FIC: To Whom It May Concern (CSI Slash NC17) 3/?
FIC: To Whom It May Concern (3/?)
Rating: NC17
Setting: CSI Vegas
Summary:When a tip off suggests that there may be murderous films being produced and distributed in Vegas, the male members of the CSI team try an undercover stunt to recover more evidence. However, their tenuous foray into the BDSM scene leads to unexpected and occasionally unwelcome discoveries within the group itself.
Past Chapters:
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
*
Catherine announced her presence in Grissom’s office in her usual style. Stalking in, she simply dumped a pile of paperwork on his desk that, when reviewed, turned out to have remarkable amounts of clothing cuttings from ‘alternative’ stores within it and a few photographs. Gil eyed the pile for a moment, and then leaned back.
“There’s a problem?”
“Possibly. How did you get Nick Stokes to agree to any sort of punishment?” her eyes were steady and her tone was sharp enough to slice through metal. Gil sat on his chair impassively as he watched her thoughtfully. This conversation was always going to come, of course. Catherine was as protective of the CSI team as she was with her own flesh and blood, and any suggestion of bruising was going to set her personal lava flow going. Finally he shrugged, knowing there was little he could say to calm her mother hen instincts.
“He offered. I accepted. He knows what he’s getting into.”
“Oh, crap, he hasn’t the faintest idea what he’s getting himself into, and you know it!” Catherine leaned her hands on the desk and stared at him defiantly. “So how did you even get him to offer? You know he can’t think of anything kinky without getting so embarrassed that his throat closes up, and as for thinking of you combined with sexual practises, well, my god Gil, it’d kill him!”
“On the basis that he’s undoubtedly still alive, then clearly it doesn’t. And you’re taking this well out of proportion.” Gil picked up one of the photographs and frowned. “Please tell me this is not what you want us to wear?”
“I am not taking this out of proportion!” Catherine replied crossly, taking the photograph out of Gil’s unresisting hand and glancing at it. “That one’s for Warrick. And don’t change the subject,”
Gil’s eyebrow lifted even further in utter surprise. “Warrick? That’s barely underwear. A pair of leather chaps, a small pair of what I assume are underpants which might struggle to actually contain him, and … I have no idea what these leather straps over his torso are there for, but they look much more practical than I was expecting.”
“Most of the other people in that room will be naked, Gil. You need a damned good reason why your boys aren’t, and how do you know what’ll cover Warrick?”
“Scientific reasoning. And don’t give me that look, it’s not as though I’ve been eying him up in the shower.” Gil sighed. Catherine always assumed the worst. “I prefer to give my staff a little more privacy than that, remember?”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Anyway, he’ll look sexy as hell dressed like that, and you know it.” She put the photograph back on the table. “And then we get back to Nicky.”
“Nick is an adult and perfectly able to make his own decisions. I did nothing to influence his offer. In fact, I hadn’t even anticipated it. It seems he was a little worried about wasting everyone else’s time if he messed it up and we couldn’t recover the situation,” Gil raised an eyebrow. “Now that sounds more like the Nicky you know, yes?”
Catherine hesitated grudgingly. “Okay. Him offering himself up as a personal sacrifice because he’s anxious over doing a good job might be a little more in keeping with what I’d expect. But you didn’t have to accept it,” she added swiftly.
“I’m not actually planning to need to take him up on the offer,” Gil replied dryly. “However, I am extremely glad it’s there. If, in the middle of things, we get into a state where it’s either losing the information or choosing to lightly chastise Nick, I rather have his verbal permission rather than simply judging his expression and hoping he’s changed his mind. And what have you got him wearing, exactly?”
“Here,” Catherine tapped a photograph, which showed a young man dressed in ridiculously tight leather shorts with what appeared to be a zip running from the top, between the legs and ending up at the rear waistband. A leather collar ran around the base of the model’s throat, with a silver chain running downwards to attach to a second leather belt around the man’s waist. Gil frowned at it for a moment, and then lifted an bemused eyebrow to Catherine.
“You appear to favour those harnesses, don’t you?”
“Having something to use when you want to drag people out is never something to sniff at,” Catherine replied calmly. “And yes, as it happens. Those shorts can be peeled off, by the way,”
“Oh. Good. I’ve always wanted an erotic orange.” Gil sighed. “Do I want to see Greg’s outfit, or do you have him simply in a cock ring and a cheeky smile?”
Catherine hesitated. “Am I allowed to do that?”
“No.”
“Damn.” Catherine shrugged. “Okay. Well, he’s wearing that.”
A photograph was thrust towards him, which displayed a young man wearing very little indeed; a pair of leather effect underpants, and a spiked dog collar that looked suspiciously similar to some of the things that Greg wore to the office as it was. Gil sighed softly, then eyed the slightly too satisfied Catherine in front of him.
“And for me..?”
Catherine smiled at him, and slowly pushed forward another picture. Gil looked at it carefully. Short sleeved shirt. Expensive trousers. A pocket watch, for reasons only known to Catherine. A tailored waist coat. And some latex looking black gloves that clung to the model’s hands.
“As though I don’t get enough latex gloves in my day to day occupation, without turning it into a fetish?” Gil raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged. It could so easily be worse. “Fine.”
“Excellent,” Catherine settled into a chair with an increasingly relaxed expression, gathering together the rest of the paperwork. “Everything’s going smoothly for tomorrow, yes? The target’s definitely going to be there?”
“He’s confirmed his intent to be there, yes. However, whether he actually turns up remains to be seen,” Gil tried to return his mind back onto the non-kink case he had been studying, but Catherine’s file of dubiousness kept distracting him. Finally he abandoned hope, and sat back instead. “Given the fact you’re still here, I’m assuming you want to talk about practicalities?”
“It would be nice,” Catherine smiled at him sweetly. “So. You guys will make your own way there early evening, and both Sara and myself will have been there for a few hours, setting everything up. I think Warrick and Nick will be coming together .. well, you know what I mean.. and possibly Greg too, I don’t really want him driving if he’s in that annoying bouncy mood. Then we’ll get you all dressed in there, and send you downstairs to mingle when there’s a fair few groups around. Heather was talking about using some of her boys to guide you, so if you need something you can simply grab them. Then, it’s up to you.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Have you given it some thought?” Catherine pressed. Gil looked faintly surprised, and waved his hand at the photograph pile again.
“It’s somewhat on my mind, yes. You mean how I’m planning to approach him with the topic itself, I assume?” he waited for the little, impatient nod, then shrugged slightly. “I believe I have a few possibilities. I’m not expecting this man to be particularly easy to engage in the right level of conversation. If he genuinely is doing snuff films, then he won’t have managed to keep it quite so quiet unless he was efficient at picking out his targets and regulars.”
“No.” Catherine sighed. “It’s a shame that this event is only for men. I’d have much preferred to lead this one.”
That earned a small smile. “Not least for the clothing?”
“That has its merits too,” she said firmly, then smiled and adjusted her position. “You think the others will be able to act to the extent that people will believe them?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. If we didn’t have Heather’s support, I wouldn’t have even attempted it. It’s one thing to be submissive. It’s quite another to earn enough trust to do some of the things that would be expected,” Gil sighed.
“I wouldn’t put yourself down too much. They all trust you enough to go to this situation, wear these clothes-,”
“- they haven’t actually put them on or seen them yet-,”
“-and mix in unusual situations. Hell, you even managed them to agree for a light flogging if the situation arises, and how many employers can say that?” Catherine shrugged. “I think you’re doing just fine, Gil. Although I am a little concerned over exactly what you’d be forced to do in order to keep them in line. Greg’s impulsive and over excitable. Warrick’s automatic reaction is to be the loner and interpret orders rather than follow them. Nick seems to be currently set on ‘teenage rebellion’, although I can’t really blame him for that. At what stage will you state that it’s all for nothing and abandon it?”
