CSI: Sanctuary: Chapter 3
Nick slipped out from beneath the covers and rushed to the bathroom. What had he just done? He looked at his semen covered hand and back at the door in the direction of Greg's bedroom. His legs were trembling. He told himself he'd done it only to help out a friend in need. But it was more than that. He wanted to do it.
His jeans were tight. Too tight. He could let it go, ignore and forget, wash up, and get Greg his dinner, or...
He switched on the faucet in front of him as he lowered the zipper of his pants. He pushed the little angel off his shoulder trying desperately to remind him of his family and eased his wet hand inside, feeling the now cool liquid on his hot skin. Oh God.
In his mind, he watched Greg's eyes flutter closed, saw his body tense, heard the moans, knew he was giving Greg everything he'd ever wanted. He began to pump himself hard and fast. Only a minute or two later and he was spilling into his hand.
A geek... but one hell of a sexy geek at that. And he'd said it. Nick had finally admitted it to himself. It was hard not to. Sure the angel had been pushed off his shoulder, but that didn't mean she wasn't still hovering around nearby. Nor did it mean he'd let the devil take over.
He was a good friend and good friends helped out when they were needed, though not usually in the way he had.
After washing up, he returned to Greg's bedroom and brought his dinner over to the bed. He set the tray down, catching the guarded look in Greg's eyes as the younger man pulled the covers up over his shoulder protectively.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that..."
"Forget about it." Nick hoped he could.
Without anything more to say, the clink of silverware on plates filled the room.
Wanting to ease the awkward silence, Nick tried to say something, anything, to get Greg to be his usual jovial self. "Oh man, you wouldn't believe what Hodges did last night..."
Greg didn't even look up at his friend's words. Had he even heard anything? Nick told himself it was because of what he'd just done. He would give Greg some time. And maybe if they didn't talk about it, or take it any further he would get out of his funk.
Greg sat on the couch, leaning forward, a pillow jammed between his right thigh and the arm rest. Nick sat beside him, remote control in hand, his fingers moving quickly, making the car on the television screen swerve around the tight corner of the race track. Greg's own race car, cherry red, wasn't too far behind Nick's blueberry colored vehicle.
Friends had often teased Greg about his race car driving skills. When his car swerved at the same corner Nick's had, his body twisted with the motion, as if he was actually in the car driving. He felt his scars pull at the movement of the swerve. They pulled again as he spun his car back on the road after nearly crashing into a billboard sign for the fifth time.
The bandages had been gone for most of the week and his back felt much better without them. The doctor had ensured him he didn't have to worry about tearing his skin open anymore. And even though he was still scarred, both his doctor and Nick had claimed his back looked good. But that didn't matter. He knew he would always be scarred. Always. Big, fat, long, and ugly.
His car rolled off the track and into a tree. It didn't move. Would he always feel his scars every time he moved? Every time he drove a race car in a video game? Or pulled the box of pasta off the top shelf in his kitchen? Or reached for a particular chemical in the lab?
He threw the remote in his hands across the room, hearing it bust open and the batteries pop out on impact. He buried his face in his hands. What was he going to do?
"Are you ok? What hurts?" Nick was right there with him, abandoning the game the moment he knew something was wrong. Of course. Mr. Super Hero Married Man Perfect Texan would have to be like that. Of course.
Angry tears filled his eyes and threatened to spill over his cheeks but he held them back. He was a guy and guys didn't cry over stupid crap like this. He wouldn't be caught dead.
"G?"
Nothing hurt. Nothing but his heart. Nick was straight. Never mind that they'd kissed, that Nick had voluntarily jacked him off. He was also taken. He had a family, and Greg had no one. He used to go to clubs to hook up with men. They'd crash in a motel room and for half a night he'd pretend he was in Nick's arms until they parted ways. But now his scars would get in the way of that. No one would want to see them.
"Talk to me G. What's going on? What are you thinking? Let me in."
"No guy is going to want to see this... me," Greg croaked out, unaware he was even speaking out loud.
A hand slipped onto his shoulder and gave it a good squeeze, then stayed there, burning a hole through his t-shirt. Greg felt his skin stinging at the touch, his face a heated blush.
Then he realized Nick was talking to him, and his words eventually made their way into Greg's consciousness, "You're a survivor. That's what they'll see. And you're not ugly. Not by a long shot. You're far from it. You always have been, and that hasn't changed."
Nick's other hand reached over to caress his cheek, before turning him so they faced each other. Their eyes connected. What was that in Nick's brown eyes? They'd grown darker, almost black. There was something there, something calling to him, but his senses had gone haywire. All Greg knew in that moment was the feeling of Nick's hand on his shaft, pumping him to release and the sweet hardness of their lips pressed together.
He was breathing hard before he knew it, his light cotton pajama bottoms tenting easily. Oh God... not again. Nick's eyes held his in their gaze. He was trapped, unable to move, to escape, as those lips drew nearer and nearer.
