FIC: To Whom It May Concern (CSI Slash NC17) 14/?
FIC: To Whom It May Concern (14/?) Part A
Rating: NC17
Setting: CSI Vegas
Pairing: Gil/Warrick/Nick/Greg in various ways
Warnings: Kink, bondage
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.
Please check tags for past chapters
He’d always known it was going to put a strain on his comfort level. He would have been horrified if it hadn’t, if Nick had been truthful to himself. Sure, he’d done a few things that might have been labeled ‘wild’ in his frat days, and group situations had been part of that, but everything had its limits and it had rarely gone on longer than half an hour at a time or until the beer ran out. Even then, said activities had tended to be pretty much what he normally did, just with an extra hand or an audience or a toy. Pretty basic, if energetic and normally a little on the messy side.
But this… Nick was still struggling to get ‘this’ in the part of his mind that fully understood it and finding it joining the little list of other things he couldn’t quite comprehend. That he could find his current partners attractive and their activities arousing, sure, that he could handle. Why he found it arousing was another matter entirely, and Nick found himself balancing between his scientific curiosity and his general nature to let romance be romance without poking it. If this was romance, of course. He guessed it was, in its way, although instead of boxes of chocolates and a bunch of roses, Nick was offering a different gift in his desire to please his partners. However, he doubted whether they were going to get too many valentine cards pondering on the aspects of whips and leather based goodies.
Regardless, Nick was slowly beginning to enjoy himself when Warrick decided to slam a massive metaphorical screwdriver in the works and twist it by apparently committing so many social faux-pas against their master that even Grissom had been forced to act. Nick had known that a lot of the ‘bad behaviour’ of the day had been Warrick either acting or messing around, which seemed to make it worse somehow. If Warrick was genuinely angry or displeased, the whole world shook; calling Gil by the wrong name or turning up a little late was the equivalent of flicking a pea across the table during Sunday lunch, and Nick was struggling with why the man would bother to do something like that. If Warrick didn’t want to do something, he didn’t do it. If he wanted it, he normally threw himself into it body and soul. There was rarely a grey line between the two, but that was where Warrick seemed to be balancing, not quite obedient, not quite disobedient.
So here, now, they were faced with the utterly incredible situation of Warrick Brown, CSI level three and all round tough guy, being ass up over Gil’s lap getting the whaling of his life. Nick hadn’t even realised that was physically possible, let alone mentally.
Nick had waited near Greg in the end, his breath in his throat and his body trembling in both anticipation and nervousness. He wanted to speak, to move, to do something, and yet he was rooted so firmly to the spot that it was as though someone had added superglue to the soles of his feet. At some point his nails had begun to dig into the soft flesh of his palm, leaving behind little crescent moon marks as he watched helplessly as the scene unfolded in front of him. It would take a nuclear weapon to drag his attention away from Warrick’s shining body and the darkened, red-tinged bruises that Gil had already managed to form on Warrick’s hide, just as it would take a nuclear weapon to be able to speak.
Vocalisation, of course, was a different matter. After a little while he had been forced to bite his own lip, little traitorous noises escaping from his own throat as he watched. Nick didn’t know where they came from or what they wanted, because it couldn’t be arousal, no sir, not about this. He wasn’t that kinky. He hoped, anyway. He really hoped. Because if he was, then Nick had absolutely no idea on where his own barriers lay on what he wanted, what he didn’t, or what would make him scream for more reasons than simply sensation.
He slowly turned his head to glance beseechingly at Greg, as though the younger man might save him from the treacherous need of his own body. Not that Nick was in luck there, not at all. Greg’s eyes were fixed on the scene in front of them with the solid intensity of one who wouldn’t notice a bomb going off nearby, his expression almost scared as he watched. Nick knew that was deceptive; even if Greg’s cock wasn’t as stiff as the average flag pole, the excitement in his body spoke volumes on what was truly going on in Sanders’ mind. Disbelief, certainly, but nothing that would make the man run screaming for the hills. Quite the opposite, if he had any guess.
And that, Nick suspected, was just as well. The last slap had sounded and Warrick had slowly slid from Gil’s legs to a position on his knees, the dark man’s eyes dazed and slightly bewildered for a moment as he gathered his poise. No one did that to Warrick Brown other than possibly his grandmother, the person who had been the firm rock of discipline and respect throughout the young Warrick’s life. It was a little too easy in Vegas to be attracted to crime, to the opportunities that seemed so damned easy and yet hide their actual expense, and Warrick had always been a smart guy. Smart guys could go far when it came to the criminal element, and Nick gave a silent moment of thanks to the family the man had been influenced by rather than the people he had met along the way.
Yes, no one did that to Warrick, and yet Gil seemed to have got away with it. Respect bubbled within Nick for a few moments, awed by the force of personality that had managed to tame the tiger in such a way that had made it seem easy. His gaze fell on Grissom again, a throb of painful interest settling in Nick’s groin as he remembered what Gil had promised him. Touch. Possession. Everything that he really should be fighting against, and yet the appeal was so great that Nick’s balls ached and his legs trembled at the thought. His mind also tugged at the thought of touching Warrick like that, being able to smooth his hands wherever he wanted, but that wasn’t up to him either. Nick licked his lips, then looked down at Greg once again and felt a little smile rise to his lips. He could easily imagine what it would be like with the youngest member of the team too. Playful fun, rolling around finding their own level of possession, and yeah, that appealed too, relief from the strain of behaving. The playground rather than the carefully regulated sport’s day.
Of course Gil didn’t stop at the spanking. Next came possession, claiming Warrick as his own, fucking him so hard that the darker man must have been seeing stars, and Nick couldn’t do anything but accept that watching the pair of them together was sending his own desire into areas he hadn’t believed possible. He should have been embarrassed. In fact, there were a whole heap of ‘should haves’, but ultimately all he ended up being was turned on. Painfully turned on, in fact, so hard that he was ready to believe that parts of his anatomy were about to explode at any second. Air seemed harder and harder to obtain, Nick’s cheeks flushing as he focused on trying to keep from embarrassing himself.
Of course, there were other things he really had to focus on. Grissom, for example, the man who had finally moved from Warrick’s hot, panting form to give Nick a thoughtful, worryingly calculating look. The worry didn’t end there, either; after a few moments pause that probably doubled as a space for reclaiming his breath, Gil was back to his careful consideration over the black bag’s contents. His light eyes slowly turned from strict intensity to the typical mild mannered thoughtfulness that Nick recognised from the lab, a man caught up in his own wistful thoughts, and seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that the rest of the room were holding their breaths as they waited for him to do what he wanted.
The knock on the door, therefore, almost sent both Nick and Greg orbital and Warrick bounding to his feet. Three sets of eyes turned immediately to Greg, who flushed uncomfortably under the weight of their accusation.