Gil’s fingers drummed on the table for a moment, before he raised his gaze. “I won’t put them at risk. If it comes to it, I will excuse us all. If it’s just one of them, then I will excuse that man and you can pick them up and keep them with you for the evening.. depending on what has happened, of course. It might be worthwhile to send them home if they’re too stressed.”
Catherine waited for a moment, and then raised her eyebrow. “That’s not quite answering what you would do.”
There was a long pause. Finally Gil sighed reluctantly. It was the question that had been gnawing away at him for some time already. In a way, it had been easier with their defiance; each man’s own determination to draw their personal line in the sand and stay by it, without his interference. Now they trusted him to know of the exact point where it went from acceptable to abuse, and their faith in him seemed much greater than his own.
“I don’t know.” he confessed quietly.
“Well, what did Nicky actually say?” Catherine frowned.
“He said ‘do what you have to’.” Gil’s fingers tapped on the table. Catherine looked at him incredulously, straightening her back like a cat that had seen a dog wander onto its territory.
“That’s it? Giving you a blank sheet to do whatever you want?” she shook her head slowly in disbelief. “God, that boy has a bad case of the hero worships.”
“I’m not going to let him down, Catherine.” Gil replied as patiently as he could. Catherine snorted.
“Damned straight you’re not. Look, Gil, I know you’re a good man, so don’t give me that look-,”
Gil attempted to shield the irritated glare that he had immediately aimed at Catherine at that particular remark.
“-but you can get a little … well, let’s call it distracted shall we? And we both know that you can get carried away under that setting. I was there when you were trying to get through to Warrick, remember?” she sighed. The ability to shield an irritated glare grew harder.
“You say that as though something actually happened to him. I was merely trying to emphasis a point-,”
“Yes, and we both know how that ended up, right?” she replied in exasperation. “Look, Gil, I’m the last person who’s gonna be calling your methods into question, but you’re going to have to realise you’re human too. I know you personally like this erotic set up, even if you do keep it mostly in your own fantasies. If Nick’s falling under its spell as well, then Warrick and Greg will soon follow, and then what? Your very own genuine harem? Can you imagine how that would look?”
“You have an over active imagination,”
“I’m being practical.”
“You’re being over dramatic.”
“Really? Then, Gil, exactly what happens if I’m right?” Catherine sighed crossly and sat back further in her chair. “I’ve got half a mind to just call Jim and say the whole thing’s off. We’d be risking the whole team, Gil.”
“You’d be babying the whole team.” Gil replied as steadily as he could. “They are not in any physical danger, and their mental states are hardly going to be in question. If this was a long, dedicated stake out I would be inclined to agree with you, but it isn’t. It is simply an extreme variation of what we see every day in the lab. The loyalty that brought them to this situation isn’t something that I’ve suddenly managed to create in them, Catherine. They want to do this.”
“Are you certain your desires aren’t making your decisions for you?”
“Are you certain that yours aren’t?”
They stared at each other for several minutes, neither flinching nor moving away. There was no surprise over Catherine’s uneasiness; if she couldn’t take a hands on practical approach herself then she was destined to be nervous. Had it been the whip in her hands, Gil had no doubt she wouldn’t have even blinked. He leaned back in his chair with a long, drawn out creak.
“Okay. Let’s put it to the vote, then.” he said softly. “See what the others say. Agreed?”
Catherine pursed her lips, but nodded. “Agreed. And I think you’re all crazy.”
Gil smiled slightly. “True. But, to be fair, you knew that before.”
*
“No chance,” Nick was the first to speak, his eyes flashing with undisguised emotion. “I’m doing this.”
“Yeah, same here,” Warrick raised his hand lazily, swinging on his chair. “Ain’ nothing I can’t handle.”
“Ditto,” Greg chimed in, although his nervous eyes flickered from Gil to Catherine and then back again, clearly trying to work out what was going on. Sara simply shrugged, knowing that her role was not the one in question.
“Can I ask why there’s been a change of heart?” she raised an eyebrow. “New information? There’s a bigger risk than we’d anticipated?”
Gil gave the smallest shrug of his shoulders, his eyes moving in interest to Catherine. She had already gone into defensive mode, just as he had expected, stood at the head of the table with her hands resting on its surface and looking all the world as though she was about to declare war.
“It seems to be getting out of hand.” Her voice was brisk and almost military, Catherine’s gaze sweeping around the table determinedly. “I’m worried about the extent that some individuals are willing to take this.”
“And how far are we willing to take this?” Sara glanced around the men curiously. “Because, as far as I can tell, we’re all still on the same page as we were on day one. It’s a bondage place, Catherine. They’re going to encounter at least a hint of physical action, right?”
The look in Catherine’s eyes was reaching artic levels. Sara frowned at her, and then glanced at Gil thoughtfully.
“… okay, what hasn’t someone told me here?”
“Everything’s the same as it was,” Nick’s hand hit the table, his frustration a little too obvious. “Hell, we haven’t just gone through all of that for nothing! Nothing’s altered-,”
“-other than people stating that they’re more than happy to allow their supervisor to do whatever they wish to them,” Catherine snapped back. Nick’s brow knitted together, and then he gave a sharp, shaky laugh for air and sat back.
“Awww, fuck no. This ain’t about me, this is about you bottling out and its not even your ass on the line here-!”
“You said Grissom could do anything to you?” Sara queried, clearly fascinated.
“Not now.” Nick’s eyes flashed to her, then back onto Catherine angrily, the accent in his words increasing with each syllable. “Now, stop me if I’m wrong, but this whole thing is off the clock, right? So you can’t actually stop us from going,”
Gil shifted slightly, growing wary of the conversation. It was one thing to have a conversation to express concerns. It was quite another to blatantly defy superiors, and upfront aggression always backfired when it came to Catherine; it merely fuelled her intensity rather than cooled it down. He noted Greg give Nick a concerned expression, and Warrick take on a narrowed eyed, cautious look.
“Nick, perhaps we should calm down..,” Gil murmured softly.
“No, no, let’s hear what he has to say. Because this is clearly him behaving completely rationally, isn’t it, Gil?” Catherine’s tone could etch glass, her gaze never wavering from Nick’s. Nick, to his credit, had already recognised his mistake; the words had been spoken immediately and without thought, bypassing the diplomatic gland. Nick growled softly and a little helplessly, and looked away, sitting back against his chair and rubbing his lower lip with a finger.
“Okay, sorry. Wasn’t thinking,”
“Unsurprisingly, that’s not a comment I want to hear either. If you can’t control yourself here, with us, what chance have you got when you’re under stress?” Catherine replied crossly. Nick scowled back at her.
“Hey, you sayin’ I can’t control myself at all? Well, thanks a whole bunch there, Catherine. You gonna take me off active cases as well, just in case I break some evidence?”
“Nick,” Gil warned softly. Dark eyes flickered to his own, and then Nick finally subsided, sitting back sulkily against his chair with his arms folded firmly across his chest. Catherine turned her glare back onto Gil.
“Well, there we go. Let’s take that as an example, shall we? What would you have done to him had he started answering back like that at the party?”
Gil was suddenly aware of the entire table’s attention. He gave the smallest shrug, trying to ignore the suddenly trapped expression in Nick’s eyes; a man who had realised he had just signed his own death warrant.
“It would depend on the circumstances,” he said carefully. Catherine slammed the palm of her hand onto the table, causing a slap loud enough to make nearly everyone flinch.
“Okay, then. Let’s do a bit of roleplay, shall we? Nick’s just defiantly spoken back to you.. let’s say you’ve asked him to kneel down and lick your boots in front of a little group of men, and he’s immediately said no, without thinking. The rest of the room’s busy but not really listening, but this group of men who’s standing around are busy watching what you do. So, Gil, what do you do?” Catherine folded her arms. “After all, you’ve had carte blanche to discipline him exactly the way you’d like.”
