FIC: To Whom It May Concern (CSI Slash NC17) 6/?
FIC: To Whom It May Concern (6/?)
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.
Warnings: BDSM scenes
Please check tags for past chapters
*
He wasn’t in the pit. He wasn’t in the corridors. He wasn’t with Catherine. He wasn’t in the toilets. Warrick even made a sweep of the outdoors, ignoring the chill of the wind on his bared torso as he stalked towards Nick’s car, which was there too. No signs of struggle. No cars had left. Nick was apparently playing hide and seek, and if he didn’t cut that out soon he was going to find himself in a whole heap of trouble.
“C’mon, bro,” Warrick growled to himself, refusing to let the concern grow. He was fine. He had to be fine. “Where the hell are you?”
He moved back into the main building, giving Hank a quick sharp nod as he entered. Time to start at the beginning and then work from there, eliminating everything he could possibly eliminate without tearing down walls. Warrick slipped back into the main gathering, feeling the music beat enter his bones as he slipped his way past the crowd, keeping his eyes peeled for signs of Nick. The chances that Stokes was actually here was minor, of course. His discomfort would more likely push him out into the corridors that surrounded it, although knowing Lady Heather’s little warren of corridors that could very easily mean that the man was genuinely lost. Wonderland had nothing on the Dominion.
The pit covered, Warrick began to make a further sweep of the external corridors; Nick hadn’t returned the way they had originally arrived, but there were several other routes out and the majority led to various rooms that offered additional private space for the discerning visitor. Unfortunately it also offered plenty of space for someone to hide… or to be hidden.
Despite his best intentions, his concern was beginning to grow. This wasn’t like Nick. If the man had decided he was going to stop, he would simply have gone to Catherine and informed her in his lost little boy apologetic way. He wouldn’t have fucked off on them without letting one of them know where he was. And if he hadn’t done that, then something was very wrong.
Warrick shook his head as he turned a corner and began to pick up speed. Fuck, he shouldn’t have left him alone, but he had genuinely thought that Nick was slowly getting used to things. The startled, near terrified look in his eyes had gradually turned into horrified interest, then curiosity; the man had begun to actively watch the others as they played, the embarrassment steadily slipping away as Nick adjusted to the situation. Warrick had even seen the signs of actual enjoyment, Nick’s guilty pleasure before he managed to shield himself from view. How far had that pleasure gone, Warrick wondered to himself as he followed the stairs up. Had Nick’s body and mind betrayed him so much that Nick had simply run, horrified by his own reactions?
Claiming the stairs had given him nothing, and now Warrick began to investigate the rooms leading from the main corridors. Some were locked, others occupied, although the majority of players were quite happy with a glance over their shoulder at the intruder to offer him a knowing smile. Some rooms were simply empty, and it was these that Warrick spent time investigating, checking around the room for signs of a struggle - okay, an unexpected struggle - and an unconscious body lying somewhere, dragged out of sight. Each time he left empty handed, his concern battling with the relief that he hadn’t found the bloody image that was nagging at him.
Nothing. Every single time.
Swearing to himself, Warrick entered the last of the darkened rooms on the level and was beginning his sweep when a shadow moved and almost scared the life out of him.
“Nick?” he recovered almost immediately, the relief slowly turning into a hard frown. Warrick stepped forward, clicking on a lamp to give him more light as Nick sheepishly emerged from what appeared to be a small bathroom attached to the bedroom. “Where the hell have you been, man? You scared the shit out of us! And why’s your hair wet?”
Nick waved a hand toward the bathroom and the sink basin, and then walked a little further into the room in order to slowly sit on the bed. Warrick sighed softly, and held out his hand to gesture that Nick’s new order was to stay put.
“Okay. You stay there. I’m just going to tell someone so Catherine’s not going to start scratching through the walls t’find you, ‘kay?” he eyed Nick suspiciously, not entirely certain the man wasn’t going to vanish off behind his back, but withdrew slowly. Thankfully Heather’s staff were everywhere; message sent, Warrick returned and was more than a little relieved to find Stokes where he had left him, looking alone and tired. He sighed, and moved across the room to sit down next to him.
“Okay, bro. You wanna go home? I’ll speak to Griss, let him know you’re feeling bad,”
“No.” Nick’s voice was soft but had the surprising strength of several iron bars behind it. Warrick frowned at him in confusion.
“What? You actually wanna go through with it?”
“That’s right.”
“Hate to tell you this, man, but you’re in the wrong bedroom if you are.” Warrick squinted at him critically, unconvinced by the words. Words got backed up by actions, and if Nick’s expression was anything to go by then enthusiasm wasn’t exactly forthcoming. “And if you don’t get in the other room with a damned good excuse pretty damned soon, Griss is gonna have to do something bad to you.”
Nick smiled in grim satisfaction. “Good.”
“.. okay, now you’re starting to freak me out.” Warrick eyed him cautiously. “You want to tell me why you’re in the mood to be tonight’s main sacrifice? Or are you just liking this whole thing more than you expected? Because-,”
The ‘because’ was destined never to turn up as Nick turned and all but pounced on him, his desperate mouth meeting Warrick’s shocked one and Nick’s body weight flattening them both on the slightly too soft mattress. For a moment Warrick couldn’t do anything but struggle with his own mental confusion as he was kissed even deeper, Nick’s tongue cautiously exploring Warrick’s mouth whilst he attempted to straddle his hips.
Warrick’s hands seemed to move of their own accord; it seemed too natural to place them on Nick’s waist, following the lines of his friend’s surprisingly overheated body and cautiously over the cool lines of the shorts. There was a soft growl of encouragement vibrating from the back of Nick’s throat, his kiss deepening, passionate and possessive as the powerful muscles of the other man’s ass ground obstinately against Warrick’s groin.
A few minutes later and Warrick knew he had to stop this particular round of madness before the madness took over. On the other hand, what he knew to stop didn’t necessarily mean he had to do it; he allowed Nick a few moments of possession, before calmly grabbing hold of the man’s wrists and shoving hard, rolling them over and reversing their positions. Nick stared upwards at him in bemusement, his face flushed with effort and his breathing hard and fast, before he offered him the usual boyish grin that was so Nick it was painful.
Warrick calmly took hold of the metallic chain that ran from Nick’s neck to his waist and gave it a gentle tug. No way he was getting played.
“You wanna tell me what’s got into you, man?”
Nick chuckled breathlessly. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it.”
Warrick glanced down at their positions, and then smiled ruefully. “If I haven’t, we’re in a bit of an awkward position. But this ain’ you, bro.”
“Yeah? And what is me, ‘Rick?” Nick stared back at him defiantly, and shifted his hips in an attempt to regain a little bit of control. Not that Warrick was intending to give him it, of course. With Nick in this mood, giving him an inch would probably result in the man opening a whole rope business.
“Not this.” Warrick wasn’t interested in getting into fine details.
“You turning me down?” Nick stared back at him defiantly. Warrick laughed incredulously.
“You’re seriously offering? Someone slip you something?” he tried to check Nick’s pupils, but the lack of light and Nick’s naturally dark eye colour were conspiring against him. Nick bucked against him again, less than playfully; one hand freed itself and promptly cupped behind Warrick’s neck, pulling him down into another powerful, messy and incredibly addictive kiss that brought him panting into Nick’s way of thinking.
Nick grinned hungrily at him, scenting victory. He circled his hips against Warrick’s, grinding their erections together as he stared back at him rebelliously.
“C’mon. You do this all the time with Griss, right? Don’t pretend you’re shy,”
Warrick let out his breath from between his teeth. Grissom. Of course. “You know that the whole kissing thing was staged for just that scene, right?” he said heavily. Nick shrugged, which no doubt translated into ‘no’, but the bold look didn’t vanish from his eyes. His cheeks were still flushed, his eyes sparkling and his body trembling, and if that didn’t look like a man who was desperate to be fucked then Warrick didn’t know what did.
“Be better if we did this later on.” Warrick grunted. “Case, remember?”
Nick chuckled roughly. “Griss wanted me to annoy him so he could punish me properly. What’s better than fucking the other pet?”
Warrick looked at him incredulously. “He told you that?”
“Most of it. C’mon, Rick.” Nick squirmed his hips again, the length of his obvious erection brushing against Warrick’s triumphantly. His soft Texan voice had turned quicker and lighter as his excitement began to shine through. “You need it. So do I.”
