on going home and just pretending it didn't happen."
"I need more stories to tell my grand kids," Greg mumbles and shrugs and smirks sleepily all at once like most of Greg is gone on vacation, but the part that does the talking stayed behind to keep an eye on the place.
"You're going to tell your grand kids how you endangered your job so you could have gay sex with a coworker?"
"Meh. It'll be the roaring twenty thirties by then. Gay sex with coworkers will be as common as...robot...shoes..."
Nick can only shake his head.
Greg returns to his body and pulls a brown bottle of some beer Nick doesn't recognize from the bag with a smile. Then the smile falls. "Shit."
Nick takes the bottle from him and knocks it carefully and perfectly against the dresser top with his fist, popping the cap off neatly and sending it tumbling to the floor. Greg smiles and takes the bottle back, hands him another. Nick knocks that cap off too off like a pro, like maybe he's done that once or twice before, and offers Greg his bottle neck. Greg clinks his bottle against Nick's. They make a funny low wooden sound almost, perfectly full, cold beers, and it tastes like heaven going down.
Nick has a sip or two, and watches Greg swoon and transform just a little before his eyes into someone he thought he used to know; Greg Sanders. Just something about beer he supposes. Man feels more like a man if he can have a bottle of suds. Doesn't necessarily need to even have it, just know that he can.
Nick puts his beer down, then takes Greg's hand, takes the beer from it, puts it next to his own on the night stand. Off comes Greg's shirt again to reveal a lovely soft chest, and Greg complies easily at first. Then Nick's hands go to appreciate that chest, come up slowly to touch or embrace and Greg mirrors him, takes his hands instead. The pairs of hands come down and Nick's escape to Greg's flanks and feel the young man shiver and tense against him. Nick smiles, chuckles. "Relax, Greggo."
Greg doesn't say anything, just sort of looks down and to his right in an artificial way.
Nick stops, his hands come off Greg's flanks and instead cup his face, turning it back to him. He waits until Greg's eyes find the courage to look at his. "Too soon?"
Now Greg remembers. He remembers why he isn't the old Greg anymore. Chris. The guy he had been seeing when he got blown up. That hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped. He said it had nothing to do with him being injured, that it wasn't because he had angry red scars all over his back. No, nothing to do with that. They'd been screwing like crazy up until that point, then after, nothing. And the one guy he had gone out with since then wouldn't touch that part of him, wouldn't even put his arms around him after he showed him the first time. Thing is, they're not all that bad. Greg saw a lot worse just going for treatment in the burn ward. His scars are nothing compared to some of those people. And since he got beat up, well, he hasn't bothered going to a club or anything. He isn't purple and green anymore, but going anywhere alone is harrowing, and he hates that as much as he hates being alone. Greg never used to hate anything.
Greg swallows.
Nick doesn't think it's too soon. He stops and considers for a second if he thinks that because he wants to think it, or if he thinks it regardless of his wants. No. It's a real thought. He thought it before this happened. It's not too soon for them anyway. In fact, he'd say it was bordering on too late. You can only get so familiar with someone before it has to either change and move forward, or settle into what it is permanently. Greg is right about one thing. They fail tonight it's possible one of them won't be able to come to the table again.
Nick runs his left hand up from Greg's jaw into his hair. Then down to his neck, and Greg's hand comes up over his forearm sharply. Nick stops, looks Greg in the face, and continues with caution. Greg isn't trying to stop him, just trying to stop himself.
He runs a gentle hand down Greg's back, down the right side, straight over all of it, the good skin and the bad all at once and Greg has to stifle a truly immasculine gasp. Nick's hand returns to his hip and he smiles at Greg. "You wanna lay down?"
Greg swallows again. "K."
Nick backs them the few inches to the bed and Greg hesitates, still doesn't want to turn his back to him, but Nick is just looking, waiting patiently, and Greg does it. He turns, feels Nick's eyes on him as he crawls to the far side of the bed and leans up against the headboard. Nick follows closely.
"C'mere," he says again. Greg could listen to him say that the rest of his life and not get tired of it, even if it is a little scary right now, he knows he'll get over it. Greg scoots closer to him, but Nick's hands come in and guide him without words exactly where he wants him, on his stomach, laying down like a baby with hands loose beside his head. Then those hands are stroking down his back, and it's like soft sweet music over an old radio, the signal breaking up and fading here and there as the tune slips with Nicks fingers over his scars.
