FIC: Seeking Respite
Title: Seeking Respite
Author: Knightmusic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Challenge (if applicable): Written for the Gil Grissom Fuh-Q-Fest. Response to kink challenge #3: submissive!Gil.
Summary: It's only the truly powerful who can give up control.
Author's Note/Warnings: Just some quick pr0n while I finish the sequel to "Smoke and Mirrors." Thanks to laurelgardner for feeding the bunny. This story contains a D/s relationship, bondage, and light flogging, so consider yourself warned. Or consider those bonus points. Up to you.
Disclaimer: Yeah, read this story and you'll understand why I don't own CSI. None of my ideas would fly on network TV.
By the way, this is revised (slightly) from the version that appeared on my journal. If you read it there, know that I've added a few...details here and there.
They were running late. It was almost entirely Gil’s fault, and he knew it. He was trying to hurry things along, picking up what he needed, checking one last time that he hadn’t left the stove on or anything stupid like that.
“Gil, movie starts in twenty-five minutes,” Nick called in from the door.
“Just a minute,” Gil said, absently. There was something he was forgetting. It always felt like that.
“Gil!” Nick shouted, clapping his hands for emphasis. “Now!”
And suddenly Gil couldn’t remember what he’d been looking for. He had the sudden, inexplicable urge to say “yes, sir,” and something deep inside him sat up and took keen interest in the situation. He’d never heard that tone of voice before.
He’d heard Nick yell. Oh, god, had he heard Nick yell. But he’d been too busy doing some impressive yelling of his own to really pay attention. But this wasn’t like that. Nick wasn’t angry, wasn’t really even irritated. If they missed the movie, they’d just grab something to eat and catch a later one. But there was intensity there, force behind the words.
Nick had expected obedience. And Gil wanted to obey. Very much.
* * *
The thought stuck with him for days, and he puzzled over it. He and Nick had worked so hard in their relationship to make sure everything was equal, and it was one of the things Gil held most dear. No one was in charge; they were partners. In everything. Hard to do when he was still Nick’s boss, but they’d managed. It was a great achievement, and he was proud of it.
And yet now there was this voice whispering soft, wicked ideas in the back of his mind, and he couldn’t ignore it. He loved the stability that came of their shared authority, and yet…
…and yet, it always felt so good, so unexpectedly, liberatingly good when Nick took the lead, even a little bit. Whether it was when he decided what they were going to have for dinner, or when he decided that lovemaking was going to happen on his terms, it was a blissful, euphoric rush for Gil.
He liked being told what to do.
No, more than that, he wanted, needed to be told. But only by Nicky.
He’d never been ordered around much in his life. It hadn’t been his mother’s style, and as he got older, he did what needed to be done before anyone had to tell him. Ecklie tried to dictate his life and job to him, but it mostly backfired; giving rise to a streak of contrariness in Gil that normally didn’t get exercised.
But Nicky… Well, he’d do anything for Nicky anyway. He’d never said as much, but Nick knew that. At least, Gil hoped he knew that. He certainly meant it.
These thoughts peaked his curiosity, and for the next few weeks, he began testing the theory in subtle ways; trying to awaken that authoritative demeanor in Nick and see if a willing, submissive part of himself responded. He kept it innocent at first, pretending he didn’t hear when Nick asked him something, making him repeat himself, deliberately tripping quirks of Nick’s, like leaving his shoes in the entryway, leaving the music set too loud, nothing that would make Nick angry, but enough to earn him a different kind of attention.
To his surprise, it worked. In many ways. Nick didn’t get angry, Gil was too subtle and random about when he tried something for Nick to realize the actions were intentional, but each time he firmly and deliberately voiced his feelings on the matter. It made Gil shiver, and quickly agree to abide by Nick’s wishes.
He tried it in bed, too. Drawing his actions out, teasing more than he ever had before. He worked tongue, lips, teeth and hands over Nick’s body; stringing him along, playing him, testing, stretching and pushing his breaking point. All so he could hear those incredibly powerful words.
“Gil! Now!”
Your wish is my command, Gil thought, and gave himself completely over to Nick’s wishes. Their combined satisfied moans filled his ears and soothed his soul long after they had both collapsed in breathless, satisfied heaps.
There was no doubt in his mind anymore. He knew what he wanted. The problem was in how to ask for it. It was not a new problem for him. He never had the words; especially not when he needed them the most.
It was one of the reasons he and Nick were so perfectly matched; why they worked so beautifully together. Gil never had to ask. Nick always knew. Everything. Anything. Whatever Gil wanted, it was like Nicky had already researched it and become the newest expert.
So it stayed just a thought; a wonderful, exciting idea that he couldn’t find a way to broach.
* * *
They were sitting on the couch, watching TV, in what had become one of Gil’s favorite positions ever; the human pillow. He was sitting between Nick’s legs, his back against Nicky’s chest; enjoying the low-intensity intimacy.
“Hand me the remote, would ya, Gil?” Nick asked, and Gil saw an opportunity. He picked up the remote, turned to look at Nick and raised a teasing eyebrow. He held the remote out of reach.
“Hey, c’mon,” Nick protested. “Give it here.” Gil smirked and refused.
“Gil, I mean it,” Nick’s voice became plaintive, bordering on frustrated. “I really don’t want to watch this.” Gil glanced at the screen. Something about caves and bats was starting. “It really creeps me out,” Nick added.
Ah. Not the time to be playing this game. He handed the remote to Nick, who switched off the TV.
“What’s with you, lately?” Nick said, trying his best to look Gil in the eye.
“What do you mean?” Gil asked, innocently.
“All this shit you’ve been pulling,” Nick answered. He didn’t sound angry. Mostly confused. “You trying to get a rise out of me or something?”
Gil grinned. “I’m always interested in getting a rise out of you, Nicky,” he said, and wriggled meaningfully. Nick laughed, albeit briefly, at that.
“Yeah, well, there are better ways of doing that,” he said, swatting Gil on the back of his head. “So what are you after? You trying to tell me something?”
Yes, I am, Gil thought. But still, he didn’t have the words to make Nick understand. He didn’t even know what, exactly, he was asking for.
“If something’s wrong, Gil, we can work it out,” Nick said. He sounded worried.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Gil assured, quickly. “It’s just…” he couldn’t think of a way to finish that.
“Just what? Talk to me, Gil.”
And that was almost enough. Close enough to an actual command that Gil almost had the words. Almost had them forced out of him without thinking. Almost.
“I’m… not sure I can explain,” he said, finally. Hesitantly. Nick hugged him.
“Well try. It’s not like I’m going to laugh at you and leave, is it?”
No, it wasn’t. Nick was in this for the long haul. It had taken Gil a while to believe that, but he did now. It was why he trusted him so much. Why he was willing to trust him with this. He closed his eyes and leaned back against Nick, pressed his forehead against Nick’s cheek, felt Nick’s breath on his face, and felt so at ease, so comfortable, so safe.
“Make me,” he whispered.
“What?” Nick asked, doing a fabulous job of maintaining his composure even though he was very obviously surprised out of his mind. “Make you do what?”
Gil turned around as much as he could to look at Nick straight on. “Anything,” he said, and suddenly he had the words. “Anything at all. I’ll do it.” He didn’t think Nick was going to laugh at him, but he still wondered if he was making himself clear.
“I’m not sure I follow you,” Nick said. Gil pressed his tongue between his teeth, thinking, trying to find a way to express what he’d discovered about himself.
