FIC: To Whom It May Concern (CSI Slash NC17) 9/?

[niceandfluffy]

FIC: To Whom It May Concern (9/?)
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.

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*

There were few definite facts in life, Catherine mused, but one of the most consistent had to be the sheer frustration that men presented. Of course Gil hadn’t had the chat with Nick. Sure, he’d most likely had a chat, and from the way that Nick was skulking around the lab with his soft Texan drawl slightly off balance and the slightly too defensive look in his dark eyes, said chat hadn’t gone too well.

But the problems between Gil and Nick were only the start of the issues. All four of the men were acting oddly, although Catherine was pleased to see that the boys were subtle enough that said acts of weirdness were overlooked by anyone who didn’t know them well enough. Sara knew, of course, but then Sara had her own reasons for keeping quiet, her love for her colleagues often hidden but ferocious if provoked. Yes, Sara would protect their little secret with all the strength she possessed, although Catherine was surprised to notice the smaller, little gifts of affection that Sara offered them: idly taking over some of Nick’s work when the man would have had to sit down to process it. Gently stroking over Warrick’s bicep when talking to him, the increased physical contact stating her continued trust. The way she allowed Greg to talk at her, and even encourage some of the sillier jokes until the youngster was almost back to his usual bouncy self. It was clear that the secret was unlikely to be shared, but hell, the secret was likely to undo them in so many other ways.

The stupid thing was that the majority of the ‘oddness’ wasn’t even negative. Nick had a particularly wary look whenever Gil appeared, but then it was nothing more than he’d done whenever he had been sulking over a particular order he didn’t like, and was therefore passed completely unnoticed by the rest of the lab. Other than Nick’s sullenness, the rest of the ‘oddness’ lay in what they did rather than said. Catherine had watched in bemusement as the small team grew unusually tactile and remarkably social; instead of finding solitude to process their work, the CSIs could often be found with one of the others regardless of whether it was relative to their actual work. They started to share little smiles, or give each other gentle touches on the arm or shoulder with the casual ease of long term lovers. Catherine had found Warrick in Gil’s office more than once that day, both men diligently working on their current case in a completely different method than they normally employed, and Greg’s lab was like a magnet for all of them.

Their need to be completely oblivious to what was happening around them was so frustrating that she almost screamed aloud. And it was near genuine obliviousness, she was certain of it. The men seemed so damned sure that nothing had changed between them, and yet their confidence was ridiculously misplaced. No, nothing had changed negatively between them; even Nick was still flirting with Gil, despite that wary look in his eye that suggested that the younger man was still struggling with the social rules in which he’d found himself. Positively, however, emotionally, and that was a whole different ball game.

“Y’just tired,” was Warrick’s opinion when she had cornered him in the lockers. “None of us are doing stuff we don’t do anyway. Chill, Cathy.”

“You had your hand on Greg’s shoulder this morning, when you were waiting for your results,”

Warrick had laughed at her. “And?”

“Don’t give me that crap, Rick. You know why you put it there. Where your fingers were resting.” Catherine resisted actually describing the way that Warrick’s long, slim fingers had given the boy such a gentle touch on the sensitive spot between neck and shoulder that Greg had shivered in response and smiled at him, a warm, fuzzy smile that spoke of sunshine and ice-cream and if it wasn’t on her watch she would have had her heart melted by the sheer sweetness of it all. As it was, the fear in her stepped up a notch. The boys were playing with fire, and hadn’t even realised they had their hand on the temperature gauge.

Warrick laughed again, genuinely amused. “What’s a report gonna say? ‘Fingers on shoulder?’ Watch this, Catherine,” his hand curled on her shoulder gently, his eyes gentle. “See? No conspiracies. Or am I gonna get a write up on that too?”

She gave him a gentle but firm slap on the bicep, staring at him steadily. “Don’t even try it, Warrick. You’re the one person out of the bunch who’s likely to be able to keep his common sense intact! Gil gets himself so caught up in whatever thought process he’s going through that he just can’t look outside of his little circle. Nick wants to please. Greg wants to experiment. So that leaves me with you as my personal go to guy, and do not give me that look unless you want me to start borrowing pieces of equipment from Heather and doing a few experiments of my own on your ass!”

Warrick resisted rolling his eyes, then sighed softly and lowered his head. “Look, ‘preciate what you’re trying to do here, Cath. Honest to God. But we’re big enough to look after ourselves, y’know?”

“Yeah? And what will you do, Warrick?” Catherine folded her arms. “You guys going to float around the place like lovesick teenagers for the next year or so?”

Green eyes widened in first shock, then amusement. Warrick chuckled with his familiar rough drawl, the sexy half asleep noise that suggested the man had just rolled out of bed from a quick orgy. “Ain’ my style to mess around for long, Cath. Even if I was. Which I wasn’t, so that’s all okay, right?”

“Yeah? So what are you planning?”

The look of exasperation was so obvious Warrick might as well have written it on his forehead. “I ain’t planning anything. Drop it, Cath, and I mean that in a completely friendly way, y’know? You’re getting your lacy knickers in a knot.”

Catherine studied him, but Warrick was a little too good with his game face for her to break down. There was something behind those green eyes, but Catherine couldn’t quite tell whether it was an acknowledgement or whether Warrick was simply being Warrick, cool, unbreakable, and defiant.

She sighed softly. Whatever he was, Warrick wasn’t going to start confessing anything to her and she grudgingly knew that. On the other hand, there were three other members in this little orgy, and if they didn’t cough up with the information then.. well, then, she didn’t know what to do. Possibly sit down and just watch how the team reorganised itself, but hell, it was so disorganised already that they could end up with anything. They might end up naturally with something good, the men working together closer and ignoring the sexual undertones. But then again, they might end up with a natural disaster, which was the usual consequence of sex bubbling into the workplace, and that was likely to bring them all down.

“Okay. But I’m not forgetting this,” she warned irritably, and then paused. “And how do you know what my knickers are like?”

And to that Warrick had simply grinned, shrugged innocently, and then wandered away. Catherine’s eyes narrowed, her gaze taking in the pert, tight backside that swaggered out of the room. Okay, perhaps Heather’s inventory might be a good idea after all.

