The Black Book
Title: The Black Book (Chapter 1/?)
Author: Yoru
Rating: R
Pairing: Ecklie/Gil (Primarily *wicked grin*)
Summary: Ecklie has a plan to finally get what he wants.
Author's Note/Warnings: a HUGE thank you to knightmusic, laurelgardner, and supergrover82 for being betas. i owe you all what i was drinking when i wrote this.
Disclaimer: don't own any of it...but if i did...
Conrad Ecklie slammed the door to his office. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and leaned against the stability behind him. Chest inflating, deflating, body rigid with suppressed emotion, he clenched his teeth and let his head fall back to the hard surface. He let his fist uncurl and rest, palm flat against his thighs. It was getting worse. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could take much more. All it took to reduce Ecklie to the trembling, frustrated mess he was now was the mere mention of his name.
He locked the door, drew the blinds and moved to his desk. The bottom right hand drawer, under sorted blank forms, Ecklie’s most prized possession: the Black Book. He pulled the leather-bound journal from its hiding place, set it tenderly on the cool surface of his desk and sat down. Drumming his fingers on the armrest, he leaned back in the chair and gave the journal a hard look. The lamp on his desk only made the sable cover appear as a shadow; drawing in all light to its mouth and concealing it in its lined pages. Ecklie felt his lips twist into a half smile. It wasn’t light those pages trapped. He snatched the book and opened it to a random page:
Kristy Hopkins, hooker, found dead after spending the night with Nick Stokes. Catherine Willows takes the case. Nick is cleared of suspicion.
Ecklie’s jaw clenched again. He flipped to another entry:
Missed evidence in court. Opened supervisory inquiry. Enlisted Sophia. Interviewed team. Sophia sided with Grissom. Team had to be separated.
Ecklie growled and threw the book across the room. It hit the wall with a thud and fell to the floor, landing on its spine, pages bare to the world. He fell back into the embrace of the chair and shut his eyes in frustration. Every little screw up, every little insubordination, even private information was kept in that book. Warrick’s gambling problems, Sara’s emotion problems, Nick and his hooker, Catherine and Sam; it was all there, meticulously written in those pages. He had used it to break the team up. He should be glad about this. He got what he wanted and yet…
There was a knock at his door. He opened his eyes and held his breath. He had pulled the blinds closed. There was no reason for anyone to believe he was in his office. No one had seen him come in. His gaze fled to the open journal on the floor.
“Shit,” he breathed. His gaze darted back to the door with the second knock. He sat there willing whoever the fuck it was to go the hell away. After a few more seconds a shadow passed in front of the window and continued down the hall towards the trace lab . He sighed. It did nothing to relieve the pent up frustration he harbored.
“Damn.” He pushed himself out of his chair, rounded his desk and towered over his prize. It had taken him years of watching, listening, to gather everything in that book. And yet, he still had not achieved his goal. He crouched down and picked it up. Page up was Ecklie’s favorite entry. As he read, he couldn’t help but relive the scene:
"You son of a bitch. You swept my crime scene. You sent clean up.” Grissom stormed into the break room, fury written on his face. It was a struggle for Ecklie to remain calm. He almost dropped the coffee pot and cup in his hands as he turned to face the furious CSI supervisor.
“It’s been in the books for months.” Nothing Ecklie said would calm this angry, violent manl. To be honest, Ecklie didn’t want Gil to calm down. He was surprised by his own reaction to Gil’s anger: pure desire. “Coffee?”
The rich coffee smell had perforated the room as the pot shattered upon hitting the wall. Ecklie could smell it now. “Guess you don't want cream with that.” The snide remark had allowed him to exit with some dignity. He had come so close to losing all control facing Grissom’s anger.
He climbed to his feet, closed the book and returned to his chair with a groan. Grissom, angry, was exciting. Hell, Grissom, anything, was exciting, except when he opened that damn mouth of his. He clutched the book on his lap tightly and shut his eyes.
"What are you so afraid of, Conrad? We're just a couple of science geeks. Why can't we work together?"
Grissom’s voice haunted him. Even now, he could hear it as if the CSI was standing in front of him. He had cut too close. Ecklie knew Gil was better seeing the unseen than he was. It was one of the qualities he liked about Grissom. But damn, if the man didn’t make him half crazy most of the time. Then again, Ecklie did provoke him. He found he liked Grissom frustrated and violent. Those sharp eyes piercing him. Clenched fists trembling at his sides.