Nick's mouth caught his upper lip, as Greg let out a moan and tried to break away. But that hot mouth worked like molten lava against his own, opening him up, warming his body, making his cock harder even when he tried not to let it get to him. As Nick changed position, kneeling on either side of his hips, pushing him into the back of the couch, he found himself kissing back, just as fervently, inviting Nick inside. Nick licked the roof of his mouth, sucked his tongue right out of it.
No longer were they two separate beings, very quickly they were becoming one. Nick pressed his body into Greg's, letting him know how much he needed this, how much he wanted this.
Greg knew it was wrong of him to let Nick do this to him, but at the same time, he couldn't stop it even if he tried. Letting Nick maul his mouth he pulled the other man's shirt out of his pants and up over his head, revealing a well-sculpted chest and perfectly muscled arms. They weren't too thick, like those of his ex, but also not as skinny as his own. His hands traveled over that hot skin, needing the contact, wishing he'd had this years ago.
Before he knew it his own shirt had disappeared and it was as if Nick was worshiping his scarred flesh. A groan caught his ear, "Need you... so bad."
His mouth found Nick's chin, then his neck as he made his way southward. He put all logical thought out of his head, and sucked at the hollow just above his chest, listening as Nick's breathing hitched, feeling his heart rate speed up beneath his hand. His other traveled lower, gripped him between his legs. A long, sexy, needy groan followed as Nick pushed into his hand.
He wasn't supposed to let things get this far... but that mouth... Nick pushed into his hand again, guiding him to the zipper and the button in his way. It wasn't like he hadn't done this before. Plenty of times he had. But this was Nick. His friend. His coworker. Nick's hot mouth worked his neck. He'd have a nice bruise tomorrow. The button popped open and the zipper slid down. Nick guided him inside, showing him what he wanted, needed. His fingers circled around a thick, hard shaft. Nick stopped sucking long enough to groan.
Briefly he wondered if Kristy had ever had this effect on Nick in bed.
He brought him free of his confining jeans, stroked him just to listen to him grunt and moan at the touch. Pants slipped further down Nick's hips, giving Greg more room to work. He ducked low, seeing the pearl of precome ready and waiting for him. Letting his tongue out of its cage he lapped it up, letting the salty, bitter drop slide down into his cavern.
He heard Nick swear somewhere above him and took his heated flesh full into his mouth, sucking urgently as he did so. He loosened his grip, began licking down the long length, letting his imagination run wild as he pictured Nick behind him, shaft in hand, penetrating his body. His own need burned deeper inside himself, and he moaned around Nick's cock, the vibrations giving more pleasure. Nick's fingers twined in his hair, his hips beginning to buck.
Greg opened his throat, took Nick in deeper, pleasured him to the best of his abilities.
"G..." Nick warned, breath choppy. "Can't... wait... gotta..." He was spilling hot seed into Greg's mouth before he could finish his sentence. Greg kept working him, sucking until there was nothing left.
When he finally released Nick, he was still shocked that he'd actually done it. But his own needs would not back down. As Nick flopped back onto the couch Greg slid his hand beneath the waistband of his jeans and took himself. He shuddered. Closed his eyes. Let himself imagine it was Nick's hand again.
And it was. He felt sweaty hands close over his own, pulling him away from himself, pulling his pants down past his hips. Opening his eyes he watched Nick's turn midnight black once again as they stared between his legs at his weeping erection. A tongue shot out, licked up from the base to the tip, and across. Greg moaned. The tongue slipped into the slit as warm lips took his swollen head inside.
He spread his legs wider for Nick, unconscious of doing so, only knowing his need. The mouth sucked, tongue lapped at the beads of precome slipping down his length. He wouldn't last long. He needed to warn... His orgasm hit and his own seed shot into Nick's waiting mouth. Nick continued to lick in long quick strokes even as he sucked hard. His orgasm didn't stop right away and he found himself pushing further into Nick's mouth until he felt the back of his throat. He thrust deep several times until he was empty and he'd collapsed back onto the couch in relief, the burn of pleasure slowly giving way to warm relaxation.
Nick was horrified at what he'd just done. He hoped it didn't register on his face as he paid for the large bottle of Coke at the convenience store and rushed out without his change. Back in his car he downed the soda all in one go, trying to wash his mouth of the taste and the smell of Greg. Oh God, what had he done? Like a good Catholic, the guilt piled on, but at the same time he wasn't sorry. When he was truly honest with himself, he had enjoyed it. Greg made him feel things he hadn't felt for anyone in a long time, made him do things he'd sworn he would never do again when he married Kristy.
The guilt he felt wasn't necessarily over what he'd done to Greg, or what Greg had done to him. It was about what he was doing to his family. To Cara. He had his needs. Anyone would agree with that. All men had their needs. So did women. But he hadn't been with anyone since... all he had to do was look at his daughter and he knew how long it had been. It wasn't her fault. He could only blame it on himself for sleeping with Kristy when he knew it was a bad idea in the first place. He'd liked Greg even then. That should have told him something.
He pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive home.
