The bowling alley a couple of blocks from the lab was rather desolate at nine in the morning—but then again, they'd expected that. It was actually a lot of fun, having the place all to themselves. More room to spread out and talk, their pick of any bowling ball they wanted, and no one to see Hodges embarrass himself with a record number of gutter balls.
Catherine, as she often liked to do, organized their little bowling excursion as another group outing for the night shift crew. Their last had been some time ago—in fact, it was the time they'd all gone out for drinks and Greg ended up molesting Hodges in the bathroom. That was definitely a memory he wouldn't soon forget.
Ironically, watching everyone else bowl was even more entertaining than the activity itself. Some people, like Archie, Sara and Nick, were good, while others, like Henry, and funniest of all, Hodges, were dreadful. Greg wasn't too bad himself; he was actually at the top of the scoreboard for a period of time. At least until Sara got five strikes in a row and left everyone else in the dust.
In between turns, Greg ended up chatting with Doc Robbins about his band for a little while, and then to Sara about the most recent episode of Dexter. It was nice getting the chance to spend a little time with everyone outside of work for once. That was just about the only place Greg saw them anymore.
After blowing his chance for a spare, Greg's cell phone began ringing. Considering he was with everyone from work, it was probably his mother checking in. He excused himself and hurried outside the building for some privacy and fresh air.
It was indeed his mother; Greg talked to her for a little bit, asked how Papa Olaf was doing, then said goodbye. As he stuffed the phone back into his pocket, Nick stepped outside looking for him.
"There you are," he said, hurrying over. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, that was just my mom making sure I'm still alive," he replied, shaking his head. "She worries about me too much. It's why I can't tell her I'm out in the field now. I don't want to give her a heart attack." Greg leaned against the wall, casting the Texan a guilty look. "I know that's horrible..."
"No, Greggo, I understand why you're hesitant." Nick's voice was soft, patient. "But you've been out in the field for a while now. Don't you think she should know?"
"I guess," Greg replied with a shrug. He didn't really feel like talking about his mother anymore, so he switched subjects. "So, is Sara still whooping you?"
"Hey now, she wasn't whooping me," he objected, pressing close to Greg. His hands rested against the wall on either side of his lover's head, trapping him there. "You'd better watch your mouth young man."
Greg rolled his eyes, enjoying the feel of Nick's body pressed up against his. He leaned in for a kiss and the Texan placed a fairly chaste one on his lips. "What was that?" he exclaimed in disappointment. "I've been waiting all night to get you alone somewhere and that's all I get?"
Although that reply brought a smile to Nick's face, his response was not the one Greg wanted to hear. "We're in public, G. Take it easy."
"It's just a kiss, Nicky. I'm not asking you to bend me over your truck and fuck me."
The older man laughed and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, you win." He captured Greg's lips and took his time dipping his tongue into that warm, familiar mouth. It was nice, just for that moment, not having to hide their relationship away. Almost like a taste of being normal.
It wasn't long before Greg was kissing him back harder, rougher; at which point Nick pulled away.
"Sorry," said Greg, colour staining his cheeks. He hadn't meant to do that. It was just so easy getting lost in the moment with Nick. A thunderstorm could be going on around them and he wouldn't even notice.
"Don't be," Nick replied, licking his lips. His lover's impatience was something he actually found endearing at times like this.
Greg cast a fleeting look in the direction of the doorway. "Maybe we should go inside before people start wondering what we're doing out here."
The Texan grinned. "Let 'em wonder," he scoffed, to his own surprise. "I want one more minute with you."
Greg's eyes flickered with delight. In what universe could he ever say no to that? "Hodges will certainly be jealous when he finds out we snuck in some sexy time," the young man remarked with a laugh. Nick was just about to make an amusing comment on Hodges' bowling skills when he was cut off by a voice nearby.
"Greg?" It was Sara. Oh god no.
There was no time to back away from each other. Nick's hands were still trapping Greg against the wall, and their faces were close together. It was an intimate position that spoke of lovers rather than friends—not something they could explain their way out of.
Immediately, Sara stopped in her tracks. Her eyes went wide, and really, who could blame her for being surprised? There was no way she could have prepared herself for a discovery like that.
Nick's hands fell from the wall; not that there was much point by then. She'd already seen them, and now she knew.
"Nick?"
Awkwardly, the Texan stuffed his hands in his pockets. Sara's eyes remained on him for a moment, studying the mortified look on his face, before returning to the younger of the two men. When their eyes met, Greg couldn't tell if she looked angry or disappointed.