A low moan escaped Ecklie’s lips as he adjusted in his chair to accommodate his growing arousal. His fingers moved from the book to the bulge in his pants. Grissom so seldom lost his temper, but when he did, God help the poor soul his anger was aimed at. It was usually Ecklie. And he enjoyed the heat from Grissom’s rage, fueling his own desire. As a result, he provoked Gil whenever possible until it had become intolerable. He had to get Gil away from the other CSIs. He wanted Grissom, dangerous, unpredictable, to pin him to the wall and fuck him so hard he couldn’t walk. He wanted to taste that sparking anger on Grissom’s skin. He wanted to bleed from Grissom’s violent, pounding thrusts in his ass. And he’d beg for more.
He unzipped his pants and slid his hand under the then fabric of his underwear. His fingers closed tightly around his cock as he imagined Grissom’s hot mouth sucking hard, teeth dragging against the sensitive flesh. He imagined that tongue swirling around the tip before taking all of him into that cocky, know-it-all mouth.
“God…” he groaned. He thrust into his hand, the restricting fabric of his pants and underwear creating delicious friction. He clenched harder as imagined Grissom’s rough hands running over his body. His mouth sucking at his dick then teeth scraping against his nipples as he moved to Ecklie’s lips. The look of surprise as Ecklie would roll him over onto his stomach, bind his hands to the bedpost and draw a silk scarf around Grissom’s neck. Grissom gasping for air, Ecklie thrusting deeply into his ass…
Ecklie shuddered as his seed exploded into his hand. He half lay in his chair, panting. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Ecklie was tired of fantasies. He used the Kleenex on his desk to clean up and then went to the file cabinet. The bottom drawer contained a spare set of cloths. Ecklie exchanged his soiled clothing for the spares and tidied up his office. He picked up his cell and slipped the journal into his brief case. He had waited too long to implement his plan. It was time now. The first stage was done: separating Grissom’s team. Now it was time for the second phase. Ecklie smiled to himself. He wasn’t a patient man by nature but if it meant that he would have Grissom in the end, he would have the patience of a saint. He slipped his cell into his pocket, gathered his keys, unlocked his door and stepped into the hall. No one gave him a second glance as he left the lab and stepped into the late afternoon heat. He made his way to his car. It was time to pay Greg Sanders a little visit.
Author: Yoru
Rating: R
Pairing: Ecklie/Gil (Primarily *wicked grin*)
Summary: Ecklie has a plan to finally get what he wants.
Author's Note/Warnings: a HUGE thank you to knightmusic, laurelgardner, and supergrover82 for being betas. i owe you all what i was drinking when i wrote this.
Disclaimer: don't own any of it...but if i did...
Conrad Ecklie slammed the door to his office. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and leaned against the stability behind him. Chest inflating, deflating, body rigid with suppressed emotion, he clenched his teeth and let his head fall back to the hard surface. He let his fist uncurl and rest, palm flat against his thighs. It was getting worse. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could take much more. All it took to reduce Ecklie to the trembling, frustrated mess he was now was the mere mention of his name.
He locked the door, drew the blinds and moved to his desk. The bottom right hand drawer, under sorted blank forms, Ecklie’s most prized possession: the Black Book. He pulled the leather-bound journal from its hiding place, set it tenderly on the cool surface of his desk and sat down. Drumming his fingers on the armrest, he leaned back in the chair and gave the journal a hard look. The lamp on his desk only made the sable cover appear as a shadow; drawing in all light to its mouth and concealing it in its lined pages. Ecklie felt his lips twist into a half smile. It wasn’t light those pages trapped. He snatched the book and opened it to a random page:
Kristy Hopkins, hooker, found dead after spending the night with Nick Stokes. Catherine Willows takes the case. Nick is cleared of suspicion.
Ecklie’s jaw clenched again. He flipped to another entry:
Missed evidence in court. Opened supervisory inquiry. Enlisted Sophia. Interviewed team. Sophia sided with Grissom. Team had to be separated.
Ecklie growled and threw the book across the room. It hit the wall with a thud and fell to the floor, landing on its spine, pages bare to the world. He fell back into the embrace of the chair and shut his eyes in frustration. Every little screw up, every little insubordination, even private information was kept in that book. Warrick’s gambling problems, Sara’s emotion problems, Nick and his hooker, Catherine and Sam; it was all there, meticulously written in those pages. He had used it to break the team up. He should be glad about this. He got what he wanted and yet…
There was a knock at his door. He opened his eyes and held his breath. He had pulled the blinds closed. There was no reason for anyone to believe he was in his office. No one had seen him come in. His gaze fled to the open journal on the floor.
