Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
Title: Not Even Poets 3/?
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Warnings: other pairings implied
Summary: Between waffles, bad words, and asteroids, Nick has a lot to think about.
A/N: Just in case you care, the last, oh, half of this is what I wrote that one night when I woke up with the scene already in my head and it felt so perfect and just flowed out of me. Not that I think it's the most amazing thing I've ever written, but it's not bad, and that was a really nice feeling so I'm not going to knock it.
---------------------------
Maybe it wouldn't have seemed so intense if he hadn't just spent twenty minutes
riding
back to the lab in Warrick's Tahoe, listening to the haunting voice of a woman
he'd never
heard before. And it had been on the tip of his tongue to ask Warrick what the
hell they
were listening to, but he knew that Warrick's taste in music was better than
his, and he
didn't want to admit that he had no idea who the low, impassioned voice belonged
to.
The last song hadn't even been in English. He wasn't good with languages, but
he
recognized French when he heard it, even if he didn't understand a word, and the
song
had definitely been in French, highlighting the heartbreak and darkness of the
woman's
voice, and the lights of the city had seemed to blur as he stared out the
window, and he'd
already felt odd and detached as he walked into the locker room to stow his
jacket before
he even saw Greg.
Greg was laughing, as he walked past Nick, definitely not locked in the same
intense spell
that Nick was, saying something about it being the last time he tested the DNA
lab's
emergency showers without a raincoat. Warrick was laughing, too, but Nick just
leaned
against the lockers listening, that deep woman's voice still swirling around in
his head
singing about something that he didn't understand. He watched as Greg stripped
his
sopping wet t-shirt off and tossed it onto the bench and he was thinking about
the fact
that he'd never expected Greg to have freckles across his chest and shoulders
when Greg
turned and headed over towards the shelf where the lab kept its cheap, thin
towels that
Nick thought always smelled like motel rooms.
And he couldn't remember if he'd ever seen Greg's back before. He knew for sure
that he
hadn't seen it since the explosion, but had he seen it before that? Had he seen
it back
when it was flawless and covered in the same freckles as his shoulders? He must
have.
Either that or he just imagined it a lot, which was a definite possibility,
because he still
expected it to be flawless and smooth, and the reality of just what Greg looked
like
beneath his clothes shook him.
And Nick had known, somewhere, that Greg had suffered second- and third-degree
burns,
had known that he'd been in the hospital for two weeks, had known that he'd been
nervous when he got back, jumpy in the shiny new DNA lab the city had patched
together
in a remarkably short span of time. Nick had just never known that Greg's burns
had been
that extensive, that they'd scarred like that, that he'd had skin grafts.
Because those
perfect rectangular strips of lighter colored skin on his lower back, that's
what they were,
right? Donor sites for a skin graft?
Nick shot a quick look at Warrick, and if Warrick was shocked to see the extent
of Greg's
scarring, he hid it well. He continued to joke with Greg, suggested they rig
the emergency
showers to go off whenever Ecklie got close to them. Greg was laughing, still,
as he
toweled off his hair and dried his arms and chest, walking back to his locker
where he
changed into a fresh black t-shirt with a band logo on it that Nick didn't
recognize.
"Your locker's looking good, man," Warrick said as Greg sat on the bench to
secure his
new lock.
Greg's mouth quirked into a smile. "Shiny and new," he said, rubbing the front
of it.
"Did they�"
"Shoe polish," Greg said, turning to straddle the bench so he could see Warrick
better.
"QD's working on the handwriting, but it's not like it's high priority."
"It should be," Warrick said. "A hate crime right in our own lab?"
"It wasn't a�"
"Hey, it doesn't have to be true for it to be a hate crime," Warrick said
firmly. "I don't care
if it started out as a joke, when whoever it was decided to deface your locker
with a death
threat, it became a crime."
Greg shrugged and propped his foot up on the bench as if he needed to tighten
his
shoelaces. Nick suspected he just didn't want to make eye contact.
Nick sat on the bench next to Greg, could see the scar where it snaked past
Greg's collar
and curled around the side of his neck. He waited until Warrick was gone to
ask, "You up
for breakfast this morning?"
Greg looked up at him and grinned. "Sure," he said, his voice upbeat. Nick
noticed that
his smile didn't reach his eyes.
**********
"Eat them," Greg said in a low voice, dancing a bite of waffles on the end of
his fork in
front of Nick's face. "Eat the carbs. The carbs command you."