Greg was next on her list. Earphones in, singing slightly tunelessly to himself as he worked, the youngster seemed the picture of carelessness. Only the stiff way he was holding himself seemed slightly off, but then the boy had been on his knees for quite a while during the little event; perhaps he had managed to bruise himself. Or, indeed, perhaps he had managed to dance himself into a strained tendon, although she used the phrase ‘dance’ in a very loose term. She shut the door after her, and then folded her arms and watched as Greg moonwalked backwards with a sheet of paper and his attention firmly fixed on his work.

That lasted for approximately a minute before finally Greg caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and almost had a heart attack.

“God!” Greg almost fell over backwards, and grabbed hold of his chest dramatically. Catherine smiled ruefully.

“Not quite, but thanks for the promotion.” she raised an eyebrow as Greg guiltily removed the headphones and put the equipment on his desk top, looking back at her expectantly.

“If it’s about the DNA for your rape case in the motel room, it’s being processed at the moment, I got held up by something that Sara wanted which was really, really cool and-,”

“It’s not about the DNA.”

“… oh?” Greg frowned, struggling with the concept. “If it’s not that, then what did I do? Cause I’ve actually been pretty good all day, and I have witnesses to prove that. But whatever it was, I’m really, really sorry and I promise not to do whatever it was again, ever, unless I have your permission or I can get away with it safely.”

Catherine smiled at him and wandered closer, patting him on the shoulder as she did so. “Don’t worry, Greg. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Oh. Really?” Greg looked utterly surprised.

“Yes, it’s a novel situation,” she smiled at him, then picked up a piece of paper to make it look as though they were engaged in work discussions should anyone peer in. “How are you feeling?”

“.. uh, sorry?”

Catherine processed that. “Are you confused, or was that a genuine sorry for something I don’t know about?” she checked. With Greg, it was hard to tell. Greg chuckled softly, and then shrugged.

“The first one. I’m fine, thank you Catherine. Should I not be?” Greg frowned at her, then glanced at the glass and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re asking about that night, yeah?”

Catherine tilted her head in acknowledgement, carefully watching the younger man’s expression. As she suspected, there wasn’t even a flicker of distress, other than whatever was currently making him walk stiffer than the average robot. Greg licked his lips, his eyes surprisingly bright, and then shrugged.

“I’m good. Everything’s good. I mean, we did what we set out to do, right? Just waiting to see if the fishy’s gonna take the bait.” he walked over to one of his machines to set it rolling again. Catherine’s fingers resisted the urge to drum on the table once more.

“Have you noticed any difference in the others?” she tried, thoughtfully. Greg looked at her curiously, and then screwed his face up as he obviously tried to think it through. Only trouble was, Greg’s interpretation of ‘normal behaviour’ normally was a little off from everyone else’s, although at least the youngster was pretty good when it came to picking up distress. Sure enough, a familiar name turned up into the conversation.

“Well, Nick’s been a little .. well, he’s been Nick, he’s just been distracted. But he’s been smiling and laughing with me earlier, and I’ve seen him play a few games with Warrick on their new computer game, and he’s been in with Griss a few times to run through the paperwork and I didn’t see blood and shouting and snarls from that. To be honest, I think they even had doughnuts, although once the paperwork got put away.” Greg thought about it all. “Honestly, Catherine, I think everyone’s fine.”

Catherine made a noise of non-commitment. “D’you think everything’s the same as it was?”

The bewildered look she was offered had nothing but honesty behind it. “What, in the department? Well.. yeah. It’s been worse with a bad child abuse case. To be honest, it just feels like we’re all slightly drunk from a good work social the night before,” Greg looked at her doubtfully but with an obvious need to please, and Catherine had to concede his point. The team did seem to be on a strange social high, as though they’d concluded a high profile serial killer case with the right outcome. It was .. peculiar. But perhaps not too unnatural, if considered in a ‘job well done’ angle. And for a moment, just for a moment, Catherine felt a flicker of relief that everyone might not be as doomed as she’d feared.

Her expression must have told tales on her as Greg’s face brightened.

“I said something right?”

She nodded slowly, and ruffled his spiky hair. “You did. Thank you, Greg,”

The youngster beamed from ear to ear. “You’re welcome! Did I do a good enough job to get a doughnut reserved for me?”

Catherine chuckled. “We’ll see.”

She crashed into Nick on the way out, who was apparently in the need to walk as fast as humanly possible without looking like he was being chased by a hungry bear. He paused to steady her, smiling at her sheepishly and with Nick’s usual, apologetic, gentlemanly manner, and Catherine was reminded yet again why the ‘job well done’ angle had a distinct flaw to it.

“Oh, sorry, Catherine. I’m in a rush,”

“So I see,” Catherine managed to recover her balance and, just as importantly, hung onto Nick’s arm as the man tried to make his escape. Nick looked at her in bewilderment, then down at his arm suspiciously.

“Um, I’m gonna have to take my arm with me-,”

“We need to talk. Are you free a bit later on?”

Nick’s eyes suddenly grew suspicious, although his pleasant smile didn’t really alter. He shook his head. “Sorry, Catherine, I’m snowed under. I’ll get back to you, okay?”

“Well, how about after work?”

“Nah, sorry. I’ll probably be doing overtime.”

“Lunch?”

A shake of the head told her that this was apparently impossible too. Catherine growled softly.

“Dinner? Breakfast? There must be some point in your day you’re not busy! Do I have to tie you down or something?” she spoke in exasperation, her words completely unintentional, and it was only the way that Nick’s eyes darkened with emotion that she realised her mistake. She swore to herself privately. “Sorry Nick, that wasn’t what it sounded like-,”

Nick carefully removed his arm from her hold. “Either way, no, sorry. I’ll speak with you sometime, okay?” his voice was polite, gentlemanly and for Nick, incredibly cold. Catherine sighed, and then gave a reluctant nod. She had no doubt she could manhandle Nick into the lockers and grill him for hours, but she equally had no doubt the young man would simply clam up in his polite, ‘sir, yes, sir’ type manner he had. Nick had a strength to him that could bend iron bars when it wanted to.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Later.”

She watched his lean frame disappear round the corner, then swore to herself again and headed to Gil’s office, the last name on the list and the last person she was expecting a decent answer out of. Donuts or not, Gil seemed to have obtained more than his fair share of paperwork yet again, which normally meant he had a huge pile that had built up until some threat had forced him to look at it once again. Catherine slipped into the room, and firmly shut the door behind her. This earned her a faintly confused look before Gil’s eyes returned to his file of papers once again.