Warrick looked at him steadily. The words themselves weren’t Nick, but the voice was soft, persuasive and eager, no longer attempting to dominate but simply trying to guide Warrick to his own way of thinking. If that wasn’t Stokes, Warrick was clearly a drunken badger.
“I ain’t doing anything until you tell me what’s going on. And a decent reason too, I’m not going for the ‘why not’ line.” he said patiently, ignoring the insistent ache in his own body that objected strongly to this little plan. The right thing to do was damned painful sometimes.
“C’mon, since when do you just stand around and talk?” There was no mistaking the frustration in Nick’s voice, the other man nudging upwards with his hips. Warrick rode out the little bucking session easily, using his weight to pin the other man back onto the bed. Nick’s eyes flashed for a moment before he growled impatiently.
“’Kay.” he said reluctantly. “Look, I just need this. And no, that’s not the same as the ‘why not’ answer. I genuinely need it.”
“For what?” Warrick snorted. “What the hell makes you need to practise …,”
The last word stretched as recognition struck. Practise. Just before going back to face Grissom and his little session. Warrick sat a little further back and frowned down at him, unhappy about where the whole situation was headed. Nick scowled again, embarrassment turning the flush to his cheeks into a rosier hue, although it apparently wasn’t enough to stop his determination.
“This is revision?” Warrick poked Nick in the ribs with a finger.
“I need to know I can go through with it before I get in that room,” Nick replied heatedly. “You gonna help me or what?”
“Yeah, that’s real romantic, man,” Warrick sighed, rubbing his face with his hand tiredly and looking toward the door. He looked down at him critically. “Dunno what you’ve heard about me, but I ain’t that rough. Catherine would have been a better choice,”
“Catherine hasn’t got a dick,” Nick replied pointedly.
“’Cause she does, it’s rubber and straps on.” Warrick replied patiently. “And what, you gotta be male to get into this?”
“Griss is male. He’s the one doing it.” Nick replied, a little sulkily. “Look, I’m not here for a long debate over it, although I am planning to find out how you know about Catherine’s rubber whatsit later on. Yes or no? Am I gonna need to drag Greg out here?”
“Don’t you fucking dare, he’s bouncy enough as it is without an orgasm through his system,” Warrick growled softly, giving him a sharp enough glare that Nick lost a little more of his fight. Wide, annoyingly innocent soft eyes looked up at him beseechingly.
“Rick, I’m not trying to make you angry. I trust you to do this, y’know?” he said softly. “Please. I’m gonna freeze up in there if I don’t at least try getting more intimate before Griss does whatever it is he’s planning to do to me.”
“Griss won’t harm you.” Warrick replied heavily.
“Yeah, I know.” Nick’s voice was still soft and earnest, his eyes scanning Warrick’s in a way that seemed impossible to either ignore or deny. “If I thought he would, I wouldn’t be going in that room. Doesn’t stop me wanting to do things right,”
Another heavy sigh escaped Warrick’s lips. “You even done this before, Nick?”
“That’s not relevant.” Nick replied hotly, his hand sliding up the muscle of Warrick’s arm. Warrick watched it for a moment, before slowly looking back at him through narrowed eyes. Like fuck it wasn’t relevant, and he wasn’t sure how it wasn’t in whatever world Nick was currently involved in. Something had made the man believe this was necessary, and Nick had a nasty habit of simply finding a way around roadblocks if someone tried to stop him. Cute but stubborn.
“If we’re intending to go back, then we really gotta do it soon,” Warrick said instead, leaning back and feeling Nick’s hot, nervous body underneath his ass. A hurt look crossed Nick’s eyes as he stared back, his hand slowly falling from Warrick’s arm in defeat. Warrick sighed and leaned forward, brushing his finger across Nick’s cheekbone in a manner that he had watched Grissom do.
“This ain’t rejections, and don’t you go thinking that,” he said softly, scanning the other man’s eyes. “Whatever happens in that room, you’re not gonna need to be sexually active to do it, y’hear? No way that Griss’ll risk it, and even if he is taken over by a case of the headswap fairies I’ll drag you out before then. But if we don’t get our asses in there soon we’re going to be screwed in more ways than one.”
Nick had a particularly dubious expression in his eyes, even if his mouth didn’t actually voice it. Warrick chuckled throatily, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Nick’s mouth, feeling the man hesitate and then accept it slowly. He allowed his hand to drift over the still trembling, hot plains of Nick’s chest and across his belly, feeling a little tug of pleasure as his friend shivered at the touch.
“Y’okay with that, bro?” he breathed. “I got your back. I’ve always got your back.”
For a moment their breaths mingled, remaining so damned close that Warrick felt the heat of Nick’s body on his own. Slowly Nick came out of his daze, leaning upwards and delicately licking at Warrick’s lower lip before pressing another gentle, near apologetic kiss to Warrick’s mouth.
“Yeah,” he whispered back. Dark eyes softened. “Thanks, man,”
“Y’welcome.” Warrick straightened and then dismounted, slipping off Nick’s prone body and offering him a hand to pull himself upwards. He grinned at him as Nick finally steadied himself on his feet, and then pulled him to his chest in a one armed hug. “You’re just full of surprises, Nicky.”
“Yeah, I’m a regular fortune cookie,” Nick agreed with a weaker smile. Warrick chuckled and pulled him tighter again, before releasing him and walking to the door.
“C’mon. Let’s get you back. And when you walk through that door, go straight to Grissom and get yourself on your knees. You’re gonna have to play up your little boy routine, ‘kay?”
“I don’t have a little boy routine-,”
“Yeah, and Brass doesn’t have a gun.” Warrick rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh as they walked down the corridor. “And you let me do the talking, okay? No excuses, no shoving your foot in it, and definitely do not try to bluff, ‘cause you’re about as good at bluffing as Sara is at tap-dancing in a gorilla outfit.”
He jumped as he felt Nick’s hand slide over his ass, then aimed a look back over his shoulder. Nick looked back at him innocently, and then shrugged.
“Bad at bluffing, remember?”
“Oh, man,” Warrick chuckled. “When we’re out of this house, we’re gonna be having words. Trust me on that,”
*
There were few things as exhilarating as those first hints of success. Everything had been perfectly calculated, as vigilant as if he was extracting the final results from a source that would disintegrate immediately afterwards. Blake’s tale was relatively mild, but then he had left little markers that could easily be teased to reveal further detail. But then, of course, these needed to be teased in such a way to make it look like it came from natural curiosity rather than calculation; the story had been kept vague for a reason, after all.
Greg had been instrumental in this, much to Gil’s surprise. The youngster had automatically dropped to Gil’s feet when he could, and there had been a silent message of understanding that flashed between them as the boy took Gil’s foot and slowly begun to unfasten his shoe. A particularly skilful foot massage followed, Greg’s long fingers surprisingly sensual and talented, and Gil certainly didn’t require much acting to sound distracted as a result.
The young tech was also proving to be a marvellous contrast to the boy that had been the focus of Blake’s story. The chance that the lad was actually called Henry was minor, of course, but Gil could well believe that the description of a confused boy who simply either couldn’t or wouldn’t immerse himself in Blake’ version of his world was realistic enough. The description of what had happened to said Henry to teach him the errors of his ways was detailed enough to suggest that either Blake had researched thoroughly, whether that be practical or written, or simply a record of what happened to some of the boys that for whatever reason had failed the test.
“Ah,” Gil had said carelessly, and as reluctantly as he could make it. “the dangers would be too great. Legal issues, of course, consent..,”
He allowed the last word to dissolve into a groan as Greg’s thumb caressed the arch of his foot. Greg’s eyes looked up at him for approval, which also helpfully created the impression that the conversation surrounding the boy was merely background noise in his quest to please his master. Gil smiled down at him. Why Greg couldn’t bring this side of his nature to the lab he had no idea, although he suspected it was simply another aspect of Greg’s need to take things to extremes; currently, Sanders was putting his heart and soul into being the best little slave a man could hope to achieve, and he was doing a remarkably good job in his performance.
Blake made a dismissive noise at the back of his throat. “Consent fluctuates so easily.”
“I’m not sure I quite understand what you mean,” Gil glanced at him carelessly. “Although I’ve had boys back out at the last minute because they hadn’t quite worked out what they had signed up to. But that’s part of the course, surely?”
He slowly leaned forward to caress Greg’s cheek with his finger again, earning himself another pleased grin in response before Greg started to turn his foot into a little pleasurable blaze of sensation. The warmth was beginning to creep up his legs, settling into the core of him, and Gil had to fight to keep himself properly grounded.