“I need,” he began, chewing his lip a little. “No, let me say this better. I get tired of being in charge; at work, keeping my life together, everything.” This wasn’t easy. Not as bad as he’d been afraid it might be; it helped being so close to Nicky, pressed so close together, but freed from the need to meet his eyes.
“Sometimes, I…need a respite. I need someone else to make the decisions; to be in charge.”
“Gil,” Nick said, taking Gil’s hand and hugging him a little tighter to his chest. He sounded worried. “I’m sorry if I’ve been slacking or something. I never wanted you to feel like you had to take care of me-”
Gil raised a hand, cutting him off and shaking his head. “No, Nicky, that’s not it. I don’t feel like that at all.” He gave Nick’s hand a squeeze and turned his head, pressing his face against Nick’s collar bone. “You’re a perfect partner,” he said, softly, with a little more reserve.
“We don’t need to ‘fix’ anything,” he continued. “What I’m asking for is…” he looked at the ceiling, searching for the word. “An indulgence,” he decided, looking back at Nick.
For a few seconds there was only the sound and feel of Nick’s breath against his cheek. “Okay,” Nick said at last, very quietly. “Okay, I think I can work with this.” He sat them up, moving Gil off him a little so they could look at each other. “Just what are we talking about, exactly?”
Gil smiled, feeling suddenly relieved. “I’m not quite sure yet,” he said. “What I do know, is that when you’re giving orders, you’re very sexy. It’s quite the turn on.”
Nick stared at him, open mouthed. “Oh,” he said, quietly. And slowly, his expression changed. It started as puzzlement, and then all of a sudden, he looked as though he had gotten the best present he could ever have asked for. Something in Gil swelled in joy and pride with the knowledge that he had put that look on Nick’s face.
“We can definitely work with this,” Nick said. He was still grinning broadly. He tipped his head back, thinking for a few minutes, and when he looked down again, he was nearly laughing.
“God, that makes sense!”
Gil blinked at him. “It does?”
“Yeah, it does! Everything! How you-” he shook his head, suddenly. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later, if you want, let’s just…figure this out for now.”
They talked about it for a long time. Even if Gil couldn’t quite articulate it, Nick seemed to be asking the right questions. It was part of why he loved Nick, after all. Nick could read him.
* * *
Coming home had never felt so good. It would have been better if it could have happened two hours ago like he’d planned; staying late if he was actually working was fine, but staying late spinning his wheels in a battle of wills with Ecklie and Atwater…well, that was enough to make him want to go home and stay there. For an indeterminate period of time. It didn’t matter that, eventually, he’d swayed them to see it his way.
All he wanted now was to lay down with a drink. Preferably with his head in Nicky’s lap.
The house was quiet when he walked in. Odd, Nick had left the lab on time, and his truck was parked in the driveway. He’d expected to see him when he walked in. Maybe he’d already gone to bed. Gil hung up his jacket and headed to the kitchen.
“I was wondering when you’d get home,” Nick said from behind him. Gil reached the refrigerator and opened it, taking out a bottle of water without turning around.
“Sorry, Nick,” he said. “Ecklie and Atwater were-”
“What did you call me?”
Gil froze.
Oh. So that’s how it was. His blood rushed just a little louder and hotter at that particular combination of inflection, timbre and intent in Nick’s voice. It captured and held every part of Gil at complete attention. It had taken time, experimentation and practice before they got it just right, but now Nick could find it at will.
Gil turned around, slowly, to look at Nick. The sight nearly knocked him to his knees, but he maintained himself. That comes later, he thought with a delightful shudder.
Neither one of them had been terribly keen on elaborate apparel, but had quickly discovered that a little light costuming brought out hitherto unknown bravado in Nick. And Gil had been more than happy for the excuse to get Nicky into a pair of tight, black leather pants. The blue silk shirt, worn open with no undershirt, only added to the visual appeal. But the boots were the real prize, and the way Nick was leaning back, propping his feet up on Gil’s desk, showed them off beautifully.
Gil had run across them and bought them, knowing that Nick never would himself, but that he would love them. And look fabulous in them. They were black, shiny, came up to his knees, and buckled in three places. The soles were thick, almost platforms, and had tiny silver spikes across the arch.
They were boots that meant business. And so did Nick when he wore them.
Gil realized, suddenly, that Nick was waiting for an answer. Much as he’d like to stand and ogle his lover for a while, he’d best do as he was expected. He had to re-wet his lips to speak; his whole mouth had gone suddenly dry.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “sir.”
Nick nodded and stood up, swinging his legs off the desk. The boots made a thick, heavy, satisfying thunk on the bare floors as he came into the kitchen. “That’s better,” he said. He didn’t look overtly pleased, but neither did he look upset either. Nick had developed a decent poker face since they’d begun this ritual. Gil probably could have logged his tells and learned to read him, but the surprises were so much more fun.
He took his time coming to stand in front of Gil, and when he got there, he leaned lazily against the bar. Gil hadn’t budged an inch since he’d first laid eyes on Nick. He was barely breathing, but his pulse was fluttering with excitement. Nick nodded at the bottle of water he was holding.
“Give me that,” he said. Gil handed it over before he’d completely registered Nick’s words. That wasn’t unusual. Something about Nick’s voice overrode the part of his brain that evaluated validity of orders. It was a little like being drunk, or hypnotized. And Nick wouldn’t ask him to do anything unreasonable.
He watched Nick open the bottle of water and take a long drink; admired the curve of his lips around the bottle and the way the muscles of his throat moved as he swallowed. Every motion he made seemed slowed down and deliberate.
“You thirsty?” he asked. Gil nodded. Nick reached out his hand to take Gil by the arm.
“Come here.” He pulled Gil forward, turning him around and hugging him close, Gil’s back to his chest.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” Gil sagged a little bit, letting his body give in the way his mind already was; letting Nick support him. Nick raised the water bottle to Gil’s lips and tilted it for Gil to drink. He was mouthing Gil’s ear as he drank, and Gil would have sighed if he could have. Nick kept at it after he took the bottle away and set it on the counter. Both his arms came up around Gil, as much an embrace as holding him still.
“I asked Catherine about your meeting,” he whispered. Even for its lack of volume, the intensity and proximity of Nick’s voice made him shiver. “She told me what was up with Ecklie and the Sheriff.” His mouth moved across Gil’s jaw, and down his neck.
“They want you to do things their way, don’t they?” he said into the hollow of Gil’s throat. Gil couldn’t nod with Nick in the way, and couldn’t quite bring himself to talk, but made an affirmative noise. Nick smiled.
“I’m guessing you wouldn’t back down, would you?” Gil shook his head, muttering a “no.” Nick slid around to stand in front of him, hands coming up to cradle his head. He was smiling in a knowing, proud, proprietary way.
“They can’t get you to do what they want,” he said. “Only I get to do that, am I right?” Gil shivered again, despite the fact that he suddenly felt much warmer than he had moments ago. Nick was right. It was true. So wonderfully true.
“Yes,” he whispered, smiling. Nick’s eyes narrowed, focusing intense energy into Gil’s.
“Yes, what?” he asked, warning in his voice.
“Yes, sir,” Gil answered. He liked saying it; he got a delicious rush from it. But it was even better when Nick made him say it.
Nick grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him against the refrigerator, pinning him in place. “That’s better,” he said, and kissed him. It wasn’t a gentle kiss.