Nick laughed and rolled his eyes. "Syrup is pure sugar�nothing else. Do you
know how
bad for you that is?"
Greg popped the waffles into his own mouth and chomped down on them. After he'd
swallowed he smiled. "Mmm. Syrup is tasty and good." He took another bite.
"Do you
know that a low carb diet sucks the calcium right out of your bones?"
"I don't eat low carb," Nick said.
Greg eyed Nick's omelet.
"I don't," he insisted. "I just like to eat a balanced breakfast."
"This is dinner."
"It's seven o'clock in the morning. It's breakfast."
"Yes, but it's the last meal you're going to eat before you go to sleep. We
call lunch lunch
even though we eat it in the middle of the night."
Greg had a tiny drop of syrup on his lower lip and Nick stared at it for a
moment, felt the
sudden urge to lean across the table and lick it away, suck on Greg's lips and
see if his
mouth tasted like maple syrup, and that was bad. That was very, very bad,
because he'd
thought about Greg before, but then it hadn't seemed possible. Before, Greg had
been
straight, at least in Nick's mind, and he hadn't even been tempted to kiss him
because
he'd learned early on that those were the kinds of impulses that could get him
in a hell of
a lot of trouble.
But now�now Greg was gay. Greg was gay, and he knew Nick was gay, and if Nick
leaned
across the table, trailed his tongue along Greg's full lower lip, tasted the
maple syrup,
tasted Greg's mouth�
Jesus. Greg's tongue snaked out of his mouth to swipe at the dollop of syrup on
his lip,
and Nick had to think about something else. Anything else. Baseball. The
periodic table.
His high school German class.
<i>Wer ist das? Das ist meine Freundin Katrina. Freut mich, Katrina. Danke,
freut mich
auch.</i>
Jesus. He couldn't remember any more. He had to concentrate. Just concentrate
and he'd
be fine. Why couldn't he remember anything else?
Oh, that was right. It was because Greg was taking long, slow gulps of his
coffee and Nick
could see his throat working and he couldn't remember a lick of German because
all he
could think about was lunging across the table and tasting maple syrup and
coffee and
Greg.
The fact that he'd already broken his most important rule�never get involved
with anyone
from work�made it even more difficult. Any rule became easier and easier to
break the
more you broke it.
Though, he had to admit that his relationship with Travis was�not even a
relationship.
Greg had been right when he'd called them fuck buddies, it's just that the
phrase made
Nick feel guilty and weird. Neither one of them even bothered to pretend that
it was
anything other than sex, and while it's all Nick wanted out of the relationship,
it was
strange to have what were basically one night stands with someone he had to see
the next
day.
That's why Greg was different. That's why Nick's rule applied more strongly to
Greg than it
did to Travis. Because Travis was an extended one night stand, but Greg�Greg
was
gorgeous and funny and scarred; Nick didn't think he'd ever be able to get
Greg's scars out
of his head, even if he never saw them again, which he wouldn't because Greg was
just his
friend. Greg was a coworker. Greg was�
Greg was grinning at him, his head cocked to the side like a puppy.
"What?" Nick asked, snapping back to the present.
"Where were you just then?" Greg asked, laughter in his voice.
"Just�thinking."
"Yeah, I figured that part out. Want to share?"
"I�" Nick shrugged. "We've never really�talked. You know. About stuff."
"And what stuff would that be?" Greg asked, blinking his eyes innocently.
"I�about the stuff we said and then when we got back the�" Nick sighed and
looked
down at his omelet.
"Think you could vague that up a little for me?" Greg asked.
"We just�we never really talked about being, you know�"
"Homos," Greg said.
Nick cringed.
"It's just a word, Nick."
"I know, but�"
"Just like faggot's just a word. Even when it's scrawled on my locker, it's
just a word."
"We both know that's not true."
Greg sighed and nodded, played with his fork for a moment. "The thing with
words," he
said softly, "is that they only have as much power as you're willing to give
them. So, yeah,
it hurt to see that written across my locker. I felt like I was back in high
school, which is
really the last place I'd ever want to be. But what's different now is that the
word can't hurt
me anymore. I won't let it. And why's it so terrible, anyway? All it means is
that I'm a guy
who's into guys. Big deal."