“Besides which,” Gil added with a rough chuckle. “The last thing either of us needs is a complaint made against us to the police.”
Blake gave a little shrug. “There are ways to get around that.”
“Yes?” The thrill of the chase throbbed deep within him again, the power adding to Greg’s caresses and finishing in a near orgasmic and slightly unwanted delight in his lower belly. Gil kept his expression mildly bemused, however, not wanting to scare off his quarry, and then chuckled softly. “Ah. Money. I’m afraid universities just don’t pay enough-,”
“Pay offs are limited,” Blake replied carelessly. “A promise may last for a year, or not at all. No, I prefer a little more permanence to my agreements-,”
And suddenly the carefully crafted and coaxed conversation crashed into a wall as the door to the room opened; despite the fact that it was merely opened enough for the two men to slip inside, it was as destructive as a bomb being set off. Gil swore loudly internally, and sent a furious look at Warrick, who froze. The relief Gil found when he noted that Nick was safe and well swiftly turned into irritation that whatever it was that had delayed the man had not been serious enough for him to go to Catherine.
The recognition of what they had just done was blatantly obvious in both men’s guilty eyes, although Gil was grimly pleased to note that this remorse was missed entirely by Blake, who had merely sat back and begun to play with his own boy again. Greg glanced at the pair doubtfully, and then slowly glanced back up at Gil for instruction as he carefully put Gil’s foot back on the floor.
“Warrick.” Gil’s voice had a mind of its own as he growled out the name. “Come here.”
Warrick cleared the short distance between them, settling down on his knees. Gil noted Nick finding his own small spot next to the chair to kneel, keeping out of the way as much as he could hope to be. Sadly for Nick, there was absolutely no way he was going to simply blend into the background even if a cloak of invisibility was available. Gil flicked his gaze on him for a moment, and then looked back down at Warrick who was close enough that a whispered conversation was possible.
“Well?”
“He got lost. And he was nervous.”
Gil tapped his finger on his thigh impatiently, giving Nick another little glance. Nervous was one thing, and damned natural. Anything past that was likely to end up damaging Nick, which Gil wasn’t prepared to consider. “How seriously?”
“He’ll last.” Warrick looked at him carefully. “No way the man’ll leave by himself,”
This meant that Gil was going to have to be responsible for finding out Nick’s personal limit and dragging the man out if it went past it. Gil drummed his fingers again, lifting his head and studying the kneeling figure carefully. The safest route would be to simply remove Nick from the scene entirely, despite Stokes’ protests on doing so. However, that would require manhandling the man outside and having Catherine physically collect him; anything else and Nick’s stubborn streak was likely to kick in, causing even more damage.
It was a hard one to call. Essentially Blake was offering information by himself, without the need to use any of his boys to prove Gil’s beliefs. However, Nick was a thorn in the side for that; let him leave, even with an excuse, and Gil’s level of commitment to what Blake would have considered the true path would be severely weakened. But to keep Nick there was to ask him to participate in something that Gil knew might be well past Nick’s comfort level, and that wasn’t okay.
“Remember,” Blake murmured, almost to his boy. “There are ways.”
Gil’s fingers drummed a little more, deliberately staring at Nick harder than he felt to give some weight to how seriously he was taking the disobedience. Unfortunately, this seemed to have more of a reaction to his own team than his intended audience. Greg’s slave poise was beginning to slip, anxiety showing in his eyes as he tried to decide where to look. Gil suspected that Warrick was only a heartbeat away from offering up his own hide in Nick’s place, although Warrick just wasn’t the right sort of target. Blake was essentially a bully, hiding behind the façade of a dominant, and it was that aspect of him that Lady Heather had noted almost immediately and taken the next step to contact the police. Bullies preferred the type of target whose defiance had its limits, the type who could be intimidated enough to gain amusement from them. The ones who cried tears when a gun was turned on them, rather than cursed.
And then, of course, there were their invisible partners on the other end of a camera feed.
If you do anything bad to Nicky, I’m dragging him out myself Catherine’s voice informed him briskly. You know the limits.
Yes, he knew the limits. But then what he was considering were only the first few baby steps. Even if Blake was intending to put Nick on his Things To Damage list, it wouldn’t be here and now, not with such an audience, and certainly not giving his prey such a chance to flee. No, the conversation would still only be a conversation, with a few little forays into what could be.
Nick could take it, he was certain of it. Whether everyone else believed the same was likely to be a different matter.
Gil slowly pushed himself up, ignoring Warrick and allowing Greg to shuffle out of the way before he slowly walked to where Nick was kneeling. He leaned forward, taking hold of Catherine’s carefully designed chain and giving it a firm tug, transmitting his message firmly. Nick took the hint, his expression apologetic and eyes even slightly tearful, although Gil had never quite worked out how many of Nick’s tears were genuine and how many were simply habit, a get out of jail free card that was rarely argued over.
Nick’s tearful, pitiful expression certainly worked on Warrick, of course. He could hear the man return to his feet behind him, the tension reflected in the man’s inability to remain on his knees. Gil ignored him, simply tracing his hand over Nick’s chest and watching the other man tremble in response, the younger man’s hands clenched into fists at his side and the slightest sheen of sweat on his skin as he waited. Gil’s eyes narrowed as he noted the fact that Nick’s short hair appeared to be slightly damp, but then they had to be doing something in the half hour that they had been missing. A splash of water in the face to snap someone out of a daze wasn’t a wildly rare occurrence.
Gil idly slipped his hand into his pocket as he studied Nick, slowly extracting the glossy dark latex gloves that Catherine had added as part of his costume and which he had refused to put on until that moment. The slow, snapping sound of the latex as he smoothed it over his hand seemed to spark off an immediate response in Nick, his eyes nervously darting to the dark gloves and then back again in anxious apprehension. Gil had no idea what Nick’s imagination was doing to him, but whatever the image was - and, given what they normally associated with that particular sound, there were a number of unpleasant possibilities - it was apparently impressive. Nick flinched as Gil’s newly latexed fingers traced over a nipple, his eyes restless enough that Gil wasn’t quite sure the man wasn’t going to bolt straight away.
“Last chance, Nicky,” he murmured softly. “I can still get you out now, but past that point you’re gonna need to use the safe word. If you still want to go ahead, put your hand on my leg.”
He watched as Nick’s gaze darted nervously to the gloves again and then back, scanning his eyes for reassurance. Gil waited, feeling his own heartbeat increase as the clock seemed to painfully tick past, each moment of indecisiveness arguing against his case, despite the fact that only a few seconds had passed. Finally Nick offered him the smallest of smiles, his dark eyes softening in trust and the man’s hand touching Gil’s thigh gently before he withdrew it, Nick’s body tensing slightly in anticipation of Gil’s retaliation.
“Good boy,” Gil murmured proudly, brushing Nick’s jaw for a moment before taking hold of the chain that led from collar to belt and giving him a tug toward the wall. Nick followed automatically, only hesitating as he slowly realised their intended target.
“Face the wall,” he kept the instructions murmured, and waited until Nick had grudgingly stepped forward before walking back to the others and carelessly looking at the still tense Warrick. “Shackle him up.”
That was not a popular order, although Gil was relieved to find that both Greg and Warrick was prepared to trust what he had to say after a few moments of uncertainity. That, apparently, was more than Catherine was.
Gil, what the hell are you planning?
“You said there were ways?” Gil turned his attention back to Blake, his voice casual enough to suggest that the instruction given to Warrick was completely normal. Blake was a little distracted, however, his gaze firmly fixed to the opposite wall where Warrick had finished shackling Nick’s wrists high above his head. Gil looked back idly in time to see Warrick’s dark hands slide down over Nick’s back, Nick spreading his legs slightly to give a better aesthetically pleasing position. That was definitely a Warrick suggestion; Gil had no doubt that the only thought Nick would have had was simply what would be happening to his back in the near future.
Gil cleared his throat softly, and was rewarded by predatory eyes returning to him hungrily. Nick was bait, pure and simple, but there was no way that this particular fish was going to get a chance to claim its worm; a little encouragement, and they were probably going to have more than enough suggestion from Blake on how to punish Nick properly.
“There were ways?” Gil reminded him gently.
“There are,” Blake murmured. “Although sadly not here. I come to these events for relaxation, rather than .. shall we say business?”