His hands moved down Gil’s arms, taking his wrists and pinning them over his head. Gil tried to kiss back, but Nick wasn’t interested in making this a mutual sharing experience. It was full of force, and teeth, and tongue and Nick’s own agenda, which didn’t involve any give. Just take;. It was times like this that Gil was suddenly reminded of just how strong Nick really was. Not overpoweringly so, but easily enough that he could assert his own will by physical means.
When Nick released his mouth they were both breathing heavily. “This is what you need tonight, isn’t it?” Nick asked. Gil nodded.
“Yes, sir,” he answered. Odd how the same words could have so many different meanings. They were almost a plea now. Nick grinned.
“Thought so,” he said. “Go into the bedroom, get undressed and wait for me,” he instructed, stepping back and freeing Gil. Gil nodded and left the kitchen.
Nick would probably take his time, but then again, they were still mostly making this up as they went along. He might take choose a different tactic this time and follow immediately. In any case, he was best off doing exactly as he was told. There was a high backed wooden chair in one corner of their bedroom. He stripped quickly and went over to kneel on the carpet in front of it.
Some part in the back of his mind sat back and watched all this, and wondered at it. It wondered why he didn’t feel ridiculous like this; why it was turning him on. Other than the fact that Nick looked damn good in leather, and commanded sexual energy strong enough to power their whole house when he did this. And he whispered back to that part of his mind, that it felt so good.
He heard Nick enter the room, heard the tinkling of ice as he sipped his drink, but Gil didn’t look up. “Good,” Nick said, and began circling him; inspecting him. Gil was sure he could feel Nick’s gaze, it was that strong; almost a caress over his bare skin.
“But even better would be…” Nick murmured, thinking out loud. “On all fours. Facing the wall,” he ordered, coming to a stop behind him. Gil hurried to comply, feeling excited and curious at the same time. This could mean any number of things… He shushed the thought; it was much better to wait and find out than speculate.
Finally, Nick took a seat in the chair, and Gil waiting, heart pounding in anticipation. After several eternal seconds, Nick swung his feet up and rested them on Gil’s back, crossing them at the ankles, and relaxed completely in his seat.
“So tell me about it,” Nick said.
“Sir?” Gil asked, suddenly feeling terribly off balance. He’d never been made to be Nick’s footstool before, and they’d certainly never chatted about work while engaged in a scene. He wanted to look up, get some kind of reading from Nick’s face, but there was no chance of that.
“Ecklie and Atwater. Tell me about it. What did they want?”
Gil still didn’t understand what Nick was getting after, but he shrugged inwardly and started speaking. “They’re concerned about my ‘efficiency,’” he made a face at the word.
“They think I take too long to close a case. I told them cases get done when they get done. I’m not about to cut corners to fit their agendas.” He thought he heard Nick laugh, just a little at that.
“Why do you think that upsets them so much?” Nick asked. Gil didn’t answer. He had no idea what Nick was driving at with this. He was sure there was an answer Nick was expecting, but he’d be damned if he could figure it out.
“Gil?” Nick said, and shifted, reaching down to pick something up off the floor. “I can practically hear you thinking,” he said, and Gil realized what Nick had picked up seconds before the riding crop swatted him lightly, but still reprimandingly, on the backside. “None of that. Just answer me.”
“I don’t know,” Gil said. It was the only honest answer he could give.
Nick made a disgusted sound. “You know better than that,” he said, and swung his legs off Gil’s back and sat up.
“Sit up,” he said, his voice suddenly more firm. Gil shifted positions quickly, and then the crop was under his chin, lifting his head. “Look at me,” Nick said, and Gil raised his eyes.
“Why does that upset them so much?” he asked again. Gil sighed. He wondered that himself, so very often. Why his best efforts were always reprimanded.
“Gil?” Nick asked, leaning forward and pressing his palm against Gil’s face. “Don’t keep me waiting. I don’t like it,” he said, tracing his hand over Gil’s cheek, sliding through the hair at his temple. He still didn’t know how to answer; nothing about the situation made any kind of sense in his world.
“Maybe they expect better from me,” he suggested.
Nick back handed him. Not hard, it didn’t even hurt, but it was surprising. He gasped, blinking, and looked up in confusion. Nick was glaring at him. “Don’t lie to me, Gil,” he said, leveling a finger at him. “You know that’s not true. So what’s the answer? Really?”
Now he understood. Nick was using his current position to make a point. Gil sighed. “I make them look bad,” he said, using the words that Nick had so often spoken. As he said them, something inside him knew they were true, and he felt a warm rush of gratitude at being made to say them.
“That’s right,” Nick said, his voice instantly gentle again. “You need to trust me, Gil. There are some things that I just know better than you do.”
“Yes, sir,” Gil said. It had never felt so good to lose an argument.
“Good,” Nick said, and leaned forward. “I’m proud of you,” he said, and held his right hand out in front of Gil’s face. Gil responded to the signal instantly, and didn’t need instruction. He took Nick’s hand in both of his and kissed the back of it; paying homage to his lord.
Nick cupped his face, fingers stroking his jaw. His thumb slid across Gil’s cheekbone he opened his mouth when it reached his lips. He sucked and licked gently, cradling it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Nick hummed, contentedly, but drew his hand away far too soon for Gil’s liking.
He sat back again, and Gil dropped his eyes, listening to him take another sip of his drink. Scotch, probably. Nick had adopted Gil’s taste in single-malts shortly after they’d begun seeing each other.
Gil stared at Nick’s boots and waited for the next move. He wondered what it would be like to lick them. They’d never discussed that idea before, and it had never occurred to him before now, but suddenly he was insatiably curious. Still, he didn’t want to make the decision himself. He’d wait until he was told.
“So what should I do with you, tonight?” Nick mused. It was a rhetorical question. He’d be more direct about it if he wanted Gil to answer. Gil stared down, waiting. “You look good enough to eat,” he continued. “Is that what I should do?” The riding crop returned, lifting his chin again.
“If that’s what you want,” Gil answered. “Sir,” he added.
“What I want,” Nick said, thinking. He sipped his drink again. “I want a show,” he said. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, sitting back and making himself comfortable.
The mild arousal that had been simmering since Nick had pinned him against the refrigerator suddenly heated to a boil. Hardly aware of what he was doing, he slid his hand from where it rested on his thigh over to his groin.
“Slowly,” Nick cautioned. “Fingertips only.” Again, that heated shiver seized Gil. His fingertips drifted over his cock, eyes closing at the sensation.
“Eyes open,” Nick commanded. “Look at me.” Gil’s eyes flew open, seeking Nick’s. He drew his other hand over his balls, breathing harder now, both because of the sensation and the expression on Nick’s face. Nick wasn’t meeting Gil’s eyes. He was focused lower on Gil’s body, completely enraptured in a ravenous, possessive way.
His hands kept the same, slow, purposeful pace; tracing the length, rolling over the head, sliding down to caress his balls again. He had to fight to keep his eyes open, and his breathing was labored and interspersed with soft moans.
Nick sipped his drink.
It wasn’t that Nick was disinterested, that much was easy to tell. His eyes were lust-black and the focused stare was almost giving off physical heat. And the leather pants weren’t hiding anything, either. Observing Nick’s reactions prompted the most intense rush in Gil. It almost distracted him from his own needy state. Almost.
