Disclaimer: I don't own or profit, nor do I have creating rights but I do have an imagination that allows me to play with Anthony's characters for a while until I give them back so he can write more.
"Friends In Low Places"- Garth Brooks, DeWayne Blackwell, Earl Bud Lee"That Summer"- Garth Brooks, Pat Alger, Sandy Mahl
Capitol Records
Rating: I haven't decided for this chapter, as I haven't written it yet. You can be assured that it's up there.
Author's Notes: Okay, what happened to the usual rating system on Suddenly, there's K, K, T, and M. What ever happened to the old school movie version? You can be assured that this is story may be rated 'M' (makes a gagging gesture) but in my eyes, it's still rated 'R' because it's a lot more fun that way.
Calm down, Chris, you'll get your dirty sex: D Is that short for Agatha Christy by any chance? My friend loves her.
How dare you inflict violence on Nicky, forensicsfan! I'm just kidding. What you do with/ to him on your own time is your business. Just leave some of him for the rest of us, okay? Ketchup Doritos are a figment of your friend's bizarre imagination… I think you should get her checked out, either that or get her to present the idea to Doritos so she can make billions of dollars off the idea and you can buy George. For us. In regards to the coffee: I have to inform you that I have succumbed to the "social pressures" of society and am now addicted to White Chocolate Mochas from Starbucks. And is there anything else I am worthy of calling you besides typing out forensicsfan every time? No? I tried.
Chapter Eight: Son, I've Got Friends In Low Places
Luck would have it that Nick and Sara were working another case together but neither of them seemed to mind at all. Warrick was working alone while Catherine endured a night with Grissom. Slightly envious of his boss, Warrick had confessed this to Nick as the two walked towards the parking lot where Sara was waiting for her coworker.
"When do you get your Tahoe back?" asked Warrick, un-tucking his sunglasses from the breast pocket of his shirt and putting them on his face.
"In two days," he replied, looking up at the sky and squinting. "Damn, it's going to be a hot one tonight."
"Just take a cold shower before you go to bed," said Warrick coolly, nudging his friend a little hard in the ribs, which only received him a quick and playful punch in the arm.
"Off limits, man."
"Right. You'll tell me later," he responded sardonically, hardly believing that his friend was actually going to conceal her name to him.
"See ya, Rick."
"Yeah, later," he waved, watching Nick hop into the Tahoe, insisting that he drive again. Warrick shook his head at the pair and was starting to believe that Catherine was right, not that he was willing to give up his massage.
"Nick, you'll get your Tahoe back in two days. Why do you insist on driving mine?" Sara complained, reaching over and turning on the air conditioning full blast. It may have been seven thirty in the evening, but it could have easily been almost thirty degrees (About ninety if I did my math correctly for you Americans :D).
"Because I enjoy seeing you flustered, Sidle," he grinned back at her, pulling out of the parking lot without managing to hit anything or anyone.
They were on their way to another case on another hot evening and Sara couldn't care less if he drove her Tahoe as long as he didn't kill them or total it. Even when Nick turned on the radio to a country station, Sara didn't mind. It was a given that country was not her favorite but she didn't mind it entirely. In fact, she was beginning to love it a hell of a lot more when the Texan beside her began to sing a long in his sweet but deep voice that nearly sent her into a pool of liquid lust in her seat. His drawl was far thicker, she noticed when he sang, and she just sat there in silence basking in the glory of it.
"Oh my God, I love this song," he said cheerfully, leaning over and turning up the volume so that all she heard was an apparent live version of a song and then the first few chords.
She watched him curiously, waiting to hear what he was about to sing and damn her if she didn't stop breathing when he did.
"Blame it all on my roots, I showed up boots and ruined your black tie affair. Last one to know, the last one to show, I was the last one you thought you'd see there. And I saw the surprise and the fear in his eyes when I took his glass of champagne and I toasted you said honey we maybe through, but you'll never hear me complain," Nick drawled out to the Garth Brooks song, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to turn green.
"And here I thought you were a terrible singer, Nicky," she smiled beside him, gazing at him intently.
He glanced over in her direction, flashing her a sexy grin. "This song really doesn't need to be sung. It's more of an adopt-a-southern-accent-and-say-the-words song. Lucky for me, I already have one."
"Yes, lucky you. And lucky me that I have to sit here and try not molest you while you drive," she murmured, more to the window then to the man next to her.
"Come again?" he said, his throat tight and his eyes wider than usual.
"You heard me, Cowboy."
"And why is it so hard not to molest me?"
"Just listening to you sing makes me want you," she whispered softly, meeting his eyes.
Nick flickered his stare from her to the road and then decided to take the exit up ahead.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to pull over."
"What? Nick, we are company time, remember!"
"Fuck company time," he growled lightly.
"We have to process a crime scene," she stressed, "not screw in the backseat of the Tahoe! Now you get back on the highway right now!"
He glowered quietly in his seat and reluctantly flicked off his right turn signal. No exit. No sex. Just a very livid Sara Sidle beside him and an ache in his loins that was not going to be going anywhere any time soon.
"You are such a tease," he muttered in spite of her, keeping his eyes straight on the road, refusing to look at her.