“Where do you go?” Gil queried, as idly as he could, although he knew already that it wouldn’t be that easy. A location could easily lead to a warrant, if not for the videos themselves then for some other charge. Brass was a sniffer dog when it came to weaknesses to exploit, although Gil was careful never to phrase it in that way. Blake gave the smallest of shrugs, and a smile.
“Just a place. It’s special to me, but secluded.”
“I see.” Gil nodded slowly. “Like a bolt hole to see a mistress?”
Blake chuckled. “Yes, I guess you could see it like that. The paperwork is certainly similar.”
And now he had to be careful. Too many questions could easily make the man clam up, but too few could mean that they had nothing to go on. Gil walked toward the little collection of items that Lady Heather had thoughtfully provided, and ran his glossy fingertips over the equipment.
“And there we have the catch,” Gil said regretfully, selecting a silken blindfold and running it through his fingers. “Everything comes back to money, eventually. I guess we’ll have to see what we can achieve here.”
He could see the tension outlined through Nick’s posture as he walked across to him, although the man was struggling to hide it. He heard the soft sound of indrawn breath as the black silk slid over Nick’ eyes and felt the nervous tremble press against him as Gil gently tied it in place. He took the time to run his hands down Nick’s raised biceps and down his sides, feeling the way Nick’s breathing stilled as he did so. The intimacy of what Nick was offering to him caused Gil to pause for a moment, before he managed to recover once again. Nick had made himself vulnerable for a reason, and that reason was certainly not to arouse him. It was simply a rather uncomfortable by-product.
“Still trusting me, Nicky?” he murmured in the man’s ear. Nick shuddered, and then made a little affirmative ‘mm-hmm’ noise in the back of his throat; even that sounded shaky. Gil allowed his hands to slide down further, pausing to knead a muscle or two in the same manner he had during their private massage, and then returned to murmur in his ear.
“I’ll need you to be vocal for me. Scream. Shout. Beg or sob if you want to. If you need to stop, call out for Warrick. Okay?”
There was another tremble, then another ‘mm-hmm’ noise. Gil smiled, then leaned back and gently gave Nick’s rear a slap with the back of his hand before he walked back. Blake watched him critically.
“You seem determined to be soft with him,” he observed.
“Do I?” Gil smiled at him, returning to the toys and looking at them critically. “Conceal me what I am, and be my aid. For such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent,”
Blake frowned. “What?”
“Shakespeare. Twelfth Night.” Gil selected a riding crop and tested it idly in his hands. Blake raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you dealt with bugs?”
“My bugs hold a wide education.” Gil replied gravely, and then smiled back at him thoughtfully. “You had a suggestion?”
Blake’s eyes fell to the tool that Gil held in his hand, and Gil could already see the calculation behind the cool eyes. It seemed clear that Blake had already taken a few extra mental steps towards the punishment that would be most satisfying to him, and Lady Heather’s toys were not part of it.
“Sadly, of course,” Gil murmured. “we’ll have to be more careful here than perhaps you’d be happier with.”
He was given an impatient look before Blake turned his attention back onto Nick. The light in the room was subtle enough that the other man’s eyes seemed to glow in thought, and Gil recognised the edgy, raw need that was slowly beginning to build. It was a little too clear that the boys that Blake had brought along with him were not yet destined to meet with the ‘ultimate’ test. Was this the expression that glistened in a serial killer’s eye just before a kill, Gil wondered; a building lust that simply couldn’t be denied.
If reasons were as plentiful as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion. Gil smiled as easily as he could, then moved back to Nick. His choice of weaponry had been carefully selected; the visual aspects of the crop sliding seductively over Nick’s firm back and along the line of his buttocks and thighs would offer fuel to Blake’ fire whilst still giving Gil exact control over what he did with it. And with desire, with lust and desperation, came carelessness.
Nick tensed as soon as the leather tip of the crop stroked the gentlest of paths across his shoulder blades and slowly, lovingly, down his back. His hands curled into the binds that held him, gripping tighter as though they were the only thing saving him from plunging downwards, and Gil waited until Nick finally released his caught breath before moving the crop again. There was no hurry; the delay was part of the visual game, and any blow was on hold until the panic that gripped Nick’s body slowly began to recede.
“Are your boys particularly modest, or will you be stripping him?” there was a heavy, rough element that was slowly adding to Blake’ voice, indication that the bait was slowly being sniffed at. Gil idly traced another pattern on Nick’s back, thinking that particular suggestion over. If a blow was to happen, the shorts would be nothing more than an irritation, although they would shield exactly how hard he had struck. It was also creeping past the unspoken rules of decency he could expect from his staff, although he suspected that all of them had at least privately acknowledged that nudity might occur. Catherine had also failed to scream in his ear over the suggestion, which again meant that to her, at least, it was the last of her major concerns.
Gil shrugged slightly, and glanced at Warrick carelessly, sliding the crop away from Nick’s trembling muscles and taking a step backwards.
“Warrick. If you please.” he simply didn’t trust himself, and he wasn’t sure that Warrick did either judged by the slight widening of the man’s eyes. For the first time that night he witnessed utter confusion in the other man’s eyes as he turned his gaze to Nick, and Gil wondered whether he had made a serious error in giving the task to him. One boy misbehaving was one thing. A whole stable of them was quite another.
Thankfully Warrick’s professional skills didn’t restrict themselves to the lab. His bluff face clearly positioned, he moved to Nick and began to slowly slide his hands sensually down his back as though searching for a secret button inserted deep within him. Perhaps he was. Gil leaned across to Blake again, his voice deliberately low and seductive as his gaze never left the scene in front of him.
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? The trust, I mean. The way he simply stays there, waiting, trembling under every little caress. His breath is already quick, fast, shuddering through him and making him want to move, to escape, and yet something else holds him there. I could get him to stand there without any bonds at all, afraid and aroused at the same time, terrified about what I’ll do to him and yet terrified I won’t do it.” Gil raised his head slightly as Warrick slowly unshackled the belt from around Nick’s waist and unfastened the chain from the collar around his neck, sliding it to hit the floor with a near musical ‘chink-chink’. The collar itself remained, the hard dark leather a stark contrast to Nick’s smooth, muscular back, high enough that there was no chance of it causing accidental injury.
Of course the belts that circled Nick’s body were only the start, and it didn’t matter how hard Gil told himself to ignore everything, his mind was planning a rebellion.
“He screams easily, you know,” he found himself saying, his voice still dipped low in a velvet purr that seemed to belong to someone else. “He’d scream himself hoarse if you let him, twisting slightly in his bonds, gasping for air, pleading for mercy and yet you know he doesn’t want mercy, not in the slightest… ,”
Which was just as well, despite the fact that Gil’s assertions were firmly placed in his own imagination. His voice trailed off as Warrick’s hands reached for the zips, the shorts already predisposed to his personal desire. He told himself again that this was simply a case, that this was simply a role to be played, but that didn’t stop the world from slowing as Warrick’s hand slowly slid over Nick’s obviously nervous body and grasped the silver hint of the zip. Nick’s head tilted backwards, as though he was praying to a personal God, the shackles chinking a little as his hands clenched even tighter on their bonds.
The black shorts peeled off just as Catherine promised, slowly, seductively, clinging to the muscle of Nick’s ass until it was separated with a firm flick of the wrist. Gil glanced to where Greg was kneeling, the young man’s mouth slightly open in shock and the cocky confidence he had shown throughout the evening beginning to slip.
“Greg.” he spoke firmly and the boy’s mouth snapped shut instantly, guilty eyes turning to him swiftly before Greg bowed his head in acknowledgement. Gil watched him for a moment, but the lapse had been resolved and that meant that he could afford himself the luxury of watching the show.
Not that there was much left to watch, sadly. The second ‘slice’ had been peeled off to join the first, and Warrick’s wide, dark hand slid down Nick’s back possessively for a moment before the taller man nodded to himself and stepped backwards. Defiant eyes turned to Grissom for a moment, giving him a look that stated clearly what would happen if Nick wasn’t looked after correctly, before Warrick moved to one side again and crouched down in a kneel. Apparently the other man’s guilt was weighing him down.
Gil stepped forward again, testing the crop in his hand as he did so.
Whatever you’re planning, be aware that I’ve sent Sara off and the cameras aren’t recording. Catherine’s voice crackled through to him. What happens in that room stays in that room. I’m not opening any of them up to videos that might need to be disclosed in a court room. And Gil.. you better know what the fuck you’re doing
Gil smiled to himself ruefully. As though it was a simple matter of a plan.