He needed more than just this scant teasing. He whimpered, very softly, but Nick heard it.
“That’s enough,” Nick said. “Stand up.” Gil did, with difficulty. He was a ball of tension and shaking just a bit. Nick took a final sip of his drink, finishing it, and stood up. He ran his hand over his mouth, looking Gil over carefully. Then he started to circle, deliberately tapping the riding crop in his other hand.
“I’d like to keep you like this all the time,” he whispered in Gil’s ear. “You look incredible.” He reached down and wrapped his hand around Gil’s cock. “How long can you stay like this?” he asked. “Do I need to help you out?”
Helping would mean a cock ring. And while that could be fun, it would encourage Nick to draw this out longer than Gil thought he could take tonight. He shook his head. “No, sir,” he said. Nick stroked him a few times, humming to himself in thought.
“You’re sure?” he asked. “You can control yourself?” Gil nodded, barely restraining a shudder.
“Yes, sir. I can.” Nick kissed his shoulder.
“Good.” He started circling again. Gil wished he could turn his head to watch, but kept looking forward, enjoying the tingle of uncertainty when Nick disappeared from his line of sight. Nick stopped again, just off his left shoulder, and tapped the riding crop across his back. It tickled. And teased.
“Whadya say we try something new, hmm?” Nick asked, and a second later the crop sliced through the air and landed on his back. It wasn’t very hard, but it made him jump. They’d never discussed flogging, although he’d wondered about it. Pain had never struck him as a great aphrodisiac, but this was something different. Nick landed another blow, no harder than the first, and his skin prickled; coming to life in response and anticipation.
“Do you like that?” Nick asked, circling again.
“Yes, sir,” Gil answered with no small amount of awe. Nick grinned knowingly.
“I thought you might.”
Nick disappeared behind him again, and Gil tensed, waiting for the next blow. It still surprised him. So did the next, coming so quickly on the heels of the previous one. Nick came to stand in front of him again.
“Do you know why I’m doing this?” he asked.
“Because you want to,” Gil answered instantly, and with great appreciation. It felt so good, so wonderful, being subject to Nick’s whims.
The crop came up and caught him under the jaw, turning his head and holding it in place, inches away from Nick’s face. “Not quite,” he said, leaning closer. Their lips were almost touching. Gil wanted to be kissed so badly. “Say it, Gil,” Nick insisted.
“Because you love me,” Gil said, and Nick kissed him. He brought both hands up to hold Gil’s face, and this time he let Gil be an active participant. Nick could play at control and indifference all he wanted, but Gil knew better and right now he was being vindicated. Nick was starving, trying to take as much of Gil as he could in one go.
“On the bed,” he ordered when he pulled away. “On your back. And close your eyes.”
Gil had a pretty good idea what was coming next, and he lay down, eyes closed and arms over his head. And indeed, Nick pulled the restraints out, cuffing Gil’s hands to the headboard. He kissed him again, briefly, then started trailing his mouth down.
And then he was gone. He chewed his lip, puzzled and frustrated, but didn’t open his eyes. Almost before he really had the chance to miss Nick, the bed dipped and he was back.
Something cold touched his chest, and he almost yelped, but instead just gasped in surprise. It was the ice from Nick’s drink. Nick dragged the cube across Gil’s flushed, heated skin, causing Gil’s already labored breathing to wheeze and occasionally stop entirely. And then - and this was nearly too much entirely - he bent to lick the trail of ice and scotch from Gil’s chest.
Gil lifted off the bed, whimpering, gasping, nearly choking, but keeping his eyes shut and his vocal chords still. Nick chuckled, and evil, intoxicating sound, and ran the ice cube over one of Gil’s nipples.
Gil’s blood was humming; the high frequency vibrating his entire body, while Nick maintained a slow, steady pace to this gratifying torture. By the time all the ice had been melted, and summarily licked away, Gil had long sense forgotten who or where he was. It was all he could do to stay aware of Nick’s hands and Nick’s voice.
“I love that you let me do this,” Nick was saying into his skin. “Love that you get off on it.”
Gil hadn’t noticed when he’d gotten the lube, and didn’t care when Nick’s fingers worked their way inside him. He gasped and arched, trying to make the angle better, to hurry this along. He heard a zipper, and moaned.
“Open your eyes,” Nick whispered. Gil did, and looked down to see that Nick wasn’t bothering to get undressed. His pants were open and his cock was out and Gil thought he might burn up.
“You ready? You want it now?” Nick asked.
“Yes, sir,” Gil gasped. “Please.”
Thankfully, Nick was done being a tease. With a little maneuvering to get Gil into position, he was inside and moving hard. The metal zipper was surprisingly cold against his skin, but the feel of the leather against his thighs was more than an even trade. Nick’s hands were grasping hard on his hips, pulling him up and forward for greater leverage and Gil felt overwhelmingly, liberating, helpless.
When Nick wanted to, he could be downright wicked. And he wanted to now. Even as strung out as they both were he started slow, building speed and anticipation. He still hadn’t laid a hand on Gil’s cock, although that was probably just as well; the strain of holding on, waiting for Nick’s permission to come had nearly grated through all of his reserves.
But that didn’t mean that his hands were idle. He pinched as much as he caressed and stroked; soothing and aggravating Gil’s skin in almost the same instant. And Gil was almost too far gone to care. All he had to do was wait; hang on for a little longer. When Nick decided the time was right it would be wonderful. Glorious. Well worth his patience.
“Let it go,” Nick gasped, finally, finally, wrapping one hand around Gil’s cock, and Gil did. He let himself be overcome by the sensation, the significance, and by Nick himself. He thought he shouted when he came, but the haze of overpowering stimulus blinded and deafened him. He barely noticed when Nick came, although it did spark an echo of pleasure in his own heart.
As soon as Nick recovered, and Gil was in no condition to gauge how long that took, he reached up and unfastened Gil’s restraints, kissing his hands as he pulled them down.
“Thank you,” Gil said, kissing Nick’s cheek.
“Mmm,” Nick said, flopping onto the pillow, one arm draped over Gil’s chest. It took a while for their breathing to return to normal. When it did, Nick made a frustrated sound and sat up, quickly.
“What?” Gil said, rolling over to look at him.
“Gotta…” Nick grunted, “get these off.” He struggled with the buckles on his boots. “Now!” Gil suppressed a chuckle as Nick growled and wrestled with one then the other. “There,” he said, tossing them on the floor. “Damn things.”
Gil rubbed a hand over Nick’s back. “They look good on you.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Nick said, standing up to remove his pants and shirt. “You’ve got the easy part of this deal, you know,” he teased, now struggling to get the tight leather over his hips. “You should try getting into all this.”
“You want some help?” Gil offered, sitting up. Nick shook his head.
“Nah, I got it.” And he did. He crawled back onto the bed, pulling the blankets up over both of them. Gil put an arm around him, hugging him close. It was a perfect moment; full of contentment, pleasure, joy and gratitude. As physically tired as he was right now, it felt as though his soul had been rekindled; washed, cared for, and put back lighter and cleaner than before.
He wished there was a way to explain the feeling to Nick. He settled for kissing him instead.
“So,” Nick asked, after a while. “What’s for dinner?” Gil laughed.
“Whatever you want. I’m not cooking. I don’t think I’m moving for another few hours.”
“Right. Take-out it is,” Nick said. “Should I decide?” Gil looked up at him, blinking innocently.