**********
Big deal. Greg flashed Nick a small smile and picked up his fork. He'd been
called worse
to his face. Those words on his locker, they didn't mean anything. Never mind
that no
one had called him a faggot in years. Never mind that instead of a high school
bully it was
now someone he worked with, someone who instead of calling him faggot to his
face was
sneaking around stealing his things, trashing his car, defacing his locker. At
least in high
school the bullies had been honest about being assholes. At least in high
school he'd
never had to wonder who it was that hated him.
He looked up at Nick and knew that Nick could see right through him. Nick
didn't buy his
casual attitude for one minute.
"Don't you have a boyfriend to get back to?" Greg asked, smirking again, hoping
to catch
Nick off guard.
Nick's eyes flashed with something he couldn't quite decipher. Guilt?
Embarrassment? "I
don't have a boyfriend," Nick said after a moment.
"Fine. Companion. Paramour. Partn�"
"Fuck buddy," Nick said with a sigh.
Greg laughed at that. Not so much at the idea of Nick with someone else, but at
the fact
that Nick had actually just said <i>fuck buddy</i> with a straight face.
Not that he cared about Nick being with someone else. Not that he cared about
who Nick
slept with. He didn't care. Travis? Sure, Travis was cool. Travis was hot,
actually, and
athletic, laid-back, pretty damn gorgeous. It's not like he could compete.
It's not like he
stood a chance against someone like Travis. It's not like Nick would be
interested in him
even if he wasn't already sleeping with Travis.
"Fuck buddy, huh?" Greg asked.
Nick shifted in the booth and looked away from him.
"Hey, I'm not judging. A man has his needs. I wouldn't kick Travis out of
bed."
"Is he your type?" Nick asked casually. To casually, actually. He was trying
hard to make
Greg think he didn't care what the answer was and Greg smiled his first real
smile in a
long time. Was Nick into him? He couldn't be, could he?
"I don't really have a type," Greg said honestly. "It's more about the
connection I have with
a guy than what he looks like. Although, I do have a few things that are
nonnegotiable. "
"Such as?"
Greg wet his lips with his tongue, took a sip of coffee and, yeah, Nick was
definitely
looking at his mouth. "Well, he has to understand science," he said. "I'm not
talking
doctorate level or anything, but he should be able to keep up when I play name
that
chemical compound."
"You play name that chemical compound outside of the lab?"
Greg smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He trailed his finger through a
dollop of syrup
on his plate and brought it up to his mouth, sucked the syrup off slowly. "And
he has to
get my job. Not that he has to think it's the best thing in the world, but he
has to know
why I do it. He has to get why I'm willing to put in so much overtime to get a
position that
is, essentially, a demotion."
"Being a CSI will be a demotion?" Nick asked with a distracted grin. His eyes
hadn't left
Greg's mouth since he'd sucked syrup off his finger.
"Going from running the best DNA lab in the country to being a CSI level one?"
Greg asked.
"Yeah, that's a demotion. But he has to get why I'm doing it, not just flip
when he finds
out that I'm taking a serious pay cut."
"How serious?"
"Serious. He has to be fun, too. And I don't mean a party boy; I mean he has
to be up for
new experiences. I like to try new things."
"Such as?" Nick's voice was thick. He cleared his throat.
Greg shrugged. "Lots of stuff. I've never gone scuba diving off the Great
Barrier Reef. I've
never surfed Australia, either. I like going to see new bands, like to try new
food. I'll try
almost anything once. How do you think I learned so much about liquid latex?"
Nick set his coffee down quickly and nodded. He used his napkin to soak up the
coffee
that had sloshed over the side of his mug and cleared his throat again. "That
wasn't just
talk?"
Greg shook his head. "No. Can't say it was the best experience of my life, but
it was OK.
Much better than the last foam party I went to. Not that anyone died. That
would have
made it even worse. Do you remember that? The guy who was found dead at the
foam
party?"
"Yeah," Nick said. "I, uh, I remember."
"That would have been worse, definitely. It's just that the foam was supposed
to smell like
pina coladas and instead it just kind of smelled like cheap air freshener so I
had a
headache, and then my date got bitchy because he thought I was lying about
having a
headache so I wouldn't have to fuck around on the dance floor. I mean, what
else do you
do at foam parties? Of course I went there to fool around on the dance floor, I
just
honestly had a headache, plus they were playing this horrific Europop that made
the
headache worse, and then my friend Anna was really bummed because her girlfriend
had
just left her for a guy that worked in a comic book store, and it was pretty
much a bad
night."