“I didn’t order any pizza, I swear!” he waved his hands in front of his chest defensively. “I only got the leaflets out! Not my fault!”
“I imagine we’ll have to wait to see who’s fault it is when we find out exactly who’s behind door number one,” Gil remarked from the bag, his gaze lifting for a moment to give Nick a quick look. “Nick, if you please.”
Well, that was an instruction he could cope with. Nick ran his hand to the back of his neck, nodded, and would have walked straight to the door had it not been for Gil’s gentle cough of reminder.
“Jeans?”
“What..?” Nick glanced down, and then flushed uncomfortably at his own nakedness. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”
Two seconds later he had located his jeans from the bedroom and roughly pulled them on, trotting back to the front door and pausing to glance back. Thankfully the space was shielded enough that whoever it was wouldn’t immediately get an eyeful of naked CSI, which was probably a relief for all concerned. There was a time and a place to meet the neighbours, and during a massive erection was not it.
The door opened to a man in a postal uniform with a bag over one shoulder and a small cardboard box in the other. A smile aimed itself cheerfully at him as a clipboard thrust itself precariously under his nose. Nick studied him for a moment, and then peered at the clipboard suspiciously without taking it.
“Need a signature,” the postal worker seemed unruffled by the lack of positive reaction, his voice a gentle coax towards Nick’s autograph. Again, that was easy enough; the pen seized, Nick scribbled his name and suddenly found the cardboard box thrust toward him as though it was magnetised to him.
“Working out?” the postal worker said sympathetically, nodding toward Nick’s bare and slightly sweaty chest. “My wife tries to get me to do that too. It almost kills me too, half the time. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Good luck,”
“Thanks,” Nick replied automatically, which seemed only the right thing to do under the circumstances. He was rewarded with another bright smile before the postman stepped away again, already looking at his clipboard for the next delivery.
Nick moved back into the room with another frown as he tried to work out the hand written return address, using his bottom to gently push the door closed as he did so. Gil raised his head.
“Well?”
“Parcel for you.” Nick replied, still squinting at the label. “I think it’s from Catherine.”
He was conscious of a particularly Grissom look being aimed at him, as though the man was assessing in his own mind whether his colleague was either being dim or joking. Nick lifted the box a little higher as evidence, and then hesitated as he realised the look might not have resulted purely from the bad timing of the post.
“Where would you like it, sir?” Nick wasn’t entirely sure whether the package was going to form a part of their current activities, but it was certainly safest to assume that its arrival wasn’t a deal breaker. Gil stood, an obvious flash of irritation aimed at the packaging for a moment before he strode - strode, Nick hadn’t even realised the man had the ability to do so - across the space and took hold of the cardboard package with the narrowed eyes of a child about to rattle a Christmas present. The label was checked again with the care that suggested that Nick’s ability to read was being questioned, before Gil moved purposefully to the kitchen and the prospect of a pair of scissors.
“Thank you, Nicholas. You may remove your jeans again now,” despite the look in Gil’s eyes, his voice was milder than face cream. That always threw Nick, never entirely sure which one to trust, but either way the instruction was one he could happily obey; he eased his jeans from his body again, hissing softly as the fastening caught itself briefly with his erection before he freed himself, and carefully draped the clothing over the back of a chair.
There was a little pause made up of slice-rip-cardboardy noise, the other three members of the room trying their hardest to watch whilst not appearing to do so. There was another little pause, this one consisting purely of silence, then Gil made a little thoughtful ‘hmgh’ noise that could have signified anything in Grissom’s world.
“Okay.” Gil folded the cardboard flaps over again without taking whatever it was out, leaving the box on the kitchen surface as he walked back. “Bedroom. Now.”
Warrick didn’t need telling twice; he gave the smallest of nods and began to head to the corridor with the impressive ability to walk without either a wince or the slight swagger that Nick probably would have employed had his ass met up with Gil’s length. Greg’s eyes moved back to the box with curiosity, the internal struggle of keeping his mouth shut firmly showing in his eyes before he remembered the little black bag and its contents and trotted swiftly after Warrick. Nick’s gaze met Gil’s head on, flushing at the intensity but standing his ground.
That apparently perplexed Gil greatly, and Nick felt a guilty flash of happiness at that. Sure, he might be submissive, but that was no reason to make things predictable.
“Would you like me to carry in the bag, sir?” Nick kept his expression innocent, falling into the familiar method of speech he employed whenever he was at home and his father had a particular expression that spoke of a very long day. That managed to perplex his leader even more.
“Yes. Thank you,” Gil came to a decision, although there was still the softest rise in his voice that spoke of his bemusement over Nick’s sudden need to be respectful. Nick had no idea why that would be; he struggled his hardest to be polite and ‘good’ and everything else that Warrick snorted at when it came to work, although Nick guessed he could go through things with a little less casual cheerfulness. Hefting the surprisingly heavy bag up, Nick aimed a bright smile back at Gil and followed behind him with the ease of people purely on their way to a normal job.
Gil’s approval came at a cost, of course; Nick stepped into the bedroom to find the other two giving him a particular look of amusement.
“I’m sure we can find you an apple for teacher as well,” Greg murmured with a twinkle in his eye that vanished as soon as Nick’s fist connected sharply with the bicep of his arm. Warrick’s eyebrow had risen with a silent, mocking message which Nick happily ignored; yeah, he might be kissing ass, but at least he hadn’t just had his ass walloped by Gil and the palm of righteousness. The bag was placed down, and Nick silently helped Warrick shove the two beds together in the centre of the room as a suitable platform that didn’t have a massive booby trap in the middle of it. Beds could be sneaky.
Of course it wasn’t only the beds that had that ability. Nick was slowly aware that the atmosphere had changed, seemingly whilst his attention had been caught up in room arrangements. He found himself motionless by the bed, feeling his head bowing almost of its own accord as he felt the weight of Gil’s intensely thoughtful gaze fall on him, then move on to Warrick, then onto Greg and then back again. Thinking things through. Working out who to aim his attentions on next, and Nick really wanted to have attentions aimed at him but there was a rather loud vocal part of him that really would prefer seeing it aimed at someone else for a little bit. From the way the others were acting, Nick had a suspicion he wasn’t the only one. Warrick had a particularly neutral look in his eyes that he always developed whenever he had made a fuck up and was slightly nervous of the consequences, and Greg was just a little ball of anticipation.
A shock of sensation darted through his back and along his spine as Nick felt Gil move behind him, the lightest touch of cool fingertips on his hot skin. He stiffened, body tensing and groin aching even harder as the nervous and arousal clashed in his head.
“Warrick,” Gil spoke finally. “Sit on the bed, back to the headboard. Greg, fasten his wrists to the bar. There’s some leather cuffs in the bag. Use a separate one for each wrist.. I don’t want him moving anywhere. And Nick..,”
The fingers trailed downwards for a few moments before stopping again. Nick swallowed.