“Good evening, Catherine.” A page was turned idly. “You look intense.”

“Funny that,” Catherine stalked to the chair and sat down, crossing her legs and waiting for Gil to look up. When he failed to do so, she sighed and drummed her fingers on the desk. “Gil-,”

“Everything’s fine,” he interrupted. “That is what you wanted to know, correct?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I could be in here for work purposes,”

“True. And if that was the case, my door would still be open,” Gil raised an eyebrow at her and gave her the most pleasantest of smiles, before returning to his paperwork. “I’m assuming something’s concerned you?”

“Has he called?” Catherine was not entirely sure she liked pro-active Gil. Another page was turned idly.

“He? He who?”

“Oh, for god’s sake.. him. Blake.” Catherine watched him. “He was supposed to set up a meeting, yes?”

“Well, yes, but I doubt whether the timetable is quite that strict,” Gil frowned at her and leaned back, taking off his glasses as he studied her. “I’d expect a week or so before he contacts me. I would imagine it takes time and money to organise that type of event, and he is a businessman. They tend to have full diaries that rarely halt for full days of sexual torture, regardless of what’s on offer,”

Kind, sympathetic eyes raised from the file as Gil studied her. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “If and when he phones, you’ll know as soon as I can. Try not to worry,”

Catherine gave a grudgingly nod of thanks for that, and then watched him as the man went back to the file. “So, what did you say to Nicky to get him in that mood?”

“Nick?” Gil’s voice was distant, as though he hadn’t quite processed the name. “I only told him what you suspected. He didn’t take it too well.”

“Yeah, I noticed that by his sudden need to race around the department whenever I showed up,” Catherine was still somewhat hurt by that. “Although I also noted what he .. and the rest of you, to be fair .. were doing with each other.”

That caused Gil to pause and look up at her in utter bewilderment. “What we’re doing with each other? What are we doing with each other to gain that tone of voice?”

“I could list all the things, but it’ll sound overly paranoid, and don’t give me that expression, I am not paranoid. You’re all acting touchy feely towards each other.” Catherine folded her arms stubbornly. Gil pursed his lips and sat back slowly.

“Wait.. you’re upset because we’re getting on with each other too well?” soft grey-blue eyes frowned in clear incomprehension. “Surely a good working relationship is welcomed?”

“Depends what’s motivating it, as you well know.” Catherine replied shortly.

“We’re a team. We work together. We’ve gone through significant stress, very recently. I don’t see how what we’re doing is anything but healthy,” Gil shook his head. “Catherine, are you sure you’re not just creating this in your own head to .. well..,”

“Have something to fuss over?” Catherine’s voice was steely. Gil shrugged slightly, which normally translated as ‘yes’.

“I know you’re doing this with the best possible intentions, but I think you may simply have to let things develop. Give it a week and I’m sure you won’t see any difference,” Gil said gently. “It’s okay, Catherine. Just let it be. In the meantime, could you pass me that file on top of my spider tank?”

Of course there was little else she could get from him. Whatever Gil was focusing on, it was clearly not a desire to give Catherine the information she was after and that normally boded badly for anything other than a migraine. However, a week later, nothing appeared to have improved, which meant that certain people needed words in their ears.

Starting with Mr Warrick Brown.

*

Outside of work, Nick had spent the first few days alone. Eat, sleep, bathe, watch TV, read a book, do all the normal things he used to do that allowed his life to go in a forward motion. He did everything the same as he always did, and hell, there wasn’t a huge amount of variety to choose from, and yet something just felt missing, flat. It was as though he was missing a particularly loud flatmate, and that just bugged the hell out of him.

Work was .. Nick sighed and put his head under the flow from the shower. Work was technically work. They went into the department, got cases, processed evidence, talked work things, walked work walks, and yet something felt different. He felt charged, a tingle working his way through his body whenever he met up with Warrick, or Greg, or even Gil - although he tried to avoid Grissom to rebuff Catherine’s ‘dating’ scenario - and it was an annoying type of tingle that ordered him to do something but didn’t have the good grace to actually tell him what that something was. At least here, in his apartment, he was safe.

That was, of course, until he climbed into bed each night and closed his eyes. At that point the tingle returned, and Nick was finding he needed to do a lot more exercise before he could flop into bed and enter an immediate sleep before the tingle properly caught hold of him and started making him think of so many inappropriate thoughts that he wanted to bury his head under a huge pile of sand just to escape it.

God, he was infected. Nick opened his eyes and wearily looked at the shower tiles in front of his nose, his hand grasping for the soap to wash his already pretty well scrubbed body. The pain in his rear had died down, although the bruising was still far too obvious if he actually sat down; thankfully he had discovered a particular way to sit that put the pressure on areas that didn’t take the worst of the criss-cross bruising. He hadn’t looked at it since that first night, and wasn’t planning to do so again; it seemed so vivid, a public statement of what he had allowed to happen, and that had settled uncomfortably in his mind and set the tingling in his body to start off yet again.

That damned tingling. It was going to drive him insane soon. It stopped him sitting down to read comfortably, stopped him from taking a jog or simply lying down. It stopped him from just focusing on anything else, other than perhaps the most vivid of crime scenes, and for every vivid scene there were three of mind-numbing tediousness, the evidence needing to be processed carefully to ensure that nothing was missed. And then there were his colleagues…

Nick’s hand clenched around the soap again. They were so incredibly happy. How could they be so happy? They made him happy, laughing when he was near them, and he wasn’t even sure why, like yawning simply because someone else nearby was. Companionship had always given him a warm fuzzy feeling, but this felt different, as though they were all trying to communicate some secret message that they were all too thick to interpret. Not that Nick was going to admit to any of this, of course. Catherine was suspicious enough as it was, and the last thing he needed was someone to start talking about reality to him. Give a feeling a voice and it turned itself into fact, and Nick was pretty damned sure he didn’t want to give the tingle that sot of power.