“Whatever you want,” he said, smirking. “Sir.”
Author: Knightmusic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Challenge (if applicable): Written for the Gil Grissom Fuh-Q-Fest. Response to kink challenge #3: submissive!Gil.
Summary: It's only the truly powerful who can give up control.
Author's Note/Warnings: Just some quick pr0n while I finish the sequel to "Smoke and Mirrors." Thanks to laurelgardner for feeding the bunny. This story contains a D/s relationship, bondage, and light flogging, so consider yourself warned. Or consider those bonus points. Up to you.
Disclaimer: Yeah, read this story and you'll understand why I don't own CSI. None of my ideas would fly on network TV.
By the way, this is revised (slightly) from the version that appeared on my journal. If you read it there, know that I've added a few...details here and there.
They were running late. It was almost entirely Gil’s fault, and he knew it. He was trying to hurry things along, picking up what he needed, checking one last time that he hadn’t left the stove on or anything stupid like that.
“Gil, movie starts in twenty-five minutes,” Nick called in from the door.
“Just a minute,” Gil said, absently. There was something he was forgetting. It always felt like that.
“Gil!” Nick shouted, clapping his hands for emphasis. “Now!”
And suddenly Gil couldn’t remember what he’d been looking for. He had the sudden, inexplicable urge to say “yes, sir,” and something deep inside him sat up and took keen interest in the situation. He’d never heard that tone of voice before.
He’d heard Nick yell. Oh, god, had he heard Nick yell. But he’d been too busy doing some impressive yelling of his own to really pay attention. But this wasn’t like that. Nick wasn’t angry, wasn’t really even irritated. If they missed the movie, they’d just grab something to eat and catch a later one. But there was intensity there, force behind the words.
Nick had expected obedience. And Gil wanted to obey. Very much.
* * *
The thought stuck with him for days, and he puzzled over it. He and Nick had worked so hard in their relationship to make sure everything was equal, and it was one of the things Gil held most dear. No one was in charge; they were partners. In everything. Hard to do when he was still Nick’s boss, but they’d managed. It was a great achievement, and he was proud of it.
And yet now there was this voice whispering soft, wicked ideas in the back of his mind, and he couldn’t ignore it. He loved the stability that came of their shared authority, and yet…
…and yet, it always felt so good, so unexpectedly, liberatingly good when Nick took the lead, even a little bit. Whether it was when he decided what they were going to have for dinner, or when he decided that lovemaking was going to happen on his terms, it was a blissful, euphoric rush for Gil.
He liked being told what to do.
No, more than that, he wanted, needed to be told. But only by Nicky.
He’d never been ordered around much in his life. It hadn’t been his mother’s style, and as he got older, he did what needed to be done before anyone had to tell him. Ecklie tried to dictate his life and job to him, but it mostly backfired; giving rise to a streak of contrariness in Gil that normally didn’t get exercised.
But Nicky… Well, he’d do anything for Nicky anyway. He’d never said as much, but Nick knew that. At least, Gil hoped he knew that. He certainly meant it.
These thoughts peaked his curiosity, and for the next few weeks, he began testing the theory in subtle ways; trying to awaken that authoritative demeanor in Nick and see if a willing, submissive part of himself responded. He kept it innocent at first, pretending he didn’t hear when Nick asked him something, making him repeat himself, deliberately tripping quirks of Nick’s, like leaving his shoes in the entryway, leaving the music set too loud, nothing that would make Nick angry, but enough to earn him a different kind of attention.
To his surprise, it worked. In many ways. Nick didn’t get angry, Gil was too subtle and random about when he tried something for Nick to realize the actions were intentional, but each time he firmly and deliberately voiced his feelings on the matter. It made Gil shiver, and quickly agree to abide by Nick’s wishes.
He tried it in bed, too. Drawing his actions out, teasing more than he ever had before. He worked tongue, lips, teeth and hands over Nick’s body; stringing him along, playing him, testing, stretching and pushing his breaking point. All so he could hear those incredibly powerful words.
“Gil! Now!”
Your wish is my command, Gil thought, and gave himself completely over to Nick’s wishes. Their combined satisfied moans filled his ears and soothed his soul long after they had both collapsed in breathless, satisfied heaps.
There was no doubt in his mind anymore. He knew what he wanted. The problem was in how to ask for it. It was not a new problem for him. He never had the words; especially not when he needed them the most.
It was one of the reasons he and Nick were so perfectly matched; why they worked so beautifully together. Gil never had to ask. Nick always knew. Everything. Anything. Whatever Gil wanted, it was like Nicky had already researched it and become the newest expert.
So it stayed just a thought; a wonderful, exciting idea that he couldn’t find a way to broach.
* * *
They were sitting on the couch, watching TV, in what had become one of Gil’s favorite positions ever; the human pillow. He was sitting between Nick’s legs, his back against Nicky’s chest; enjoying the low-intensity intimacy.
“Hand me the remote, would ya, Gil?” Nick asked, and Gil saw an opportunity. He picked up the remote, turned to look at Nick and raised a teasing eyebrow. He held the remote out of reach.
“Hey, c’mon,” Nick protested. “Give it here.” Gil smirked and refused.
“Gil, I mean it,” Nick’s voice became plaintive, bordering on frustrated. “I really don’t want to watch this.” Gil glanced at the screen. Something about caves and bats was starting. “It really creeps me out,” Nick added.
Ah. Not the time to be playing this game. He handed the remote to Nick, who switched off the TV.
“What’s with you, lately?” Nick said, trying his best to look Gil in the eye.
“What do you mean?” Gil asked, innocently.
“All this shit you’ve been pulling,” Nick answered. He didn’t sound angry. Mostly confused. “You trying to get a rise out of me or something?”
Gil grinned. “I’m always interested in getting a rise out of you, Nicky,” he said, and wriggled meaningfully. Nick laughed, albeit briefly, at that.
“Yeah, well, there are better ways of doing that,” he said, swatting Gil on the back of his head. “So what are you after? You trying to tell me something?”
Yes, I am, Gil thought. But still, he didn’t have the words to make Nick understand. He didn’t even know what, exactly, he was asking for.
“If something’s wrong, Gil, we can work it out,” Nick said. He sounded worried.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Gil assured, quickly. “It’s just…” he couldn’t think of a way to finish that.
“Just what? Talk to me, Gil.”
And that was almost enough. Close enough to an actual command that Gil almost had the words. Almost had them forced out of him without thinking. Almost.
“I’m… not sure I can explain,” he said, finally. Hesitantly. Nick hugged him.
“Well try. It’s not like I’m going to laugh at you and leave, is it?”
No, it wasn’t. Nick was in this for the long haul. It had taken Gil a while to believe that, but he did now. It was why he trusted him so much. Why he was willing to trust him with this. He closed his eyes and leaned back against Nick, pressed his forehead against Nick’s cheek, felt Nick’s breath on his face, and felt so at ease, so comfortable, so safe.
“Make me,” he whispered.
“What?” Nick asked, doing a fabulous job of maintaining his composure even though he was very obviously surprised out of his mind. “Make you do what?”
Gil turned around as much as he could to look at Nick straight on. “Anything,” he said, and suddenly he had the words. “Anything at all. I’ll do it.” He didn’t think Nick was going to laugh at him, but he still wondered if he was making himself clear.
“I’m not sure I follow you,” Nick said. Gil pressed his tongue between his teeth, thinking, trying to find a way to express what he’d discovered about himself.