“Yeah?” One fingertip tapped his back sternly. Nick cursed inwardly. “Yes, sir?”
He had imagined that Gil would give him a brief outline, in much the same way as he handed out assignments per day at the lab. Instead he was aware of Gil leaning closer to him, a shiver of anticipation adding to Nick’s sensual anguish at the heat. He swallowed again and watched as Warrick settled himself on one of the beds, avoiding the central line that would probably get pushed apart should too much activity take place directly on it. Even in the middle of bondage, Warrick was immensely practical, and Nick’s arousal hit a whole new level as he stared helplessly at his long term friend whose wrists were slowly being separated and bound to the barred headboard. The bracelets gave some movement but not much, Warrick’s arms comfortably spread above his head as he watched and waited with a darkened look in his eyes.
Nick licked his lips again, his gaze unable to avoid moving downward over gleaming dark skin, firm muscle and then the proud, impressive erection that pointed upward from its neat bed of curls. Warrick had spread his legs a little as he sat, comfort and intent illustrated throughout, and Nick flushed as he caught a glimpse further between the man’s legs.
“Greg,” Gil spoke up again, and earned himself an eager look from the man in question. “I want you to pay him some attention with your mouth from the naval up. You have a choice in how you wish to achieve this, I have some clamps and silken ropes in the bag should you require them. And Nicky, you will do the same below the navel.”
Nick’s flush suddenly stepped up the temperature. He didn’t know where the soft moan came from, but he had a horrible feeling it was from his own throat. Below the waist. Mouth. Which meant..
He gave a soft gasp as Gil’s fingers trailed lower and gave him a little slap on the rear to get him moving. Greg had already got himself into position eagerly, crawling between Warrick’s legs briefly to give him a deep, passionate kiss that Warrick returned with as much force as he could. The bracelets moved against the bar as their kiss deepened, Warrick’s soft growl combining with Greg’s needy gasps in an orchestra of eroticism. Greg finally broke off the kiss and chuckled darkly, dipping his head and licking up Warrick’s neck like the other man was a particularly large and half melted ice-cream before moving to one side and looking at Nick with eager anticipation.
“However you wish to proceed,” Gil murmured behind him, and Nick felt an embarrassment element add to the flush that Gil had needed to put on a ‘beginner’s level’ to oral sex. Greg looked surprised at Nick’s brief scowl, and then moved back a little more, clearly assuming that the scowl had been regarding aimed at him and how much space Nick had been given to work with. Nick cursed inwardly, and then gave Greg a little grin of apology and a shake of the head as he crawled onto the bed to join them.
“Stop confusing me,” Greg grumbled good-naturedly as he leaned over to steal a kiss from Nick. He felt a tickle of warm pleasure flow through his body at Greg’s gentle embrace, just the smallest lick of tongue over the roof of his mouth before Greg withdrew again with a cheeky grin. Warrick growled again in a low, deep rumble, the small amount of metal chink-chinking against the board.
“You guys gonna get on with it?”
They paused to look down at him before exchanging looks again. Greg winked, in a cheeky, wicked way that managed to allow the tension slowly slip from Nick’s body. Sure, he could be serious about it all, panic over the implications, but there was also a little game to be had and a familiar challenge to win. All he had to do was work out what he could do, what licks, where, how hard, how fast, where to suckle, where to touch, where to avoid, where-
“Nicky,” Warrick’s voice broke through Nick’s daze, his tone the usual blunt one that turned up whenever Warrick was feeling impatient. Nick aimed a sly look at him, then gave an innocent one back at Gil who was watching them from the bottom of the bed with an expression that would have been in keeping with the Big Bad Wolf.
“Can we add a gag to him too?”
There was a short pause before Gil made a little ‘go ahead’ gesture, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Warrick gave a good-natured huff, although he squinted at him critically as soon as Nick had turned back to him wearing his own smug look of satisfaction.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” Warrick murmured, his cool green eyes trained on Nick in a mixture of promise and grim amusement.
“Yeah, he probably is. But you’re the one who’s currently pinned to the bed,” Greg remarked cheerfully, having slipped off the bed immediately to go rummage in the bag after another little confirmation from Gil. There was a rustle, several chink-chink noises and then a little squeal of discovery. “Yay! Nipple clamps!”
That managed to break Warrick’s gaze away from Nick and back onto the little black bag, suspicion outlined in the other man’s eyes as Greg proudly held up the silver clamps in question.
“And here’s a gag. D’you want a ball or just, y’know, a normal fabric thing?” Greg wasn’t entirely sure who to aim the question at, his eyes automatically turning to Gil, then turning to Nick instead as though Nick had any idea on what to do when it came to successfully restraining Warrick. Warrick had spent most of his life being free and easy, and up until recently Nick had been perfectly fine to accept that.
Nick was aware of Warrick’s narrowed eyes looking at him pointedly. Clearly there was a good answer and a bad answer, and woe betides Nicky if he happened to choose the wrong one. There was a low whistle from Greg, who had gone back to bag exploration.
“Hey, is this what I think it is?” he pulled out what appeared to be a little solid spider’s web made out of leather, a metal bar dangling between it. Nick looked at it in utter and genuine bemusement.
“I don’t know. What do you think it is?”
Greg took hold of the silver bar from each end, holding it up as though it was a tray and allowing the leather straps that surrounded it to hang downwards. His grin widened so much that it was in danger of cutting off the top of his head as he stared at Nick almost proudly.
“Pony play,”
Nick’s expression didn’t manage to get any less confused. Warrick, however, was a different matter. His eyes widened slightly in disbelief before looking at Gil in an openly silent plea. Nick blinked, and then looked at the item again suspiciously. Whatever it was, it had managed to break through Warrick’s automatic bluff to go straight to the beg, and that was just .. well, he hadn’t even thought that was possible.
“I’ll tell you later,” Gil spoke up again from the end of the bed. “Greg, put that away for the time being and stick to the usual ones, please.”
Greg sulked slightly, but nodded and put the headpiece away. Instead, he turned with a strip of leather with a brightly coloured ball set in the centre of it in one hand, and what appeared to be a simple silk scarf in the other.
“Go on, then,” Greg looked at Nick expectantly. “Choose.”
“Uh.. ,” Nick looked at them cautiously. “Aren’t you supposed to make this decision?”
“Yeah, but I’m feeling generous.” Greg replied in the proud type of voice that suggested this was probably an accurate statement rather than some way to get himself off the hook. Nick frowned at the items again, and then glanced at Warrick’s slightly murderous glare. Well.. if this was him, which would he prefer? Nick frowned a little harder in thought, and then held out his hand for the ball gag.
