CSI Vegas Ficlet: Anticipation
Title: Anticipation
Fandom: CSI Vegas
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Nick, Greg.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 765
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Clubs aren’t really Nick’s scene, but he’s willing to indulge Greg, and there are definite perks to a night on a crowded dance floor.
Written For: Challenge # 201: Amnesty at fan_flashworks, using Challenge # 197: Loud. Also fits # 121: Dancing & # 96: Music.
Disclaimer: I don’t own CSI, or the characters. They belong to their creators.
Clubs aren't Nick's scene; they’re too hot, too loud, too... everything, and that makes him feel old, or older than he is at least. He’s a cowboy, more at home listening to good country music than the loud rock blaring out of the speakers at an ear-shattering volume.
Left to himself, he’d never choose to spend an evening in a place like this, where the dimness is illuminated at random intervals by dazzling flashes of light, confusing his senses, but Greg thrives in the sweaty atmosphere, and for him, Nick would be willing to endure just about anything.
Besides, this is where they started, where their flirtation first moved beyond that and into the tentative beginnings of a relationship. Their first date, you might say, so where better to celebrate a year together?
The volume of the music hammers at Nick like an endless series of body blows; the air is so thick and heavy from the combined heat produced by the physical exertions of a couple of hundred dancing bodies that it’s close to suffocating, but it’s not all bad. There are definite perks, such as seeing Greg let his hair down, and watching him dance…
Greg’s grown up over the last few years, no more wacky hairstyles, or not when he’s working. He could get away with that back when he was just a lab tech, but now he’s a qualified CSI he has to maintain a professional image when he’s on duty. That all goes out the window on nights like this. When Nick met up with Greg for their date, his mouth had gone dry; Greg looked edible in tight shirt, tighter pants, gelled hair, and a hint of makeup that made his eyes even more sultry than usual. He’d grinned at Nick’s reaction, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into an intense kiss right there outside the club before dragging him through the doors, into the heat and noise.
Now, instead of being dry, Nick’s mouth is watering with anticipation. He wishes he were a better dancer than he is, that he could match Greg’s fluidity, move more smoothly with him. He’s better than he used to be, but Greg has a litheness and flexibility that Nick by turns envies and admires. He gets lost in the heavy rhythms, as if the music is somehow inside him, flowing in liquid form through his veins, animating him, and it’s mesmerising. The sight, tantalisingly glimpsed in flashes of red, blue, green, and amber light, never fails to turn Nick on. He feels breathless and giddy in a way that has nothing to do with the heat or his own dance moves.
One song draws to close amid strident, clashing chords, and after a brief pause a slower number begins. They move closer, grinding together, Nick’s hands on Greg’s hips, Greg’s arms draped loosely over Nick’s shoulders, teeth clashing almost painfully as they snatch hungry kisses. They don’t speak, they wouldn’t be able to hear each other over the live band and the ambient sounds of so many people crammed into a relatively small space, but it doesn’t matter; words aren’t necessary.
When the song ends, they pull apart, breathing heavily, both of them hard and wanting. Pushing their way off the dance floor, they stumble to the bar for a beer and a breather. Nick is glad of the respite; it gives his body a chance to calm down a bit. Part of him would like to drag Greg out of here right now, back to whoever’s apartment is closest, and spend the rest of the night indulging in a different, more intimate kind of dancing, but good as that would be, Nick knows Greg hasn’t had his fill yet. That’s okay; there’s plenty of time.
Clubbing is a once in a while thing, best saved for the night before a weekend off, so they know they don’t have work looming over them and can take their time recovering afterwards. Nick knows the wait will be worth it, allowing their anticipation to build until neither of them can take it a moment longer, a mutual hand-job in the men’s room taking the edge off until they can make it to someplace more private. That part of their evening is still a way off, but they exchange knowing smiles, both intensely aware of what’s to come. Finishing their beers, they head back to rejoin the throngs on the dance floor, adding fuel to the fires already burning inside them.