"Sounds like it," Nick said. He glanced up at Greg for a moment and Greg smiled
sweetly
at him as he saw the blush rising up Nick's neck. "You've been waiting years to
be able to
tell that story to someone at work, haven't you?"
"No," Greg said. "I told Jacqui the night after it happened."
Nick raised an eyebrow.
"What? I'm out to a few people at work."
"Like who?"
"Jacqui, Mandy, Bobby�pretty much the entire fingerprint and ballistics labs."
Nick sighed. "What were you thinking?"
"What do you mean?"
"You told people at work? Do you know what could happen if it got out?"
Greg shrugged. " When you're out in the field you see different things all the
time, but
when you work the lab, that's all you see for eight, ten, sixteen hours every
day. Of course
we're going to end up talking to each other�there's nothing else to do when the
thermal
cycler's running and AFIS is searching for a hit and no new evidence has come
in. So we
talk and hang out and get to know each other, and it takes too much energy to
lie to
people you like. So I tell the truth." He shrugged again. "If somebody
dislikes me
because of it, that's their problem, not mine."
"But they can make it yours. You don't know what the PD can be like."
"Of course I do," Greg said. "I just prefer to have faith in people." He
laughed and rolled
his eyes. "And then somebody paints 'Die Faggot' on my locker. Obviously, it's
not
exactly foolproof."
"Do you think it's really someone who knows that you're gay or just�I mean,
people use
that word a lot even when they don't think it's true."
"I don't know," Greg admitted. "But it's Sara's case and she's really pissed
off, so I'm sure
I'll find out eventually." He popped the last bite of waffle into his mouth and
stretched his
legs out as he chewed, making sure they brushed against Nick's legs.
Nick pulled his legs back quickly and Greg noticed he seemed more than a little
flustered.
Greg smiled.
"So, I had a friend of mine hook a sweet video game system up to my TV," he
said. "You
wanna see it?"
"What is it?" Nick asked. "Like, a new Xbox prototype or something?"
Greg smiled and shook his head. "Nope. I've been feeling old school lately.
It's an Atari."
"Atari?" Nick seemed surprised. "I didn't even know they made those anymore."
"They don't. I may have the only fully functional Atari system in the greater
Las Vegas
area."
"Atari," Nick said. "Like, what? Pong?"
"Pong," Greg said, nodding. "Frogger. Asteroids."
"Asteroids? Man, I loved asteroids."
"Asteroids," Greg said. "You have to check it out."
**********
"Oh, ouch," Greg said as he put down his joystick. "That's gotta hurt, man.
Sorry."
Nick glared at Greg out of the corner of his eye but couldn't help but return
Greg's smile.
"I'm out of practice," he said. "I haven't played Asteroids in something like
20 years.
Jesus. Are we that old?"
"Speak for yourself," Greg said. "I'm still in my 20's."
"Oh," Nick said, "now that hurts. Christ."
"Yeah, well, I turn 30 in a few months, so�" He shrugged.
"30 hurt," Nick told him. "I'm OK with it now, but when I turned 30, man�" He
shook his
head.
'Thanks. You're really making me look forward to it."
"Hey, it's not that bad," Nick said, reaching up to touch Greg's shoulder. He
meant to give
him a reassuring shake, but instead he saw the scar, the one that slipped up
past Greg's
collar, shiny and pale and he had to touch it. He pressed his fingers to the
smooth skin,
traced over the scar and then further up Greg's neck to feel the difference in
texture. Greg
shivered and turned and pressed his mouth to Nick's gently.
"Greg," Nick whispered as Greg moved closer to him. "Greg, we shouldn't�"
"Mmm-hmm," Greg said as he leaned in for another kiss. His lips were full and
soft and
they parted as Greg kissed him and Nick could feel the tip of Greg's tongue
against his
lower lip, knew that all he had to do was part his lips and he'd know what Greg
tasted like
and�he groaned into the kiss.
He wasn't disappointed, because Greg did taste like coffee and maple syrup and
even
better than that was just the taste of his mouth, the taste of his tongue, the
smell of
Greg's skin suddenly so close to him, chemicals and sweat and Greg, so good and
so close
and he knew he should stop it. He knew he should pull away and tell Greg that
they
couldn't, that they worked together. He knew he was the one who had to stop it,
knew
that Greg was too young and too inexperienced when it came to things like
interoffice
romance, but then Greg's fingers were sliding over his scalp and Greg's tongue
was hot in
his mouth and Greg's body felt so good pulled close against his own.