“Pass that here, will ya?” he took it carefully, then shrugged mentally to himself - he wasn’t going to get out of this with his dignity intact - and tried the gag out on himself as he assumed it was supposed to go. Okay. That was scarily .. well.. comfortable, the ball small enough to fit snugly without feeling that it was going to escape down the back of his throat, but not large enough that he constantly felt like a small dog trying to keep hold of a giant inflatable ball. However, there was no moving away from the fact that this was a very blatant gag, and suddenly Nick had a sneaking suspicion which one Warrick was hoping he wasn’t going to get landed with. The thing was supposed to be symbolic rather than particularly functional.
“The silk.” he decided, and was rewarded by Warrick easing against his bonds again and giving him a little smile. Nick was about to toss the ball-gag back to Greg, when he winced and tried to work out the best way to ‘clean’ the small amount of spit that he had already managed to put on the ball.
“Throw it here,” Gil spoke up, and easily caught it as Nick tossed it toward him. He didn’t want to know why Gil needed a gag, and it was probably a good idea not to ask unless Nick personally wanted to keep it on for the next few hours. The silk was tied around Warrick’s mouth relatively loosely, Nick already realising that sound would emerge if Warrick wanted it to, but hell, that was good too. Granted, Warrick could probably kick the hell out of him if he suddenly panicked, and Gil was watching hard enough that not a flicker that crossed Warrick’s face would be missed, but Nick rather liked the safety of having some type of noise to warn him before things got all physical.
“Me first,” Greg announced to him, and then offered Nick a little grin of apology as he proceeded to explain his sudden need to jump the queue. “If he jumps and you’ve got your face down there, you’ll probably get a black eye or a bruised jaw or choked or something. Safer for me to do it,”
Nick thought about that and winced. Okay, fair enough. It was even fairer when he realised that Greg had replaced his nipple clamps with something that appeared to be one long silver chain with two surprisingly mechanical looking devices on either end. Nick raised his eyes to meet Greg’s satisfied ones, and then edged a little further back on the bed on his hands and knees as Greg moved purposefully toward Warrick.
There was nothing but silence as the first of the mechanical devices - a little clamp, dramatically designed, as it turned out - fastened itself to Warrick’s right nipple, although Nick could see that the silence was coming at a price from Warrick’s tensed body. Another moment and the second object had been applied, the chain hanging between them, and Greg gleefully gave it a little tug to check that he had applied the clamps tight enough for Warrick’s bullet hard nipples. Silence gave way to an indrawn breath, Warrick fixing Greg with a look that promised payback in the near future. Not that this had the required effect, of course; Greg wriggled delightedly at the attention, then tugged on the chain again as he began to scatter gentle kisses along Warrick’s shoulder. This, apparently, had the right amount of sensation to turn murderous thoughts into an erotic tinged haze; Warrick’s eyes slowly began to close as Greg’s gentle mouth and contrasting sharp tugs began to do their work.
And then it was time to do his work. Nick crawled a little closer, his back arched as he did so in a faint attempt to make it look like he knew what he was going to do when he got there. But then, this was fairly self explanatory, wasn’t it? As Greg kissed and licked the top of Warrick’s shoulder, Nick slowly lowered his head down to press a gentle kiss on muscular, furred thigh. Easy as anything. And another. And one more, the hair on Warrick’s thigh tickling against his nose as Nick kissed him again, and then gave the gentlest of sucks to the same area. A faint groan against the gag told him that their little ministrations were having a positive effect, as did the slightest widening of Warrick’s thighs to allow Nick more access. Nick grinned, and pressed a few more gentle kisses to Warrick’s thighs, working his way up and feeling the little shiver of sensation as he did so.
It was surprisingly easy to go from a little kiss to an exploration with his tongue, once his mind had got itself wrapped around the fact that his face was inches away from another man’s groin. There wasn’t so much a taste as there was a sensation, the masculine scent mixing with the so faintly salty hint from Warrick’s sweat, and neither managed to put him off in the slightest. In fact, Nick had a sneaking suspicion it was doing the opposite; the soft grunts and little trembles combined with the heady musk of a sexually aroused man was slowly but surely turning his own balls into a painful ache and making his hips grind into whatever surface they could find as Nick’s mouth continued to work. Lick, suckle, lick, kiss, even the occasional graze of teeth against firm skin whenever Nick was feeling bold and Warrick was moaning nicely. Every so often he could feel an unexpected jerk, and knew from the jingle that Greg’s nipple clamp chain had been tugged. Greg had weakened when it come to the gag, the silk having already been unfastened enough to allow it to drape around Warrick’s neck like some fashionable scarf, and Nick could hear the liquid noises of their kisses as Greg’s hands wandered over the top half of Warrick’s body while Nick’s mouth tackled him from below.
There was no longer any hint of restraint on Warrick’s part. His thighs widened further in invitation or demand, a soft, helpless groan rumbling in Warrick’s throat as he desperately kissed Greg back as though his very life depended on it. Nick rested one hand on Warrick’s other thigh to keep him where he wanted him, and feeling the vibration work through them as Warrick fought to remain still.
Well, he had gone this far..
The first tentative lick was to the rigid shaft that was stiff against Warrick’s belly, Nick allowing the tip of his tongue to travel from the middle upwards. He felt the flesh twitch underneath his tongue and heard Warrick’s muffled gasp as he licked further, encouraging him on. His tongue encountered the ridge to the head and curiously traced the line, flickering over the rim and grinning to himself at Warrick’s grunt of reaction. Nick lifted his head slightly, focusing on the cock directly in front of his nose, then slowly leaned forward and gave the tip another cautious wet lick. This wasn’t as taste-free as the shaft had been; a pool of pre-come had already formed, giving him a mini pool of salty .. well, he wasn’t sure what he was going to call it. Essence sounded too poetically flowery for someone like Warrick, juice sounded culinary and well, he was never great at vocab at the best of times, let alone now. What was important was that it was there, liquidy and intimate and it was Warrick’s and hell, it was surprisingly nice, in the same way that the smacks that Grissom gave Nick’s backside every so often were surprisingly nice. Sometimes pleasure just jumped out and bit him from the most unexpected of places.
His tongue swirled carefully around Warrick’s cock, Nick swallowing the taste before licking every little drop he could find with the dedication that they normally gave tiny residual fibres on a case. He could see that Greg had given up stealing Warrick’s mouth, recognising the fact that the man seriously needed to breathe rather than kiss, and instead had moved back to his caressing licks of shoulder and neck and occasionally abused nipple. This had the very pleasing result of more whimpers and gasps from their target, even the occasional curse if they were seriously trying.
“Fuck,” Warrick’s head tipped back helplessly, his chest heaving with slow, heavy breaths for air as he shuddered at each little movement and lick and tug of the chain. Nick hadn’t realised the man was so responsive, but he was damned glad he was; whenever he found a particular spot that Warrick liked, the man let him know easily enough with a little jerk of the hips. He grinned and licked around Warrick’s cock again, chasing the sensations and delighting in each moan and soft curse as he did so.