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.
Warnings: BDSM scenes
Please check tags for past chapters
*
He wasn’t in the pit. He wasn’t in the corridors. He wasn’t with Catherine. He wasn’t in the toilets. Warrick even made a sweep of the outdoors, ignoring the chill of the wind on his bared torso as he stalked towards Nick’s car, which was there too. No signs of struggle. No cars had left. Nick was apparently playing hide and seek, and if he didn’t cut that out soon he was going to find himself in a whole heap of trouble.
“C’mon, bro,” Warrick growled to himself, refusing to let the concern grow. He was fine. He had to be fine. “Where the hell are you?”
He moved back into the main building, giving Hank a quick sharp nod as he entered. Time to start at the beginning and then work from there, eliminating everything he could possibly eliminate without tearing down walls. Warrick slipped back into the main gathering, feeling the music beat enter his bones as he slipped his way past the crowd, keeping his eyes peeled for signs of Nick. The chances that Stokes was actually here was minor, of course. His discomfort would more likely push him out into the corridors that surrounded it, although knowing Lady Heather’s little warren of corridors that could very easily mean that the man was genuinely lost. Wonderland had nothing on the Dominion.
The pit covered, Warrick began to make a further sweep of the external corridors; Nick hadn’t returned the way they had originally arrived, but there were several other routes out and the majority led to various rooms that offered additional private space for the discerning visitor. Unfortunately it also offered plenty of space for someone to hide… or to be hidden.
Despite his best intentions, his concern was beginning to grow. This wasn’t like Nick. If the man had decided he was going to stop, he would simply have gone to Catherine and informed her in his lost little boy apologetic way. He wouldn’t have fucked off on them without letting one of them know where he was. And if he hadn’t done that, then something was very wrong.
Warrick shook his head as he turned a corner and began to pick up speed. Fuck, he shouldn’t have left him alone, but he had genuinely thought that Nick was slowly getting used to things. The startled, near terrified look in his eyes had gradually turned into horrified interest, then curiosity; the man had begun to actively watch the others as they played, the embarrassment steadily slipping away as Nick adjusted to the situation. Warrick had even seen the signs of actual enjoyment, Nick’s guilty pleasure before he managed to shield himself from view. How far had that pleasure gone, Warrick wondered to himself as he followed the stairs up. Had Nick’s body and mind betrayed him so much that Nick had simply run, horrified by his own reactions?
Claiming the stairs had given him nothing, and now Warrick began to investigate the rooms leading from the main corridors. Some were locked, others occupied, although the majority of players were quite happy with a glance over their shoulder at the intruder to offer him a knowing smile. Some rooms were simply empty, and it was these that Warrick spent time investigating, checking around the room for signs of a struggle - okay, an unexpected struggle - and an unconscious body lying somewhere, dragged out of sight. Each time he left empty handed, his concern battling with the relief that he hadn’t found the bloody image that was nagging at him.
Nothing. Every single time.
Swearing to himself, Warrick entered the last of the darkened rooms on the level and was beginning his sweep when a shadow moved and almost scared the life out of him.
“Nick?” he recovered almost immediately, the relief slowly turning into a hard frown. Warrick stepped forward, clicking on a lamp to give him more light as Nick sheepishly emerged from what appeared to be a small bathroom attached to the bedroom. “Where the hell have you been, man? You scared the shit out of us! And why’s your hair wet?”
Nick waved a hand toward the bathroom and the sink basin, and then walked a little further into the room in order to slowly sit on the bed. Warrick sighed softly, and held out his hand to gesture that Nick’s new order was to stay put.
“Okay. You stay there. I’m just going to tell someone so Catherine’s not going to start scratching through the walls t’find you, ‘kay?” he eyed Nick suspiciously, not entirely certain the man wasn’t going to vanish off behind his back, but withdrew slowly. Thankfully Heather’s staff were everywhere; message sent, Warrick returned and was more than a little relieved to find Stokes where he had left him, looking alone and tired. He sighed, and moved across the room to sit down next to him.
“Okay, bro. You wanna go home? I’ll speak to Griss, let him know you’re feeling bad,”
“No.” Nick’s voice was soft but had the surprising strength of several iron bars behind it. Warrick frowned at him in confusion.
“What? You actually wanna go through with it?”
“That’s right.”
“Hate to tell you this, man, but you’re in the wrong bedroom if you are.” Warrick squinted at him critically, unconvinced by the words. Words got backed up by actions, and if Nick’s expression was anything to go by then enthusiasm wasn’t exactly forthcoming. “And if you don’t get in the other room with a damned good excuse pretty damned soon, Griss is gonna have to do something bad to you.”
Nick smiled in grim satisfaction. “Good.”
“.. okay, now you’re starting to freak me out.” Warrick eyed him cautiously. “You want to tell me why you’re in the mood to be tonight’s main sacrifice? Or are you just liking this whole thing more than you expected? Because-,”
The ‘because’ was destined never to turn up as Nick turned and all but pounced on him, his desperate mouth meeting Warrick’s shocked one and Nick’s body weight flattening them both on the slightly too soft mattress. For a moment Warrick couldn’t do anything but struggle with his own mental confusion as he was kissed even deeper, Nick’s tongue cautiously exploring Warrick’s mouth whilst he attempted to straddle his hips.
Warrick’s hands seemed to move of their own accord; it seemed too natural to place them on Nick’s waist, following the lines of his friend’s surprisingly overheated body and cautiously over the cool lines of the shorts. There was a soft growl of encouragement vibrating from the back of Nick’s throat, his kiss deepening, passionate and possessive as the powerful muscles of the other man’s ass ground obstinately against Warrick’s groin.
A few minutes later and Warrick knew he had to stop this particular round of madness before the madness took over. On the other hand, what he knew to stop didn’t necessarily mean he had to do it; he allowed Nick a few moments of possession, before calmly grabbing hold of the man’s wrists and shoving hard, rolling them over and reversing their positions. Nick stared upwards at him in bemusement, his face flushed with effort and his breathing hard and fast, before he offered him the usual boyish grin that was so Nick it was painful.
Warrick calmly took hold of the metallic chain that ran from Nick’s neck to his waist and gave it a gentle tug. No way he was getting played.
“You wanna tell me what’s got into you, man?”
Nick chuckled breathlessly. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it.”
Warrick glanced down at their positions, and then smiled ruefully. “If I haven’t, we’re in a bit of an awkward position. But this ain’ you, bro.”
“Yeah? And what is me, ‘Rick?” Nick stared back at him defiantly, and shifted his hips in an attempt to regain a little bit of control. Not that Warrick was intending to give him it, of course. With Nick in this mood, giving him an inch would probably result in the man opening a whole rope business.
“Not this.” Warrick wasn’t interested in getting into fine details.
“You turning me down?” Nick stared back at him defiantly. Warrick laughed incredulously.
“You’re seriously offering? Someone slip you something?” he tried to check Nick’s pupils, but the lack of light and Nick’s naturally dark eye colour were conspiring against him. Nick bucked against him again, less than playfully; one hand freed itself and promptly cupped behind Warrick’s neck, pulling him down into another powerful, messy and incredibly addictive kiss that brought him panting into Nick’s way of thinking.
Nick grinned hungrily at him, scenting victory. He circled his hips against Warrick’s, grinding their erections together as he stared back at him rebelliously.
“C’mon. You do this all the time with Griss, right? Don’t pretend you’re shy,”
Warrick let out his breath from between his teeth. Grissom. Of course. “You know that the whole kissing thing was staged for just that scene, right?” he said heavily. Nick shrugged, which no doubt translated into ‘no’, but the bold look didn’t vanish from his eyes. His cheeks were still flushed, his eyes sparkling and his body trembling, and if that didn’t look like a man who was desperate to be fucked then Warrick didn’t know what did.
“Be better if we did this later on.” Warrick grunted. “Case, remember?”
Nick chuckled roughly. “Griss wanted me to annoy him so he could punish me properly. What’s better than fucking the other pet?”
Warrick looked at him incredulously. “He told you that?”
“Most of it. C’mon, Rick.” Nick squirmed his hips again, the length of his obvious erection brushing against Warrick’s triumphantly. His soft Texan voice had turned quicker and lighter as his excitement began to shine through. “You need it. So do I.”
