Unwritten (Assume Nothing)
Title: Unwritten (Assume Nothing)
Author: Nat
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,904
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes and occasional cameos by other cast members.
Warnings: Adults only, please.
Spoilers: Assume Nothing
Disclaimer: You know the "I don't own these two" drill, so I won't bore you.
Unbeta-ed: I'm too busy to spell check. I do my best.
A/N 1: A fun little experiment. This is the first of a series of short stories that are based directly on scenes in CSI Episodes. Much in the way that we were all subjected to those build up episodes between Gil and She Who Shall Not Be Named, these are little drabbles about the build up of Gil and Nick's relationship with one little itty bitty catch - they will be starting at the end and working thier way back to the beginning. (Memento, anyone?)
A/N 2: GSR FREE ZONE. They are my stories, right? So canon be damned, I do what I want.
Nick Stokes was a grown man. He had excelled through high school. He had outperformed his peers academically, socially and in every extracurricular physical activity he had ever decided to partake in. He had made a name for himself in college in the same manner, graduating at the top of his class and fulfilling numerous athletic scholarships. And since leaving school, Nick had become a fine member of any lab or precinct he had worked in.
But something about running his mouth, being called out by his best friend, and being on the hook with Gil Grissom made him feel like a naughty five year old. And it was more than his nervous stomach could take.
Nick made friends everywhere he went; it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to run into someone he knew. So when he ran into his old friend Kenny Richmond outside of a crime scene, he didn’t think anything about small talk, shooting the shit or catching up. But now, as he was hanging out the side of his truck, puking the remains of what little he had managed to eat for lunch all over the side of the highway, he was painfully aware of the implications of a seemingly innocent conversation. Warrick was pissed at him, there was no doubt about that. He was pretty sure that Grissom was on to him about information getting leaked to the press, and a decent tongue lashing over it might be the best possible outcome. Regardless of what he did right or wrong, Gil had grown increasingly hard on him over the past few years. And whether or not it had anything to do with the intricate workings of what was happening between them outside of the lab, one thing was for sure: Nick had gone too far this time.
“Close the door, Nick.”
Gil might have just as well asked Nick to draw his gun and shoot himself. It was as if he was saying…I’m not mad at you, Nick. I’m disappointed…which, to Nick Stokes, was much worse. And when Nick asked Gil if he wanted to talk, and Gil just ignored the elephant in the room and informed Nick that he just wanted to “see the room as they left it”, Nick didn’t know whether to be relieved or throw up again. Be mad at me, Grissom, he thought. Just be mad and get it over with.
So Nick tried to do his job. And to do it as best he could to remind Gil that he was a good CSI regardless of how much of a wrench in the case his little fuck up might have caused. He scoured the bathroom looking for evidence, determined to find something that would impress Gil, but he was coming up empty handed. When he returned to the bedroom and saw Gil inspecting the vibrating bed, he forgot his place for just a moment. He began to spout facts about the “Magic Fingers” bed as if he had researched it. Oh, yeah, Nick he thought, this will definitely impress him. Jesus.
“…good for sex. Good for …sleep…too.” He could barely cover his embarrassment as the last of his outburst flew forward over his lips faster than he could catch them, and Gil was watching him speak as if it were in Latin. Something about making Nick squirm always seemed to turn him on, even if he knew it shouldn’t.
“Good for us.” He answered, letting a moment of tension hang heavily in the room before he and Nick returned to business and went about the task at hand - working over the quarters in the bed for prints.
Nick and Gil managed to focus, mostly because they had to once Catherine was in the room. They barely spoke or made eye contact as they dusted for prints and separated piles into useable and non-usable coins. And when Catherine finally did make an inquiry that led Gil to acknowledge the fact that Nick had slipped evidence to the press unwillingly, the look that he shot Nick was enough to make Nick’s stomach flip over again. He admitted his wrong doing without really admitting it, before he scooped up a bag of quarters - thankful for the excuse to leave the room and sure that Gil would give Catherine an earful about him as sure as he did. He swallowed hard as he left, and then mumbled swears to himself as he hauled the money to his truck. He loaded the bags into the passenger seat and sat behind the wheel trying to calm himself down before heading back to the lab where he knew he would be facing Warrick.
“Nicky, hang on.”
Catherine was calling to him as she left the motel room, closing the door behind her as the officer on guard watched her. She moved to Nick’s truck door just as Nick opened it and half stepped out to meet her.
“Grissom asked you to come back for his kit. I would have taken it but he wants it back at the lab and I’m running back to The Sphere to gather some more prints.”
Nick was glazed over as he listened to her, mostly because he hadn’t heard a word she said after Grissom asked you to come back. He knew whatever he had managed to dodge earlier was about to hit him full force.
“Nick? You alright?” Catherine screwed up her face in the blinding sunlight, wondering where Nick was that he was so obviously ignoring her. Nick shook himself from his thoughts and managed a quick smile.