Nick winced. “C’mon, Catherine, it ain’ quite like that-,”
“Nick, if you value your hide, shut up now.” Catherine snapped at him without looking back at him. Nick sighed and closed his mouth, looking guiltily sulky. Warrick eyed him, then leaned forward and began to tap the table idly with the tip of a fingernail.
“Y’know what, I’ve done some really fucked up shit in my time,” he drawled, as though the whole argument was happening to someone else. Nick glanced at him in confusion, and even Catherine paused in her scowl to give Warrick a slightly concerned look. Warrick smiled slightly, and then shrugged.
“And one thing that nearly all of it had in common had that knowledge that it felt right at the time. And I’m really not sure you’re gonna be able to get Griss to work out what he’d do just in this room, y’know?” Warrick’s eyes lifted, his bright eyes looking at Catherine steadily. “Ain’t what the situation is, it’s also who’s around, and who’ll do what. You can read the cards in a game of poker, Cath, but you also read the people behind the cards. Some are gonna want harsher punishments than others, you know what I’m saying? There’s no point in flogging Nick if the people standing around would be happy with a quick clip around the back of the head.”
They simply stared at each other as though they were engaged in their own little game of bluff. Finally Catherine groaned, and clenched her hand into a fist before releasing it with her held breath.
“Fine. I take your point, although I want it on record that I am still unhappy,” her eyes moved to the youngest member of the team, who was sat on his chair wearing the wide eyed, confused expression of a young child who had just accidentally watched a sex scene in a film and wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. “Greg? You’ve been unnaturally quiet.”
“Um.”
“You’re still fine with this, right, Greggo?” Nick leaned back, and earned himself such a hard glare from Catherine that Gil was beginning to suspect the woman would soon advocate some sort of punishment for Nick herself and probably select the individual paddle as well.
“Nicky, let him speak for himself.”
Nick shrugged, and leaned back in the chair again, his hand straying to pat Warrick on the thigh in thanks as he did so. Now that was interesting. Gil studied the pair for a moment, and then filed the thought away for a different time as Greg finally decided on what he wanted to say with an obvious risk assessment on whether said opinion was going to get him broken.
“You mean whether I still want to do it? Well, sure. I mean, I’m really not worried about what’ll happen, even if something does occur. We’ll just blow our cover big time and need a different Plan B, right, rather than actually do serious things to Nick…. or whoever,” Greg said hastily as Nick aimed a look at him. “I mean, we’re not gonna be in a situation where it’s either fuck or die, y’know? I hope, anyway,”
“Definitely no dying, maiming, violent injury or anything else,” Sara piped up. “It’s a bitch to explain it in internal affair reports.”
“Oh. Well, good.” Greg nodded. “And I’m really not bothered about the costumes and the whacking and the actual roleplay. I trust the people I’m with,”
“We’ll have a safe word too,” Gil added softly, a little pleased smile aimed at Greg who blushed awkwardly, clearly not used to being the centre of attention. Gil’s eyes moved onto Catherine. “And we can also have a silent system of words, if possible. Drawing with a finger on peoples’ back.”
Catherine gave him an exasperated look. “You want to do what?”
He pushed himself up and glanced at Warrick. “Warrick, can I borrow you for a moment?”
Warrick’s eyebrow lifted slightly before he shrugged and eased himself out from the chair. “Sure, man. Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks,” Gil waited until Warrick was stood in front of him, and then turned him around to display the broadness of his t-shirted back. “If you draw a triangle preferably here-,” he demonstrated on a shoulder blade. “then it means danger, and to be extra wary. If you draw a line of zig-zags, say, down here,”
The line was drawn across Warrick’s waist, which earned him a shudder as Gil’s finger apparently introduced itself to a Warrick Ticklish Spot.
“- then it means you’re uncomfortable or getting upset. And if someone does a circle over and over again on you, then it means essentially ‘shut up’ … I would imagine the faster the circle, the more anxiously meant the instruction.” Gil glanced at the table. “Any questions?”
“You’re sure that your triangle’s not going to be mistaken for the circle?” Sara asked critically. Gil shook his head.
“The triangle should have three, distinct lines. The circle will be one long continuous movement. Even if the shape leaves a lot to be desired, the deliberate strokes of the triangle should make a difference. And, to be honest, if there’s danger then needing the other person to shut up is probably automatic.”
Catherine’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Those signals aren’t going to be something we’ll be able to notice on the cameras. You said you have a safe word?”
“Lunch,”
Catherine’s eyebrow decided to get into the action with a startled raise upwards. “Lunch? Isn’t that pretty common?”
“Exactly. We’ll ignore any lunches within context. However, if someone starts talking about a ‘excuse me sir, I forgot to arrange lunch for Mr Brass yesterday” or I bring it up myself, then there’s a problem. If we use something too unusual, it’s going to be blatantly obvious that a safe word has been used.” Gil looked around the table. “Are we happy with that?”
Greg shrugged. “Sure. Making me hungry already.”
There were little nods of agreement from around the table, where tensions were finally beginning to ease up. Gil relaxed a little more, then smiled at them.
“Good. In that case, let’s get on with our actual jobs, and continue this tomorrow. Just make sure everyone gets a good period of sleep, alright?”
As it turned out, this was one instruction even he was going to have problems to complete.
*
The knock on his apartment door turned up when he had been intending to go to bed. Intending had, of course, been the most important word. He had been intending to go for the last hour, but in between the scientific journal and finishing the somewhat haphazard sandwich, he had yet to get into his bedroom to sleep. Gil raised an eyebrow at the time, but padded with bare feet to the door.
“Nick,” That had not been expected. Gil frowned slightly, and then stood back to allow the younger man to slip past him; he watched the line of Nick’s back as he walked into the room with the sheepish, slightly hunched posture of guilt. Gil’s eyes narrowed further, uncertain what was going on.
“Is there a problem?” He seemed to be saying that a lot recently, Gil mused as he shut the door behind them and walked to the kitchen during the inevitable silence that followed. “And would you like a drink?”
Apparently the drink question was easier to answer, as Nick shook his head without improving his posture. “No. Thanks.”
Gil poured himself a glass of orange juice and studied the younger man critically.
“You’ve decided against going to the House tomorrow?” he guessed carefully. Nick’s eyes flashed to him for a moment, an apology a little too obvious in his dark gaze. Gil sighed softly. Well, Nick had entertained the notion; that was all he could have asked for.
However, Nick wasn’t yet done. “No.”
The orange juice hesitated on route to Gil’s mouth. “No?” Well, that opened up a whole new situation of questions. “Then what’s the matter?”
The expression in Nick’s eyes was one of torn emotion, wanting to speak and yet something dragging him back. His eyes flickered to the door, then back again with the silent, beseeching expression that seemed to come to Nick so very easily. It was like witnessing a loyal Labrador try to express to its owner that it had a thorn in its paw that it would really like said owner to remove, if it was alright with them.
“Has Catherine said anything further to you?” Gil pressed slowly. The wretched element of Nick increased, and yet the silence continued. Bingo. Gil sighed wearily and took a mouthful of the drink as he thought it through.
“Okay,” he said finally, putting the glass down. “What did she say?”
There was another glance to the door, and Gil could see the battle for loyalty fight it out in Nick’s eyes. “She’s not there, Nick,” he said gently. “Whatever you have to tell me will be in confidence, I promise. What are you worried about?”
A little soft sigh of breath indicated that speech might finally turn up. Gil waited patiently.