Warrick looked at him steadily. The words themselves weren’t Nick, but the voice was soft, persuasive and eager, no longer attempting to dominate but simply trying to guide Warrick to his own way of thinking. If that wasn’t Stokes, Warrick was clearly a drunken badger.
“I ain’t doing anything until you tell me what’s going on. And a decent reason too, I’m not going for the ‘why not’ line.” he said patiently, ignoring the insistent ache in his own body that objected strongly to this little plan. The right thing to do was damned painful sometimes.
“C’mon, since when do you just stand around and talk?” There was no mistaking the frustration in Nick’s voice, the other man nudging upwards with his hips. Warrick rode out the little bucking session easily, using his weight to pin the other man back onto the bed. Nick’s eyes flashed for a moment before he growled impatiently.
“’Kay.” he said reluctantly. “Look, I just need this. And no, that’s not the same as the ‘why not’ answer. I genuinely need it.”
“For what?” Warrick snorted. “What the hell makes you need to practise …,”
The last word stretched as recognition struck. Practise. Just before going back to face Grissom and his little session. Warrick sat a little further back and frowned down at him, unhappy about where the whole situation was headed. Nick scowled again, embarrassment turning the flush to his cheeks into a rosier hue, although it apparently wasn’t enough to stop his determination.
“This is revision?” Warrick poked Nick in the ribs with a finger.
“I need to know I can go through with it before I get in that room,” Nick replied heatedly. “You gonna help me or what?”
“Yeah, that’s real romantic, man,” Warrick sighed, rubbing his face with his hand tiredly and looking toward the door. He looked down at him critically. “Dunno what you’ve heard about me, but I ain’t that rough. Catherine would have been a better choice,”
“Catherine hasn’t got a dick,” Nick replied pointedly.
“’Cause she does, it’s rubber and straps on.” Warrick replied patiently. “And what, you gotta be male to get into this?”
“Griss is male. He’s the one doing it.” Nick replied, a little sulkily. “Look, I’m not here for a long debate over it, although I am planning to find out how you know about Catherine’s rubber whatsit later on. Yes or no? Am I gonna need to drag Greg out here?”
“Don’t you fucking dare, he’s bouncy enough as it is without an orgasm through his system,” Warrick growled softly, giving him a sharp enough glare that Nick lost a little more of his fight. Wide, annoyingly innocent soft eyes looked up at him beseechingly.
“Rick, I’m not trying to make you angry. I trust you to do this, y’know?” he said softly. “Please. I’m gonna freeze up in there if I don’t at least try getting more intimate before Griss does whatever it is he’s planning to do to me.”
“Griss won’t harm you.” Warrick replied heavily.
“Yeah, I know.” Nick’s voice was still soft and earnest, his eyes scanning Warrick’s in a way that seemed impossible to either ignore or deny. “If I thought he would, I wouldn’t be going in that room. Doesn’t stop me wanting to do things right,”
Another heavy sigh escaped Warrick’s lips. “You even done this before, Nick?”
“That’s not relevant.” Nick replied hotly, his hand sliding up the muscle of Warrick’s arm. Warrick watched it for a moment, before slowly looking back at him through narrowed eyes. Like fuck it wasn’t relevant, and he wasn’t sure how it wasn’t in whatever world Nick was currently involved in. Something had made the man believe this was necessary, and Nick had a nasty habit of simply finding a way around roadblocks if someone tried to stop him. Cute but stubborn.
“If we’re intending to go back, then we really gotta do it soon,” Warrick said instead, leaning back and feeling Nick’s hot, nervous body underneath his ass. A hurt look crossed Nick’s eyes as he stared back, his hand slowly falling from Warrick’s arm in defeat. Warrick sighed and leaned forward, brushing his finger across Nick’s cheekbone in a manner that he had watched Grissom do.
“This ain’t rejections, and don’t you go thinking that,” he said softly, scanning the other man’s eyes. “Whatever happens in that room, you’re not gonna need to be sexually active to do it, y’hear? No way that Griss’ll risk it, and even if he is taken over by a case of the headswap fairies I’ll drag you out before then. But if we don’t get our asses in there soon we’re going to be screwed in more ways than one.”
Nick had a particularly dubious expression in his eyes, even if his mouth didn’t actually voice it. Warrick chuckled throatily, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Nick’s mouth, feeling the man hesitate and then accept it slowly. He allowed his hand to drift over the still trembling, hot plains of Nick’s chest and across his belly, feeling a little tug of pleasure as his friend shivered at the touch.
“Y’okay with that, bro?” he breathed. “I got your back. I’ve always got your back.”
For a moment their breaths mingled, remaining so damned close that Warrick felt the heat of Nick’s body on his own. Slowly Nick came out of his daze, leaning upwards and delicately licking at Warrick’s lower lip before pressing another gentle, near apologetic kiss to Warrick’s mouth.
“Yeah,” he whispered back. Dark eyes softened. “Thanks, man,”
“Y’welcome.” Warrick straightened and then dismounted, slipping off Nick’s prone body and offering him a hand to pull himself upwards. He grinned at him as Nick finally steadied himself on his feet, and then pulled him to his chest in a one armed hug. “You’re just full of surprises, Nicky.”
“Yeah, I’m a regular fortune cookie,” Nick agreed with a weaker smile. Warrick chuckled and pulled him tighter again, before releasing him and walking to the door.
“C’mon. Let’s get you back. And when you walk through that door, go straight to Grissom and get yourself on your knees. You’re gonna have to play up your little boy routine, ‘kay?”
“I don’t have a little boy routine-,”
“Yeah, and Brass doesn’t have a gun.” Warrick rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh as they walked down the corridor. “And you let me do the talking, okay? No excuses, no shoving your foot in it, and definitely do not try to bluff, ‘cause you’re about as good at bluffing as Sara is at tap-dancing in a gorilla outfit.”
He jumped as he felt Nick’s hand slide over his ass, then aimed a look back over his shoulder. Nick looked back at him innocently, and then shrugged.
“Bad at bluffing, remember?”
“Oh, man,” Warrick chuckled. “When we’re out of this house, we’re gonna be having words. Trust me on that,”
*
There were few things as exhilarating as those first hints of success. Everything had been perfectly calculated, as vigilant as if he was extracting the final results from a source that would disintegrate immediately afterwards. Blake’s tale was relatively mild, but then he had left little markers that could easily be teased to reveal further detail. But then, of course, these needed to be teased in such a way to make it look like it came from natural curiosity rather than calculation; the story had been kept vague for a reason, after all.
Greg had been instrumental in this, much to Gil’s surprise. The youngster had automatically dropped to Gil’s feet when he could, and there had been a silent message of understanding that flashed between them as the boy took Gil’s foot and slowly begun to unfasten his shoe. A particularly skilful foot massage followed, Greg’s long fingers surprisingly sensual and talented, and Gil certainly didn’t require much acting to sound distracted as a result.
The young tech was also proving to be a marvellous contrast to the boy that had been the focus of Blake’s story. The chance that the lad was actually called Henry was minor, of course, but Gil could well believe that the description of a confused boy who simply either couldn’t or wouldn’t immerse himself in Blake’ version of his world was realistic enough. The description of what had happened to said Henry to teach him the errors of his ways was detailed enough to suggest that either Blake had researched thoroughly, whether that be practical or written, or simply a record of what happened to some of the boys that for whatever reason had failed the test.
“Ah,” Gil had said carelessly, and as reluctantly as he could make it. “the dangers would be too great. Legal issues, of course, consent..,”
He allowed the last word to dissolve into a groan as Greg’s thumb caressed the arch of his foot. Greg’s eyes looked up at him for approval, which also helpfully created the impression that the conversation surrounding the boy was merely background noise in his quest to please his master. Gil smiled down at him. Why Greg couldn’t bring this side of his nature to the lab he had no idea, although he suspected it was simply another aspect of Greg’s need to take things to extremes; currently, Sanders was putting his heart and soul into being the best little slave a man could hope to achieve, and he was doing a remarkably good job in his performance.
Blake made a dismissive noise at the back of his throat. “Consent fluctuates so easily.”
“I’m not sure I quite understand what you mean,” Gil glanced at him carelessly. “Although I’ve had boys back out at the last minute because they hadn’t quite worked out what they had signed up to. But that’s part of the course, surely?”
He slowly leaned forward to caress Greg’s cheek with his finger again, earning himself another pleased grin in response before Greg started to turn his foot into a little pleasurable blaze of sensation. The warmth was beginning to creep up his legs, settling into the core of him, and Gil had to fight to keep himself properly grounded.