Then Greg pulled away and Nick felt a stab of fear in his belly. He didn't want
Greg to pull
away, didn't want Greg to tell him what he already knew, that it was a bad idea.
"Come on," Greg whispered, kissing him quickly and pulling him up off the floor.
Nick
kissed him back and sighed, the fear disappearing as they stumbled their way to
Greg's
bedroom.
**********
Greg kissed his way down Nick's chest slowly, felt more than heard Nick's sharp
intake of
breath as he trailed his tongue down his sternum to his hard, flat stomach. He
kissed
Nick's stomach, smiled as it jerked beneath his lips, kissed it again. He
kissed down to
Nick's bellybutton, trailed his tongue around it, and Nick shivered and reached
down to
stroke Greg's hair.
He kissed his way down his abdomen until he could feel Nick's cock jutting
against his
chin. He leaned down to take the head into his mouth and Nick's hand tightened
in his
hair and his hips arched up towards the warmth of Greg's mouth.
Greg pulled back and kissed the tip of Nick's cock, slowly slid his tongue along
the slit,
dipped the tip of his tongue in to tease out a drop of bitter precum. Nick's
free hand
found his shoulder and gripped it tight, and his hips jerked up impatiently but
Greg was
going to take his time because he wanted to make Nick moan.
He slid his tongue along the underside of Nick's cock, felt the weight of it as
he slid back
up, kissed the tip again and swirled his tongue around the head. Nick
shuddered, his
fingers digging hard into Greg's shoulder, but he didn't make a sound.
Greg licked his lips, then wrapped them around the head of Nick's cock. He
formed a tight
"O" with his mouth and slipped Nick's cock in and out slowly, twisted his head
to slide his
lower lip along the underside of Nick's cockhead and he was sure that would make
Nick
scream but all he got was fingers digging into his skin again and the sound of
Nick's
ragged breath.
Greg looked up at him as he took the length of Nick's cock into his mouth. He
slid down a
few inches, back up again, down even further, back up, and Nick's head tipped
back and
his eyes were closed tight and his mouth was open but he didn't moan, and Greg
realized
that Nick was silent in bed.
It didn't surprise him, really. He should have figured Nick would keep the
noises he made
under control since he fought so hard to control everything else. Greg decided
one day
he'd work on making Nick more vocal, but not then. All he was going to do was
keep
sucking Nick's cock until his eyes rolled back in his head and his toes curled
and he came
harder than he ever had before. Because Greg prided himself in being the best
at
everything he did, and his mother had always told him that anything worth doing
was
worth doing well.
He quickly pushed any thoughts of his mother out of his head and parted his
lips,
breaking suction on Nick's cock as he slid even further down. He breathed in
through his
nose and relaxed his throat and he didn't stop until his nose was pressed
against Nick's
pubes.
That earned him a whimper, at least, and he swallowed once, twice, a third time
before he
had to pull back for air and Nick was panting and rocking his hips and his hands
had left
Greg's hair and shoulders to grip the sheets tight.
Greg had to fight from smiling as he continued to suck Nick's cock, bobbing his
head up
and down in a slow, steady rhythm. Nick was quiet so his signs were hard to
read, but
when his hips started jerking faster and Greg felt his thighs tense against his
arms he
pulled off, because he wanted it to last longer than that.
He looked up at Nick, and Nick was looking back down at him with desperate,
pleading
eyes. But he didn't ask, didn't say a word, and though Greg knew exactly what
he wanted,
if Nick didn't ask him for it he was going to take his time.
He tilted his head and kissed the smooth skin on the inside of Nick's upper
thigh. He
trailed the tip of his tongue along it and Nick shivered again and arched his
hips up. When
Greg began to lap at his balls, Nick gasped again, and when Greg turned the
gentle laps
into slow strokes with the flat of his tongue Nick actually groaned low in the
back of his
throat.
Greg smiled, mentally cataloguing the fact that Nick liked having his balls
licked so he'd
remember to do it next time. And there was going to be a next time. He wasn't
always
sure about things like that, but he was sure with Nick.
"Jesus," Nick panted, tugging at Greg's shoulders. "Just get up here."