Then there was Grissom himself…

Nick closed his eyes and sighed through his teeth. He had known what he had been planning to do when he had returned to work, and that had revolved around ‘business as normal’. Only it wasn’t, not quite, and despite the fact that everything he did was exactly the same as he always did. It felt like Grissom was paying him more attention ever since the bondage party, but that was probably down to the work involved and hell, Nick wasn’t even sure Grissom was paying him additional attention. Perhaps he was reading too much into the way Grissom glanced at him, the interested way he checked up on him. He’d seen Griss pull Warrick into a long, social discussion last month that took an hour of pure general chat, and Sara often discussed things with Griss that bore no relation to what was happening in the working day. Catherine often bickered all day long with the man in a strange friendly brother-sister fight, and even before the party Nick had spent time alone with Griss simply … okay, playing with science experiments and normally things that exploded or fizzed or did something that brought him back to his childhood days where he often coated the floor with some unspeakable chemical. No, he was being too sensitive. It was the damned tingle again, the tingle whenever Grissom just looked at him, the tingle that just made everything -

There was a strange vibration that went through the palm of the hand that had been resting on the tiles. Nick frowned at it, and then looked up at the door, pulling his head out of the spray to listen. The vibration occurred again, together with a no-nonsense pounding on the door. Shit.

Switching off the shower and drying himself as quickly as he possibly could, Nick grabbed a pair of jogging shorts and pulled them on with a little wince. Growling to himself, he stalked barefoot and damp to the door, and pulled it open.

There was a little pause.

“No offence, bro, but I’m really gonna have to stop seeing your nipples unexpectedly,” Warrick drawled. “Can I come in? Got beer,”

The six pack was raised as evidence. Nick frowned at him, then frowned at the bag, then frowned at his wrist which failed to have a watch attached to it. Damned showers.

“You got time,” Warrick slipped inside, clearly not taking the possibility of no for an answer. “And we need t’talk, right?”

“Do we?” Nick sighed, but stepped back and shut the door after him, waving a hand toward the couch. “You want a drink or are you okay with that beer of yours?”

“M’good, thanks.” Warrick slowly settled himself on the couch, and looked up at Nick lazily. His posture was .. well, Warrick. Loose limbed, all but sprawled on the couch with one arm draped over the back of it and his legs wide apart, his confident green tinted eyes were watching him thoughtfully. Nick eyed him, then shrugged, and stepped back to the corridor.

“You stay there, I’ll go get dressed.”

“If you want,” Warrick drawled again, the suggestion that this proposal didn’t necessarily need to occur a little too obvious. And yeah, that was what had been happening throughout the working day, Nick realised. Too many phrases that had made perfect sense but had a working subtext that suddenly he was all too aware of. He frowned at him, and then folded his arms. Something wasn’t quite right here, and he wasn’t really in the mood for guessing games.

“Rick, why are you here?”

A lazy shrug responded to that, which wasn’t anywhere near an answer. Nick’s eyes narrowed again. Warrick apparently was sensitive to Nick’s patience levels as he sighed, then leaned forward.

“I’m here to find out how you are,”

“You know how I am, and we’ve been working together for hours today, in the garage.” Nick pointed out. “You had to come over here at this time and drag me out of my shower for that?”

“Yeah, well. Garage is one thing. Social time is another, y’know?” Warrick was still watching him a little intensely, and Nick wasn’t sure he liked it. “And we still have things to resolve from that event last week, yeah?”

“Do we?”

“You jumped me in a room and asked me to fuck you. Had a touch of memory loss, bro?” Warrick spoke mildly enough that the topic itself could have been on whose turn it was to refill the coffee pot. Nick felt the traitorous flush creep to his cheeks, and fought it down violently. Yeah, he remembered. Remembered it a little too well, and hell, the tingle remembered it too, a hot, throbbing agony of need in his lower body as Warrick had straddled him. Thinking that if anyone was going to prepare him enough for the event, it was going to be Rick. The man was hard but kind, acknowledging Nick’s ‘adorableness’, as Catherine put it, but never getting himself swayed by it.

Nick’s eyes narrowed again, not bothering to acknowledge it. They both knew he did.

“Then why are you here, really?” he said slowly. “You and I both know you ain’ like that normally.”

That earned him a little eyebrow raise, and sometimes Warrick could channel Grissom so faithfully that it was both uncanny and fucking irritating at the same time. Nick growled internally. No way he was getting tag teamed for this. No chance.

“I ain’t like what, bro?” The calmness on Warrick’s face was incredible. “Cause you know me and Griss had our moments in the past. I wasn’t exactly fighting you off in that room either, you just weren’t ready, y’know?”

“Wait, you’re here to see whether I’m ready?” Nick said, a little in disbelief. Warrick chuckled to himself.

“Well, kinda. Not in the way you’re thinking, though. I ain’ here to jump you, man, your ass ain’ gonna take it and that’s the least of your concerns.” Warrick shrugged. “Just here to see whether your mind’s worked out whether everything you liked on that night was just in the moment or whether you’re getting a long term thing for it,”

Nick shook his head irritably. “It’s only been a few days.”

“So that’s a yes for not over it yet?” Warrick pressed, and Nick suddenly realised that the question had been cloak and dagger for a different type of schedule, hiding Warrick’s need to find out Nick’s mental state under the disguise of sexual interest. He scowled again and folded his arms tighter.

“I’m fine, Rick. Pretty much back to my old self.” he said firmly. “Honest.”

Warrick chuckled. “Why do I get the impression you’re gonna get that printed out and framed over your door, man? Whatever the situation, speak to the wall.” Calm but surprisingly soft green eyes looked up at him, and then Warrick gave another little shrug that seemed to be performed only through his eyes. “I’m fine. Not back to my old self, though. Neither’s Greg,”

Alarm flashed in Nick’s eyes. “No? But you guys are okay, right?”

That resulted in a smile full of affection. Warrick gave a little nod. “We’re fine. Just .. different.”

“Different?” Nick repeated slowly, suspiciously, rolling the word over on his tongue as though he could taste the intent behind it. “How?”

“Hell, man, if it was easy as that all the therapists would be out of business, y’know?” Warrick pulled off a can of beer and held it out. “C’mon. Sit down, and we try talking about it.”

Nick edged his way to the couch and took the beer slowly. “You’ve been talking to Catherine, haven’t you?” he asked suspiciously. Warrick chuckled to himself, simply pulling off a can for himself and opening it. He took a swig and settled back comfortably.

“She’s tried. Some of the stuff she’s been saying’s right, but I just don’t want her to know that bit otherwise she’ll try and fix it.” Warrick took another swig and sighed in satisfaction. “You talked to Griss?”

“No.” Nick knew his voice was sharp and blunt, but didn’t really care. He hesitated, and then sighed reluctantly. “Not about what happened, anyway.”