Nick makes a sound like a thoughtful hum. "Can you feel anything here anymore?"
Greg blinks over and over and tries to keep his breathing level. "A bit." Yes.
Nick runs his fingers over all of it. The places where the skin is lumpy, or thick or thin, the places where he knows it's an unnatural white, fragile feeling and stretched looking, places where it's still red like it's barely skin at all, traces over the particular shapes the scars have made. The glass fragments that hit him in the blast took out angular chunks of skin here and there, and the burning liquid just dappled him with fluid looking scars all over, tiny spatter marks on his arms and legs, larger parts on his back on top of the glass burns. You can even see where the liquid dripped down his flank and burned the drip mark permanently into the skin.
"You know, Greggo, Nick says softly as he paints Greg's back in more relaxing, gentle strokes, "You and I have seen more than our fair share of shit since we started this job."
Greg smirks into the pillow a little. "You can say that again."
Nicks shifts then, down, and stretches out next to Greg on the bed. His arms encircle him and he presses a kiss to his neck. Greg realizes then, and it feels like the most enormous relief he's felt in months, that he doesn't have to explain this to Nick. He already knows. He doesn't have to warn him that he was recently beat into a bloody pulp and that he spooks easily. He doesn't have to tell Nick all about the explosion and relive it at a time when that is the last thing he wants to do, the last memory he wants to revisit. Not that anything Nick does is likely to spook him, he knows him too well. A little smile creeps over his face and his eyes slip closed. He tries to just breathe and enjoy this a moment, leans his head back against Nick's shoulder.
Nick kisses his neck again and lets his lips brush Greg's ear as he speaks. "Did you mean what you said earlier? About waiting for this a long time?"
Greg smiles and tries not to look too bashful. "Well, yeah."
"Since when?"
"Um...maybe...day two."
"Day two?"
"Day one," he admits.
"Why didn't you say anything you big goof?"
"I thought you were straight!"
"Well you could have asked."
"Oh yeah that would have been a great conversation if it turned out you were straight."
"I thought your friends knew you were gay."
"We weren't friends day one were we?"
Nick just smiles, smirks with a suspicious glare, then crushes Greg's head in the crook of his elbow. "I think you knew."
"I didn't!" He squeaks from within Nick's grip, struggling, laughing to get free though it is positively hopeless.
"Why else wouldn't you tell me in the like, what is it, seven years I've known you? You knew, at least on some level and you just didn't say anything because you were scared."
He lets him go and Greg glares at him with mussed hair and a pinked face. "Fine then, why didn't you say anything?"
"I did not come equipped with any kind of gaydar whatsoever," he says matter-of-factly.
"That's a sad excuse. You still could have told your friend that you weren't completely one hundred per cent totally and otherwise not bent. What did you think I'd do? Freak out?" He makes an exaggeratedly incredulous face.
Nick laughs and pulls Greg up to lay squarely on top of him. "I thought you'd tell everyone!" He doesn't quite resist the urge to roll his hips against him.
Greg hums and brushes his lips against Nicks chest once. "How do you know I won't now?"
"I don't care if you tell people," Nick says then and finds it true at the moment. In the long run it could be a bad idea, the police force not being the gay-friendliest workforce, but for right now, he didn't care. Greg just chuckles at him, understanding, Nick thinks, but he also thinks Greg isn't going to breathe a word either. He is directly involved after all, or will be in a moment or two if Nick has a say in it. "G," he says after a moment of nothing. Greg meets his gaze with his own deep chocolate brown eyes. "Can I get you naked again?"
A smile forms on his face and he gets up, rolls off Nick to his back and pulls his pants off. Nick joins him and lifts the covers for both of them.
"Now where did we leave off?"
"Um, I believe..."
"Oh yeah. I remember," Nick says and disappears beneath the sheets with a sharky grin. Greg groans instantly, even before Nick gets his mouth around him. Greg can't see what is going on down there but God it feels good. Nick swallows him whole it feels like, wraps his fist around the base of his cock and strokes in counterpoint to his lips on the head. He is left panting and squirming in just a few minutes. Then Nick moves back up and his smiling head pops up from beneath the sheet.
They catch their breath for a moment, and Nick breathes humidly on his chest and neck and steals a few wet kisses with swollen lips.
Greg looks down at him. "So uh..." he says intelligently and makes a vague gesture with eyes and shoulders.
"Top," Nick says with arched unassuming brows as if Greg had asked him if he wanted fries or cole slaw.