And Greg was definitely going to have to teach Nick to be more vocal in bed,
because that
broken, needy voice was one of the sexiest things he'd ever heard in his entire
life.
He pushed himself up so that he was face to face with Nick, and Nick leaned up
to kiss
him hard. He slid his fingers through Greg's hair, slid one hand down his back,
slid his
palm down Greg's spine and pulled their bodies close together.
Greg moaned as he began to rock his hips against Nick, rubbing their cocks
together.
Greg knew he was loud during sex, but he didn't care. He didn't care what he
sounded
like, didn't care what he looked like, thought sex should be about losing
yourself in
pleasure, not about staying in control. And unless sex had involved things like
public
places or parents in the next room, he'd never even tried to keep quiet.
Nick didn't seem to mind. In fact, every time Greg moaned Nick arched up
against him
harder. He brought his fingers to Greg's mouth, but not to quiet him. Greg
parted his
lips, sucked Nick's index and middle fingers into his mouth as they continued to
rock
together. Then Nick pulled his spit-slick fingers out of Greg's mouth and
reached down
and Greg pressed his face into the crook of Nick's neck as he felt Nick's
fingers rub against
his asshole.
He gasped and arched back against Nick's touch, sighed when Nick's fingers
penetrated
him, spreading him. And it was an awkward angle and not nearly as much as Greg
wanted, but it felt too good for him to stop so they could find a better
position.
He licked the sweat that pooled in the hollow of Nick's throat and rocked back
against
Nick's fingers, rocked forward to rub the underside of his cock against Nick's.
He knew he was babbling, knew he wasn't even forming complete sentences, his
words
coming out like, "Fuck so good need you inside me need you to fuck me Nick
please God
so good."
Nick slid his fingers through Greg's hair, pulled his head up, kissed him
fiercely.
"Condoms," he whispered. His voice was so quiet Greg could barely hear him.
"Wha�?" Greg wasn't sure his brain was functioning well enough to understand
speech.
"Condoms," Nick repeated breathlessly. "Where?"
Greg pushed himself up and looked around, took a minute for him to remember what
he
was looking for and where it was, took what seemed like forever before he pulled
open the
drawer in his nightstand. He shivered, Nick's fingers still working slowly in
and out of
him. He was glad Nick was thinking because he was honestly at the point where
if Nick
had wanted to fuck him without a condom, he would have let him.
He fumbled for condoms and the bottle of lube, ripped the condom packet open
with his
teeth and his hands were actually shaking as he pulled it out. Slicked it down
Nick's cock
quickly and flipped the top of the lube bottle open with his thumb and, God, how
was he
supposed to concentrate with Nick's fingers inside him and Nick's hard cock
throbbing,
just waiting to fuck him?
Finally he lubed Nick's cock and pushed up onto his knees, sat up and moved
forward so
they were in the right position before he reached back and held Nick's cock
firmly as he
lowered himself on it.
"Fuck," he gasped as he felt the deliciously painful stretch. It didn't hurt,
not really, but it
had been long enough that it felt more intense than he expected.
"You OK?" Nick was whispering, actually whispering like he was afraid someone
would
overhear him.
Greg nodded as he continued to lower himself onto Nick's cock. He moaned low in
the
back of his throat as he felt Nick's cock slide all the way inside him. He took
a deep
breath, smiled down at Nick as Nick reached up to touch his face, slide his hand
down
Greg's chest and stomach. He gripped Greg's cock in his hand and Greg moaned
again,
braced his hands on either side of Nick's shoulders, and began to move.
He slid up and down on Nick's cock slowly, getting used to it, laughing and
moaning at the
same time every time Nick's cockhead brushed his prostate. He leaned down and
kissed
Nick, sucked on his lower lip for a moment, rocked their bodies together and it
was good,
but he wanted more, so he leaned forward, putting his weight on his hands for
just a
moment as he moved from his knees to his feet so that he could lower himself
down
further, lift himself up higher, use his thighs and the angle of his hips to
make sure Nick
hit the right spot every time.
Nick's mouth was moving, he was forming words but Greg couldn't hear them. He
wanted
to lean forward, wanted to know what Nick was saying, but that would involve
moving and
he wasn't going to stop riding Nick for anything.
He was moaning with every thrust, grunting every time he slammed down onto
Nick's
cock. His entire body was damp with sweat and his thighs were quaking with the
effort
but he wasn't stopping. So good to have Nick inside him, to look down and see
the same
wonder reflected back up in Nick's eyes, so good to feel Nick's hands tight
around his
waist, pulling his body down hard as Nick arched his hips up, slamming them
together.