“And that’s you being all normal, is it?” Warrick’s eyes drifted down Nick’s body then back again, and Nick knew damned well that wasn’t a gaze that was trying to check him out sexually, that was simply a hint to the damage that was still left on his backside. He bristled slightly.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“Seriously, man?” Warrick’s voice was disapproval. “You wanna think that over?”

“No.” Nick took a deep mouthful of beer as though it might in some way change Warrick’s need to talk, which unsurprisingly failed miserably. There wasn’t even a suitable game on television to distract him either. After a few moments of silence, Warrick leaned forward and rested his hand on Nick’s knee. A simple gesture, one that the man had done in the past in support whenever Nick had felt overwhelmed and frustrated, and one that now managed to set the tingling off in such a persistent manner that it took all of Nick’s willpower to remain sitting. He looked at it suspiciously, then up at Warrick.

“If you want to go back to how things were, that’s your choice,” Warrick spoke steadily. “I ain’t gonna stop you, or disapprove, or anything like that. I’m just giving you another option, yeah?”

Nick felt his heartbeat begin to slowly pick up, but he fought it down again. Another option. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself with another option, even if he was taking Warrick’s offer correctly. Things were never that easy and although he’d always wanted to believe in the happy endings where people just walked off into the sunset, he had seen enough pain and agony through each new case that landed on his desk to know that it was a rare occurrence. Nick licked his lips, and looked up.

“You sure you weren’t just affected by that event yourself, Rick?” he said softly. “Why am I the only fucked up one here?”

Warrick huffed a laugh. “Cause you ain’t. There’s complications on top of the ones you already know about. And then there’s Grissom,”

That name was beginning to annoy him, and that was a shock in itself. Griss was his boss, regardless of what happened and what Nick felt, and bosses required respect. The fact that he wanted to scowl sullenly whenever he thought of what Grissom had told him was his own problem, not Gil’s. Nick frowned, knowing he looked like a sulking five year old and not really having any power to stop it.

“What about him?”

Warrick chuckled easily and squeezed Nick’s knee. “You know full well what I’m on about. There’s a part of you that liked what happened at that place, and hell, you’re busy fighting your hardest not to admit it, right?”

“I didn’t enjoy it,” Nick ground out after a vicious pause.

“Yeah. And I’m the Easter bunny, my ears are in the wash,” Warrick replied, completely unfazed by the scowl being aimed at him instead. “Hey, man, I get it. I ain’t judging you. Been there myself. But if anything were to happen in our group, you really gotta work out what you’re after. Who you’re after. And if I’m any judge,” Warrick drawled. “you probably just wanted to come pounce my ass to prove you’re so over Grissom that you’re up for a quick hard fuck over the couch, yeah?”

That hit him as hard as a punch. Yeah. Yeah, Warrick was right, and Nick felt so damned guilty that it was right, that the tingle within him had already elevated his heart rate and turned his chest into a rock band’s studio, that he took another swig of beer to mask his confusion. There was another soft laugh, and Warrick’s hand tightened on Nick’s knee yet again. And that wasn’t the supporting, friendly version. That was the flirting version, coupled with the suddenly soft, low, seductive tones of Warrick’s voice that managed to send Nick’s blood pressure spiralling.

“I told you. Been there, seen that, felt that. Whenever you think you’re the only person in the world having that problem, just remind yourself that you’re not. Nowhere near. Everyone’s got something weird they want to hide away, and people aren’t as original as they fear.” he shrugged. “Griss asked you out yet?”

“No!” Nick’s eyes snapped up from where they had been studying Warrick’s dark hand resting on his pale knee, his eyes a mixture of confusion and anger. Not that it worked on Warrick, of course. Nothing ever did. If the man knew the meaning of the word ‘recoil’, then clearly it was merely there for crossword puzzles.

“You ask him out?”

Anger seeped a little more into panic. “Of course I haven’t!”

“Why not?” Green eyes studied him in cool interest. Nick opened his mouth to protest, then snarled instead and shook his head.

“It wouldn’t work, and I’m not like that,”

“Not like what? Seeing another man or admitting that you want to see another man?” Warrick’s head shifted slightly to one side, again an annoying Grissom-ism that bugged the hell out of Nick’s self poise. He gritted his teeth again, but couldn’t quite bring himself to move Warrick’s warm palm away from his skin. It felt a little too good, too guiltily good, and shifting it away would probably discourage touching in the future.

The admission that this would be a problem struck another punch deep within him. Nick looked up, knowing his expression had moved from his comfortable ‘you’re talking shit and I’m angry’ one to a wary discomfort that was borderline fear and having absolutely no way to halt it. Warrick’s hand slid a little further along his thigh, incredibly hot and so damned hard to ignore, and Nick felt his heart rate pick up a little faster. The tingling was back with a vengeance, settling in his very bones and in his stomach and his nerves, and fuelling the burning, aching slow throb that was slowly setting up home in his groin.

“If you want me to flirt with Grissom,” Nick’s voice sounded very far away to him as he stared back at Warrick’s steady luminous gaze. “why are you doing this?”

Warrick chuckled again, a throaty, erotic noise that seemed to burrow through Nick’s nerves to beat a rhythm in his groin.

“Realism.” Warrick drawled. “I can’t extract Grissom from the situation. Or Greg. And if you can’t do something, y’might as well just get over that bit and go for the bits you can. And, t’be honest, I don’t really mind that they’re there. Do you?”

Nick’s power of speech was having a bad day. Already affected by the sheer need for additional oxygen, it was now suffering from a severe decline in vocabulary. Nick swallowed. Being gay was one thing. Getting himself essentially some sort of orgy was another matter, although was it, when he thought about it? He’d already had multiple partners, the frat parties getting wild enough for there to be a shortage of beds and a general group willingness to be ‘friendly’. There had even been some guys there too, although all he’d done was simply shared, like a good boy should when there were guests over. And hell, the idea was .. well, it was …

“Tempting, right?” Warrick broke through his thoughts. “Yeah. I know. Guilty pleasures you shouldn’t even think about and then just keep finding yourself thinking about it, over and over again until you’ve actually expanded the original situation and added half a million chapters to it.”