To Part B
*
Rating: NC17
Setting: CSI Vegas
Pairing: Gil/Warrick/Nick/Greg in various ways
Warnings: Kink, bondage
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.
Please check tags for past chapters
He’d always known it was going to put a strain on his comfort level. He would have been horrified if it hadn’t, if Nick had been truthful to himself. Sure, he’d done a few things that might have been labeled ‘wild’ in his frat days, and group situations had been part of that, but everything had its limits and it had rarely gone on longer than half an hour at a time or until the beer ran out. Even then, said activities had tended to be pretty much what he normally did, just with an extra hand or an audience or a toy. Pretty basic, if energetic and normally a little on the messy side.
But this… Nick was still struggling to get ‘this’ in the part of his mind that fully understood it and finding it joining the little list of other things he couldn’t quite comprehend. That he could find his current partners attractive and their activities arousing, sure, that he could handle. Why he found it arousing was another matter entirely, and Nick found himself balancing between his scientific curiosity and his general nature to let romance be romance without poking it. If this was romance, of course. He guessed it was, in its way, although instead of boxes of chocolates and a bunch of roses, Nick was offering a different gift in his desire to please his partners. However, he doubted whether they were going to get too many valentine cards pondering on the aspects of whips and leather based goodies.
Regardless, Nick was slowly beginning to enjoy himself when Warrick decided to slam a massive metaphorical screwdriver in the works and twist it by apparently committing so many social faux-pas against their master that even Grissom had been forced to act. Nick had known that a lot of the ‘bad behaviour’ of the day had been Warrick either acting or messing around, which seemed to make it worse somehow. If Warrick was genuinely angry or displeased, the whole world shook; calling Gil by the wrong name or turning up a little late was the equivalent of flicking a pea across the table during Sunday lunch, and Nick was struggling with why the man would bother to do something like that. If Warrick didn’t want to do something, he didn’t do it. If he wanted it, he normally threw himself into it body and soul. There was rarely a grey line between the two, but that was where Warrick seemed to be balancing, not quite obedient, not quite disobedient.
So here, now, they were faced with the utterly incredible situation of Warrick Brown, CSI level three and all round tough guy, being ass up over Gil’s lap getting the whaling of his life. Nick hadn’t even realised that was physically possible, let alone mentally.
Nick had waited near Greg in the end, his breath in his throat and his body trembling in both anticipation and nervousness. He wanted to speak, to move, to do something, and yet he was rooted so firmly to the spot that it was as though someone had added superglue to the soles of his feet. At some point his nails had begun to dig into the soft flesh of his palm, leaving behind little crescent moon marks as he watched helplessly as the scene unfolded in front of him. It would take a nuclear weapon to drag his attention away from Warrick’s shining body and the darkened, red-tinged bruises that Gil had already managed to form on Warrick’s hide, just as it would take a nuclear weapon to be able to speak.
Vocalisation, of course, was a different matter. After a little while he had been forced to bite his own lip, little traitorous noises escaping from his own throat as he watched. Nick didn’t know where they came from or what they wanted, because it couldn’t be arousal, no sir, not about this. He wasn’t that kinky. He hoped, anyway. He really hoped. Because if he was, then Nick had absolutely no idea on where his own barriers lay on what he wanted, what he didn’t, or what would make him scream for more reasons than simply sensation.
He slowly turned his head to glance beseechingly at Greg, as though the younger man might save him from the treacherous need of his own body. Not that Nick was in luck there, not at all. Greg’s eyes were fixed on the scene in front of them with the solid intensity of one who wouldn’t notice a bomb going off nearby, his expression almost scared as he watched. Nick knew that was deceptive; even if Greg’s cock wasn’t as stiff as the average flag pole, the excitement in his body spoke volumes on what was truly going on in Sanders’ mind. Disbelief, certainly, but nothing that would make the man run screaming for the hills. Quite the opposite, if he had any guess.
And that, Nick suspected, was just as well. The last slap had sounded and Warrick had slowly slid from Gil’s legs to a position on his knees, the dark man’s eyes dazed and slightly bewildered for a moment as he gathered his poise. No one did that to Warrick Brown other than possibly his grandmother, the person who had been the firm rock of discipline and respect throughout the young Warrick’s life. It was a little too easy in Vegas to be attracted to crime, to the opportunities that seemed so damned easy and yet hide their actual expense, and Warrick had always been a smart guy. Smart guys could go far when it came to the criminal element, and Nick gave a silent moment of thanks to the family the man had been influenced by rather than the people he had met along the way.
Yes, no one did that to Warrick, and yet Gil seemed to have got away with it. Respect bubbled within Nick for a few moments, awed by the force of personality that had managed to tame the tiger in such a way that had made it seem easy. His gaze fell on Grissom again, a throb of painful interest settling in Nick’s groin as he remembered what Gil had promised him. Touch. Possession. Everything that he really should be fighting against, and yet the appeal was so great that Nick’s balls ached and his legs trembled at the thought. His mind also tugged at the thought of touching Warrick like that, being able to smooth his hands wherever he wanted, but that wasn’t up to him either. Nick licked his lips, then looked down at Greg once again and felt a little smile rise to his lips. He could easily imagine what it would be like with the youngest member of the team too. Playful fun, rolling around finding their own level of possession, and yeah, that appealed too, relief from the strain of behaving. The playground rather than the carefully regulated sport’s day.
Of course Gil didn’t stop at the spanking. Next came possession, claiming Warrick as his own, fucking him so hard that the darker man must have been seeing stars, and Nick couldn’t do anything but accept that watching the pair of them together was sending his own desire into areas he hadn’t believed possible. He should have been embarrassed. In fact, there were a whole heap of ‘should haves’, but ultimately all he ended up being was turned on. Painfully turned on, in fact, so hard that he was ready to believe that parts of his anatomy were about to explode at any second. Air seemed harder and harder to obtain, Nick’s cheeks flushing as he focused on trying to keep from embarrassing himself.
Of course, there were other things he really had to focus on. Grissom, for example, the man who had finally moved from Warrick’s hot, panting form to give Nick a thoughtful, worryingly calculating look. The worry didn’t end there, either; after a few moments pause that probably doubled as a space for reclaiming his breath, Gil was back to his careful consideration over the black bag’s contents. His light eyes slowly turned from strict intensity to the typical mild mannered thoughtfulness that Nick recognised from the lab, a man caught up in his own wistful thoughts, and seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that the rest of the room were holding their breaths as they waited for him to do what he wanted.
The knock on the door, therefore, almost sent both Nick and Greg orbital and Warrick bounding to his feet. Three sets of eyes turned immediately to Greg, who flushed uncomfortably under the weight of their accusation.
“I didn’t order any pizza, I swear!” he waved his hands in front of his chest defensively. “I only got the leaflets out! Not my fault!”