"You sneaky bastard. All this time, it's Nick you've been seeing?" For some reason, Greg couldn't find his voice. Even if he could, he wouldn't have known what to say. "Greg!"
"I'm sorry!" he blurted out. "We couldn't let it get out to anyone at work... it's not that I didn't want to tell you."
"Jesus," she muttered, staring off into the distance. "That's why you two are always carpooling."
A sheepish look spread over Greg's face. He wished desperately that the two of them didn't have to sneak around and hide their relationship. If so, he could have told Sara the truth a long time ago and none of this would be happening.
Beside him, Nick cleared his throat. "Listen, Sara—" he began, but was promptly cut off.
"Don't start with me, Nick. You and I are going to have a talk soon; you can count on that." Her tone was sharp. Nick knew enough not to challenge it even if he wanted to. After that, Sara merely shook her head and went back inside.
"Shit," Greg breathed. He was angry; mostly at himself for coaxing Nick into kissing him in public. It was almost the same as when Catherine caught him and Hodges, only Greg didn't feel half as bad about that. This time it was much different, because unlike Catherine, Sara was a close friend. They confided in each other. She probably didn't think much of him now—not after finding out he'd been lying to her all that time.
A strong sense of disquiet settled within his chest.
"This was my fault for following you out here," Nick stated with a frown. When Greg tried to convince the man otherwise, he refused to hear it. For whatever reason, Nick was determined to shoulder the blame and Greg was helpless to change his mind.
"It wasn't fair for her to talk to you that way," said Greg. "I think she may have jumped to some false conclusions because she's been worried about me."
"It's fine, G. Really." He offered the young man a half-hearted smile. "Let's just go back inside, okay?"
The Texan certainly didn't seem fine, but Greg was reluctant to press the subject. "Yeah, alright," he replied, following his lover back inside the building.
Surprisingly, Hodges didn't bring much stuff with him at all. On the day Greg set aside to help him move in, they only ended up making two trips down to David's car—one for his clothes and the other for his cat, Little Kobe, who he of course couldn't leave behind.
The short-haired cat had a beautiful smoky-grey coat of fur, not unlike the colour of Hodges' hair, ironically enough. As soon as the trace technician opened the door to the carrying cage, Mr. K sprang from it like a bat out of hell. He then proceeded to investigate the apartment with due diligence, exploring each new room as Greg and Hodges settled in the bedroom and began unpacking.
"You can have the top two drawers if you want," said Greg, gesturing to his dresser. "I'll make some space in the closet too."
"Are you sure?" Hodges asked, opening the topmost drawer and peering at its contents. In response, Greg shot him an exasperated look that said yes, I'm sure.
"Like I'm going to let you live out of suitcases," he scoffed. "When I asked you to live with me, I was offering to share everything I have with you—including wardrobe space."
Slowly, a smile spread across David's face. He pulled an armful of t-shirts out of the drawer. "Where should I put these, then?"
Greg cast his eyes around the room. "Just toss them on the bed for now," he said. "I'll find a place for them later."
Nodding, Hodges placed the stack of shirts neatly on the edge of the bed, then went back for the rest. "Jeez, could you own any more t-shirts?" he remarked with raised eyebrows. Then, when he went to grab the second pile, something lying at the bottom of the drawer caught Hodges' eye. It looked like a small Ziploc bag of some kind.
"Greg?" He picked it up and frowned at the contents. "Is this what I think it is?"
The young man's eyes went wide. "Uh, weed?" he said, biting his lip. "Wow, I forgot that was there." Hodges continued frowning at the item. "Oh come on, it's just weed," Greg told him, snatching the bag from the trace technician's hand.
"Nick would kill you."
"Yeah well Nick's not here, is he? And you're not going to tell him," said Greg. All Hodges could do was cross his arms over his chest and watch Greg root around in one of his desk drawers.
Hodges wasn't a huge geek. He'd done a few drugs in college. What disturbed him about the current situation was the fact that Greg had evidently been doing this in secret for some time. Obviously he wouldn't want to tell Nick in fear of the man's reaction, but why hadn't he at least told David?
When the CSI returned from his desk with a package of rolling papers and a grinder in hand, David's jaw dropped a little. "Really, Greg—right now?" he asked as his lover took a seat on the bed.
Greg spread his supplies out in front of him. "Why not? We should celebrate your first official night living here."