Warrick had been moving as he spoke, his soft, rough voice purring as his hand slid further up Nick’s thigh. And if Nick had though the tingling was distracting before, there was absolutely no question of it now; it roared through his body and ached in his bones, his eyes wide as Warrick leaned further over him. Nick swallowed, his throat drying as he found himself shift automatically on the couch, slowly slipping downwards as Warrick leaned over him, a vampire waiting to bite. His breath hitched, waiting, trembling, needing the contact and yet there seemed to be an invisible barrier that Warrick wasn’t planning to breach. His hand had stopped at the hem of the shorts, warm, promising, but still nowhere near Nick’s stiffening length. His mouth was so close, Warrick’s warmth and scent filling him, and yet the man never pushed further. Frustration was seriously not the word.

Warrick watched his indecision for a moment, and then smiled at him ruefully.

“I can’t do this for you.” he murmured. “Gotta be your decision, Nicky. You can live your life believing the ‘I had no choice’ excuse, but I’m not being a part of it. So… what’s it gonna be, bro?”

As though there was any question he’d turn him away. Nick looked up at him and growled softly, his hand cupping behind Warrick’s neck and pulling him down into a hard, passionate and desperate kiss, their mouths clashing almost angrily as they both vied for dominance. Nick’s battle began to slip as he felt Warrick’s hand creep higher, an attack from the rear, and the power in his kiss paused in a gasp as the palm slid over material and teasingly over his hardening length. He whimpered. He didn’t mean to whimper and fuck, he didn’t want to whimper, but there it was in the traitorous manner it had.

At least it seemed to have a good effect on Warrick. The already predatory eyes gleamed, Warrick chuckling throatily as he delicately licked at Nick’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he drawled softly. The next kiss was almost tender, slow, deliberate, Warrick’s tongue licking over Nick’s lips before lazy exploring his mouth and Nick found himself happy to accept this expedition. Their bodies were all but joined, Warrick keeping at least a little of his weight off, and Nick marvelled how natural it felt. He growled softly, encouragingly, but Warrick was back on his own timetable and screw anyone else’s schedule. His scent was slightly musky, unmistakably male, and the unfamiliar scratch of stubble against his skin sent Nick’s senses into a wild panic of excitement and confusion.

Nick’s hands slid down Warrick’s body, rubbing against the hardness in the tight jeans, and won himself a little grunt of pleasure. The darker man flashed him an indulgent look, then grasped hold of Nick’s wrist and firmly extracted it before pinning it over his head.

“Ah, c’mon!” Nick squirmed as Warrick went back to kissing and nipping his skin with the lazy speed of someone who had all day, his hips bucking against Warrick’s firm stomach impatiently.

“Mmmm?”

“Never had you down for the soft lover, man,” Nick panted, squirming harder. Warrick chuckled roughly, his mouth against Nick’s neck.

“Replay what’s happened to you recently, bro. Ain’ no way I’m gonna start manhandling you in a rough manner, which means-,”

“You’re gonna torture me instead?” Nick groaned, irritably, his back arching automatically as Warrick pressed against an increasingly tight, hard, hot and incredibly impatient groin. That earned him a little shrug.

“Sure, why not?” Warrick grinned lazily at him, the slow, self satisfied smile of a big cat that had finished a particularly large meal, and then kissed him again. That in itself was fine. What wasn’t quite so fine was apparently this was the ‘goodbye’ kiss, the one that immediately preceded a slow withdrawal. Nick’s hand caught the loop of Warrick’s belt, yanking him to a halt.

“Hey!” Nick’s eyes blazed with suspicion and not a small amount of frustration. Warrick shrugged again, lazily, then managed to unfasten his belt from Nick’s hold and stand up. Nick’s immediate protest was silenced as Warrick’s shirt was stripped off with enough roughness to suggest a few buttons might have been sacrificed to the action, and the top of Warrick’s jeans unfastened to allow the material to cling precariously to lean hips. Underwear apparently hadn’t been on the man’s list of things to wear this morning, and Nick couldn’t quite stop his gaze from following the dark haired trail leading towards Warrick’s groin.

A dark hand held itself out to him casually, Warrick’s cat-like green eyes watching him thoughtfully.

“C’mon, Nicky-boy.”

Nick looked from outstretched hand to Warrick’s eyes suspiciously. There was a good natured huff before Warrick stepped forward, took a particularly good hold on Nick’s shoulder and all but hoisted him up manually.

“Hey, ouch!” Nick scrambled for both balance and dignity, finding his feet. Warrick was completely unabashed by either, ignoring the hot flash of irritation that Nick shot his way as he waited for him to recover; as soon as Nick did, their mouths met in a hard, messy kiss again, pulling each other closer as hard as either of them dared as their tongues clashed for dominance. Nick’s hand seemed to slide downwards by itself, smoothing over the line of the jeans and grabbing the ridiculously hard muscle of Warrick’s right buttock with a clasp that lobsters would have been jealous over.

Warrick responded good naturedly, a throaty chuckle followed by pulling Nick so tight to him that their bodies seemed to form one distinct whole. Panting, hungry, Nick nipped at Warrick’s neck with his teeth and earned himself a little smack on the shoulder in exchange. Warrick might be hard and needy himself, but it was all too clear that the man wasn’t intending to lose his faculties or his control over the situation.

“So,” Warrick drawled in his ear, sending another shiver down Nick’s spine and down into his crotch. “What’s this gonna be, man? Quick, hard, work out what we’re doing later, or you wanna engage the brain cells before that?”

“This kinda thing works better if you don’t think about it,”

“Short term, sure. Long term..,” Warrick shrugged, but it was the casual shrug of a man who didn’t care one way or the other. Nick narrowed his eyes carefully, watching him. Warrick had had his share of one-night stands, just as Nick had, although Warrick normally was a little more upfront to what they actually were. He had no doubt that Warrick could easily just carry on as they had been with or without sex, happy enough in his own mind that it made no difference as long as their friendship was unaffected. Which meant someone else was sparking off all this talk.

“Exactly how much have you been talking to Catherine?” he asked suspiciously.

There was a little incredulous pause, and then Warrick laughed in genuine amusement. “You telling me you think I’m here purely because Catherine told me to? Hell, man, there’s going that extra mile and then there’s walking around the world, yeah?”

“What d’you mean purely?” Nick seized on the word.

“Bro, you really gotta stop being a CSI in your spare time-,”

“Warrick.” Nick’s hand tightened on Warrick’s ass, and the other man sighed wearily and shrugged.