"Don't be mad at me. We have a job to do and there are people counting on us to do it."
He ignored her though he knew that she was right and she knew that she was right. The song had finished to his dismay but it appeared that there was going to be a double play in which they played two songs by the same artist. Garth Brooks was by far his favorite country singer and Nick knew all the words to all of his songs.
"Both needing something from each other, not knowing yet what that might be. 'Til she came to one evenin', hot cup of coffee and a smile, in a dress that I was certain she hadn't worn in quite a while," he sang a little quieter than before but out of the corner of his eye, he saw that it still had some effect on her. Her face appeared softer, less angry, and he saw her breathing deeply. Seeing her reaction to his voice also calmed his nerves so he continued to sing along and drive to the crime scene.
It was not until about two in the morning that Sara and Nick arrived back at the lab. The scene took longer than they had hoped to process since it expanded from the bedroom to the entire house, to the entire block. They went straight into the break room after handing over all of their evidence to either Trace or Greg, who was still on a sugar high from all of the chocolate he had eaten the day before.
Nick generously poured Sara a cup of freshly made Blue Hawaiian as well as some for himself. He handed her the mug and wanted her breathe in the aroma before taking a healthy gulp of it down. The small smile on his face was caught by the watchful eye of the woman in front of him seated at the table.
"What?"
"Nothing. You just look so cute mulling over your coffee."
"I like to appreciate fine coffee since Greg doesn't always bestow us his generosity. Sometimes we get that Folgers instant coffee or whatever it is that tastes like one of Grissom's experiments."
"I'll have to agree with you on that. But coffee is coffee. Sometimes you just need the caffeine and anything with suffice."
She nodded her head of brown hair and then set down her cup on the table. Paying little attention the agape mouth of Nick Stokes when she stretched her arms above her head, she let out a slight moan as if to tease him. Her muscles ached and she would give anything for that massage that Catherine was talking about the night before.
Nick couldn't help but what her, loving the eyeful of her breasts in the air and her shirt riding up to bare a little bit of her tummy. The sip he took burnt his tongue instantly and he put the mug down scornfully, giving it a nasty look.
"Tired?"
"Sore," she corrected and with that she watched as Nick leisurely made his way around the table to her and stood behind her where she could not see him.
"Stand up," he commanded and when she did, he moved aside the chair that separated them.
The moment his hands kneaded the muscles of her shoulders, she felt immediately at ease and braced herself, putting two flat hands on the table for the support. He had the perfect touch, knowing when to soften in certain places or grip harder in others. If humans could only purr, she thought quietly to herself, closing her eyes in ecstasy.
There was only the material of her shirt between his hands and her back but he could still feel the heat of her skin and how tense her muscles were. When he reached the small of her back, his hands gripping her sides and his thumbs working her tailbone, he gently shook his head in effort to rid the thought of sliding his hands lower so that he could have each cheek of her behind in his hands. She moaned softly as he dug the heels of his hands up her back and then down. Her body was so close to him and it was driving him insane that he had to keep this as PG as possible because anyone could walk in or by and see them doing the nasty on the table. Not that he minded entirely though they both would be out of a job.
"Nick," she murmured, her eyelids barely open.
He bent over her back, still massaging just over her kidneys, and tugged on her earlobe before taking it in his mouth, sucking it dexterously. The flat of his tongue gave one long lick up the curve of her neck, one hand forsaking her back to brush aside her hair. The other gradually slid around her waist to her stomach and pressed her back into his hard body. He could feel the small patch of skin between her shirt and her pants when she raised her hand to grip the back of his neck.
There was only the overwhelming flood of the scent of his soap on her flesh that consumed his entire senses. He yearned to have her writhing beneath him in the midst of passion but he settled willingly to slipping his hand down the front of her pants, cupping her with his deft hand.
A moan that he could feel beneath his lips as he kissed her neck was all it took for him to lose his control and sneak his fingers into her wet heat, eliciting another moan from her, this one a little louder but huskier. He drove his fingers into her in a slow and seductive tempo at first but he couldn't keep his desire on a leash, bring the pace up to hard, fast thrusts. Her body met his each time and he grinded his pelvis into her behind.
"Sara," he groaned when she reached behind her back and groped him through the denim.
Reluctantly, he removed his hand from her pants and with one last kiss on the ear, he withdrew entirely from her and went to the sink to wash his hands. He heard her pant behind him as his own breaths came out short and quick. He knew that when he turned around he would see her aroused but confused.
"Fucking company time," he mumbled as he past her and made his way quickly and painfully to the locker room to calm himself.
She stood there a little shocked that she had allowed herself to go that far in such an open area and she hoped that no one saw them. She bit her bottom lip and then decided to find Greg to see if he had any results yet. But as she walked down the hallway, feeling the heat slowly fade from her cheeks, all she could do was hear Nick's words running through her mind and she echoed them.
"Fucking company time."
Author's Notes: Everyone seems to think that Nick is a bad singer. I would like to believe that a man that hot and with such a fine voice could be able to carry a tune. And if you've heard "Friends In Low Places", you'll know that it takes little talent to sing to, unless you're one of my friends. Cough. Oh, and for the Fahrenheit thing, is it minus thirty and divide by two to get Celsius?