Then Nick's fingers dug in hard, his nails marking Greg's skin and his eyes
widened and he
cried out, actually let loose an unselfconscious cry as he arched his head back
and his hips
jerked up once and he was coming. Greg could feel him coming, feel the pulses
of his
cock, feel the spurts of his come filling the condom and Nick was coming because
of him,
<i>for</i> him, and that knowledge sent him over the edge.
His fingers curled against Nick's chest, his toes curled hard against the
mattress, and
when he came he knew he was screaming but he didn't care because he never had.
And
even if he had ever cared what he sounded like, he wouldn't have at that moment
because
he'd wanted Nick to come harder than he ever had before, and maybe he had, but
Greg
was definitely coming harder than he ever had before and his vision actually
went blank,
nothing but white like snow blindness and then he collapsed, braced his arms on
Nick's
chest so he could move from his feet onto his knees and let his body drape
forward over
Nick's and he wasn't moving, not ever, not even if he died, though he wasn't
entirely sure
that he just hadn't.
Finally, though, he did move, though he lay over Nick like that for a long time,
shaking,
Nick's hands strong and gentle on his back. Finally he eased off Nick and he
hated the
feeling when Nick's cock left him but it was OK because Nick rolled him onto his
side and
was kissing him over and over again, and that made everything better.
He should make a joke, right? That's what he did. He lightened the mood
whenever it got
too serious, made everybody laugh. He was good at it. It's what he was
supposed to do.
He closed his eyes, unable to think of a single funny thing to say. He heard
Nick sigh, felt
him move as he slicked off the condom and tossed it towards the trash, felt
Nick's strong
hands gentle against his back, moving in small circles and he sucked in air
through his
teeth.
"I�" Nick pulled his hand away quickly. "Does it hurt? Your scars?"
"Just sensitive," Greg murmured, settling himself against Nick's shoulder. He
thought
about covers and pillows and blankets, but he was too exhausted to look for
anything,
even just over the side of the bed on the floor. "Itches if you touch it too
lightly."
Nick's hand was warm and firm against his back as he held Greg close. "Better?"
"Mmm." Greg nodded as he stretched one of his arms across Nick's chest. "Yeah.
Nerves
are weird. Itches sometimes, and then burns if you scratch it, you gotta press
on it and
then sometimes my shirt�" He tried to keep his eyes open but it felt too good
to drift
against Nick. "Cotton's OK, but you have to be careful�" he whispered as he
fell asleep.
**********
Nick stared up at the ceiling, his arms around Greg who was asleep against his
chest. He
could feel Greg's back beneath his palm, feel the difference between his
unblemished skin
and the tight, smooth scars, could feel Greg's chest lift and expand with each
slow breath.
What was he doing? What the hell did he think he was doing? Things had been
bad
enough with Travis, someone he only saw in passing if at all. But Greg? He
worked with
Greg every night. He took Greg out into the field, saw him in the lab, and it's
not like Greg
was a typical trainee, but Nick was, technically, his superior, and Nick knew he
had no
business sleeping with a trainee. Not even Greg.
Christ.
Especially not Greg. The fact that Greg felt so good in his arms didn't matter.
The fact
that he already knew what they'd just done would be his prime jack off material
for years
didn't matter. They were friends. They worked together. There was too much to
lose and
things could get very, very messy.
So he kept his eyes open and he stared at the ceiling. He didn't let himself
think about
how good it felt to hold Greg in his arms. He didn't let himself think about
what a
relationship with Greg would be like. He kept his eyes open and waited, because
he knew
Greg would roll over eventually. Greg would roll over and Nick would be able to
slip out of
bed without waking him and he'd get dressed and go home and nothing like that
would
ever, ever happen again. Because it couldn't. Because Nick could lose his job.
Because
Greg could lose his only chance of getting into the field. He stroked Greg's
scars
absentmindedly as he stared up at the ceiling. Greg couldn't stay in the lab,
Nick knew
that. He understood why Greg was giving up so much for what probably looked to
most
people like a step down, and Nick cared about him too much to jeopardize that.
So he
kept his eyes open and he waited and when Greg finally rolled over he slipped
out of bed,
he got dressed, and he left without saying goodbye.