“Yeah, yeah, well, I was kinda sent to give you a message as well.” he bent his head and pressed another kiss to Nick’s suddenly unresponsive mouth. “This bit, however, that’s all mine, man. Catherine would kill us both if she thought we were busy doing stuff before we were ‘ready’. Woman fusses too much.”

Nick scowled at him and slowly stepped back. Warrick rolled his eyes and took hold of Nick’s shoulder, giving him a gentle push towards the bedroom.

“If you’re gonna start complaining on me, we’re doing it in comfort.” he advised him. “’Kay, the short, short version. Catherine wants us to all meet up at Heather’s again, kinda off the record, trying to sort things out. She’s gonna work on Gil herself, I ain’t gonna get anything more than a polite eyebrow raise and a whole lot of silence, y’know?”

“Sort things out?” Nick replied, finding himself propelled into the bedroom.

“Yeah. She described it as ..,” Warrick paused and frowned in memory and concentration. “… ‘unresolved sexual tension between the group’, which basically means she’s getting her knickers in a twist that we’re all going to meet up in the lab social room, fuck our brains out and get fired.”

Nick gave him an incredulous look.

“Okay, I might have added a bit on the end, but the consequence is the same. She just said it in a manner that suggested we did have a bit of willpower as well.” Warrick bent to take off his boots and socks, and then allowed his pants to drop onto the floor. Nick’s ability to talk suddenly discovered yet another hitch as the other man stood up again, proud, confident and rightly so; a pearl of moisture had smeared over the head of the richly dark cock that was so rigidly upright, so damned large for that matter, and achingly necessary to touch.

“You think she has a point?” Nick tore his gaze away, staring up at slightly predatory eyes, hungry and confident. Warrick shrugged.

“I can only judge on what’s happening to me, man. And yeah, I’m looking at you guys in a whole new way. I’d say so’s Greg, but Greg was already half way there, y’know?” a grin flickered in the corner of Warrick’s mouth. “That party just gave him a reason to go the extra distance. Speaking of Greg-,”

“You slept with him.” Nick spoke idly, and for a moment suddenly saw what Warrick was like when he was caught off guard. Nick chuckled to himself. Honestly, they all thought he was completely blind in some respects, like a four year old taken to a suggestive film where all the innuendos flew over his head. “I was in the car on the way back, man. If you guys hadn’t fucked, you’d been doing something really, really weird, and then there was that smell… not that I analyse crime scenes or anything, right?”

Warrick chuckled. “Guess so. Sorry.”

Nick shrugged. It was … well, he wasn’t sure what it was, but he had simply acknowledged it as something that had happened. His own ass had been aching, forced to sit on the oh- so- incredibly hard chairs, and Greg’s discomfort on doing the same had almost seemed comradely. And then there had been all the little touches and the flirting and the things that Greg normally didn’t do to Warrick for fear of getting his fingers broken. It had just seemed the logical thing to assume.

“Nothing to apologise for, otherwise me and Griss’ll have to do the same, right? Although, no, we haven’t gone that far, before you start talking. He just said the smacking was something sexual to him, so..,” Nick shrugged and slipped his fingers under the band of his shorts, slipping them downwards where he kicked them towards the corner of the room.

The hunger in Warrick’s eyes suddenly tripled, the other man stepping forward to pull Nick into yet another punishing kiss that left them both gasping. Warrick grinned and grabbed hold of Nick’s arm, turning slightly before pulling them both onto the bed. Nick chuckled roughly as Warrick’s tongue began to lick across his chest, running his hand through the thick hair as the warm wetness continued, both lying on their sides to avoid the ‘ouch’ factor. The number of questions they probably had to ask was off the scale, but right here and right now, the only question that was really relevant was ‘are you okay with this’ and the answer, sensible or not, had been yes. The rest could work itself out later on.

Their mouths found each other again as their bodies lined up, Warrick’s arm sliding over and around Nick’s back, and Nick’s hand resting gently on Warrick’s hip as their tongues fought a lazy battle, neither man caring who won as long as the fight was good. Nick groaned as Warrick ground his groin against him, a soft, near whimper of pleasure, and felt a stab of contentment as Warrick panted his appreciation back. For all their talking, for all the arguments and decisions and consequences, this felt .. natural. Good. Like it was simply the next step to their beer and game evenings, the way that Warrick’s body followed Nick’s own and their hardened, aching lengths pressed and rubbed and sent sparks of pleasurable frustration deep within him where they lurked, burning, refusing to let him think of anything other than what was happening.

Panting, flushed, their bodies hot and trembling and their hips still pressed together, circling, grinding, and chasing each and every sensation, their kiss grew steadily ragged as they fought the need to breathe with the need to taste each other. Warrick growled helplessly as Nick abandoned their kiss to lick and nip at the salty taste of his neck, his fingers digging into Nick’s flesh to hold them both together as their dance continued. Each roll of the hips, each little buck and thrust seemed to burn through him, order him to find another one, harder, faster, trying to increase the sensations to longer and more powerful ones and yet not entirely certain whether Nick could actually cope with them if he was successful.

Nick wasn’t sure that Warrick could either; for all his growl, for all his strength, Warrick was so damned responsive. Each stroke was answered by a tremble, each thrust a little arch of his back and the softest of grunts. Nick scattered little kisses over his lover’s neck and chest and felt the growl in answer, Warrick’s hips grinding so mercilessly that Nick’s mouth stopped working out of self preservation as he felt himself get squeezed into oblivion.

His hands had worked over Warrick’s ass almost of their own desire; his fingertips skimmed over powerful, hard muscles, feeling how they tensed each time that Warrick’s hips clashed with his own and sketching out how they must look in his mind. There was the softest groan, a grunt, and Warrick’s hand leaned back to grab hold of Nick’s hand roughly.

“Stop tickling,” Warrick ordered gruffly. “And don’t get yourself ideas, bro.”

Nick chuckled softly. Oh yeah, he had no doubt that Warrick’s rear was a no-poking zone, just as he was pretty damned sure his own was under the same heading. Still, there was something good about teasing him, and feeling that guilty, pleasurable reaction to something that Warrick really didn’t want to admit. In a way, they were all in the same boat; sometimes the things that felt so damned good in the body didn’t quite feel so damned good in the mind.