Hodges was clearly not sold on the idea, and it showed on his face. Greg didn't leave it at that, however. He slithered over to the man with a lustful look in his eyes. "It'd be fun, Davy. We could get stoned, lay in bed together... or just fuck like rabbits if you prefer." With a smirk, Greg kissed up the side of his lover's neck, and a shiver ran down Hodges' spine. "Don't tell me that doesn't sound appealing."
God, that did sound appealing. But then again, David was notoriously weak-willed when it came to denying Greg the things he wanted. Despite this, the trace technician wore a rather skeptical expression.
"And if I don't want to?" he inquired.
The CSI took a step back. Immediately Hodges lamented the loss of warmth on his neck. "Then you'll be missing all the fun," Greg replied with a shrug, "but that's your choice."
Hodges clenched his jaw and watched his lover return to the bed. Sometime during their conversation, Mr. K had wandered into the room. He meowed and rubbed up against his owner's leg until David sighed and picked him up.
"I bet he finds it weird here," said Greg from across the room. He'd already started with the grinder. "Do you think he's adjusting okay so far?"
Mr. K purred happily as the spot behind his ear was scratched. "Well, he hasn't destroyed any of your furniture yet, so I suppose that's a good sign." Once Mr. K looked content, Hodges set him down and took a seat across from his lover on the bed.
"Greg?"
The young man glanced up from his undertaking. "Yeah?"
"How often do you do this?"
"Not on a regular basis if that's what you think," he stated, popping open the grinder. There was a defensive edge to his voice that hadn't been there before. "Oh come on, that's why you're asking, isn't it? To find out if I'm a total stoner?"
Hodges' face softened. "No, I didn't mean to imply that. I was just curious."
Greg gave a quick little nod, but he didn't say anything after that. He was too immersed in rolling the joint, which ended up looking quite professional when all was said and done. Feeling neglected, Little Kobe hopped up onto the bed to investigate what was going on. Hodges had to direct him away from Greg's work area when he got a little too interested in the Ziploc bag, which at least got a laugh out of both men.
"Listen, I didn't mean to sound pushy before," said Greg, reaching into his nightstand for a lighter. He took a moment to lean against the headboard and light the joint. "I'm not offended or anything if you don't want to."
"I do," Hodges told him. "Want to, I mean." There was no denying the way Greg's eyes lit up at those words. "I just feel like Nick would be disappointed, that's all."
The CSI offered him an empathetic look. "C'mere," he urged, shifting so that Hodges could lean back against him. Once the trace technician was snuggled up to him, Greg's arms encircled his waist. "There's no reason to worry. Nick's not going to find out." He rested his chin on David's shoulder and held the joint out in front of the man.
Now, more than ever, Hodges felt acutely aware of how long it'd been since he last did this. Nevertheless, he accepted the joint, brought it to his lips and inhaled. He let the smoke linger in his lungs for several moments before letting it out through his mouth.
"Mmm. I had no idea the Full David Hodges Experience included breaking the law. Maybe you're cooler than I give you credit for," Greg joked, receiving the joint from his lover.
"Funny."
It wasn't long before the routine of passing the joint back and forth between them began to yield results. Hodges let his head fall back onto Greg's shoulder and insisted that the Norwegian bring the joint to his lips for him, which he did. He didn't want to move his arms—they felt strangely heavy for some reason, and it felt so much nicer when Greg did everything for him.
"I'm glad you did this with me." The grey-haired man could feel Greg's smile against his temple. "Nicky wouldn't understand, but I wish we could share this with him too..."
As soon as Nick's name was mentioned, Hodges began picturing the man vividly in his mind. It was so lucid, almost like a movie, and he didn't want to close his eyes in fear that it might go away.
"I like Nick's hands... and his arms," Hodges declared. He couldn't figure out why he'd chosen to say that aloud.
Greg laughed and took another hit from the joint, which was nearly finished by then. "Do you want the last toke?" he asked, but David shook his head. "Or are you gone already?"
Hodges didn't know whether or not he was 'gone', whatever that meant; but for some reason it made him laugh.
"Okay then, I'll take that as a yes," said Greg, inhaling from the joint one last time before ashing it in a cup on his nightstand. After that, his arms slipped back around Hodges' waist and squeezed him tight. It felt so good, just being close to him, feeling the warmth of his body. "God, what a good idea this was. I have good ideas, don't I?" he mused aloud.