“Catherine hinted .. well, less than hinted.. afterwards that there was absolutely no way I was going to get through the whole event without putting my foot in it,” Nick stumbled through the first few words, then seemed to build up confidence as he continued what appeared to be a set script in his head. He glanced up at Gil. “She said I should probably resign myself to the fact that you’d need to do something.”
Gil watched him for a moment longer, and then shrugged slightly. It was a fair assessment. Nick might well do a perfect job, but he might just as well stumble over the unfamiliar social etiquette that was so different to the type he was used to.
“I’d probably agree with that assessment.”
“So that’s why I’m here.” Nick paused, and then pressed on with the forceful words of one knowing he was doing The Right Thing. “To practise.”
“… practise?” Gil frowned harder as the full implication hit him. “You’re here to practise taking punishment? Have I got that correctly?”
“Yeah,” Nick’s shoulders straightened, his steady gaze meeting Gil’s head on. A gaze that held nerves, wariness and a hell of a lot of stubbornness. “Will you do it?”
“Well, I…,” He was at a complete loss for words.
“’Cause I was thinking it over,” Nick’s voice had found the fast forward button, his animation almost equal to the periods where he was thinking through a theory for a murder. “I mean, even the minor punishments are probably going to need restraints, yeah? And I know what I’m like with restraints… if I’m more confident, I’m going to last longer. And I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone if I panic, so I thought if I got you to just walk me through a few then I’d know what I’m doing and be able to relax a bit, y’know?”
Anxious, uncertain eyes scanned Gil’s, clearly trying to locate disapproval and other danger signs. Gil released his breath, and finished the orange juice, slowly lowering the glass to the table before looking up again.
“I don’t need to tell you how inappropriate it would be for me to hurt you, especially if it has sexual overtones.” he said slowly. Nick snorted softly.
“Yeah, if it was out the blue, I’d agree with you. But it’s not, Griss, don’t you see? The others are depending on us to do this right. You’ll probably be smacking my ass tomorrow evening, so it’s gonna make no difference if you do a walk through first. And it can’t leave marks, so it’s even less risky, right?”
“I didn’t think you liked bondage,” Gil’s steady gaze held Nick’s.
“Aww, come on. Yeah, this isn’t what I normally do, and hell, I don’t know whether I like it or not, y’know? But what I do know is we’ll all lose everything if we don’t all pull together tomorrow.” Nick stepped forward determinedly.
“And you didn’t think it might be easier to, say, simply behave yourself tomorrow?” Gil watched him carefully. “You might think you’re destined to fail, but think it over, Nick. You submit to my lead every single day, in the field and in the lab. When I speak, you stand there respectfully. You follow orders without question, or if you are concerned then you query it softly and with due deference. You look after your colleagues, and they look after you. If you tap into that mindset in the House, you should have no reason to have difficulty sitting down… not unless you were intending to get it, of course.”
Nick looked at him for a moment, and then laughed incredulously. “I’m not here because I personally want a spanking, Griss,”
“No?” Grissom watched him thoughtfully. “Are you truly sure?”
Irritation flashed in Nick’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure, man. Got better things to do with my time, y’know?”
“And yet here you are.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You don’t want to do it,” Nick folded his arms across his chest stubbornly. Gil shrugged slightly.
“I didn’t say that.” His eyes noted every little flicker, every movement that the younger man made. Nick made a dismissive noise and began to walk, prowling around the room as though he was looking for something although Gil recognised Nick’s typical ‘discomfort’ gesture when he saw it.
“Then what? This’ll aid our case,” Nick’s gaze flashed to him in grim amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about what people would think?”
“Slightly, although I’m more concerned over what I might think,”
Nick straightened from where he had been looking at the spines of books, confusion furrowing his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, Nick, that you’re suggesting a particularly intimate task, one that I would have said was not strictly speaking necessary. And yes,” he added as Nick opened his mouth to protest. “I know it would make things easier tomorrow. However, ease and necessity are two separate things. I’m just wondering why a heterosexual male, uninterested in bondage, would happily suggest this without additional motivation.”
The look aimed at him a little longer, and then Nick laughed and shook his head. “You saying you think I’m hitting on you?”
Gil’s eyebrow twitched upwards. “Are you?”
“Jesus, Griss…,” Nick gave another little snort of incredulousness.
“That’s neither a yes or a no, Nick. Try again.” Gil strolled further into the living room and watched him. “Although if the answer’s yes, I’m a little surprised on the timing. Certainly the topic of bondage is in our minds, but still, there would be no guarantee that I entertain romantic inclinations towards the masculine persuasion. Unless, of course, you’re stating that all four of us going to this party have at least a hint of homosexuality?”
Nick gave another little snort and looked away. Gil’s eyes narrowed carefully.
“No. There’s something else, isn’t there?” he walked a little closer, watching the other man’s discomfort as he did so. “Well?”
The dark eyes flickered to him again before Nick looked away. “I spoke to Warrick,”
Gil waited for a few moments, but apparently that was all Nick was prepared to give. Warrick. Certainly they had had their moments in the past, not least because of Gil’s somewhat disastrous attempt to bring the young man into line against his gambling addictions, but he still couldn’t see a direct link between what had happened before and Nick’s sudden desire to test out the limits of submissive behaviour. He frowned slightly.
“Warrick?” he repeated slowly. “And what exactly did Warrick say?”
“Aww, man, don’t.” Nick looked at him critically. “Don’t play dumb with me, ‘kay? I know about you two. How you ‘persuaded’ him to sleep with you.”
Out of everything, that had been unexpected. Gil’s eyebrows suddenly found a particularly good reason to visit the ceiling. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve heard how you liked to dominate people. How you hunt them down.” Nick moved a little closer, his dark eyes intense and all but black in the limited light and his voice still strong but with the slightest of trembles deep within it. It took all Gil’s willpower not to allow the disbelief to show on his features.
“Do I?” he said neutrally. Clearly he was going to have to have a word with Mr Warrick Brown. If his reputation was having more fun than his reality, something was most decidedly amiss. “What else have I done?”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Nick’s eyes turned hunted. “Look, if you just wanted me to fuck off, you could have just said so.”
Despite his words, Nick still stayed nearby, almost unwilling to turn his back on where Gil was stood. Gil watched him thoughtfully, allowing himself the luxury of time to fully process the situation. That Nick believed Warrick’s interesting interpretation of history was unmistakable, the young man’s trust in his friend shining out through everything he did. That was a trust that Gil never wanted to damage; the pair had bonded well throughout their time at the crime lab, as inseparable and playful as puppies, and there was obviously no disgust over the tale, or indeed lack of respect as a result of it. Nick stood with the unmistakable posture of nervous energy, one finger tapping against his arm as he waited uncomfortably for Gil to say something.
“Remind me why you’re doing this?” he murmured softly.
“For the case. You know that,”
“Mmmmmm,” Gil knew no such thing, although he was pleased to see a little more aggression in Nick’s eyes. Whatever this was, it wasn’t simply a one off spark. Nick straightened again, angrily.
“Ah, man, don’t mmmmmm at me. I know what that means. Fine, I’ll go.” Nick finally began to move toward the door. Gil watched him turn, an annoyingly unpleasant mixture of excitement and concern mixing in his stomach as he did so; what was sensible in reality was certainly not sensible to the part of him that had more than a little interest in Nick Stokes. But then, this was not a normal situation. Once a step had been taken down the wrong path, he doubted whether it could be removed, and Nick’s vulnerability was too easy to witness.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nick,” his voice sounded distant even to him. Nick scowled angrily, a flush of embarrassment and upset on his cheeks, before he shook his head and rested his hand on the door handle. He paused, and then looked back at Gil critically.
“Everyone keeps going on about whether I could do these things when it boils down to it.” he said, and there was a little bitter smile on his face. “Now, I think the question should be… could you, Grissom? Could you really?”