“I need,” he began, chewing his lip a little. “No, let me say this better. I get tired of being in charge; at work, keeping my life together, everything.” This wasn’t easy. Not as bad as he’d been afraid it might be; it helped being so close to Nicky, pressed so close together, but freed from the need to meet his eyes.
“Sometimes, I…need a respite. I need someone else to make the decisions; to be in charge.”
“Gil,” Nick said, taking Gil’s hand and hugging him a little tighter to his chest. He sounded worried. “I’m sorry if I’ve been slacking or something. I never wanted you to feel like you had to take care of me-”
Gil raised a hand, cutting him off and shaking his head. “No, Nicky, that’s not it. I don’t feel like that at all.” He gave Nick’s hand a squeeze and turned his head, pressing his face against Nick’s collar bone. “You’re a perfect partner,” he said, softly, with a little more reserve.
“We don’t need to ‘fix’ anything,” he continued. “What I’m asking for is…” he looked at the ceiling, searching for the word. “An indulgence,” he decided, looking back at Nick.
For a few seconds there was only the sound and feel of Nick’s breath against his cheek. “Okay,” Nick said at last, very quietly. “Okay, I think I can work with this.” He sat them up, moving Gil off him a little so they could look at each other. “Just what are we talking about, exactly?”
Gil smiled, feeling suddenly relieved. “I’m not quite sure yet,” he said. “What I do know, is that when you’re giving orders, you’re very sexy. It’s quite the turn on.”
Nick stared at him, open mouthed. “Oh,” he said, quietly. And slowly, his expression changed. It started as puzzlement, and then all of a sudden, he looked as though he had gotten the best present he could ever have asked for. Something in Gil swelled in joy and pride with the knowledge that he had put that look on Nick’s face.
“We can definitely work with this,” Nick said. He was still grinning broadly. He tipped his head back, thinking for a few minutes, and when he looked down again, he was nearly laughing.
“God, that makes sense!”
Gil blinked at him. “It does?”
“Yeah, it does! Everything! How you-” he shook his head, suddenly. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later, if you want, let’s just…figure this out for now.”
They talked about it for a long time. Even if Gil couldn’t quite articulate it, Nick seemed to be asking the right questions. It was part of why he loved Nick, after all. Nick could read him.
* * *
Coming home had never felt so good. It would have been better if it could have happened two hours ago like he’d planned; staying late if he was actually working was fine, but staying late spinning his wheels in a battle of wills with Ecklie and Atwater…well, that was enough to make him want to go home and stay there. For an indeterminate period of time. It didn’t matter that, eventually, he’d swayed them to see it his way.
All he wanted now was to lay down with a drink. Preferably with his head in Nicky’s lap.
The house was quiet when he walked in. Odd, Nick had left the lab on time, and his truck was parked in the driveway. He’d expected to see him when he walked in. Maybe he’d already gone to bed. Gil hung up his jacket and headed to the kitchen.
“I was wondering when you’d get home,” Nick said from behind him. Gil reached the refrigerator and opened it, taking out a bottle of water without turning around.
“Sorry, Nick,” he said. “Ecklie and Atwater were-”
“What did you call me?”
Gil froze.
Oh. So that’s how it was. His blood rushed just a little louder and hotter at that particular combination of inflection, timbre and intent in Nick’s voice. It captured and held every part of Gil at complete attention. It had taken time, experimentation and practice before they got it just right, but now Nick could find it at will.
Gil turned around, slowly, to look at Nick. The sight nearly knocked him to his knees, but he maintained himself. That comes later, he thought with a delightful shudder.
Neither one of them had been terribly keen on elaborate apparel, but had quickly discovered that a little light costuming brought out hitherto unknown bravado in Nick. And Gil had been more than happy for the excuse to get Nicky into a pair of tight, black leather pants. The blue silk shirt, worn open with no undershirt, only added to the visual appeal. But the boots were the real prize, and the way Nick was leaning back, propping his feet up on Gil’s desk, showed them off beautifully.
Gil had run across them and bought them, knowing that Nick never would himself, but that he would love them. And look fabulous in them. They were black, shiny, came up to his knees, and buckled in three places. The soles were thick, almost platforms, and had tiny silver spikes across the arch.
They were boots that meant business. And so did Nick when he wore them.
Gil realized, suddenly, that Nick was waiting for an answer. Much as he’d like to stand and ogle his lover for a while, he’d best do as he was expected. He had to re-wet his lips to speak; his whole mouth had gone suddenly dry.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “sir.”
Nick nodded and stood up, swinging his legs off the desk. The boots made a thick, heavy, satisfying thunk on the bare floors as he came into the kitchen. “That’s better,” he said. He didn’t look overtly pleased, but neither did he look upset either. Nick had developed a decent poker face since they’d begun this ritual. Gil probably could have logged his tells and learned to read him, but the surprises were so much more fun.
He took his time coming to stand in front of Gil, and when he got there, he leaned lazily against the bar. Gil hadn’t budged an inch since he’d first laid eyes on Nick. He was barely breathing, but his pulse was fluttering with excitement. Nick nodded at the bottle of water he was holding.
“Give me that,” he said. Gil handed it over before he’d completely registered Nick’s words. That wasn’t unusual. Something about Nick’s voice overrode the part of his brain that evaluated validity of orders. It was a little like being drunk, or hypnotized. And Nick wouldn’t ask him to do anything unreasonable.
He watched Nick open the bottle of water and take a long drink; admired the curve of his lips around the bottle and the way the muscles of his throat moved as he swallowed. Every motion he made seemed slowed down and deliberate.
“You thirsty?” he asked. Gil nodded. Nick reached out his hand to take Gil by the arm.
“Come here.” He pulled Gil forward, turning him around and hugging him close, Gil’s back to his chest.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” Gil sagged a little bit, letting his body give in the way his mind already was; letting Nick support him. Nick raised the water bottle to Gil’s lips and tilted it for Gil to drink. He was mouthing Gil’s ear as he drank, and Gil would have sighed if he could have. Nick kept at it after he took the bottle away and set it on the counter. Both his arms came up around Gil, as much an embrace as holding him still.
“I asked Catherine about your meeting,” he whispered. Even for its lack of volume, the intensity and proximity of Nick’s voice made him shiver. “She told me what was up with Ecklie and the Sheriff.” His mouth moved across Gil’s jaw, and down his neck.
“They want you to do things their way, don’t they?” he said into the hollow of Gil’s throat. Gil couldn’t nod with Nick in the way, and couldn’t quite bring himself to talk, but made an affirmative noise. Nick smiled.
“I’m guessing you wouldn’t back down, would you?” Gil shook his head, muttering a “no.” Nick slid around to stand in front of him, hands coming up to cradle his head. He was smiling in a knowing, proud, proprietary way.
“They can’t get you to do what they want,” he said. “Only I get to do that, am I right?” Gil shivered again, despite the fact that he suddenly felt much warmer than he had moments ago. Nick was right. It was true. So wonderfully true.
“Yes,” he whispered, smiling. Nick’s eyes narrowed, focusing intense energy into Gil’s.
“Yes, what?” he asked, warning in his voice.
“Yes, sir,” Gil answered. He liked saying it; he got a delicious rush from it. But it was even better when Nick made him say it.
Nick grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him against the refrigerator, pinning him in place. “That’s better,” he said, and kissed him. It wasn’t a gentle kiss.