Greg grins. "Ok," he says cheerfully, breathlessly.
Nick rips open a condom with his teeth and rolls it down, anticipation vibrating through him.
Greg watches as Nick puts two thick fingers into his mouth and curls his toes under the blankets. Nick urges his legs up with the other hand and feels down Greg's thigh, traces it to his bottom and gingerly slips a finger into him. Greg knows how to do this. He's a god damned pro actually, and smiles up at Nick as he slips in the second and strokes in and out of him just a little. Greg squirms a bit because fingers are nice, but he wants cock. He is ready for cock, lots of.
Nick obliges. And either it's been longer than Greg thinks since the last time he got nailed, or Nick's cock is bigger than he estimated on his first examination, (he didn't get to measure it orally after all) because when he pushes at Greg's entrance and then just slides in to the hilt with a sigh, it seems to push all the air right out of Greg, fill him and seal him up for good. Greg's mouth hangs open a bit and his eyes flutter shut. The pressure is immense and Nick isn't satisfied with just that either because he pushes and Greg makes this inarticulate noise and grabs hold of Nick's shoulders suspended above him.
Nick stops there and breathes a second. So good - so tight, so hot, and he has to lean over, has to stretch down over Greg's long folded limbs at which his eyes open to dark and smoky half moons, and then close again as he stretches up to meet Nick's face half way. Their lips seal together too and tongues touch and fondle gently.
Why is that so good? Greg only has a fleeting moment to marvel before Nick pulls away, and out, and then spreads his knees wide like a torqued crossbow and uses that force backed by his hands gripping tightly to Greg's shoulders to piston into him. Greg's mouth falls open wide again and he starts panting. So much pressure, so full, and nothing he could possibly do about it, and he couldn't be happier about that lack. Nick is far more aggressive than Greg had been expecting. He's always so gentle, so overwhelmingly considerate, and while Greg never really considered what sort of emotional role he would play in bed, not ever, he kind of figured he'd be much like Nick always is, thought after seeing Greg's body, he would have to remind him that he isn't fragile, no matter how he looks, that he isn't a girl. No reminder necessary though. Nick is sweating already, all that muscle wrapping tight around him and churning under damp skin, his fingers anchor themselves into the chinks in Greg's bones, it seems, his jaw alternately open and clenched, and his eyes dark and fixed on Greg. His cock reaches deep inside of him with each heavy stroke and knocks a little more of the sense out of Greg's mind. Nick, after a time, leans down and crushes Greg while he fucks him, and Greg thinks he is starting to go numb in places. He feels an ache in his groin, his neglected cock is half hard and trapped between their bodies. Greg wants more on that, wants to come even as Nick slowly steals away the parts of Greg that want or need things by overloading every sense with pressure and heat, his tongue filling Greg's mouth, the smell of his sweat filling his nose. Greg can't open his eyes anymore. He wants to cry out because the slam deep inside of him is so fucking good, but he can't with so much sweet wet tongue in his mouth All he can manage is a whimper. And then some masochistic part of him decides to let Nick really kill him. He's this close anyway. His cock trapped and rubbed raw under Nick's jerking, groaning body, his legs stretched and tingling, burning, why not make it complete? Greg changes the tilt of his hips, curls his spine under and lifts with taught abs until he hits the spot. Nick's cock glances off his prostate suddenly and sharply with every hard stroke now and Greg's head launches to the side so he can gasp over and over. It hurts so good, he sees stars and streaks behind his eyes for a second before he has to stop. He cants his hips back down so that sick erotic pole glides softly over the spot now with a shimmering burn instead of all that force and impact and hears Nick chuckle above him. Greg catches his breath even as Nick grinds away at him, but not for long. Nick takes a juicy bite out of his neck and then lifts off of him and out. Greg heaves and swallows hard and sighs with each fast exhale as Nick turns him to his side, lets his bottom leg stretch out and down and presses his other knee up toward his chest and renters him. He showed his hand a little early there perhaps. Nick has control of his hips now, and illustrates that fact by scooting a little to his right, squeezing his long leg to him tightly, and very squarely nudging his cock head against his prostate again. Greg yells, and Nick tosses a pillow at his face which Greg eagerly bites.