And as Nick vanished through the doorway, Gil had to confess that he no longer knew.
TBC
Rating: NC17
Setting: CSI Vegas
Summary:When a tip off suggests that there may be murderous films being produced and distributed in Vegas, the male members of the CSI team try an undercover stunt to recover more evidence. However, their tenuous foray into the BDSM scene leads to unexpected and occasionally unwelcome discoveries within the group itself.
Past Chapters:
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
*
Catherine announced her presence in Grissom’s office in her usual style. Stalking in, she simply dumped a pile of paperwork on his desk that, when reviewed, turned out to have remarkable amounts of clothing cuttings from ‘alternative’ stores within it and a few photographs. Gil eyed the pile for a moment, and then leaned back.
“There’s a problem?”
“Possibly. How did you get Nick Stokes to agree to any sort of punishment?” her eyes were steady and her tone was sharp enough to slice through metal. Gil sat on his chair impassively as he watched her thoughtfully. This conversation was always going to come, of course. Catherine was as protective of the CSI team as she was with her own flesh and blood, and any suggestion of bruising was going to set her personal lava flow going. Finally he shrugged, knowing there was little he could say to calm her mother hen instincts.
“He offered. I accepted. He knows what he’s getting into.”
“Oh, crap, he hasn’t the faintest idea what he’s getting himself into, and you know it!” Catherine leaned her hands on the desk and stared at him defiantly. “So how did you even get him to offer? You know he can’t think of anything kinky without getting so embarrassed that his throat closes up, and as for thinking of you combined with sexual practises, well, my god Gil, it’d kill him!”
“On the basis that he’s undoubtedly still alive, then clearly it doesn’t. And you’re taking this well out of proportion.” Gil picked up one of the photographs and frowned. “Please tell me this is not what you want us to wear?”
“I am not taking this out of proportion!” Catherine replied crossly, taking the photograph out of Gil’s unresisting hand and glancing at it. “That one’s for Warrick. And don’t change the subject,”
Gil’s eyebrow lifted even further in utter surprise. “Warrick? That’s barely underwear. A pair of leather chaps, a small pair of what I assume are underpants which might struggle to actually contain him, and … I have no idea what these leather straps over his torso are there for, but they look much more practical than I was expecting.”
“Most of the other people in that room will be naked, Gil. You need a damned good reason why your boys aren’t, and how do you know what’ll cover Warrick?”
“Scientific reasoning. And don’t give me that look, it’s not as though I’ve been eying him up in the shower.” Gil sighed. Catherine always assumed the worst. “I prefer to give my staff a little more privacy than that, remember?”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Anyway, he’ll look sexy as hell dressed like that, and you know it.” She put the photograph back on the table. “And then we get back to Nicky.”
“Nick is an adult and perfectly able to make his own decisions. I did nothing to influence his offer. In fact, I hadn’t even anticipated it. It seems he was a little worried about wasting everyone else’s time if he messed it up and we couldn’t recover the situation,” Gil raised an eyebrow. “Now that sounds more like the Nicky you know, yes?”
Catherine hesitated grudgingly. “Okay. Him offering himself up as a personal sacrifice because he’s anxious over doing a good job might be a little more in keeping with what I’d expect. But you didn’t have to accept it,” she added swiftly.
“I’m not actually planning to need to take him up on the offer,” Gil replied dryly. “However, I am extremely glad it’s there. If, in the middle of things, we get into a state where it’s either losing the information or choosing to lightly chastise Nick, I rather have his verbal permission rather than simply judging his expression and hoping he’s changed his mind. And what have you got him wearing, exactly?”
“Here,” Catherine tapped a photograph, which showed a young man dressed in ridiculously tight leather shorts with what appeared to be a zip running from the top, between the legs and ending up at the rear waistband. A leather collar ran around the base of the model’s throat, with a silver chain running downwards to attach to a second leather belt around the man’s waist. Gil frowned at it for a moment, and then lifted an bemused eyebrow to Catherine.
“You appear to favour those harnesses, don’t you?”
“Having something to use when you want to drag people out is never something to sniff at,” Catherine replied calmly. “And yes, as it happens. Those shorts can be peeled off, by the way,”
“Oh. Good. I’ve always wanted an erotic orange.” Gil sighed. “Do I want to see Greg’s outfit, or do you have him simply in a cock ring and a cheeky smile?”
Catherine hesitated. “Am I allowed to do that?”
“No.”
“Damn.” Catherine shrugged. “Okay. Well, he’s wearing that.”
A photograph was thrust towards him, which displayed a young man wearing very little indeed; a pair of leather effect underpants, and a spiked dog collar that looked suspiciously similar to some of the things that Greg wore to the office as it was. Gil sighed softly, then eyed the slightly too satisfied Catherine in front of him.
“And for me..?”
Catherine smiled at him, and slowly pushed forward another picture. Gil looked at it carefully. Short sleeved shirt. Expensive trousers. A pocket watch, for reasons only known to Catherine. A tailored waist coat. And some latex looking black gloves that clung to the model’s hands.
“As though I don’t get enough latex gloves in my day to day occupation, without turning it into a fetish?” Gil raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged. It could so easily be worse. “Fine.”
“Excellent,” Catherine settled into a chair with an increasingly relaxed expression, gathering together the rest of the paperwork. “Everything’s going smoothly for tomorrow, yes? The target’s definitely going to be there?”
“He’s confirmed his intent to be there, yes. However, whether he actually turns up remains to be seen,” Gil tried to return his mind back onto the non-kink case he had been studying, but Catherine’s file of dubiousness kept distracting him. Finally he abandoned hope, and sat back instead. “Given the fact you’re still here, I’m assuming you want to talk about practicalities?”
“It would be nice,” Catherine smiled at him sweetly. “So. You guys will make your own way there early evening, and both Sara and myself will have been there for a few hours, setting everything up. I think Warrick and Nick will be coming together .. well, you know what I mean.. and possibly Greg too, I don’t really want him driving if he’s in that annoying bouncy mood. Then we’ll get you all dressed in there, and send you downstairs to mingle when there’s a fair few groups around. Heather was talking about using some of her boys to guide you, so if you need something you can simply grab them. Then, it’s up to you.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Have you given it some thought?” Catherine pressed. Gil looked faintly surprised, and waved his hand at the photograph pile again.
“It’s somewhat on my mind, yes. You mean how I’m planning to approach him with the topic itself, I assume?” he waited for the little, impatient nod, then shrugged slightly. “I believe I have a few possibilities. I’m not expecting this man to be particularly easy to engage in the right level of conversation. If he genuinely is doing snuff films, then he won’t have managed to keep it quite so quiet unless he was efficient at picking out his targets and regulars.”
“No.” Catherine sighed. “It’s a shame that this event is only for men. I’d have much preferred to lead this one.”
That earned a small smile. “Not least for the clothing?”
“That has its merits too,” she said firmly, then smiled and adjusted her position. “You think the others will be able to act to the extent that people will believe them?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. If we didn’t have Heather’s support, I wouldn’t have even attempted it. It’s one thing to be submissive. It’s quite another to earn enough trust to do some of the things that would be expected,” Gil sighed.
“I wouldn’t put yourself down too much. They all trust you enough to go to this situation, wear these clothes-,”
“- they haven’t actually put them on or seen them yet-,”
“-and mix in unusual situations. Hell, you even managed them to agree for a light flogging if the situation arises, and how many employers can say that?” Catherine shrugged. “I think you’re doing just fine, Gil. Although I am a little concerned over exactly what you’d be forced to do in order to keep them in line. Greg’s impulsive and over excitable. Warrick’s automatic reaction is to be the loner and interpret orders rather than follow them. Nick seems to be currently set on ‘teenage rebellion’, although I can’t really blame him for that. At what stage will you state that it’s all for nothing and abandon it?”