"Yeah. Super-duper ideas. Like me moving in."
Greg lapped at the trace technician's earlobe. "Mmm, yeah. Now you're trapped with me. And I can feel you up whenever I want," he laughed, letting one of his hands wander down to his lover's crotch. "Like now."
When Greg's hand curled around him through his jeans, David's breath caught in his throat. Every part of his body was suddenly set ablaze with heat and longing.
"I want you." Greg's fingers popped open the button of the jeans and unzipped Hodges' fly, all the while breathing hotly into the man's ear. Greedily, his hand slipped beneath both jeans and boxers to grasp the hardening flesh beneath. "I want to fuck you so badly," he growled.
Hodges stripped off his shirt right away. The thought of Greg inside of him... he wasn't even aware how badly he wanted that until now.
Next to go were his pants, and which point he swivelled around and helped Greg undress as well. Then, with their clothes strewn haphazard across the bed, Greg stared into his eyes and said, "In my lap."
Again, there was no hesitation from Hodges. He climbed into the young man's lap and kissed him like his life depended on it.
From there, everything seemed to move in slow motion. Not only was Greg's first thrust into his lover deep and devastating, but there was so much more time to savour it. The way Hodges moaned—loud and entirely unconcerned about disturbing Greg's neighbours—had him spellbound, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. The intensity of what they were feeling only grew when Greg found just the right method to rigorously attack his lover's sweet spot.
"You like that?"
"Yes," Hodges breathed, throwing his arms around Greg's neck. When the CSI dragged his tongue over one of David's nipples, he held him even tighter. "Fuck, Greg..."
Craving a change in positions, Greg laid the trace technician on his back. This gave him a much better view of his cock sliding in and out of the man. "Oh shit," he moaned, his voice ragged. Hodges had just purposely clenched around him to create more friction. "Do that again." Hodges was quick in yielding to his lover's command, which sent a thrilling sense of dominance up Greg's spine. "I like it when you're a kiss-ass in this context."
Amusement flickered through David's eyes. Intent on taking it to the next level, he began bucking his hips up to meet each of Greg's thrusts.
"You know, I can do whatever I want with you right now," Greg taunted, an ominous look in his eyes. "Tie you up, blindfold you... make you wear the French maid costume..."
Maybe it was the weed egging him on—or maybe he was just really horny. Either way, Hodges' mind took on a life of its own. "Greg, please... I want you to bite me," he implored.
There was absolutely no hesitation from the CSI. "Where?" he whispered against the man's lips.
"My chest."
Greg flashed a wicked smile and lowered his head toward the area. His lips brushed across a nipple before coming to a stop just beneath his lover's milky collarbone. After a tantalizing pause, he bit down on the flesh there and emphasized the gesture with a particularly brutal thrust. This left Hodges arching into him, toes curled, crying out in both pleasure and pain.
Soon enough, the trace technician's chest was littered with Greg's teeth impressions, all of which stood out in red against the paleness of his skin. It was amazing to watch Greg once he got going—he would move from spot to spot and attach himself there like a leech. His teeth felt sharp and powerful and Hodges still couldn't figure out why he was enjoying this so much.
"Harder," David pleaded breathlessly. "Make me bleed..."
Greg's gaze darted up to his lover's face. There was a strange sort of fire in his eyes that shot straight to Hodges' cock. "Kinky," he stated. "I like that." Never was there a more willing participant than Greg; it was a quality Hodges loved about him.
Obligingly, the CSI pinned David's hands to the bed and sunk his teeth into that smooth flesh once more. He knew instantly that he'd punctured the skin; firstly because of his lover's loud, sudden shout, and secondly by the metallic taste seeping into his mouth.
Kinky was absolutely right. The act was so twisted—so much something Nick would frown upon—that Greg climaxed right then and there. The gratification of coming inside Hodges, bareback no less (they'd forgotten all about a condom), was unparalleled. Though truthfully, if Greg had to chose his favourite moment of the night, it would be the very next one.
He came away from the broken patch of skin with his mouth still open slightly, blood staining his lips. Greg couldn't help but swipe at the coppery fluid with his tongue, at which point Hodges looked about ready to devour him.
And in fact, before Greg could lick the majority off, David pulled him into a searing, open-mouthed kiss that smeared the blood between their lips.
"Mmm, you keep surprising me," Greg hummed, reaching down to grasp the man's penis. At the same time, he felt Hodges' fingers in his hair.