“I imagine we’ll have to wait to see who’s fault it is when we find out exactly who’s behind door number one,” Gil remarked from the bag, his gaze lifting for a moment to give Nick a quick look. “Nick, if you please.”
Well, that was an instruction he could cope with. Nick ran his hand to the back of his neck, nodded, and would have walked straight to the door had it not been for Gil’s gentle cough of reminder.
“Jeans?”
“What..?” Nick glanced down, and then flushed uncomfortably at his own nakedness. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”
Two seconds later he had located his jeans from the bedroom and roughly pulled them on, trotting back to the front door and pausing to glance back. Thankfully the space was shielded enough that whoever it was wouldn’t immediately get an eyeful of naked CSI, which was probably a relief for all concerned. There was a time and a place to meet the neighbours, and during a massive erection was not it.
The door opened to a man in a postal uniform with a bag over one shoulder and a small cardboard box in the other. A smile aimed itself cheerfully at him as a clipboard thrust itself precariously under his nose. Nick studied him for a moment, and then peered at the clipboard suspiciously without taking it.
“Need a signature,” the postal worker seemed unruffled by the lack of positive reaction, his voice a gentle coax towards Nick’s autograph. Again, that was easy enough; the pen seized, Nick scribbled his name and suddenly found the cardboard box thrust toward him as though it was magnetised to him.
“Working out?” the postal worker said sympathetically, nodding toward Nick’s bare and slightly sweaty chest. “My wife tries to get me to do that too. It almost kills me too, half the time. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Good luck,”
“Thanks,” Nick replied automatically, which seemed only the right thing to do under the circumstances. He was rewarded with another bright smile before the postman stepped away again, already looking at his clipboard for the next delivery.
Nick moved back into the room with another frown as he tried to work out the hand written return address, using his bottom to gently push the door closed as he did so. Gil raised his head.
“Well?”
“Parcel for you.” Nick replied, still squinting at the label. “I think it’s from Catherine.”
He was conscious of a particularly Grissom look being aimed at him, as though the man was assessing in his own mind whether his colleague was either being dim or joking. Nick lifted the box a little higher as evidence, and then hesitated as he realised the look might not have resulted purely from the bad timing of the post.
“Where would you like it, sir?” Nick wasn’t entirely sure whether the package was going to form a part of their current activities, but it was certainly safest to assume that its arrival wasn’t a deal breaker. Gil stood, an obvious flash of irritation aimed at the packaging for a moment before he strode - strode, Nick hadn’t even realised the man had the ability to do so - across the space and took hold of the cardboard package with the narrowed eyes of a child about to rattle a Christmas present. The label was checked again with the care that suggested that Nick’s ability to read was being questioned, before Gil moved purposefully to the kitchen and the prospect of a pair of scissors.
“Thank you, Nicholas. You may remove your jeans again now,” despite the look in Gil’s eyes, his voice was milder than face cream. That always threw Nick, never entirely sure which one to trust, but either way the instruction was one he could happily obey; he eased his jeans from his body again, hissing softly as the fastening caught itself briefly with his erection before he freed himself, and carefully draped the clothing over the back of a chair.
There was a little pause made up of slice-rip-cardboardy noise, the other three members of the room trying their hardest to watch whilst not appearing to do so. There was another little pause, this one consisting purely of silence, then Gil made a little thoughtful ‘hmgh’ noise that could have signified anything in Grissom’s world.
“Okay.” Gil folded the cardboard flaps over again without taking whatever it was out, leaving the box on the kitchen surface as he walked back. “Bedroom. Now.”
Warrick didn’t need telling twice; he gave the smallest of nods and began to head to the corridor with the impressive ability to walk without either a wince or the slight swagger that Nick probably would have employed had his ass met up with Gil’s length. Greg’s eyes moved back to the box with curiosity, the internal struggle of keeping his mouth shut firmly showing in his eyes before he remembered the little black bag and its contents and trotted swiftly after Warrick. Nick’s gaze met Gil’s head on, flushing at the intensity but standing his ground.
That apparently perplexed Gil greatly, and Nick felt a guilty flash of happiness at that. Sure, he might be submissive, but that was no reason to make things predictable.
“Would you like me to carry in the bag, sir?” Nick kept his expression innocent, falling into the familiar method of speech he employed whenever he was at home and his father had a particular expression that spoke of a very long day. That managed to perplex his leader even more.
“Yes. Thank you,” Gil came to a decision, although there was still the softest rise in his voice that spoke of his bemusement over Nick’s sudden need to be respectful. Nick had no idea why that would be; he struggled his hardest to be polite and ‘good’ and everything else that Warrick snorted at when it came to work, although Nick guessed he could go through things with a little less casual cheerfulness. Hefting the surprisingly heavy bag up, Nick aimed a bright smile back at Gil and followed behind him with the ease of people purely on their way to a normal job.
Gil’s approval came at a cost, of course; Nick stepped into the bedroom to find the other two giving him a particular look of amusement.
“I’m sure we can find you an apple for teacher as well,” Greg murmured with a twinkle in his eye that vanished as soon as Nick’s fist connected sharply with the bicep of his arm. Warrick’s eyebrow had risen with a silent, mocking message which Nick happily ignored; yeah, he might be kissing ass, but at least he hadn’t just had his ass walloped by Gil and the palm of righteousness. The bag was placed down, and Nick silently helped Warrick shove the two beds together in the centre of the room as a suitable platform that didn’t have a massive booby trap in the middle of it. Beds could be sneaky.
Of course it wasn’t only the beds that had that ability. Nick was slowly aware that the atmosphere had changed, seemingly whilst his attention had been caught up in room arrangements. He found himself motionless by the bed, feeling his head bowing almost of its own accord as he felt the weight of Gil’s intensely thoughtful gaze fall on him, then move on to Warrick, then onto Greg and then back again. Thinking things through. Working out who to aim his attentions on next, and Nick really wanted to have attentions aimed at him but there was a rather loud vocal part of him that really would prefer seeing it aimed at someone else for a little bit. From the way the others were acting, Nick had a suspicion he wasn’t the only one. Warrick had a particularly neutral look in his eyes that he always developed whenever he had made a fuck up and was slightly nervous of the consequences, and Greg was just a little ball of anticipation.
A shock of sensation darted through his back and along his spine as Nick felt Gil move behind him, the lightest touch of cool fingertips on his hot skin. He stiffened, body tensing and groin aching even harder as the nervous and arousal clashed in his head.
“Warrick,” Gil spoke finally. “Sit on the bed, back to the headboard. Greg, fasten his wrists to the bar. There’s some leather cuffs in the bag. Use a separate one for each wrist.. I don’t want him moving anywhere. And Nick..,”
The fingers trailed downwards for a few moments before stopping again. Nick swallowed.