Gil’s fingers drummed on the table for a moment, before he raised his gaze. “I won’t put them at risk. If it comes to it, I will excuse us all. If it’s just one of them, then I will excuse that man and you can pick them up and keep them with you for the evening.. depending on what has happened, of course. It might be worthwhile to send them home if they’re too stressed.”
Catherine waited for a moment, and then raised her eyebrow. “That’s not quite answering what you would do.”
There was a long pause. Finally Gil sighed reluctantly. It was the question that had been gnawing away at him for some time already. In a way, it had been easier with their defiance; each man’s own determination to draw their personal line in the sand and stay by it, without his interference. Now they trusted him to know of the exact point where it went from acceptable to abuse, and their faith in him seemed much greater than his own.
“I don’t know.” he confessed quietly.
“Well, what did Nicky actually say?” Catherine frowned.
“He said ‘do what you have to’.” Gil’s fingers tapped on the table. Catherine looked at him incredulously, straightening her back like a cat that had seen a dog wander onto its territory.
“That’s it? Giving you a blank sheet to do whatever you want?” she shook her head slowly in disbelief. “God, that boy has a bad case of the hero worships.”
“I’m not going to let him down, Catherine.” Gil replied as patiently as he could. Catherine snorted.
“Damned straight you’re not. Look, Gil, I know you’re a good man, so don’t give me that look-,”
Gil attempted to shield the irritated glare that he had immediately aimed at Catherine at that particular remark.
“-but you can get a little … well, let’s call it distracted shall we? And we both know that you can get carried away under that setting. I was there when you were trying to get through to Warrick, remember?” she sighed. The ability to shield an irritated glare grew harder.
“You say that as though something actually happened to him. I was merely trying to emphasis a point-,”
“Yes, and we both know how that ended up, right?” she replied in exasperation. “Look, Gil, I’m the last person who’s gonna be calling your methods into question, but you’re going to have to realise you’re human too. I know you personally like this erotic set up, even if you do keep it mostly in your own fantasies. If Nick’s falling under its spell as well, then Warrick and Greg will soon follow, and then what? Your very own genuine harem? Can you imagine how that would look?”
“You have an over active imagination,”
“I’m being practical.”
“You’re being over dramatic.”
“Really? Then, Gil, exactly what happens if I’m right?” Catherine sighed crossly and sat back further in her chair. “I’ve got half a mind to just call Jim and say the whole thing’s off. We’d be risking the whole team, Gil.”
“You’d be babying the whole team.” Gil replied as steadily as he could. “They are not in any physical danger, and their mental states are hardly going to be in question. If this was a long, dedicated stake out I would be inclined to agree with you, but it isn’t. It is simply an extreme variation of what we see every day in the lab. The loyalty that brought them to this situation isn’t something that I’ve suddenly managed to create in them, Catherine. They want to do this.”
“Are you certain your desires aren’t making your decisions for you?”
“Are you certain that yours aren’t?”
They stared at each other for several minutes, neither flinching nor moving away. There was no surprise over Catherine’s uneasiness; if she couldn’t take a hands on practical approach herself then she was destined to be nervous. Had it been the whip in her hands, Gil had no doubt she wouldn’t have even blinked. He leaned back in his chair with a long, drawn out creak.
“Okay. Let’s put it to the vote, then.” he said softly. “See what the others say. Agreed?”
Catherine pursed her lips, but nodded. “Agreed. And I think you’re all crazy.”
Gil smiled slightly. “True. But, to be fair, you knew that before.”
*
“No chance,” Nick was the first to speak, his eyes flashing with undisguised emotion. “I’m doing this.”
“Yeah, same here,” Warrick raised his hand lazily, swinging on his chair. “Ain’ nothing I can’t handle.”
“Ditto,” Greg chimed in, although his nervous eyes flickered from Gil to Catherine and then back again, clearly trying to work out what was going on. Sara simply shrugged, knowing that her role was not the one in question.
“Can I ask why there’s been a change of heart?” she raised an eyebrow. “New information? There’s a bigger risk than we’d anticipated?”
Gil gave the smallest shrug of his shoulders, his eyes moving in interest to Catherine. She had already gone into defensive mode, just as he had expected, stood at the head of the table with her hands resting on its surface and looking all the world as though she was about to declare war.
“It seems to be getting out of hand.” Her voice was brisk and almost military, Catherine’s gaze sweeping around the table determinedly. “I’m worried about the extent that some individuals are willing to take this.”
“And how far are we willing to take this?” Sara glanced around the men curiously. “Because, as far as I can tell, we’re all still on the same page as we were on day one. It’s a bondage place, Catherine. They’re going to encounter at least a hint of physical action, right?”
The look in Catherine’s eyes was reaching artic levels. Sara frowned at her, and then glanced at Gil thoughtfully.
“… okay, what hasn’t someone told me here?”
“Everything’s the same as it was,” Nick’s hand hit the table, his frustration a little too obvious. “Hell, we haven’t just gone through all of that for nothing! Nothing’s altered-,”
“-other than people stating that they’re more than happy to allow their supervisor to do whatever they wish to them,” Catherine snapped back. Nick’s brow knitted together, and then he gave a sharp, shaky laugh for air and sat back.
“Awww, fuck no. This ain’t about me, this is about you bottling out and its not even your ass on the line here-!”
“You said Grissom could do anything to you?” Sara queried, clearly fascinated.
“Not now.” Nick’s eyes flashed to her, then back onto Catherine angrily, the accent in his words increasing with each syllable. “Now, stop me if I’m wrong, but this whole thing is off the clock, right? So you can’t actually stop us from going,”
Gil shifted slightly, growing wary of the conversation. It was one thing to have a conversation to express concerns. It was quite another to blatantly defy superiors, and upfront aggression always backfired when it came to Catherine; it merely fuelled her intensity rather than cooled it down. He noted Greg give Nick a concerned expression, and Warrick take on a narrowed eyed, cautious look.
“Nick, perhaps we should calm down..,” Gil murmured softly.
“No, no, let’s hear what he has to say. Because this is clearly him behaving completely rationally, isn’t it, Gil?” Catherine’s tone could etch glass, her gaze never wavering from Nick’s. Nick, to his credit, had already recognised his mistake; the words had been spoken immediately and without thought, bypassing the diplomatic gland. Nick growled softly and a little helplessly, and looked away, sitting back against his chair and rubbing his lower lip with a finger.
“Okay, sorry. Wasn’t thinking,”
“Unsurprisingly, that’s not a comment I want to hear either. If you can’t control yourself here, with us, what chance have you got when you’re under stress?” Catherine replied crossly. Nick scowled back at her.
“Hey, you sayin’ I can’t control myself at all? Well, thanks a whole bunch there, Catherine. You gonna take me off active cases as well, just in case I break some evidence?”
“Nick,” Gil warned softly. Dark eyes flickered to his own, and then Nick finally subsided, sitting back sulkily against his chair with his arms folded firmly across his chest. Catherine turned her glare back onto Gil.
“Well, there we go. Let’s take that as an example, shall we? What would you have done to him had he started answering back like that at the party?”
Gil was suddenly aware of the entire table’s attention. He gave the smallest shrug, trying to ignore the suddenly trapped expression in Nick’s eyes; a man who had realised he had just signed his own death warrant.
“It would depend on the circumstances,” he said carefully. Catherine slammed the palm of her hand onto the table, causing a slap loud enough to make nearly everyone flinch.
“Okay, then. Let’s do a bit of roleplay, shall we? Nick’s just defiantly spoken back to you.. let’s say you’ve asked him to kneel down and lick your boots in front of a little group of men, and he’s immediately said no, without thinking. The rest of the room’s busy but not really listening, but this group of men who’s standing around are busy watching what you do. So, Gil, what do you do?” Catherine folded her arms. “After all, you’ve had carte blanche to discipline him exactly the way you’d like.”