"Better that than boring you, right?"
"You could never bore me, David." The lab tech was unable to tear his eyes away from the small traces of blood remaining on his lover's ravaged lips. "Well, not in bed, anyway," Greg added with a good-natured wink.
Hodges chuckled, thrusting into Greg's hand. His entire body felt consumed by the pleasure, like each nerve, muscle and bone were directly connected to his cock. It was only moments later when he exploded onto his stomach, skin alive with sensation, moaning Greg's name.
In the aftermath, he could feel his body trembling and his chest heaving. Greg gently guided him through the comedown, stroking him through to the last few blissful shudders.
Hodges' eyes remained closed for a moment. He looked so peaceful like that, which was in stark contrast to the bloody teeth impression on his chest. It was only shallow—nothing serious by any means—but it looked painful nonetheless. "Does it hurt?" Greg asked.
Smiling and relaxed, Hodges opened his eyes and nodded. "It felt good though."
Knowingly, Greg rolled his eyes. "Tell me that again when you're not stoned and I might believe you," he said, eyes tracing a drop of blood that had trickled down his lover's chest. "Man, it does look sexy though..."
For the rest of the day, they blew off unpacking and did indeed fuck like rabbits. When all was said and done, there wasn't much left in either of them. But it didn't matter. Everything was perfect.
Hodges woke up that evening feeling like a zombie. All of his muscles ached, and that was just the beginning. The bite marks on his chest looked like a horror show; the deepest one throbbed and was caked with dried blood.
Beside David, his lover slept soundly with Little Kobe curled up near his head. Watching the steady rise and fall of Greg's chest was a nice momentary distraction from the state of the bedroom. Somehow during the commotion earlier in the day, everything on the bed had been knocked to the floor. The clothes Greg was planning to relocate and the clothes Hodges had been unpacking were now indecipherable—they littered the floor in several crumpled piles. The not-so-secret neat freak inside of Hodges was having a meltdown.
To escape the mess, he dressed and headed into the kitchen. Partway through whipping up a batch of pancakes, Hodges heard a key turned in the door. He glanced up to find Nick stepping into the apartment, already dressed for work.
"Hey," said the Texan, pressing a kiss to Hodges' temple. He peered at the stack of pancakes on the counter. "Damn, those smell really good."
"Help yourself, I'm making extra for Greg anyway."
Nick decided to take him up on that offer. Once his plate was stacked, he took a seat at the breakfast bar. "Yeah, speaking of Greggo, where is he?"
Hodges tilted his head toward the bedroom. "Still asleep."
"Does that mean the two of you had fun?" Nick took a bite of pancake and waggled his eyebrows at the other man. When Hodges gave a demure smirk in response, it made him even more curious. "Care to share with the rest of the class? I need details here," Nick prodded.
The smirk was still on David's face as he scooped the last pancake out of the frying pan. "Ask Greg when he wakes up. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to tell you." After placing the frying pan in the sink, Hodges switched off the stove. When he glanced up from what he was doing, he noticed that Nick had stopped eating. His eyes were zeroed in on Hodges' chest.
"David, are you bleeding?" he asked, rising to his feet in concern. Anxiously, Hodges glanced down at his chest. A blotted patch of blood from his bite mark had seeped through his white t-shirt. Nick had already rounded the bar and was staring at him. "What happened—are you alright?"
"I'm fine Nick," he replied, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "It's nothing."
The Texan didn't buy that for a second. "What the hell happened?" He took a step closer and reached for the hem of the t-shirt. "Let me see, maybe I can—"
Nick stopped himself mid-sentence when David shrunk away from his hand. Even for a CSI, he really didn't know what to think at that point.
"David," he said sternly. "I'm not playing around. Let me see."
Already backed up against the counter, the trace technician had nowhere to go when Nick reached for his shirt a second time. "I don't think you should do that," he said. His voice was barely even a whisper.
Unfortunately, Nick was not so easily dissuaded. Hodges didn't stop him when he lifted the shirt to reveal the reddened, bite-marked skin beneath. Nick remained absolutely stony-faced. There was no way to tell what he was thinking until he lifted the shirt far enough to see the worst bite of them all.
When he spoke, his tone was grave. "Greg did this to you?"
Hodges had known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Nick would inevitably see the marks; but this was too soon. He was hoping his lover wouldn't have to find out this way.
Maybe it was his own fault for wearing white.
"David!"