“Yeah. I’ll grab it. Thanks, Cath.”
Catherine hurried to her car, and Nick moved in the polar opposite direction at the polar opposite speed. It was hot as hell and even in his loose white shirt, he was starting to sweat bullets. The officer at the door nodded at Nick again as he reached the door, and Nick thought it seemed like he was nodding as if to wish him luck. As if somehow…he knew it was Nick’s death march.
The door squeaked loudly in Nick’s ears as he peeled it open, glad that the sound was covering the audible quiver in his breath. But there was another unfamiliar sound filling the room. Nick squinted a little as he tried to make it out, before leaning into the room to see Gil, laying on the bed…propped up slightly against the headboard and vibrating slightly as the bed shook beneath him. His eyes were closed. Nick watched him for a moment and then tried to quietly shut the door. Was he really sleeping? Could Nick really get the kit and get the hell out of there before Gil told him he was fired? Even if he was, he’d almost rather hear it from Ecklie. Nick closed the door as quietly as he could manage, and tip toed towards Gil’s kit at the foot of the bed.
“Nick.”
Gil’s voice called to him just as he reached the case, and he winced at the sound of it before standing straight at the foot of the bed and facing Gil whose eyes had drifted open.
“Yeah.” Nick managed to squeak out in a nervous voice that wasn’t his own. Gil cocked his head slightly and chewed the side of his lip before he reached a hand over his head and slid another clean quarter into the box that ensured at least fifteen more minutes of vibrating mattress. Nick watched him, unsure of how to proceed, and unable to get past the fact that he was surprised that Gil would be laying on a mattress in a seedy motel with all that they had seen. He couldn’t help himself.
“Grissom, you have any idea how dirty the mattresses are in these places? I don’t even want to think about what you might be laying in right now.”
Gil raised an eyebrow as Nick, once again, forgot his place. He was becoming quite adept at that.
“You’re worried about me getting dirty, Nicky?” Nick stared at Gil as something other than outright disapproval covered his face and seethed in his voice. “Come here, Nick.”
Nick took an unsure step or two before moving a little more fluidly around the side of the bed until he found himself standing at Gil’s side. The vibration of the bed hummed under Gil and shook his slightly, and Nick watched in quiet amusement, fighting the urge to smile.
“Closer.” Gil whispered. Nick leaned into the bed, and over Gil. Unsure of how much closer he could get.
“Closer…”
Nick was breathing the same air as Gil they were so close, and yet Gil seemed wholly unsatisfied. Nick swallowed hard…hoping he was getting the right meaning from Gil because he knew his ass was already on the line figuratively…and he was about to make a literal jump to the same place. He leaned his fists onto the bed on either side of Gil, who in turn reached up and wrapped a hand around Nick’s waist, gently guiding him onto the bed. Nick lifted his left leg and placed it on the bed, letting his right one follow suit until he was straddling Gil’s lap…the bed causing their bodies to vibrate together. Gil let out a low moan that seemed to last minutes. Nick couldn’t shake the fact that he was still buried deeply inside the doghouse, even if the sensation of Gil rattling between his legs was starting to lessen his anxiety.
“Take your hat off, Nick.”
Gil instructed Nick very matter of factly, and Nick knew he was in no position to question Gil even if he knew he should. He slowly pulled his cap off and tossed it on to the bed, sure he would never put it back on his head again. He ran his fingers through his hair and tousled it a little bit.
“And you’re shirt.”
Nick turned quickly towards the door and the silhouette of the guard on duty that he could see through the window.
“Grissom, I…”
“It wasn’t a request, Nick. Take your shirt off.”
Nick turned back to face Gil and saw his stony expression as a warning. With shaky fingers, he reached for the top most button of his white shirt and began unfastening from his neck down to his stomach, finally pulling the shirt from his pants and opening the last button. Gil reached up and opened the shirt with his hands, running his palms over Nick’s bare chest…feeling it heave nervously at his touch.
“Gr….Grissom…”
Nick could barely get the words out and he was fighting to keep his eyes open as Gil ran his hands roughly over his nipples, squeezing them in his fingers…every inch of Nick’s body quivering from the bed. Gil pushed the shirt over Nick’s shoulders and Nick let it fall onto the bed, exposing his upper body. Gil’s eyes devoured Nick’s body, and his cock was growing rapidly. He made no secret of it, pressing it up against Nick’s ass as their bodies buzzed.
“You really fucked up today, Stokes.”
Gil hissed as he took both of Nick’s nipples in his fingers and squeezed until Nick let out a muffled yelp, trying to take his punishment like a man as best he could.
“Ye…yessss…”
“Yes, what?” Gil continued to grill Nick even as he was rocking his cock against Nick, who let his weight gradually fall harder onto Gil’s body.
“Yes, I really fucked up today.”
“And you’re sorry.”
“I’m….I’m sorry…”
“And it won’t happen again.”