Nick winced. “C’mon, Catherine, it ain’ quite like that-,”
“Nick, if you value your hide, shut up now.” Catherine snapped at him without looking back at him. Nick sighed and closed his mouth, looking guiltily sulky. Warrick eyed him, then leaned forward and began to tap the table idly with the tip of a fingernail.
“Y’know what, I’ve done some really fucked up shit in my time,” he drawled, as though the whole argument was happening to someone else. Nick glanced at him in confusion, and even Catherine paused in her scowl to give Warrick a slightly concerned look. Warrick smiled slightly, and then shrugged.
“And one thing that nearly all of it had in common had that knowledge that it felt right at the time. And I’m really not sure you’re gonna be able to get Griss to work out what he’d do just in this room, y’know?” Warrick’s eyes lifted, his bright eyes looking at Catherine steadily. “Ain’t what the situation is, it’s also who’s around, and who’ll do what. You can read the cards in a game of poker, Cath, but you also read the people behind the cards. Some are gonna want harsher punishments than others, you know what I’m saying? There’s no point in flogging Nick if the people standing around would be happy with a quick clip around the back of the head.”
They simply stared at each other as though they were engaged in their own little game of bluff. Finally Catherine groaned, and clenched her hand into a fist before releasing it with her held breath.
“Fine. I take your point, although I want it on record that I am still unhappy,” her eyes moved to the youngest member of the team, who was sat on his chair wearing the wide eyed, confused expression of a young child who had just accidentally watched a sex scene in a film and wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. “Greg? You’ve been unnaturally quiet.”
“Um.”
“You’re still fine with this, right, Greggo?” Nick leaned back, and earned himself such a hard glare from Catherine that Gil was beginning to suspect the woman would soon advocate some sort of punishment for Nick herself and probably select the individual paddle as well.
“Nicky, let him speak for himself.”
Nick shrugged, and leaned back in the chair again, his hand straying to pat Warrick on the thigh in thanks as he did so. Now that was interesting. Gil studied the pair for a moment, and then filed the thought away for a different time as Greg finally decided on what he wanted to say with an obvious risk assessment on whether said opinion was going to get him broken.
“You mean whether I still want to do it? Well, sure. I mean, I’m really not worried about what’ll happen, even if something does occur. We’ll just blow our cover big time and need a different Plan B, right, rather than actually do serious things to Nick…. or whoever,” Greg said hastily as Nick aimed a look at him. “I mean, we’re not gonna be in a situation where it’s either fuck or die, y’know? I hope, anyway,”
“Definitely no dying, maiming, violent injury or anything else,” Sara piped up. “It’s a bitch to explain it in internal affair reports.”
“Oh. Well, good.” Greg nodded. “And I’m really not bothered about the costumes and the whacking and the actual roleplay. I trust the people I’m with,”
“We’ll have a safe word too,” Gil added softly, a little pleased smile aimed at Greg who blushed awkwardly, clearly not used to being the centre of attention. Gil’s eyes moved onto Catherine. “And we can also have a silent system of words, if possible. Drawing with a finger on peoples’ back.”
Catherine gave him an exasperated look. “You want to do what?”
He pushed himself up and glanced at Warrick. “Warrick, can I borrow you for a moment?”
Warrick’s eyebrow lifted slightly before he shrugged and eased himself out from the chair. “Sure, man. Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks,” Gil waited until Warrick was stood in front of him, and then turned him around to display the broadness of his t-shirted back. “If you draw a triangle preferably here-,” he demonstrated on a shoulder blade. “then it means danger, and to be extra wary. If you draw a line of zig-zags, say, down here,”
The line was drawn across Warrick’s waist, which earned him a shudder as Gil’s finger apparently introduced itself to a Warrick Ticklish Spot.
“- then it means you’re uncomfortable or getting upset. And if someone does a circle over and over again on you, then it means essentially ‘shut up’ … I would imagine the faster the circle, the more anxiously meant the instruction.” Gil glanced at the table. “Any questions?”
“You’re sure that your triangle’s not going to be mistaken for the circle?” Sara asked critically. Gil shook his head.
“The triangle should have three, distinct lines. The circle will be one long continuous movement. Even if the shape leaves a lot to be desired, the deliberate strokes of the triangle should make a difference. And, to be honest, if there’s danger then needing the other person to shut up is probably automatic.”
Catherine’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Those signals aren’t going to be something we’ll be able to notice on the cameras. You said you have a safe word?”
“Lunch,”
Catherine’s eyebrow decided to get into the action with a startled raise upwards. “Lunch? Isn’t that pretty common?”
“Exactly. We’ll ignore any lunches within context. However, if someone starts talking about a ‘excuse me sir, I forgot to arrange lunch for Mr Brass yesterday” or I bring it up myself, then there’s a problem. If we use something too unusual, it’s going to be blatantly obvious that a safe word has been used.” Gil looked around the table. “Are we happy with that?”
Greg shrugged. “Sure. Making me hungry already.”
There were little nods of agreement from around the table, where tensions were finally beginning to ease up. Gil relaxed a little more, then smiled at them.
“Good. In that case, let’s get on with our actual jobs, and continue this tomorrow. Just make sure everyone gets a good period of sleep, alright?”
As it turned out, this was one instruction even he was going to have problems to complete.
*
The knock on his apartment door turned up when he had been intending to go to bed. Intending had, of course, been the most important word. He had been intending to go for the last hour, but in between the scientific journal and finishing the somewhat haphazard sandwich, he had yet to get into his bedroom to sleep. Gil raised an eyebrow at the time, but padded with bare feet to the door.
“Nick,” That had not been expected. Gil frowned slightly, and then stood back to allow the younger man to slip past him; he watched the line of Nick’s back as he walked into the room with the sheepish, slightly hunched posture of guilt. Gil’s eyes narrowed further, uncertain what was going on.
“Is there a problem?” He seemed to be saying that a lot recently, Gil mused as he shut the door behind them and walked to the kitchen during the inevitable silence that followed. “And would you like a drink?”
Apparently the drink question was easier to answer, as Nick shook his head without improving his posture. “No. Thanks.”
Gil poured himself a glass of orange juice and studied the younger man critically.
“You’ve decided against going to the House tomorrow?” he guessed carefully. Nick’s eyes flashed to him for a moment, an apology a little too obvious in his dark gaze. Gil sighed softly. Well, Nick had entertained the notion; that was all he could have asked for.
However, Nick wasn’t yet done. “No.”
The orange juice hesitated on route to Gil’s mouth. “No?” Well, that opened up a whole new situation of questions. “Then what’s the matter?”
The expression in Nick’s eyes was one of torn emotion, wanting to speak and yet something dragging him back. His eyes flickered to the door, then back again with the silent, beseeching expression that seemed to come to Nick so very easily. It was like witnessing a loyal Labrador try to express to its owner that it had a thorn in its paw that it would really like said owner to remove, if it was alright with them.
“Has Catherine said anything further to you?” Gil pressed slowly. The wretched element of Nick increased, and yet the silence continued. Bingo. Gil sighed wearily and took a mouthful of the drink as he thought it through.
“Okay,” he said finally, putting the glass down. “What did she say?”
There was another glance to the door, and Gil could see the battle for loyalty fight it out in Nick’s eyes. “She’s not there, Nick,” he said gently. “Whatever you have to tell me will be in confidence, I promise. What are you worried about?”
A little soft sigh of breath indicated that speech might finally turn up. Gil waited patiently.
“Catherine hinted .. well, less than hinted.. afterwards that there was absolutely no way I was going to get through the whole event without putting my foot in it,” Nick stumbled through the first few words, then seemed to build up confidence as he continued what appeared to be a set script in his head. He glanced up at Gil. “She said I should probably resign myself to the fact that you’d need to do something.”
