"Necessity" (R, Mac Taylor, implied past Mac/M, Mac/F)
Fandom: CSI: NY
Title: Necessity
Author: gin200168
Rating: R for sexual imagery
Pairing: Mac Taylor, implied past Mac/M, Mac/F
Summary: Mac has to handle something on his own.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of Jerry Bruckheimer, Alliance Atlantis, CBS, etc.
A/N: stellaluna_ gets fixing credit as usual. And love for having more faith in me and patience than I could ever have.
Mac throws the blankets off with disgust, sighing heavily as he levers himself off the bed and heads toward the bathroom, stripping and tossing his sweats in the hamper on the way. He gets into the shower as it warms up, but the still cool water does nothing to alleviate the source of his annoyance. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the cold tile, while the water bounces against his back and streams down his sides.
Mac still can't will away the hard-on that he had woken up with, and although he couldn’t remember what exactly he had been dreaming about, it lingered with him; unwanted emotions churning in the pit of his stomach and tendrils of sensation wrapping around his cock and seeping into his skin, hanging heavy in his balls.
He takes himself in hand, stroking slowly at first to figure out what feeling would most efficiently bring him to orgasm, and soon settles on a fast tempo. He moves his hand in short strokes, gripping tightly, adding a flair twist at the end, squeezing tight on the head, adding an extra edge and pushing himself towards completion that much quicker. He tries to be all about efficiency, but soon the images creep in from the corners of his mind-the ghost of larger, broader hands and a lilting but soft laugh, delicate soft lips moving down his torso and warm, wet strokes of a tongue up the sides of his shaft. They get stronger and stronger the closer he gets to orgasm, blurring and changing so fast that he can't keep up with them anymore-- they're both there at once and then not at all and he hears a whisper in his ear...
He hisses and arches his neck as he comes, and his free hand smacks into the wall and throbs in pain, a sharp counterpoint to the echoes of pleasure as he comes down from the high of a quick orgasm. He slows his strokes, the flesh becoming too sensitive as strains to hear the soft whispers just barely lingering in his ear. Part of him doesn't want them to leave now, even though he didn't want them there before. He wants them back and in the flesh in front of him, not as the faded ghosts of memories haunting his body when he doesn't expect it.
Their noticeable absence begins to twist at his gut, but he tamps the feelings down and steps forward slightly, as if trying to wash away the hold they have on him. The pounding of the rapidly cooling water on his back draws him out of the recesses of his mind, and he plunges his head under the spray and starts to wash up.
Fin
7/07
Feedback always welcome.
Link to all of my stories
Title: Necessity
Author: gin200168
Rating: R for sexual imagery
Pairing: Mac Taylor, implied past Mac/M, Mac/F
Summary: Mac has to handle something on his own.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of Jerry Bruckheimer, Alliance Atlantis, CBS, etc.
A/N: stellaluna_ gets fixing credit as usual. And love for having more faith in me and patience than I could ever have.
Mac throws the blankets off with disgust, sighing heavily as he levers himself off the bed and heads toward the bathroom, stripping and tossing his sweats in the hamper on the way. He gets into the shower as it warms up, but the still cool water does nothing to alleviate the source of his annoyance. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the cold tile, while the water bounces against his back and streams down his sides.
Mac still can't will away the hard-on that he had woken up with, and although he couldn’t remember what exactly he had been dreaming about, it lingered with him; unwanted emotions churning in the pit of his stomach and tendrils of sensation wrapping around his cock and seeping into his skin, hanging heavy in his balls.
He takes himself in hand, stroking slowly at first to figure out what feeling would most efficiently bring him to orgasm, and soon settles on a fast tempo. He moves his hand in short strokes, gripping tightly, adding a flair twist at the end, squeezing tight on the head, adding an extra edge and pushing himself towards completion that much quicker. He tries to be all about efficiency, but soon the images creep in from the corners of his mind-the ghost of larger, broader hands and a lilting but soft laugh, delicate soft lips moving down his torso and warm, wet strokes of a tongue up the sides of his shaft. They get stronger and stronger the closer he gets to orgasm, blurring and changing so fast that he can't keep up with them anymore-- they're both there at once and then not at all and he hears a whisper in his ear...
He hisses and arches his neck as he comes, and his free hand smacks into the wall and throbs in pain, a sharp counterpoint to the echoes of pleasure as he comes down from the high of a quick orgasm. He slows his strokes, the flesh becoming too sensitive as strains to hear the soft whispers just barely lingering in his ear. Part of him doesn't want them to leave now, even though he didn't want them there before. He wants them back and in the flesh in front of him, not as the faded ghosts of memories haunting his body when he doesn't expect it.
Their noticeable absence begins to twist at his gut, but he tamps the feelings down and steps forward slightly, as if trying to wash away the hold they have on him. The pounding of the rapidly cooling water on his back draws him out of the recesses of his mind, and he plunges his head under the spray and starts to wash up.
Fin
7/07
Feedback always welcome.
Link to all of my stories