“And….it won’t…”
Gil moved his hands from Nick’s chest and down his tight and shivering stomach until he found the bulge of his erection, pushing desperately against the fly of his pants. Nick stopped speaking to let out a moan.
“It won’t what, Nicky?” I didn’t hear you.”
“It won’t happen again.” Nick’s eyes had been slammed shut against the intrusion and humiliation, but the gently opened and met Gil’s as Gil began to run his hand over Nick’s cock…masturbating him through his pants as he humped against him. Nick let his body fall slightly over Gil’s. Nick’s face hung over Gil and they watched each other as Gil moved his hand from Nick’s hard on and instead took him by the hips, rocking them against his own body until they moved in a unison movement. Nick’s breath was hot and sweet on Gil’s face and he inhaled deeply to get a sense of him. He was too close. It was more than Gil could stand. More than either of them could stand.
“Kiss me, Nick.”
Gil heard Nick swallow and his breath was quick and anxious, but he didn’t move for a long moment…just stared at Gil - his dark eyes bouncing over Gil’s.
“Is that an order?” Nick whispered huskily, losing all control of himself no matter how vulnerable or embarrassed it made him.
“Yes.”
“On…the lips?”
“Yes, on the lips, Nick.” Gil answered. And like he always did, Nick obeyed. He lowered himself slowly over Gil until the warmth of their lips were barely brushing. Nick kissed him quick and gently - the way you might kiss a sister or a cousin. And Gil only scoffed for a moment before raising his head from the bed and jamming his hot tongue into Nick’s mouth. His hands were forcefully holding Nick’s hips to him and he knew Nick wouldn’t fight him. Not today. Maybe he was taking advantage…but he couldn’t help himself. Nick’s lips slowly opened to the advanced of Gil’s tongue as they shared their first. Gil felt Nick relax onto him, but only slightly. It wasn’t a storybook kiss. It was sloppy and rough. It was unsure and uncomfortable. But it was more than either of them had expected and enough to keep their bodies - accompanied by the bed - shaking against each other. Gil pulled from Nick’s mouth only long enough to give his next order.
“Sit up, Nick. I want to watch you.”
Nick listened and watched. He knew he couldn’t say no. What’s more he knew he didn’t want to. He made himself sit up on Gil the way he first had. And Gil still held his hips.
“Move Nick. Move hard. And fast.”
Gil could see the humiliation on Nick’s face…and it was turning him on. He knew Nick well enough to know that he would stop him if he wanted him to stop. Nick had told him that before. So he was comfortable pushing the envelope. Knowing that he was only moments and movements away from getting what he wanted: to come with Nick, instead of alone in his bed at night dreaming about Nick. Nick began rocking against Gil, dry humping him…pushing his ass against Gil’s throbbing cock until it hurt. And when Gil finally did come, it hit him so hard and fast that he hardly had time to announce it. And he certainly didn’t have time to take his pants off. Instead he just whispered to Nick as he felt himself tighten and warm…the pressure of Nick’s body keeping all of Gil’s mess tightly against his cock inside of his underwear.
“You’re making me come, Nick.”
Nick moaned.
“Tell me…”
“Tell you what?” Nick panted breathlessly…moving all the while.
“Tell me you like it.”
“I like it…”
“Tell me you want it.”
“God….I want it…”
“Tell me you like making me come.”
“I love making you come.”
Their dirty talk pushed Gil over the edge and he shook violently under Nick as he orgasmed forcefully.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you.” Gil managed to get the last of his orders out as he drifted back to reality.
“I want you to…to…”
Nick couldn’t manage to complete his speech much less his thoughts as his own orgasm overtook him. It was so hard and fast that Gil could feel his cock twitching even between two layers of underwear and pants. Gil ran his fingers softly over Nick’s hot chest as Nick came hard, fighting the urge to scream. His body shook against Gil, who moaned and whispered in appreciation. Nick’s orgasm subsided and he could hardly hold himself up. He resisted the urge to fall onto Gil’s chest and instead threw himself beside Gil. Landing face down on the bed and slinking his lower body off of Gil. Gil laid for a moment as the vibrations beneath them stopped. He inhaled sharply and rolled himself to standing. Nick was still face planted in the mattress as Gil assessed his appearance and straightened himself out. He turned to face Nick’s body as it curled slightly into fetal position. He thought about touching him. Stroking his back. Asking if he was ok. Asking him anything.
“I’ll see you at the lab.”
Damnit, Gil. You can’t just leave him here.
But that was exactly what he did. Nick hadn’t answered Gil before he heard the squeak of the door opening and shutting and saw the sun’s affects in the room change as the silhouette of Gil Grissom breezed past the window. Nick pushed down the overwhelming need to sob. But that was too pitiful. Half dressed, pants full of his own come, and left alone to deal with the aftermath.
He leaned over the bed and dry heaved a few times. He’d have thrown up if he hadn’t already lost all of his lunch.
Just be mad, Grissom…he thought to himself again.