It’s shaping up to be a pretty spectacular night.
The End
Fandom: CSI Vegas
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Nick, Greg.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 765
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Clubs aren’t really Nick’s scene, but he’s willing to indulge Greg, and there are definite perks to a night on a crowded dance floor.
Written For: Challenge # 201: Amnesty at fan_flashworks, using Challenge # 197: Loud. Also fits # 121: Dancing & # 96: Music.
Disclaimer: I don’t own CSI, or the characters. They belong to their creators.
Clubs aren't Nick's scene; they’re too hot, too loud, too... everything, and that makes him feel old, or older than he is at least. He’s a cowboy, more at home listening to good country music than the loud rock blaring out of the speakers at an ear-shattering volume.
Left to himself, he’d never choose to spend an evening in a place like this, where the dimness is illuminated at random intervals by dazzling flashes of light, confusing his senses, but Greg thrives in the sweaty atmosphere, and for him, Nick would be willing to endure just about anything.
Besides, this is where they started, where their flirtation first moved beyond that and into the tentative beginnings of a relationship. Their first date, you might say, so where better to celebrate a year together?
The volume of the music hammers at Nick like an endless series of body blows; the air is so thick and heavy from the combined heat produced by the physical exertions of a couple of hundred dancing bodies that it’s close to suffocating, but it’s not all bad. There are definite perks, such as seeing Greg let his hair down, and watching him dance…
Greg’s grown up over the last few years, no more wacky hairstyles, or not when he’s working. He could get away with that back when he was just a lab tech, but now he’s a qualified CSI he has to maintain a professional image when he’s on duty. That all goes out the window on nights like this. When Nick met up with Greg for their date, his mouth had gone dry; Greg looked edible in tight shirt, tighter pants, gelled hair, and a hint of makeup that made his eyes even more sultry than usual. He’d grinned at Nick’s reaction, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into an intense kiss right there outside the club before dragging him through the doors, into the heat and noise.
Now, instead of being dry, Nick’s mouth is watering with anticipation. He wishes he were a better dancer than he is, that he could match Greg’s fluidity, move more smoothly with him. He’s better than he used to be, but Greg has a litheness and flexibility that Nick by turns envies and admires. He gets lost in the heavy rhythms, as if the music is somehow inside him, flowing in liquid form through his veins, animating him, and it’s mesmerising. The sight, tantalisingly glimpsed in flashes of red, blue, green, and amber light, never fails to turn Nick on. He feels breathless and giddy in a way that has nothing to do with the heat or his own dance moves.
One song draws to close amid strident, clashing chords, and after a brief pause a slower number begins. They move closer, grinding together, Nick’s hands on Greg’s hips, Greg’s arms draped loosely over Nick’s shoulders, teeth clashing almost painfully as they snatch hungry kisses. They don’t speak, they wouldn’t be able to hear each other over the live band and the ambient sounds of so many people crammed into a relatively small space, but it doesn’t matter; words aren’t necessary.
When the song ends, they pull apart, breathing heavily, both of them hard and wanting. Pushing their way off the dance floor, they stumble to the bar for a beer and a breather. Nick is glad of the respite; it gives his body a chance to calm down a bit. Part of him would like to drag Greg out of here right now, back to whoever’s apartment is closest, and spend the rest of the night indulging in a different, more intimate kind of dancing, but good as that would be, Nick knows Greg hasn’t had his fill yet. That’s okay; there’s plenty of time.
Clubbing is a once in a while thing, best saved for the night before a weekend off, so they know they don’t have work looming over them and can take their time recovering afterwards. Nick knows the wait will be worth it, allowing their anticipation to build until neither of them can take it a moment longer, a mutual hand-job in the men’s room taking the edge off until they can make it to someplace more private. That part of their evening is still a way off, but they exchange knowing smiles, both intensely aware of what’s to come. Finishing their beers, they head back to rejoin the throngs on the dance floor, adding fuel to the fires already burning inside them.
It’s shaping up to be a pretty spectacular night.
The End