“Besides which,” Gil added with a rough chuckle. “The last thing either of us needs is a complaint made against us to the police.”
Blake gave a little shrug. “There are ways to get around that.”
“Yes?” The thrill of the chase throbbed deep within him again, the power adding to Greg’s caresses and finishing in a near orgasmic and slightly unwanted delight in his lower belly. Gil kept his expression mildly bemused, however, not wanting to scare off his quarry, and then chuckled softly. “Ah. Money. I’m afraid universities just don’t pay enough-,”
“Pay offs are limited,” Blake replied carelessly. “A promise may last for a year, or not at all. No, I prefer a little more permanence to my agreements-,”
And suddenly the carefully crafted and coaxed conversation crashed into a wall as the door to the room opened; despite the fact that it was merely opened enough for the two men to slip inside, it was as destructive as a bomb being set off. Gil swore loudly internally, and sent a furious look at Warrick, who froze. The relief Gil found when he noted that Nick was safe and well swiftly turned into irritation that whatever it was that had delayed the man had not been serious enough for him to go to Catherine.
The recognition of what they had just done was blatantly obvious in both men’s guilty eyes, although Gil was grimly pleased to note that this remorse was missed entirely by Blake, who had merely sat back and begun to play with his own boy again. Greg glanced at the pair doubtfully, and then slowly glanced back up at Gil for instruction as he carefully put Gil’s foot back on the floor.
“Warrick.” Gil’s voice had a mind of its own as he growled out the name. “Come here.”
Warrick cleared the short distance between them, settling down on his knees. Gil noted Nick finding his own small spot next to the chair to kneel, keeping out of the way as much as he could hope to be. Sadly for Nick, there was absolutely no way he was going to simply blend into the background even if a cloak of invisibility was available. Gil flicked his gaze on him for a moment, and then looked back down at Warrick who was close enough that a whispered conversation was possible.
“Well?”
“He got lost. And he was nervous.”
Gil tapped his finger on his thigh impatiently, giving Nick another little glance. Nervous was one thing, and damned natural. Anything past that was likely to end up damaging Nick, which Gil wasn’t prepared to consider. “How seriously?”
“He’ll last.” Warrick looked at him carefully. “No way the man’ll leave by himself,”
This meant that Gil was going to have to be responsible for finding out Nick’s personal limit and dragging the man out if it went past it. Gil drummed his fingers again, lifting his head and studying the kneeling figure carefully. The safest route would be to simply remove Nick from the scene entirely, despite Stokes’ protests on doing so. However, that would require manhandling the man outside and having Catherine physically collect him; anything else and Nick’s stubborn streak was likely to kick in, causing even more damage.
It was a hard one to call. Essentially Blake was offering information by himself, without the need to use any of his boys to prove Gil’s beliefs. However, Nick was a thorn in the side for that; let him leave, even with an excuse, and Gil’s level of commitment to what Blake would have considered the true path would be severely weakened. But to keep Nick there was to ask him to participate in something that Gil knew might be well past Nick’s comfort level, and that wasn’t okay.
“Remember,” Blake murmured, almost to his boy. “There are ways.”
Gil’s fingers drummed a little more, deliberately staring at Nick harder than he felt to give some weight to how seriously he was taking the disobedience. Unfortunately, this seemed to have more of a reaction to his own team than his intended audience. Greg’s slave poise was beginning to slip, anxiety showing in his eyes as he tried to decide where to look. Gil suspected that Warrick was only a heartbeat away from offering up his own hide in Nick’s place, although Warrick just wasn’t the right sort of target. Blake was essentially a bully, hiding behind the façade of a dominant, and it was that aspect of him that Lady Heather had noted almost immediately and taken the next step to contact the police. Bullies preferred the type of target whose defiance had its limits, the type who could be intimidated enough to gain amusement from them. The ones who cried tears when a gun was turned on them, rather than cursed.
And then, of course, there were their invisible partners on the other end of a camera feed.
If you do anything bad to Nicky, I’m dragging him out myself Catherine’s voice informed him briskly. You know the limits.
Yes, he knew the limits. But then what he was considering were only the first few baby steps. Even if Blake was intending to put Nick on his Things To Damage list, it wouldn’t be here and now, not with such an audience, and certainly not giving his prey such a chance to flee. No, the conversation would still only be a conversation, with a few little forays into what could be.
Nick could take it, he was certain of it. Whether everyone else believed the same was likely to be a different matter.
Gil slowly pushed himself up, ignoring Warrick and allowing Greg to shuffle out of the way before he slowly walked to where Nick was kneeling. He leaned forward, taking hold of Catherine’s carefully designed chain and giving it a firm tug, transmitting his message firmly. Nick took the hint, his expression apologetic and eyes even slightly tearful, although Gil had never quite worked out how many of Nick’s tears were genuine and how many were simply habit, a get out of jail free card that was rarely argued over.
Nick’s tearful, pitiful expression certainly worked on Warrick, of course. He could hear the man return to his feet behind him, the tension reflected in the man’s inability to remain on his knees. Gil ignored him, simply tracing his hand over Nick’s chest and watching the other man tremble in response, the younger man’s hands clenched into fists at his side and the slightest sheen of sweat on his skin as he waited. Gil’s eyes narrowed as he noted the fact that Nick’s short hair appeared to be slightly damp, but then they had to be doing something in the half hour that they had been missing. A splash of water in the face to snap someone out of a daze wasn’t a wildly rare occurrence.
Gil idly slipped his hand into his pocket as he studied Nick, slowly extracting the glossy dark latex gloves that Catherine had added as part of his costume and which he had refused to put on until that moment. The slow, snapping sound of the latex as he smoothed it over his hand seemed to spark off an immediate response in Nick, his eyes nervously darting to the dark gloves and then back again in anxious apprehension. Gil had no idea what Nick’s imagination was doing to him, but whatever the image was - and, given what they normally associated with that particular sound, there were a number of unpleasant possibilities - it was apparently impressive. Nick flinched as Gil’s newly latexed fingers traced over a nipple, his eyes restless enough that Gil wasn’t quite sure the man wasn’t going to bolt straight away.
“Last chance, Nicky,” he murmured softly. “I can still get you out now, but past that point you’re gonna need to use the safe word. If you still want to go ahead, put your hand on my leg.”
He watched as Nick’s gaze darted nervously to the gloves again and then back, scanning his eyes for reassurance. Gil waited, feeling his own heartbeat increase as the clock seemed to painfully tick past, each moment of indecisiveness arguing against his case, despite the fact that only a few seconds had passed. Finally Nick offered him the smallest of smiles, his dark eyes softening in trust and the man’s hand touching Gil’s thigh gently before he withdrew it, Nick’s body tensing slightly in anticipation of Gil’s retaliation.
“Good boy,” Gil murmured proudly, brushing Nick’s jaw for a moment before taking hold of the chain that led from collar to belt and giving him a tug toward the wall. Nick followed automatically, only hesitating as he slowly realised their intended target.
“Face the wall,” he kept the instructions murmured, and waited until Nick had grudgingly stepped forward before walking back to the others and carelessly looking at the still tense Warrick. “Shackle him up.”
That was not a popular order, although Gil was relieved to find that both Greg and Warrick was prepared to trust what he had to say after a few moments of uncertainity. That, apparently, was more than Catherine was.
Gil, what the hell are you planning?
“You said there were ways?” Gil turned his attention back to Blake, his voice casual enough to suggest that the instruction given to Warrick was completely normal. Blake was a little distracted, however, his gaze firmly fixed to the opposite wall where Warrick had finished shackling Nick’s wrists high above his head. Gil looked back idly in time to see Warrick’s dark hands slide down over Nick’s back, Nick spreading his legs slightly to give a better aesthetically pleasing position. That was definitely a Warrick suggestion; Gil had no doubt that the only thought Nick would have had was simply what would be happening to his back in the near future.
Gil cleared his throat softly, and was rewarded by predatory eyes returning to him hungrily. Nick was bait, pure and simple, but there was no way that this particular fish was going to get a chance to claim its worm; a little encouragement, and they were probably going to have more than enough suggestion from Blake on how to punish Nick properly.
“There were ways?” Gil reminded him gently.
“There are,” Blake murmured. “Although sadly not here. I come to these events for relaxation, rather than .. shall we say business?”