Nick is grinning he thinks, or he would be if he weren't breathing so hard. Greg is more fun naked than he even is not. And Greg, while he's been less than the class clown as of late, is usually a very fun kind of guy. But this. His ass is so so hot, relaxed, and begging for him. Some guys are pussies about this. They want cock but once they get it they don't know what to do with it. Greg just takes it. And loves it. And Nick knows he loves it because he's whining and drooling into the pillow, almost crying. He finds himself regretting never asking Greg before this, because they could have been doing this a lot sooner, and longer, because if Greg is willing, and he thinks he will be, Nick is going to try to make a habit of this.
Greg finds to his surprise that he is coming. And that's never happened before. Not coming, but just coming, coming before coming. Hot white come is pouring out of his dick but without the usual fanfare and fireworks and fantastic chemicals in his brain. Greg moves and Nick allows it and just looks at the come all over his hands. Nick stops and breathes.
He pants a few times. "I didn't think you went off."
"I didn't. I don't think."
"Oh," he says, breathes. "Cool," and continues.
Nick turns Greg to his back again and fucks him hard and fast until they make the bed squeak and then some. Nick's cock is going to explode, that's what it feels like. He loves that feeling, and is pretty sure he's grinning again. He's going to come in a few seconds here. Tries to strike that balance, because that moment right before you go is the sweetest, but at the same time, Greg needs to catch up. He's gasping for air below Nick, writhing and whining and gorgeously undone, but he's not as close as Nick. Nick takes Greg's lax hand in his own and smears Greg's come over his fingers and palm, quickly, roughly, then grabs his cock and starts stroking it. Greg lurches and gasps and grapples with Nick. He really can't cope any longer and his thrust becomes erratic as orgasm shoots up his body and down his arms. A few notes escape his mouth while his cock pulses and warmth surrounds the head. He keeps up his work on Greg's cock to his credit, and it is straining, hot, hard as a rock and purple in his hand even as Nick struggles to remain upright while he floats down from his peak. He keeps his hand moving fast and light over the head and keeps his own cock buried inside of Greg because he knows he'll appreciate that, and knows that he'll be rewarded with the milking of his body when he comes.
Greg comes too after what seems like forever in limbo, and it's shockingly painful. He's never come this dry before and his nuts ache powerfully as his body tries to pump out what isn't there. Greg grabs the pillow again and bites it and growls into it as his hips lurch and he spasms all over. His cock pulses but almost nothing comes out. The good side? It rips up him like electricity and leaves every nerve in his body singing like a chorus of millions of pinpoint angels all over every inch of him. Nick's fingers slow on him and he shivers. Then Nick makes any further movement voluntary or otherwise impossible by collapsing on top of Greg, breathing hard and sweating and hot as an engine.
Greg manages to pull one arm out from between them and Nick feels like a pile of slick rubber. Greg flops that arm down over Nick's smooth wet back and leaves it there.
"Sorry," Nick croaks after a time and starts to heave his weight off of Greg. "Didn't mean to smother you."
Oh look, regular ol' Nick is back. Greg grins sleepily. And he thinks maybe, so is Greg. "No problem. I'm here for your smothering pleasure," he says.
Nick shifts his weight back on arms and legs and flattens down again to kiss Greg several times, soft and sweet, before flopping down next to him to breathe and let the sweat evaporate from him. He is really going to need a shower. That'll be fun in the morning. Sleepy soapy Greg. Yeah. They're definitely going to have to make this a regular thing. Greg looks like he is fighting off sleep, so Nick reaches over and grabs their beers and the chips, flips on the TV with the volume down low.
"Shouldn't we get to bed?" Greg asks and yawns. "We have to go to court in like...six hours."
Nick shrugs. "We'll be out of there by noon. Then we can go crash at my place."
A little something trills in Greg's gut at that idea. "What about my fish?" he says, though, just for appearances.
Nick rolls his eyes and smiles. "Fine, your place then. I didn't want to invite myself over."
Nick flips through a few channels until Greg stops him. "Oh, Disney Channel. That's way better than Skinamax. Way more homosexual undertones."
Greg's beer is sweating like Nick, and he takes the condensation in his fingers and touches Nick's tiny right nipple. He smirks and rubs it off with his arm then takes Greg's hand in his own. "Hey you wanna go see the third pirate movie this weekend?" he asks him then and feels like such a girl, but happy.
"Sure. I heard Bloom is exceptionally hot in this one."
"Meh, Johnny Depp is hotter," Nick says with a shrug.
"Yeah but you'd still bone Orlando."
Nick shrugs acquiescence. "That guy has to be gay."
"Definitely."