“Yeah?” One fingertip tapped his back sternly. Nick cursed inwardly. “Yes, sir?”
He had imagined that Gil would give him a brief outline, in much the same way as he handed out assignments per day at the lab. Instead he was aware of Gil leaning closer to him, a shiver of anticipation adding to Nick’s sensual anguish at the heat. He swallowed again and watched as Warrick settled himself on one of the beds, avoiding the central line that would probably get pushed apart should too much activity take place directly on it. Even in the middle of bondage, Warrick was immensely practical, and Nick’s arousal hit a whole new level as he stared helplessly at his long term friend whose wrists were slowly being separated and bound to the barred headboard. The bracelets gave some movement but not much, Warrick’s arms comfortably spread above his head as he watched and waited with a darkened look in his eyes.
Nick licked his lips again, his gaze unable to avoid moving downward over gleaming dark skin, firm muscle and then the proud, impressive erection that pointed upward from its neat bed of curls. Warrick had spread his legs a little as he sat, comfort and intent illustrated throughout, and Nick flushed as he caught a glimpse further between the man’s legs.
“Greg,” Gil spoke up again, and earned himself an eager look from the man in question. “I want you to pay him some attention with your mouth from the naval up. You have a choice in how you wish to achieve this, I have some clamps and silken ropes in the bag should you require them. And Nicky, you will do the same below the navel.”
Nick’s flush suddenly stepped up the temperature. He didn’t know where the soft moan came from, but he had a horrible feeling it was from his own throat. Below the waist. Mouth. Which meant..
He gave a soft gasp as Gil’s fingers trailed lower and gave him a little slap on the rear to get him moving. Greg had already got himself into position eagerly, crawling between Warrick’s legs briefly to give him a deep, passionate kiss that Warrick returned with as much force as he could. The bracelets moved against the bar as their kiss deepened, Warrick’s soft growl combining with Greg’s needy gasps in an orchestra of eroticism. Greg finally broke off the kiss and chuckled darkly, dipping his head and licking up Warrick’s neck like the other man was a particularly large and half melted ice-cream before moving to one side and looking at Nick with eager anticipation.
“However you wish to proceed,” Gil murmured behind him, and Nick felt an embarrassment element add to the flush that Gil had needed to put on a ‘beginner’s level’ to oral sex. Greg looked surprised at Nick’s brief scowl, and then moved back a little more, clearly assuming that the scowl had been regarding aimed at him and how much space Nick had been given to work with. Nick cursed inwardly, and then gave Greg a little grin of apology and a shake of the head as he crawled onto the bed to join them.
“Stop confusing me,” Greg grumbled good-naturedly as he leaned over to steal a kiss from Nick. He felt a tickle of warm pleasure flow through his body at Greg’s gentle embrace, just the smallest lick of tongue over the roof of his mouth before Greg withdrew again with a cheeky grin. Warrick growled again in a low, deep rumble, the small amount of metal chink-chinking against the board.
“You guys gonna get on with it?”
They paused to look down at him before exchanging looks again. Greg winked, in a cheeky, wicked way that managed to allow the tension slowly slip from Nick’s body. Sure, he could be serious about it all, panic over the implications, but there was also a little game to be had and a familiar challenge to win. All he had to do was work out what he could do, what licks, where, how hard, how fast, where to suckle, where to touch, where to avoid, where-
“Nicky,” Warrick’s voice broke through Nick’s daze, his tone the usual blunt one that turned up whenever Warrick was feeling impatient. Nick aimed a sly look at him, then gave an innocent one back at Gil who was watching them from the bottom of the bed with an expression that would have been in keeping with the Big Bad Wolf.
“Can we add a gag to him too?”
There was a short pause before Gil made a little ‘go ahead’ gesture, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Warrick gave a good-natured huff, although he squinted at him critically as soon as Nick had turned back to him wearing his own smug look of satisfaction.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” Warrick murmured, his cool green eyes trained on Nick in a mixture of promise and grim amusement.
“Yeah, he probably is. But you’re the one who’s currently pinned to the bed,” Greg remarked cheerfully, having slipped off the bed immediately to go rummage in the bag after another little confirmation from Gil. There was a rustle, several chink-chink noises and then a little squeal of discovery. “Yay! Nipple clamps!”
That managed to break Warrick’s gaze away from Nick and back onto the little black bag, suspicion outlined in the other man’s eyes as Greg proudly held up the silver clamps in question.
“And here’s a gag. D’you want a ball or just, y’know, a normal fabric thing?” Greg wasn’t entirely sure who to aim the question at, his eyes automatically turning to Gil, then turning to Nick instead as though Nick had any idea on what to do when it came to successfully restraining Warrick. Warrick had spent most of his life being free and easy, and up until recently Nick had been perfectly fine to accept that.
Nick was aware of Warrick’s narrowed eyes looking at him pointedly. Clearly there was a good answer and a bad answer, and woe betides Nicky if he happened to choose the wrong one. There was a low whistle from Greg, who had gone back to bag exploration.
“Hey, is this what I think it is?” he pulled out what appeared to be a little solid spider’s web made out of leather, a metal bar dangling between it. Nick looked at it in utter and genuine bemusement.
“I don’t know. What do you think it is?”
Greg took hold of the silver bar from each end, holding it up as though it was a tray and allowing the leather straps that surrounded it to hang downwards. His grin widened so much that it was in danger of cutting off the top of his head as he stared at Nick almost proudly.
“Pony play,”
Nick’s expression didn’t manage to get any less confused. Warrick, however, was a different matter. His eyes widened slightly in disbelief before looking at Gil in an openly silent plea. Nick blinked, and then looked at the item again suspiciously. Whatever it was, it had managed to break through Warrick’s automatic bluff to go straight to the beg, and that was just .. well, he hadn’t even thought that was possible.
“I’ll tell you later,” Gil spoke up again from the end of the bed. “Greg, put that away for the time being and stick to the usual ones, please.”
Greg sulked slightly, but nodded and put the headpiece away. Instead, he turned with a strip of leather with a brightly coloured ball set in the centre of it in one hand, and what appeared to be a simple silk scarf in the other.
“Go on, then,” Greg looked at Nick expectantly. “Choose.”
“Uh.. ,” Nick looked at them cautiously. “Aren’t you supposed to make this decision?”
“Yeah, but I’m feeling generous.” Greg replied in the proud type of voice that suggested this was probably an accurate statement rather than some way to get himself off the hook. Nick frowned at the items again, and then glanced at Warrick’s slightly murderous glare. Well.. if this was him, which would he prefer? Nick frowned a little harder in thought, and then held out his hand for the ball gag.