"I asked for it, okay? I asked him to bite me," Hodges explained, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "So don't go blaming Greg."
There was a look of disbelief in his lover's eyes. Hodges couldn't shake the feeling that, for some reason, Nick was determined to blame Greg. "Oh really? You asked him for this?" he said, gesturing to the deepest bite. "To draw blood?"
"Yes," David insisted, "that's what I'm telling you."
Nick frowned. His gaze lingered on the man's chest for what felt like a long time. He seemed to be taking in every possible detail; probably imagining Greg holding him down and inflicting this upon Hodges without his consent.
"Jesus," he breathed. "Why?"
Hodges pried the Texan's hand away and pulled his shirt down. "I'm not talking about this right now. I need to get ready for work."
"Wait." Nick's eyes were pleading. "At least let me bandage it up for you."
David stared at the ground and sighed. "Fine," he conceded, if only to get the man off his back.
After making a detour to the bathroom for gauze and antiseptic, his lover led him over to the couch and sat him down. Hodges gently pulled the t-shirt over his head and let Nick begin cleaning the shallow wound. The antiseptic was cold, and it stung where it made contact with the torn skin, but otherwise everything was fine.
When Nick was finished with the antiseptic, the two of them heard shuffling feet in the bedroom. A moment later, a mostly nude, bleary-eyed Greg appeared in the doorway with Little Kobe at his heels. He didn't look much better than Hodges, all things considered. There were several bruises on his body that David hadn't noticed before. The one on his upper arm was where Hodges clung to him while in his lap. Another on his hip, just visible above the waistline of his boxers, was where Hodges gripped him when he'd taken Greg on his knees later that day.
"Oh." When the young man realized what was going on in his living room, he froze.
Immediately, Nick stood up and glared at him. "There's nothing you won't take too far, is there?" he railed angrily. There was so much condemnation in his tone that Hodges had to intervene.
"Goddammit Nick, sit down," he ordered, but the Texan remained standing. "I asked for it, remember?"
Nick's eyes were still fixed on Greg. "So anything goes as long as he asks for it?"
Greg frowned. Little Kobe darted out from behind him and jumped onto the couch beside Hodges, purring as his head was scratched. "Well hello to you too," he deadpanned, making for the kitchen. "Who made pancakes?"
The Texan grit his teeth in frustration. "You're really just going to blow this off like it's nothing?"
"Yes, because you're overreacting as always," said Greg, helping himself to one of the pancakes. "God forbid David and I should have some fun that doesn't include you."
Despite how close Nick came to losing his cool over that comment, he managed to hold it together somehow. "You really think I'm overreacting? Look at his fucking chest, Greg. It's too much; there has to be a line somewhere. Boundaries."
"Oh yes, lines," Greg said mockingly. "We all know how much you love those."
Hodges' jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Maybe Nick was overreacting a tiny bit, but that was uncalled for. "Can we just stop now please? This isn't solving anything," he cut in.
Greg just shrugged and continued eating, but Nick's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. Instead of retaliating, however, he sat down beside Hodges and continued bandaging him up.
"Thanks," he said once the Texan was finished.
Nick ran a hand through the trace technician's hair. "Don't mention it. Now go get dressed or we'll be late." Hodges nodded and disappeared into the bedroom. At the same time, having evidently finished breakfast, Greg came back into the living room. He moved toward Nick and climbed into his lap.
"Oh for fuck's sake Greg," he grumbled, but the young man remained firmly in place.
"I'm taking my Denali to work," Greg stated. All Nick could do was nod. It was probably a good idea to avoid cooping them up in the same car right now. "I'm sorry Nick," he continued a moment later. "That was a really ugly thing I said to you."
"I did jump down your throat," the older man admitted with a shrug. "Maybe I deserved it."
"No. You didn't. Not at all," Greg asserted, looking rather angry with himself. "I didn't mean to insult you for having boundaries..." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I feel like such an idiot."
"You were just mad." Nick offered his lover a kind look. "I know you didn't mean anything by it."
Hearing those words, Greg pressed their bodies closer together. There was still an apologetic quality to his face, but at least now there was some sense of relief as well. Nick felt relieved too. So what if he and Greg snapped at each other? It was just a way of working out their frustration. With this in mind, Nick let himself be pulled in for a slow, tender kiss that made him forget there had ever been an argument to begin with.
Soon after, Hodges returned from the bedroom and raised an eyebrow at the scene. "Well that was quick."