His hands moved down Gil’s arms, taking his wrists and pinning them over his head. Gil tried to kiss back, but Nick wasn’t interested in making this a mutual sharing experience. It was full of force, and teeth, and tongue and Nick’s own agenda, which didn’t involve any give. Just take;. It was times like this that Gil was suddenly reminded of just how strong Nick really was. Not overpoweringly so, but easily enough that he could assert his own will by physical means.
When Nick released his mouth they were both breathing heavily. “This is what you need tonight, isn’t it?” Nick asked. Gil nodded.
“Yes, sir,” he answered. Odd how the same words could have so many different meanings. They were almost a plea now. Nick grinned.
“Thought so,” he said. “Go into the bedroom, get undressed and wait for me,” he instructed, stepping back and freeing Gil. Gil nodded and left the kitchen.
Nick would probably take his time, but then again, they were still mostly making this up as they went along. He might take choose a different tactic this time and follow immediately. In any case, he was best off doing exactly as he was told. There was a high backed wooden chair in one corner of their bedroom. He stripped quickly and went over to kneel on the carpet in front of it.
Some part in the back of his mind sat back and watched all this, and wondered at it. It wondered why he didn’t feel ridiculous like this; why it was turning him on. Other than the fact that Nick looked damn good in leather, and commanded sexual energy strong enough to power their whole house when he did this. And he whispered back to that part of his mind, that it felt so good.
He heard Nick enter the room, heard the tinkling of ice as he sipped his drink, but Gil didn’t look up. “Good,” Nick said, and began circling him; inspecting him. Gil was sure he could feel Nick’s gaze, it was that strong; almost a caress over his bare skin.
“But even better would be…” Nick murmured, thinking out loud. “On all fours. Facing the wall,” he ordered, coming to a stop behind him. Gil hurried to comply, feeling excited and curious at the same time. This could mean any number of things… He shushed the thought; it was much better to wait and find out than speculate.
Finally, Nick took a seat in the chair, and Gil waiting, heart pounding in anticipation. After several eternal seconds, Nick swung his feet up and rested them on Gil’s back, crossing them at the ankles, and relaxed completely in his seat.
“So tell me about it,” Nick said.
“Sir?” Gil asked, suddenly feeling terribly off balance. He’d never been made to be Nick’s footstool before, and they’d certainly never chatted about work while engaged in a scene. He wanted to look up, get some kind of reading from Nick’s face, but there was no chance of that.
“Ecklie and Atwater. Tell me about it. What did they want?”
Gil still didn’t understand what Nick was getting after, but he shrugged inwardly and started speaking. “They’re concerned about my ‘efficiency,’” he made a face at the word.
“They think I take too long to close a case. I told them cases get done when they get done. I’m not about to cut corners to fit their agendas.” He thought he heard Nick laugh, just a little at that.
“Why do you think that upsets them so much?” Nick asked. Gil didn’t answer. He had no idea what Nick was driving at with this. He was sure there was an answer Nick was expecting, but he’d be damned if he could figure it out.
“Gil?” Nick said, and shifted, reaching down to pick something up off the floor. “I can practically hear you thinking,” he said, and Gil realized what Nick had picked up seconds before the riding crop swatted him lightly, but still reprimandingly, on the backside. “None of that. Just answer me.”
“I don’t know,” Gil said. It was the only honest answer he could give.
Nick made a disgusted sound. “You know better than that,” he said, and swung his legs off Gil’s back and sat up.
“Sit up,” he said, his voice suddenly more firm. Gil shifted positions quickly, and then the crop was under his chin, lifting his head. “Look at me,” Nick said, and Gil raised his eyes.
“Why does that upset them so much?” he asked again. Gil sighed. He wondered that himself, so very often. Why his best efforts were always reprimanded.
“Gil?” Nick asked, leaning forward and pressing his palm against Gil’s face. “Don’t keep me waiting. I don’t like it,” he said, tracing his hand over Gil’s cheek, sliding through the hair at his temple. He still didn’t know how to answer; nothing about the situation made any kind of sense in his world.
“Maybe they expect better from me,” he suggested.
Nick back handed him. Not hard, it didn’t even hurt, but it was surprising. He gasped, blinking, and looked up in confusion. Nick was glaring at him. “Don’t lie to me, Gil,” he said, leveling a finger at him. “You know that’s not true. So what’s the answer? Really?”
Now he understood. Nick was using his current position to make a point. Gil sighed. “I make them look bad,” he said, using the words that Nick had so often spoken. As he said them, something inside him knew they were true, and he felt a warm rush of gratitude at being made to say them.
“That’s right,” Nick said, his voice instantly gentle again. “You need to trust me, Gil. There are some things that I just know better than you do.”
“Yes, sir,” Gil said. It had never felt so good to lose an argument.
“Good,” Nick said, and leaned forward. “I’m proud of you,” he said, and held his right hand out in front of Gil’s face. Gil responded to the signal instantly, and didn’t need instruction. He took Nick’s hand in both of his and kissed the back of it; paying homage to his lord.
Nick cupped his face, fingers stroking his jaw. His thumb slid across Gil’s cheekbone he opened his mouth when it reached his lips. He sucked and licked gently, cradling it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Nick hummed, contentedly, but drew his hand away far too soon for Gil’s liking.
He sat back again, and Gil dropped his eyes, listening to him take another sip of his drink. Scotch, probably. Nick had adopted Gil’s taste in single-malts shortly after they’d begun seeing each other.
Gil stared at Nick’s boots and waited for the next move. He wondered what it would be like to lick them. They’d never discussed that idea before, and it had never occurred to him before now, but suddenly he was insatiably curious. Still, he didn’t want to make the decision himself. He’d wait until he was told.
“So what should I do with you, tonight?” Nick mused. It was a rhetorical question. He’d be more direct about it if he wanted Gil to answer. Gil stared down, waiting. “You look good enough to eat,” he continued. “Is that what I should do?” The riding crop returned, lifting his chin again.
“If that’s what you want,” Gil answered. “Sir,” he added.
“What I want,” Nick said, thinking. He sipped his drink again. “I want a show,” he said. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, sitting back and making himself comfortable.
The mild arousal that had been simmering since Nick had pinned him against the refrigerator suddenly heated to a boil. Hardly aware of what he was doing, he slid his hand from where it rested on his thigh over to his groin.
“Slowly,” Nick cautioned. “Fingertips only.” Again, that heated shiver seized Gil. His fingertips drifted over his cock, eyes closing at the sensation.
“Eyes open,” Nick commanded. “Look at me.” Gil’s eyes flew open, seeking Nick’s. He drew his other hand over his balls, breathing harder now, both because of the sensation and the expression on Nick’s face. Nick wasn’t meeting Gil’s eyes. He was focused lower on Gil’s body, completely enraptured in a ravenous, possessive way.
His hands kept the same, slow, purposeful pace; tracing the length, rolling over the head, sliding down to caress his balls again. He had to fight to keep his eyes open, and his breathing was labored and interspersed with soft moans.
Nick sipped his drink.
It wasn’t that Nick was disinterested, that much was easy to tell. His eyes were lust-black and the focused stare was almost giving off physical heat. And the leather pants weren’t hiding anything, either. Observing Nick’s reactions prompted the most intense rush in Gil. It almost distracted him from his own needy state. Almost.
He needed more than just this scant teasing. He whimpered, very softly, but Nick heard it.