“Relax,” Nick gave him a soft, gentle spank on the buttock, and witnessed an incredulous look that almost got him giggling helplessly like a five year old with a toilet joke. Warrick huffed, and then bucked his body harder against Nick’s in retaliation. Nick laughed again, an easy, carefree noise before nuzzling him. “Aww, aren’t you adorable? Ow!!”

Warrick raised an eyebrow at him as Nick sulkily looked back, resisting the urge to rub the throbbing bruise that had just received a light smack.

“Watch it, man,” Warrick had his menacing voice on but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re the one who’s gonna be losing here if there’s a war, got it?”

Nick gave him a rueful grin back at that, then captured Warrick’s mouth again in a passionate kiss that held elements of vague apology. Said apology was accepted almost immediately; their hips ground together once more, and Nick broke off the kiss to pant for air, the gulps for oxygen soft and desperate as his body throbbed with need. Message received, understood, and fuck, he could do with that message being repeated over and over again-

He didn’t know how long it had been, but hell, it had been time well spent. Kissing had given way to pants and groans and moans, their bodies moving together in an obscene, hard, grinding dance that burned a path through their nerves. Nick allowed his forehead to rest against Warrick’s shoulder, his eyes half shut in concentration as he moved, pressing himself up against as much of Warrick as he could. Each movement needed another, and then another, the world barely existing outside the bed and their own sweaty little pile of limbs.

Nick came first, although he had already accepted that fact as soon as he had been pushed on the bed. Warrick had a defensive thing when it came to submission, and other than Catherine - who seriously had to have some type of blackmail material on Warrick to get half the things she did - it was pretty damned solid. Orgasm was just another vulnerability to shield, but Nick really wasn’t anywhere near Warrick’s mindset, not right now, not when his heartbeat was so fast in his chest that it was threatening to break ribs and his breathing was ragged enough that his vision was flickering around the edges. If this was vulnerability he was all for it, and Nick cried out as his body tensed, his back arching and his eyes sightless for the few seconds it took for his climax to claim him. Warrick didn’t last much longer; his breathing suddenly hitched, a strange look of intense concentration crossing his face before he groaned, a deep, rumbling noise of pleasure, and buried his face in Nick’s shoulder as he shuddered through his release.

For a few minutes there was nothing but soft, gentle panting, a shared noise of satisfied pleasure between them. Nick found himself hugged a little tighter, and chuckled sleepily, accepting the gentle touch for what it was.

“I’m sticky,” he announced to the room at large, although his voice was slightly bemused. Warrick chuckled.

“Y’stuck to my stomach, so yeah, I noticed,” Warrick rolled over onto his back and stretched lazily, pulling Nick with him. “Gonna lick it up for me?”

“Sure. About the time the world stops turning,” Nick agreed, then laughed and jabbed the other man good naturedly in the ribs. “I do have a shower, y’know. Call Greg if you want a decent servant.”

“Some host you are,” Warrick shifted his hips again, a grin aiming itself back at Nick.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick yawned, and flopped a little more on his stomach. “Ah, fuck, man, you killed me.”

And god, wasn’t that the truth. His body felt like it had run a marathon, his heart still unsteady, trying to return to the steadier beat it was used to. Nick shifted position and found that he was quite happy to remain exactly where he was, a pool of human shaped, boneless goo that still purred a happy little purr every so often. Nick knew what should have been flowing through his mind, the shame, the uncertainty, but fuck, this was too good to waste.

Warrick, meanwhile, wasn’t quite so exhausted. Having rolled himself back onto his side again, he was amusing himself by trailing fingertips down Nick’s side and gently over his bruised rear.

“That still hurt?” he queried, as though Nick’s ass was normal colour rather than the distinctly black and blue colouration it was trying out.

“Yeah,” Nick had thought about making some sort of sarcastic comment, but in the end had just gone for the truth. “Getting better, though. Gil gave me some cream.”

There was a little pause as he reviewed that sentence, then he flushed with embarrassment. “Uh, the medicinal type of cream.”

Warrick grunted an acknowledgement, his eyes still transfixed by the colour. Nick shivered as the fingertips trailed over him further, remaining as still as he could. He rested his chin on his arms and watched the other man explore, Warrick’s expression thoughtful enough to suggest that Nick’s ass was a crime scene ready to be processed rather than anything belonging to Nick himself. He licked his lips and raised an eyebrow.

“You into that sort of thing?” Nick didn’t even know why he asked the question. Warrick wasn’t the type of guy who just sat there and took punishment, although Nick guessed that there was a possibility that Rick could like the role that Grissom had already found himself. A shrug answered that, which could have been anything, before Warrick’s cool eyes met Nick’s again and finally his fingers drifted lower, over the muscle of Nick’s upper thigh. Unsurprisingly, the topic was dropped.

“You up for this meeting?”

Nick had to pause to process the change in conversation, then frowned. “The one Catherine wants us to have? I don’t know, man. Dunno whether I’m into all this,”

There was a soft, amused snort of disbelief and Nick found himself flushing with embarrassment. He scowled and rolled off the bed onto his feet, wincing slightly as his fingers brushed the sticky mess on his stomach, then began to prowl towards the shower to wash off the evidence.

“Hey, man, don’t get yourself confused over what just happened.” Nick argued as he walked. “What we just did doesn’t automatically lead to bondage orgies, y’know?”

Not that Warrick was paying his words the least bit attention, which Nick wasn’t quite sure he blamed him for. What they just did might not automatically lead to orgies, but their little bondage session had certainly caused their sex session to occur and that probably was a good indication of what did and didn’t spark things off in their heads.

“Next Monday,” Warrick drawled, watching him. “Me and Greg are gonna be there. Make up your mind before that, bro. Greg says he’s up for a visit if you wanna go see him as part of that process.”

Nick hesitated at the doorway and looked back at him incredulously. “Exactly what does that mean?”

Warrick laughed, confident and relaxed and lounging naked so comfortably that it looked like he was fully dressed. “What does it sound like?”

Their eyes met for a longer period of time before Nick growled softly to himself and headed into the shower to wash off the remains of their …well, rutting, if he admitted it to himself. And as he allowed his head to dunk under the running water, the date of Monday couldn’t be removed from his mind. And neither could Greg’s offer.

And then, of course, there was Grissom…. But there was no way he was going to turn up. He was the supervisor. He had a role to play.

Right?

And deep within him, the tingle began to build yet again.

TBC