“Shit,” he breathed. His gaze darted back to the door with the second knock. He sat there willing whoever the fuck it was to go the hell away. After a few more seconds a shadow passed in front of the window and continued down the hall towards the trace lab . He sighed. It did nothing to relieve the pent up frustration he harbored.
“Damn.” He pushed himself out of his chair, rounded his desk and towered over his prize. It had taken him years of watching, listening, to gather everything in that book. And yet, he still had not achieved his goal. He crouched down and picked it up. Page up was Ecklie’s favorite entry. As he read, he couldn’t help but relive the scene:
"You son of a bitch. You swept my crime scene. You sent clean up.” Grissom stormed into the break room, fury written on his face. It was a struggle for Ecklie to remain calm. He almost dropped the coffee pot and cup in his hands as he turned to face the furious CSI supervisor.
“It’s been in the books for months.” Nothing Ecklie said would calm this angry, violent manl. To be honest, Ecklie didn’t want Gil to calm down. He was surprised by his own reaction to Gil’s anger: pure desire. “Coffee?”
The rich coffee smell had perforated the room as the pot shattered upon hitting the wall. Ecklie could smell it now. “Guess you don't want cream with that.” The snide remark had allowed him to exit with some dignity. He had come so close to losing all control facing Grissom’s anger.
He climbed to his feet, closed the book and returned to his chair with a groan. Grissom, angry, was exciting. Hell, Grissom, anything, was exciting, except when he opened that damn mouth of his. He clutched the book on his lap tightly and shut his eyes.
"What are you so afraid of, Conrad? We're just a couple of science geeks. Why can't we work together?"
Grissom’s voice haunted him. Even now, he could hear it as if the CSI was standing in front of him. He had cut too close. Ecklie knew Gil was better seeing the unseen than he was. It was one of the qualities he liked about Grissom. But damn, if the man didn’t make him half crazy most of the time. Then again, Ecklie did provoke him. He found he liked Grissom frustrated and violent. Those sharp eyes piercing him. Clenched fists trembling at his sides.
A low moan escaped Ecklie’s lips as he adjusted in his chair to accommodate his growing arousal. His fingers moved from the book to the bulge in his pants. Grissom so seldom lost his temper, but when he did, God help the poor soul his anger was aimed at. It was usually Ecklie. And he enjoyed the heat from Grissom’s rage, fueling his own desire. As a result, he provoked Gil whenever possible until it had become intolerable. He had to get Gil away from the other CSIs. He wanted Grissom, dangerous, unpredictable, to pin him to the wall and fuck him so hard he couldn’t walk. He wanted to taste that sparking anger on Grissom’s skin. He wanted to bleed from Grissom’s violent, pounding thrusts in his ass. And he’d beg for more.
He unzipped his pants and slid his hand under the then fabric of his underwear. His fingers closed tightly around his cock as he imagined Grissom’s hot mouth sucking hard, teeth dragging against the sensitive flesh. He imagined that tongue swirling around the tip before taking all of him into that cocky, know-it-all mouth.
“God…” he groaned. He thrust into his hand, the restricting fabric of his pants and underwear creating delicious friction. He clenched harder as imagined Grissom’s rough hands running over his body. His mouth sucking at his dick then teeth scraping against his nipples as he moved to Ecklie’s lips. The look of surprise as Ecklie would roll him over onto his stomach, bind his hands to the bedpost and draw a silk scarf around Grissom’s neck. Grissom gasping for air, Ecklie thrusting deeply into his ass…
Ecklie shuddered as his seed exploded into his hand. He half lay in his chair, panting. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Ecklie was tired of fantasies. He used the Kleenex on his desk to clean up and then went to the file cabinet. The bottom drawer contained a spare set of cloths. Ecklie exchanged his soiled clothing for the spares and tidied up his office. He picked up his cell and slipped the journal into his brief case. He had waited too long to implement his plan. It was time now. The first stage was done: separating Grissom’s team. Now it was time for the second phase. Ecklie smiled to himself. He wasn’t a patient man by nature but if it meant that he would have Grissom in the end, he would have the patience of a saint. He slipped his cell into his pocket, gathered his keys, unlocked his door and stepped into the hall. No one gave him a second glance as he left the lab and stepped into the late afternoon heat. He made his way to his car. It was time to pay Greg Sanders a little visit.