“Where do you go?” Gil queried, as idly as he could, although he knew already that it wouldn’t be that easy. A location could easily lead to a warrant, if not for the videos themselves then for some other charge. Brass was a sniffer dog when it came to weaknesses to exploit, although Gil was careful never to phrase it in that way. Blake gave the smallest of shrugs, and a smile.
“Just a place. It’s special to me, but secluded.”
“I see.” Gil nodded slowly. “Like a bolt hole to see a mistress?”
Blake chuckled. “Yes, I guess you could see it like that. The paperwork is certainly similar.”
And now he had to be careful. Too many questions could easily make the man clam up, but too few could mean that they had nothing to go on. Gil walked toward the little collection of items that Lady Heather had thoughtfully provided, and ran his glossy fingertips over the equipment.
“And there we have the catch,” Gil said regretfully, selecting a silken blindfold and running it through his fingers. “Everything comes back to money, eventually. I guess we’ll have to see what we can achieve here.”
He could see the tension outlined through Nick’s posture as he walked across to him, although the man was struggling to hide it. He heard the soft sound of indrawn breath as the black silk slid over Nick’ eyes and felt the nervous tremble press against him as Gil gently tied it in place. He took the time to run his hands down Nick’s raised biceps and down his sides, feeling the way Nick’s breathing stilled as he did so. The intimacy of what Nick was offering to him caused Gil to pause for a moment, before he managed to recover once again. Nick had made himself vulnerable for a reason, and that reason was certainly not to arouse him. It was simply a rather uncomfortable by-product.
“Still trusting me, Nicky?” he murmured in the man’s ear. Nick shuddered, and then made a little affirmative ‘mm-hmm’ noise in the back of his throat; even that sounded shaky. Gil allowed his hands to slide down further, pausing to knead a muscle or two in the same manner he had during their private massage, and then returned to murmur in his ear.
“I’ll need you to be vocal for me. Scream. Shout. Beg or sob if you want to. If you need to stop, call out for Warrick. Okay?”
There was another tremble, then another ‘mm-hmm’ noise. Gil smiled, then leaned back and gently gave Nick’s rear a slap with the back of his hand before he walked back. Blake watched him critically.
“You seem determined to be soft with him,” he observed.
“Do I?” Gil smiled at him, returning to the toys and looking at them critically. “Conceal me what I am, and be my aid. For such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent,”
Blake frowned. “What?”
“Shakespeare. Twelfth Night.” Gil selected a riding crop and tested it idly in his hands. Blake raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you dealt with bugs?”
“My bugs hold a wide education.” Gil replied gravely, and then smiled back at him thoughtfully. “You had a suggestion?”
Blake’s eyes fell to the tool that Gil held in his hand, and Gil could already see the calculation behind the cool eyes. It seemed clear that Blake had already taken a few extra mental steps towards the punishment that would be most satisfying to him, and Lady Heather’s toys were not part of it.
“Sadly, of course,” Gil murmured. “we’ll have to be more careful here than perhaps you’d be happier with.”
He was given an impatient look before Blake turned his attention back onto Nick. The light in the room was subtle enough that the other man’s eyes seemed to glow in thought, and Gil recognised the edgy, raw need that was slowly beginning to build. It was a little too clear that the boys that Blake had brought along with him were not yet destined to meet with the ‘ultimate’ test. Was this the expression that glistened in a serial killer’s eye just before a kill, Gil wondered; a building lust that simply couldn’t be denied.
If reasons were as plentiful as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion. Gil smiled as easily as he could, then moved back to Nick. His choice of weaponry had been carefully selected; the visual aspects of the crop sliding seductively over Nick’s firm back and along the line of his buttocks and thighs would offer fuel to Blake’ fire whilst still giving Gil exact control over what he did with it. And with desire, with lust and desperation, came carelessness.
Nick tensed as soon as the leather tip of the crop stroked the gentlest of paths across his shoulder blades and slowly, lovingly, down his back. His hands curled into the binds that held him, gripping tighter as though they were the only thing saving him from plunging downwards, and Gil waited until Nick finally released his caught breath before moving the crop again. There was no hurry; the delay was part of the visual game, and any blow was on hold until the panic that gripped Nick’s body slowly began to recede.
“Are your boys particularly modest, or will you be stripping him?” there was a heavy, rough element that was slowly adding to Blake’ voice, indication that the bait was slowly being sniffed at. Gil idly traced another pattern on Nick’s back, thinking that particular suggestion over. If a blow was to happen, the shorts would be nothing more than an irritation, although they would shield exactly how hard he had struck. It was also creeping past the unspoken rules of decency he could expect from his staff, although he suspected that all of them had at least privately acknowledged that nudity might occur. Catherine had also failed to scream in his ear over the suggestion, which again meant that to her, at least, it was the last of her major concerns.
Gil shrugged slightly, and glanced at Warrick carelessly, sliding the crop away from Nick’s trembling muscles and taking a step backwards.
“Warrick. If you please.” he simply didn’t trust himself, and he wasn’t sure that Warrick did either judged by the slight widening of the man’s eyes. For the first time that night he witnessed utter confusion in the other man’s eyes as he turned his gaze to Nick, and Gil wondered whether he had made a serious error in giving the task to him. One boy misbehaving was one thing. A whole stable of them was quite another.
Thankfully Warrick’s professional skills didn’t restrict themselves to the lab. His bluff face clearly positioned, he moved to Nick and began to slowly slide his hands sensually down his back as though searching for a secret button inserted deep within him. Perhaps he was. Gil leaned across to Blake again, his voice deliberately low and seductive as his gaze never left the scene in front of him.
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? The trust, I mean. The way he simply stays there, waiting, trembling under every little caress. His breath is already quick, fast, shuddering through him and making him want to move, to escape, and yet something else holds him there. I could get him to stand there without any bonds at all, afraid and aroused at the same time, terrified about what I’ll do to him and yet terrified I won’t do it.” Gil raised his head slightly as Warrick slowly unshackled the belt from around Nick’s waist and unfastened the chain from the collar around his neck, sliding it to hit the floor with a near musical ‘chink-chink’. The collar itself remained, the hard dark leather a stark contrast to Nick’s smooth, muscular back, high enough that there was no chance of it causing accidental injury.
Of course the belts that circled Nick’s body were only the start, and it didn’t matter how hard Gil told himself to ignore everything, his mind was planning a rebellion.
“He screams easily, you know,” he found himself saying, his voice still dipped low in a velvet purr that seemed to belong to someone else. “He’d scream himself hoarse if you let him, twisting slightly in his bonds, gasping for air, pleading for mercy and yet you know he doesn’t want mercy, not in the slightest… ,”
Which was just as well, despite the fact that Gil’s assertions were firmly placed in his own imagination. His voice trailed off as Warrick’s hands reached for the zips, the shorts already predisposed to his personal desire. He told himself again that this was simply a case, that this was simply a role to be played, but that didn’t stop the world from slowing as Warrick’s hand slowly slid over Nick’s obviously nervous body and grasped the silver hint of the zip. Nick’s head tilted backwards, as though he was praying to a personal God, the shackles chinking a little as his hands clenched even tighter on their bonds.
The black shorts peeled off just as Catherine promised, slowly, seductively, clinging to the muscle of Nick’s ass until it was separated with a firm flick of the wrist. Gil glanced to where Greg was kneeling, the young man’s mouth slightly open in shock and the cocky confidence he had shown throughout the evening beginning to slip.
“Greg.” he spoke firmly and the boy’s mouth snapped shut instantly, guilty eyes turning to him swiftly before Greg bowed his head in acknowledgement. Gil watched him for a moment, but the lapse had been resolved and that meant that he could afford himself the luxury of watching the show.
Not that there was much left to watch, sadly. The second ‘slice’ had been peeled off to join the first, and Warrick’s wide, dark hand slid down Nick’s back possessively for a moment before the taller man nodded to himself and stepped backwards. Defiant eyes turned to Grissom for a moment, giving him a look that stated clearly what would happen if Nick wasn’t looked after correctly, before Warrick moved to one side again and crouched down in a kneel. Apparently the other man’s guilt was weighing him down.
Gil stepped forward again, testing the crop in his hand as he did so.
Whatever you’re planning, be aware that I’ve sent Sara off and the cameras aren’t recording. Catherine’s voice crackled through to him. What happens in that room stays in that room. I’m not opening any of them up to videos that might need to be disclosed in a court room. And Gil.. you better know what the fuck you’re doing
Gil smiled to himself ruefully. As though it was a simple matter of a plan.
TBC