“Pass that here, will ya?” he took it carefully, then shrugged mentally to himself - he wasn’t going to get out of this with his dignity intact - and tried the gag out on himself as he assumed it was supposed to go. Okay. That was scarily .. well.. comfortable, the ball small enough to fit snugly without feeling that it was going to escape down the back of his throat, but not large enough that he constantly felt like a small dog trying to keep hold of a giant inflatable ball. However, there was no moving away from the fact that this was a very blatant gag, and suddenly Nick had a sneaking suspicion which one Warrick was hoping he wasn’t going to get landed with. The thing was supposed to be symbolic rather than particularly functional.
“The silk.” he decided, and was rewarded by Warrick easing against his bonds again and giving him a little smile. Nick was about to toss the ball-gag back to Greg, when he winced and tried to work out the best way to ‘clean’ the small amount of spit that he had already managed to put on the ball.
“Throw it here,” Gil spoke up, and easily caught it as Nick tossed it toward him. He didn’t want to know why Gil needed a gag, and it was probably a good idea not to ask unless Nick personally wanted to keep it on for the next few hours. The silk was tied around Warrick’s mouth relatively loosely, Nick already realising that sound would emerge if Warrick wanted it to, but hell, that was good too. Granted, Warrick could probably kick the hell out of him if he suddenly panicked, and Gil was watching hard enough that not a flicker that crossed Warrick’s face would be missed, but Nick rather liked the safety of having some type of noise to warn him before things got all physical.
“Me first,” Greg announced to him, and then offered Nick a little grin of apology as he proceeded to explain his sudden need to jump the queue. “If he jumps and you’ve got your face down there, you’ll probably get a black eye or a bruised jaw or choked or something. Safer for me to do it,”
Nick thought about that and winced. Okay, fair enough. It was even fairer when he realised that Greg had replaced his nipple clamps with something that appeared to be one long silver chain with two surprisingly mechanical looking devices on either end. Nick raised his eyes to meet Greg’s satisfied ones, and then edged a little further back on the bed on his hands and knees as Greg moved purposefully toward Warrick.
There was nothing but silence as the first of the mechanical devices - a little clamp, dramatically designed, as it turned out - fastened itself to Warrick’s right nipple, although Nick could see that the silence was coming at a price from Warrick’s tensed body. Another moment and the second object had been applied, the chain hanging between them, and Greg gleefully gave it a little tug to check that he had applied the clamps tight enough for Warrick’s bullet hard nipples. Silence gave way to an indrawn breath, Warrick fixing Greg with a look that promised payback in the near future. Not that this had the required effect, of course; Greg wriggled delightedly at the attention, then tugged on the chain again as he began to scatter gentle kisses along Warrick’s shoulder. This, apparently, had the right amount of sensation to turn murderous thoughts into an erotic tinged haze; Warrick’s eyes slowly began to close as Greg’s gentle mouth and contrasting sharp tugs began to do their work.
And then it was time to do his work. Nick crawled a little closer, his back arched as he did so in a faint attempt to make it look like he knew what he was going to do when he got there. But then, this was fairly self explanatory, wasn’t it? As Greg kissed and licked the top of Warrick’s shoulder, Nick slowly lowered his head down to press a gentle kiss on muscular, furred thigh. Easy as anything. And another. And one more, the hair on Warrick’s thigh tickling against his nose as Nick kissed him again, and then gave the gentlest of sucks to the same area. A faint groan against the gag told him that their little ministrations were having a positive effect, as did the slightest widening of Warrick’s thighs to allow Nick more access. Nick grinned, and pressed a few more gentle kisses to Warrick’s thighs, working his way up and feeling the little shiver of sensation as he did so.
It was surprisingly easy to go from a little kiss to an exploration with his tongue, once his mind had got itself wrapped around the fact that his face was inches away from another man’s groin. There wasn’t so much a taste as there was a sensation, the masculine scent mixing with the so faintly salty hint from Warrick’s sweat, and neither managed to put him off in the slightest. In fact, Nick had a sneaking suspicion it was doing the opposite; the soft grunts and little trembles combined with the heady musk of a sexually aroused man was slowly but surely turning his own balls into a painful ache and making his hips grind into whatever surface they could find as Nick’s mouth continued to work. Lick, suckle, lick, kiss, even the occasional graze of teeth against firm skin whenever Nick was feeling bold and Warrick was moaning nicely. Every so often he could feel an unexpected jerk, and knew from the jingle that Greg’s nipple clamp chain had been tugged. Greg had weakened when it come to the gag, the silk having already been unfastened enough to allow it to drape around Warrick’s neck like some fashionable scarf, and Nick could hear the liquid noises of their kisses as Greg’s hands wandered over the top half of Warrick’s body while Nick’s mouth tackled him from below.
There was no longer any hint of restraint on Warrick’s part. His thighs widened further in invitation or demand, a soft, helpless groan rumbling in Warrick’s throat as he desperately kissed Greg back as though his very life depended on it. Nick rested one hand on Warrick’s other thigh to keep him where he wanted him, and feeling the vibration work through them as Warrick fought to remain still.
Well, he had gone this far..
The first tentative lick was to the rigid shaft that was stiff against Warrick’s belly, Nick allowing the tip of his tongue to travel from the middle upwards. He felt the flesh twitch underneath his tongue and heard Warrick’s muffled gasp as he licked further, encouraging him on. His tongue encountered the ridge to the head and curiously traced the line, flickering over the rim and grinning to himself at Warrick’s grunt of reaction. Nick lifted his head slightly, focusing on the cock directly in front of his nose, then slowly leaned forward and gave the tip another cautious wet lick. This wasn’t as taste-free as the shaft had been; a pool of pre-come had already formed, giving him a mini pool of salty .. well, he wasn’t sure what he was going to call it. Essence sounded too poetically flowery for someone like Warrick, juice sounded culinary and well, he was never great at vocab at the best of times, let alone now. What was important was that it was there, liquidy and intimate and it was Warrick’s and hell, it was surprisingly nice, in the same way that the smacks that Grissom gave Nick’s backside every so often were surprisingly nice. Sometimes pleasure just jumped out and bit him from the most unexpected of places.
His tongue swirled carefully around Warrick’s cock, Nick swallowing the taste before licking every little drop he could find with the dedication that they normally gave tiny residual fibres on a case. He could see that Greg had given up stealing Warrick’s mouth, recognising the fact that the man seriously needed to breathe rather than kiss, and instead had moved back to his caressing licks of shoulder and neck and occasionally abused nipple. This had the very pleasing result of more whimpers and gasps from their target, even the occasional curse if they were seriously trying.
“Fuck,” Warrick’s head tipped back helplessly, his chest heaving with slow, heavy breaths for air as he shuddered at each little movement and lick and tug of the chain. Nick hadn’t realised the man was so responsive, but he was damned glad he was; whenever he found a particular spot that Warrick liked, the man let him know easily enough with a little jerk of the hips. He grinned and licked around Warrick’s cock again, chasing the sensations and delighting in each moan and soft curse as he did so.
To Part B
*