He needed someone to talk to, but there was no one. He'd just had sex with Greg, so that left him out. Kristy would kill him. And everyone else thought his marriage was perfect, still in its honeymoon stage two years after the wedding. He would have gone to a therapist, but he couldn't confide in someone he didn't know. And seeing the company shrink would go on his record. Maybe not what they talked about, but Ecklie would still know that he'd gone.
When he thought about it, he wanted people to think they were still a happy couple and a happy family. Telling friends and family, even a shrink, that you fucked up always ruined everything. It made them look at you different. You suddenly weren't the same dependable guy they knew and trusted. You were the screw up that couldn't hold the family together, at least until the kid got through college. And if you couldn't hold a family together, how good would you be on the job, in the field?
Kristy's car was in the driveway and the lights were on in the house when he arrived. Nick sighed as he stepped out of his car. Walking up the driveway he noticed the little body pressed against the window in the seldom used diningroom. Cara was smiling as she peeled herself away from the glass to wave at him before running to the front door to meet him. He pasted a smile on just for her and opened the door, his arms open and ready to catch her when she slammed into him. He picked her up and ran into the livingroom, holding her out like an airplane as she flew along the air currents of the house, giggling uncontrollably.
When her mother stalked in, arms crossed, and lips in a tight frown, Cara stopped laughing and Nick brought her in to sit on his hip, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck.
"Where the hell have you been?!" Kristy screamed at Nick, her long brown hair swinging as she glared at him.
Without thinking, he covered Cara's right ear with his hand and brought her other to lean against his shoulder.
"You're never here, Nick! You're supposed to be taking care of your daughter. But nooo, I finally called the lab because I'm sick of all this stupid overtime you've been working. Your union shouldn't make you work this much. It's illegal! And then I finally talk to Warrick and he tells me you're not working overtime. He tells me you're out taking care of Greg. What the fuck, Nick. Maybe you never got the message, but I have a life too, you know. And I can't be taking care of her twenty-four hours a day. At least twelve of those are yours. You should be here!" She pointed a long painted fingernail at him, blaming him for all of her troubles.
"Kristy," he tried to get a word in edgewise. "You don't understand... the lab explosion... he was in it... I..."
"I know all about that little explosion. He told me everything."
Everything? Nick's stomach clenched and twisted. He held onto his daughter a little tighter, feeling her trembling in fear of her outraged mother. Just what exactly did Warrick know? "Of course I played the perfect wife. He still thinks you bang me every night. Ugh. Stupid. He couldn't be further from the truth."
He needed to do something. Cara didn't need to hear this argument, but he was loath to put her down. Her hot tears were already soaking his shirt.
"I feel bad for Greg, sure. But you have a family to take care of. And we should come first! Warrick's still single. He could easily take care of Greg. Or Catherine. I bet They've got extra time on their hands."
"Catherine's a single mom," Nick automatically corrected.
"Whatever. He could have stayed in the hospital. And the way Warrick told it, the amount of attention Greg needs for his wounds, sounds like that's right where he should have been. Let the nurses take care of them. That's what they get paid to do."
"They weren't hot guys." What a time for Greg's words to come back to him. He would have laughed if Kristy didn't look so pissed off at him. "He hates hospitals."
"Don't start defending him! He doesn't deserve it. If he'd been smart and not made any mistakes he wouldn't have nearly blown himself up along with you in the first place. And, if he'd done what he should have and stayed in the hospital till he was well enough to work again, we wouldn't be having this argument!"
Who was she talking about? Greg was a genius. Smarter than anyone else in the lab, including himself.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to put her to bed." Nick turned away from his wife. "She doesn't need to hear this."
"Fine. Your dinner's on the table. Probably cold by now since I never know when you're coming home anymore."
"What is it?" Nick asked, even as he was trudging up the stairs with his crying daughter still clutching at his shirt.
"Healthy Choice."
"I'm not hungry."
Sitting Cara down on her bed, he grabbed a tissue from the night stand and dabbed at her red rimmed eyes. She looked up at him and crawled into his lap for a comforting hug.
"I love you, sweetie. And I need you to believe me when I say that's never going to change."
"I luv you too, Daddy," she sniffled.
"Hey, why don't we get you all warm and cozy in your bed and then I can read you your favorite book? Does that sound like a good idea?"
She nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.
Together, they chose the pajamas she wanted to wear and got her changed and tucked into bed. He pulled her favorite bedtime book, Alphabears, from the bookshelf and lay down beside her on top of the covers. He held the book open so she could see the beautifully painted pictures.
"A is for Amanda," he began. "A good teddy bear, who carries sweet apples everywhere." He'd read this book to her so many times he almost had it memorized. By the time he'd reached Zak, "who says that it is true, that zippers do better than buttons can do," Cara was sound asleep, leaning into him while hugging his arm tight.
A/N: Alphabears does exist! It's an amazingly written and illustrated book by Kathleen and Michael Hague. (Michael is the same guy who illustrated The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien.)