One Good Man by geekwriter [Reviews - 0]
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When Nick turned the key in the ignition, his car filled with the sound of "Thank God I'm a Country Boy," and he was a little glad that Greg declined his offer of a ride home because he was pretty sure he didn't want Greg to know that he listened to John Denver.

And of course Greg didn't need a ride, of course he'd driven his own car to the airport, but part of Nick was disappointed and a little worried because if Greg drove himself home then it meant that the next time they'd see each other was at work, and Nick wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do with that. He didn't know how he'd feel when he saw Greg back in the lab like nothing had happened, if he'd be able to keep his mind on work, if he'd feel too embarrassed to look Greg in the eye.

Part of him wondered if coming home would break the spell, if just leaving the foggy rain soaked streets of San Francisco would somehow break the bond between them, if the hot sun of the desert would somehow burn away everything they'd said, everything they'd done. But on the drive home he found himself singing along to the "Annie's Song," blissfully belting out, "Come let me love you, let me give my life to you, let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms," and he knew just a change of venue wasn't going to be enough to stop whatever crazy thing it was that they'd started.

Jesus. What had they started? Not only was it the first relationship he'd had in over a decade that lasted longer than a few hours, not only was he getting involved with a guy he worked with, he was getting involved with Greg. Greg, who apparently had the power to make Nick sing along to sappy love songs without caring what the other drivers on the road thought of him. Beautiful Greg, whose cheerful facade hid demons Nick hadn't even come close to suspecting.

He'd always assumed that he knew Greg. They'd worked together for years at a job that virtually guaranteed that you got to know the people you worked with. It wasn't just the hours, though that was definitely a factor. It was that no one else could ever understand what they did, what they went through, why they worked crazy hours and double shifts and gave up so much for what people on the outside assumed was just a job.

When Nick dreamed, he frequently dreamed of dead bodies, of murder, suicide, industrial accidents. He dreamed of love affairs gone wrong and children turning on their parents and people who were willing to take a human life for the smallest little thing. They weren't nightmares, they were just dreams. The images didn't scare him because being surrounded by death didn't scare him. It was unfortunate, but it was routine, something he saw every day. Most people couldn't understand it even if they tried. The only people who understood were the other people that did it, and that kind of understanding generated strong friendships.

And Greg might not have seen as much as Nick had, but he'd dealt with it all before in the lab. Nick thought that Greg was one of the people that understood him, that they'd been friends. He hadn't expected Greg to have so many secrets.

He'd seen him Greg as a geek. Not that Nick wasn't a geek, but he hid it well and had developed other hobbies after getting his ass kicked nearly every day of middle school.

He'd always assumed that the mentions of surfing, rock climbing, scuba diving had been nothing but Greg's overactive imagination. He'd always assumed that when Greg hinted about whatever girl he was dating that he was either exaggerating or downright lying. He'd always assumed Greg's thinly veiled references to unusual sexual practices were just proof of Greg's own sexual frustration. Because Greg was a science geek, and no way was he getting better and wilder sex than Nick.

Only, Greg probably had been. He'd probably been telling the truth every time. Beautiful blondes, liquid latex, who knew what else he'd done?

*And then I started dating this girl, and she was into P&P—party and pleasure—so I started it again. I started doing it when we had sex.*

Nick tried to push the idea out of his head, Greg getting high before having sex with some random woman. Greg snorting meth in order to, what? Heighten his sensitivity? Prolong his stamina? Nick remembered reading somewhere that the initial rush of meth created a sensation equal to something like ten orgasms.

As much as it should have, it wasn't the meth that disturbed Nick about the scenario. He knew he should be uncomfortable that for years Greg had been getting high without anyone in the lab ever suspecting the truth. He knew he should be upset that someone he thought he knew had repeatedly and unabashedly broken the law, but that wasn't what bothered him the most. What bothered him was that Greg had done it for sex with someone else.

And the question had been on the tip of his tongue, but he'd never asked it. "Was it better than with me?"

He barely slept, even though the sun was high in the sky. Around six he gave up trying to sleep entirely and went through his mail, listened to the few messages he'd gotten on his answering machine during his three-day absence.

Three days? It had only been three days? His life before San Francisco seemed distant and hazy, like he'd been gone years instead of just a few days. He suspected that the reason he hadn't been able to sleep was because he hadn't had Greg snoring softly beside him.