Gil watched him for a moment longer, and then shrugged slightly. It was a fair assessment. Nick might well do a perfect job, but he might just as well stumble over the unfamiliar social etiquette that was so different to the type he was used to.
“I’d probably agree with that assessment.”
“So that’s why I’m here.” Nick paused, and then pressed on with the forceful words of one knowing he was doing The Right Thing. “To practise.”
“… practise?” Gil frowned harder as the full implication hit him. “You’re here to practise taking punishment? Have I got that correctly?”
“Yeah,” Nick’s shoulders straightened, his steady gaze meeting Gil’s head on. A gaze that held nerves, wariness and a hell of a lot of stubbornness. “Will you do it?”
“Well, I…,” He was at a complete loss for words.
“’Cause I was thinking it over,” Nick’s voice had found the fast forward button, his animation almost equal to the periods where he was thinking through a theory for a murder. “I mean, even the minor punishments are probably going to need restraints, yeah? And I know what I’m like with restraints… if I’m more confident, I’m going to last longer. And I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone if I panic, so I thought if I got you to just walk me through a few then I’d know what I’m doing and be able to relax a bit, y’know?”
Anxious, uncertain eyes scanned Gil’s, clearly trying to locate disapproval and other danger signs. Gil released his breath, and finished the orange juice, slowly lowering the glass to the table before looking up again.
“I don’t need to tell you how inappropriate it would be for me to hurt you, especially if it has sexual overtones.” he said slowly. Nick snorted softly.
“Yeah, if it was out the blue, I’d agree with you. But it’s not, Griss, don’t you see? The others are depending on us to do this right. You’ll probably be smacking my ass tomorrow evening, so it’s gonna make no difference if you do a walk through first. And it can’t leave marks, so it’s even less risky, right?”
“I didn’t think you liked bondage,” Gil’s steady gaze held Nick’s.
“Aww, come on. Yeah, this isn’t what I normally do, and hell, I don’t know whether I like it or not, y’know? But what I do know is we’ll all lose everything if we don’t all pull together tomorrow.” Nick stepped forward determinedly.
“And you didn’t think it might be easier to, say, simply behave yourself tomorrow?” Gil watched him carefully. “You might think you’re destined to fail, but think it over, Nick. You submit to my lead every single day, in the field and in the lab. When I speak, you stand there respectfully. You follow orders without question, or if you are concerned then you query it softly and with due deference. You look after your colleagues, and they look after you. If you tap into that mindset in the House, you should have no reason to have difficulty sitting down… not unless you were intending to get it, of course.”
Nick looked at him for a moment, and then laughed incredulously. “I’m not here because I personally want a spanking, Griss,”
“No?” Grissom watched him thoughtfully. “Are you truly sure?”
Irritation flashed in Nick’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure, man. Got better things to do with my time, y’know?”
“And yet here you are.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You don’t want to do it,” Nick folded his arms across his chest stubbornly. Gil shrugged slightly.
“I didn’t say that.” His eyes noted every little flicker, every movement that the younger man made. Nick made a dismissive noise and began to walk, prowling around the room as though he was looking for something although Gil recognised Nick’s typical ‘discomfort’ gesture when he saw it.
“Then what? This’ll aid our case,” Nick’s gaze flashed to him in grim amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about what people would think?”
“Slightly, although I’m more concerned over what I might think,”
Nick straightened from where he had been looking at the spines of books, confusion furrowing his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, Nick, that you’re suggesting a particularly intimate task, one that I would have said was not strictly speaking necessary. And yes,” he added as Nick opened his mouth to protest. “I know it would make things easier tomorrow. However, ease and necessity are two separate things. I’m just wondering why a heterosexual male, uninterested in bondage, would happily suggest this without additional motivation.”
The look aimed at him a little longer, and then Nick laughed and shook his head. “You saying you think I’m hitting on you?”
Gil’s eyebrow twitched upwards. “Are you?”
“Jesus, Griss…,” Nick gave another little snort of incredulousness.
“That’s neither a yes or a no, Nick. Try again.” Gil strolled further into the living room and watched him. “Although if the answer’s yes, I’m a little surprised on the timing. Certainly the topic of bondage is in our minds, but still, there would be no guarantee that I entertain romantic inclinations towards the masculine persuasion. Unless, of course, you’re stating that all four of us going to this party have at least a hint of homosexuality?”
Nick gave another little snort and looked away. Gil’s eyes narrowed carefully.
“No. There’s something else, isn’t there?” he walked a little closer, watching the other man’s discomfort as he did so. “Well?”
The dark eyes flickered to him again before Nick looked away. “I spoke to Warrick,”
Gil waited for a few moments, but apparently that was all Nick was prepared to give. Warrick. Certainly they had had their moments in the past, not least because of Gil’s somewhat disastrous attempt to bring the young man into line against his gambling addictions, but he still couldn’t see a direct link between what had happened before and Nick’s sudden desire to test out the limits of submissive behaviour. He frowned slightly.
“Warrick?” he repeated slowly. “And what exactly did Warrick say?”
“Aww, man, don’t.” Nick looked at him critically. “Don’t play dumb with me, ‘kay? I know about you two. How you ‘persuaded’ him to sleep with you.”
Out of everything, that had been unexpected. Gil’s eyebrows suddenly found a particularly good reason to visit the ceiling. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve heard how you liked to dominate people. How you hunt them down.” Nick moved a little closer, his dark eyes intense and all but black in the limited light and his voice still strong but with the slightest of trembles deep within it. It took all Gil’s willpower not to allow the disbelief to show on his features.
“Do I?” he said neutrally. Clearly he was going to have to have a word with Mr Warrick Brown. If his reputation was having more fun than his reality, something was most decidedly amiss. “What else have I done?”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Nick’s eyes turned hunted. “Look, if you just wanted me to fuck off, you could have just said so.”
Despite his words, Nick still stayed nearby, almost unwilling to turn his back on where Gil was stood. Gil watched him thoughtfully, allowing himself the luxury of time to fully process the situation. That Nick believed Warrick’s interesting interpretation of history was unmistakable, the young man’s trust in his friend shining out through everything he did. That was a trust that Gil never wanted to damage; the pair had bonded well throughout their time at the crime lab, as inseparable and playful as puppies, and there was obviously no disgust over the tale, or indeed lack of respect as a result of it. Nick stood with the unmistakable posture of nervous energy, one finger tapping against his arm as he waited uncomfortably for Gil to say something.
“Remind me why you’re doing this?” he murmured softly.
“For the case. You know that,”
“Mmmmmm,” Gil knew no such thing, although he was pleased to see a little more aggression in Nick’s eyes. Whatever this was, it wasn’t simply a one off spark. Nick straightened again, angrily.
“Ah, man, don’t mmmmmm at me. I know what that means. Fine, I’ll go.” Nick finally began to move toward the door. Gil watched him turn, an annoyingly unpleasant mixture of excitement and concern mixing in his stomach as he did so; what was sensible in reality was certainly not sensible to the part of him that had more than a little interest in Nick Stokes. But then, this was not a normal situation. Once a step had been taken down the wrong path, he doubted whether it could be removed, and Nick’s vulnerability was too easy to witness.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nick,” his voice sounded distant even to him. Nick scowled angrily, a flush of embarrassment and upset on his cheeks, before he shook his head and rested his hand on the door handle. He paused, and then looked back at Gil critically.
“Everyone keeps going on about whether I could do these things when it boils down to it.” he said, and there was a little bitter smile on his face. “Now, I think the question should be… could you, Grissom? Could you really?”
And as Nick vanished through the doorway, Gil had to confess that he no longer knew.
TBC