“That’s enough,” Nick said. “Stand up.” Gil did, with difficulty. He was a ball of tension and shaking just a bit. Nick took a final sip of his drink, finishing it, and stood up. He ran his hand over his mouth, looking Gil over carefully. Then he started to circle, deliberately tapping the riding crop in his other hand.
“I’d like to keep you like this all the time,” he whispered in Gil’s ear. “You look incredible.” He reached down and wrapped his hand around Gil’s cock. “How long can you stay like this?” he asked. “Do I need to help you out?”
Helping would mean a cock ring. And while that could be fun, it would encourage Nick to draw this out longer than Gil thought he could take tonight. He shook his head. “No, sir,” he said. Nick stroked him a few times, humming to himself in thought.
“You’re sure?” he asked. “You can control yourself?” Gil nodded, barely restraining a shudder.
“Yes, sir. I can.” Nick kissed his shoulder.
“Good.” He started circling again. Gil wished he could turn his head to watch, but kept looking forward, enjoying the tingle of uncertainty when Nick disappeared from his line of sight. Nick stopped again, just off his left shoulder, and tapped the riding crop across his back. It tickled. And teased.
“Whadya say we try something new, hmm?” Nick asked, and a second later the crop sliced through the air and landed on his back. It wasn’t very hard, but it made him jump. They’d never discussed flogging, although he’d wondered about it. Pain had never struck him as a great aphrodisiac, but this was something different. Nick landed another blow, no harder than the first, and his skin prickled; coming to life in response and anticipation.
“Do you like that?” Nick asked, circling again.
“Yes, sir,” Gil answered with no small amount of awe. Nick grinned knowingly.
“I thought you might.”
Nick disappeared behind him again, and Gil tensed, waiting for the next blow. It still surprised him. So did the next, coming so quickly on the heels of the previous one. Nick came to stand in front of him again.
“Do you know why I’m doing this?” he asked.
“Because you want to,” Gil answered instantly, and with great appreciation. It felt so good, so wonderful, being subject to Nick’s whims.
The crop came up and caught him under the jaw, turning his head and holding it in place, inches away from Nick’s face. “Not quite,” he said, leaning closer. Their lips were almost touching. Gil wanted to be kissed so badly. “Say it, Gil,” Nick insisted.
“Because you love me,” Gil said, and Nick kissed him. He brought both hands up to hold Gil’s face, and this time he let Gil be an active participant. Nick could play at control and indifference all he wanted, but Gil knew better and right now he was being vindicated. Nick was starving, trying to take as much of Gil as he could in one go.
“On the bed,” he ordered when he pulled away. “On your back. And close your eyes.”
Gil had a pretty good idea what was coming next, and he lay down, eyes closed and arms over his head. And indeed, Nick pulled the restraints out, cuffing Gil’s hands to the headboard. He kissed him again, briefly, then started trailing his mouth down.
And then he was gone. He chewed his lip, puzzled and frustrated, but didn’t open his eyes. Almost before he really had the chance to miss Nick, the bed dipped and he was back.
Something cold touched his chest, and he almost yelped, but instead just gasped in surprise. It was the ice from Nick’s drink. Nick dragged the cube across Gil’s flushed, heated skin, causing Gil’s already labored breathing to wheeze and occasionally stop entirely. And then - and this was nearly too much entirely - he bent to lick the trail of ice and scotch from Gil’s chest.
Gil lifted off the bed, whimpering, gasping, nearly choking, but keeping his eyes shut and his vocal chords still. Nick chuckled, and evil, intoxicating sound, and ran the ice cube over one of Gil’s nipples.
Gil’s blood was humming; the high frequency vibrating his entire body, while Nick maintained a slow, steady pace to this gratifying torture. By the time all the ice had been melted, and summarily licked away, Gil had long sense forgotten who or where he was. It was all he could do to stay aware of Nick’s hands and Nick’s voice.
“I love that you let me do this,” Nick was saying into his skin. “Love that you get off on it.”
Gil hadn’t noticed when he’d gotten the lube, and didn’t care when Nick’s fingers worked their way inside him. He gasped and arched, trying to make the angle better, to hurry this along. He heard a zipper, and moaned.
“Open your eyes,” Nick whispered. Gil did, and looked down to see that Nick wasn’t bothering to get undressed. His pants were open and his cock was out and Gil thought he might burn up.
“You ready? You want it now?” Nick asked.
“Yes, sir,” Gil gasped. “Please.”
Thankfully, Nick was done being a tease. With a little maneuvering to get Gil into position, he was inside and moving hard. The metal zipper was surprisingly cold against his skin, but the feel of the leather against his thighs was more than an even trade. Nick’s hands were grasping hard on his hips, pulling him up and forward for greater leverage and Gil felt overwhelmingly, liberating, helpless.
When Nick wanted to, he could be downright wicked. And he wanted to now. Even as strung out as they both were he started slow, building speed and anticipation. He still hadn’t laid a hand on Gil’s cock, although that was probably just as well; the strain of holding on, waiting for Nick’s permission to come had nearly grated through all of his reserves.
But that didn’t mean that his hands were idle. He pinched as much as he caressed and stroked; soothing and aggravating Gil’s skin in almost the same instant. And Gil was almost too far gone to care. All he had to do was wait; hang on for a little longer. When Nick decided the time was right it would be wonderful. Glorious. Well worth his patience.
“Let it go,” Nick gasped, finally, finally, wrapping one hand around Gil’s cock, and Gil did. He let himself be overcome by the sensation, the significance, and by Nick himself. He thought he shouted when he came, but the haze of overpowering stimulus blinded and deafened him. He barely noticed when Nick came, although it did spark an echo of pleasure in his own heart.
As soon as Nick recovered, and Gil was in no condition to gauge how long that took, he reached up and unfastened Gil’s restraints, kissing his hands as he pulled them down.
“Thank you,” Gil said, kissing Nick’s cheek.
“Mmm,” Nick said, flopping onto the pillow, one arm draped over Gil’s chest. It took a while for their breathing to return to normal. When it did, Nick made a frustrated sound and sat up, quickly.
“What?” Gil said, rolling over to look at him.
“Gotta…” Nick grunted, “get these off.” He struggled with the buckles on his boots. “Now!” Gil suppressed a chuckle as Nick growled and wrestled with one then the other. “There,” he said, tossing them on the floor. “Damn things.”
Gil rubbed a hand over Nick’s back. “They look good on you.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Nick said, standing up to remove his pants and shirt. “You’ve got the easy part of this deal, you know,” he teased, now struggling to get the tight leather over his hips. “You should try getting into all this.”
“You want some help?” Gil offered, sitting up. Nick shook his head.
“Nah, I got it.” And he did. He crawled back onto the bed, pulling the blankets up over both of them. Gil put an arm around him, hugging him close. It was a perfect moment; full of contentment, pleasure, joy and gratitude. As physically tired as he was right now, it felt as though his soul had been rekindled; washed, cared for, and put back lighter and cleaner than before.
He wished there was a way to explain the feeling to Nick. He settled for kissing him instead.
“So,” Nick asked, after a while. “What’s for dinner?” Gil laughed.
“Whatever you want. I’m not cooking. I don’t think I’m moving for another few hours.”
“Right. Take-out it is,” Nick said. “Should I decide?” Gil looked up at him, blinking innocently.
“Whatever you want,” he said, smirking. “Sir.”