(no subject)
Title: Trembling
Fandom: CSI:
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I just play. :D
Warnings: --
Spoilers: --?
Notes: --
Summary: He could only guess that Warrick had pushed him on purpose, only to make his plan work out.
He could hear Warrick laughing loudly behind him, leaving the room in search of the others. He found it odd that though there was a roomful of dead girls upstairs (okay, so there was only one, but still), Warrick still had it in him to make fun of his best friend when such a situation arised.
Staring down into deep, chocolate-brown eyes, widened with surprise, he knew that Warrick had pushed him on purpose. Which meant the confusing part was understanding why he hadn't moved off of the body underneath him and awkwardly said he'd go to the kitchen to look for the murder weapon.
A grin broke out on the face beneath his own and Nick stuttered apologies to the male below him before his lips were mashed against another pair. He couldn't pull away if he tried. Too busy trying to understand it all, too hung up on the feeling of another body underneath him.
It had been far too long. He damned his lungs for needing air, and pulled away, gasping for much needed breath. "Sorry," he breathed, staring down into the pools beneath him. An eyebrow was raised in question, and he elaborated. "For pulling away," and they were at it again, hands now traveling up his sides and pressing against his neck, forcing him to come closer.
His knees gave out and he was sitting on him, knees on either side, no longer trembling from holding him up but instead from the intensity of the kiss. He was now well aware that the rest of the team was there, could vaguely hear Warrick's whistling, Sara's cheering, and Grissom talking to Catherine about owing him money.
But he couldn't stop, couldn't stop pressing and feeling and tasting, because the mouth beneath him tasted like coffee and some mint flavor and something so harshly Greg he wondered how the younger man did it. He pushed his need for oxygen away for a few extra moments, pulling away with a deep inhale before going at it again.
In that moment, Nick decided he didn't need anything else if he could have Greg in this moment. He swore he'd never ask for another thing as long as this went on for as long as it could. Which, to him, meant a few days, though he knew, deep down, that was pushing it a little far.
Cheering and whistling gone, he pulled away once more, breathing heavier than he ever had, even when he was buried alive, and he wondered if Warrick knew and if that was why he did it in the first place. Not that it mattered, because Greg was still grinning beneath him and it was his, a smile reserved only for Nick and he knew that, because Nick had never seen Greg lend it out to another person in the entire seven years he'd known him.
It was a wonderful feeling. Greg grinned again, toying with Nick's collar. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that was planned," there's a sparkle in his eyes and Nick loves it. Loves the playfulness underneath Greg's exterior. He hasn't seen it for a while. Misses it. Steals another kiss before talking.
"I didn't plan anything. Warrick did it,"
"Won't ever hear me complaining," Greg says and Nick can't hold back, pressing another rough kiss to Greg's already swollen lips. "Creative, much better than how I always envisioned us to get together," Greg takes a hand and squeezes. "You're trembling," nod. "Because of this?" another nod. "Don't worry," another nod.
"You're not. Trembling," Nick notices and finds that weird. Greg's always trembled in nervous situations, any extremely emotional situations, since the lab exploded.
Greg breaks into another grin. "I'm not worried."
Fandom: CSI:
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I just play. :D
Warnings: --
Spoilers: --?
Notes: --
Summary: He could only guess that Warrick had pushed him on purpose, only to make his plan work out.
He could hear Warrick laughing loudly behind him, leaving the room in search of the others. He found it odd that though there was a roomful of dead girls upstairs (okay, so there was only one, but still), Warrick still had it in him to make fun of his best friend when such a situation arised.
Staring down into deep, chocolate-brown eyes, widened with surprise, he knew that Warrick had pushed him on purpose. Which meant the confusing part was understanding why he hadn't moved off of the body underneath him and awkwardly said he'd go to the kitchen to look for the murder weapon.
A grin broke out on the face beneath his own and Nick stuttered apologies to the male below him before his lips were mashed against another pair. He couldn't pull away if he tried. Too busy trying to understand it all, too hung up on the feeling of another body underneath him.
It had been far too long. He damned his lungs for needing air, and pulled away, gasping for much needed breath. "Sorry," he breathed, staring down into the pools beneath him. An eyebrow was raised in question, and he elaborated. "For pulling away," and they were at it again, hands now traveling up his sides and pressing against his neck, forcing him to come closer.
His knees gave out and he was sitting on him, knees on either side, no longer trembling from holding him up but instead from the intensity of the kiss. He was now well aware that the rest of the team was there, could vaguely hear Warrick's whistling, Sara's cheering, and Grissom talking to Catherine about owing him money.
But he couldn't stop, couldn't stop pressing and feeling and tasting, because the mouth beneath him tasted like coffee and some mint flavor and something so harshly Greg he wondered how the younger man did it. He pushed his need for oxygen away for a few extra moments, pulling away with a deep inhale before going at it again.
In that moment, Nick decided he didn't need anything else if he could have Greg in this moment. He swore he'd never ask for another thing as long as this went on for as long as it could. Which, to him, meant a few days, though he knew, deep down, that was pushing it a little far.
Cheering and whistling gone, he pulled away once more, breathing heavier than he ever had, even when he was buried alive, and he wondered if Warrick knew and if that was why he did it in the first place. Not that it mattered, because Greg was still grinning beneath him and it was his, a smile reserved only for Nick and he knew that, because Nick had never seen Greg lend it out to another person in the entire seven years he'd known him.
It was a wonderful feeling. Greg grinned again, toying with Nick's collar. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that was planned," there's a sparkle in his eyes and Nick loves it. Loves the playfulness underneath Greg's exterior. He hasn't seen it for a while. Misses it. Steals another kiss before talking.
"I didn't plan anything. Warrick did it,"
"Won't ever hear me complaining," Greg says and Nick can't hold back, pressing another rough kiss to Greg's already swollen lips. "Creative, much better than how I always envisioned us to get together," Greg takes a hand and squeezes. "You're trembling," nod. "Because of this?" another nod. "Don't worry," another nod.
"You're not. Trembling," Nick notices and finds that weird. Greg's always trembled in nervous situations, any extremely emotional situations, since the lab exploded.
Greg breaks into another grin. "I'm not worried."