Driving in to work he had a knot in his stomach the likes of which he hadn't felt since his first day at the Vegas crime lab. What if everyone could tell? Christ, what if Greg talked? He'd never told Greg how important it was for him to keep his private life private, had just assumed Greg knew, but what if he didn't? What if when he walked into work the secretaries giggled as he went past and whispered behind his back? What if Sara looked at him differently and Warrick stopped trusting him and…?

He took a deep breath before turning off his engine. Greg wasn't going to talk about it. It wasn't like he didn't know how to keep a secret. It wasn't like he didn't have secrets of his own.

He asked for his messages at the front desk out of habit. He only had one. It was a slip of paper folded in half and stapled once. Nick pulled it open as he headed towards the break room. It was unsigned, but he knew who it was from. In Greg's erratic scrawl was just one word: breathe.

He smiled as he tucked the note into his pocket.

"Somebody looks well rested," Sara said, looking up from her mug of coffee. "How was the conference? Was it fun? What did you learn?"

"Hold up," Nick said. "Let me get my coffee before you interrogate me."

"It's Greg's coffee," Sara said, cradling the mug in her hands. "I never knew how much I loved it until I had to drink Hodges' coffee for three days." She took a sip and a blissful smile spread across her features. "I love Greg's coffee."

Nick grinned as he poured himself a mug. He didn't mention that he'd had Greg's coffee on a regular basis for the past few days, among other things. Greg's coffee tasted just as good as it had in San Francisco, though it didn't taste nearly as good as his kisses.

Grissom breezed into the room not a moment later to hand out their assignments. Nick got sent out on a home invasion, the wife found beaten, strangled, and possibly sexually assaulted. It was an involved scene, stretching from the backyard all the way to the second story of the house, so Nick didn't have to worry about bumping into Greg for most of the shift.

Around five in the morning he knew he couldn't put it off any longer and he headed towards Greg's lab to get the results of the samples taken from the vic's sheets.

"You didn't happen to find a dog at the scene, did you?" Greg asked, not looking up from the microscope he was staring down.

Nick paused, startled. He didn't know how Greg even knew it was him. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Black lab in the backyard. We figure the perp cut its throat to keep it from barking."

"Maybe," Greg said, sliding back on a rolling stool and swiveling to face Nick. "Maybe not. Stick your nose down the scope."

Nick looked down the microscope. He knew it was impossible, but he was sure he could feel Greg's warmth radiating across the room and all through him. "It's semen," he said.

"Ah, yes, but what kind of semen?"

Nick looked up at him. "It's freaky semen?"

"Not in and of itself, but context is everything. Seeing that it was scraped off a set of 600-thread count sheets, yes, it's freaky. Damn freaky."

"Greg," Nick said with an exasperated sigh.

"When someone's really ugly you say they're a…?"

"Dog," Nick said. He sucked in a sharp breath. "Dog? That's…that's dog…stuff?"

Greg nodded. "I ran it through just to be sure. It's canine all right. Mixed with human vaginal secretions."

Nick shuddered and had to fight the bile rising in his throat. "Jee-zus."

"Maybe the husband came home to find out his wife was having an affair…with his best friend."

Nick shuddered again. "This is no time for jokes, Greg. That kind of thing is just wrong." He couldn't help imagining it, and it made him feel like he needed to scrub out the inside of his skull with a brillo pad.

"I take it from your reaction that you won't want to do it doggy style any time soon," Greg said, a smile playing over his lips.

Nick felt the blush begin in his neck, could actually feel the heat as it spread up through his cheeks and to the tips of his ears.

"Did you get the message I left you?" Greg asked softly. "Now might be a good time to do that."

Nick took a deep breath, then another. When he looked up at Greg the heat spread through his body not because of embarrassment, but because he couldn't help picturing Greg on his hands and knees, back arched, sweat dripping down his spine…

Greg's eyes locked with Nick's, and Nick could tell from the way he moistened his lips with his tongue, from the expression in his eyes that Greg was imagining it, too.

Greg looked away first. He looked down at a sheaf of papers and moved to straighten them. "Why don't we have breakfast later?" he asked, his voice low and slightly husky. "We can…talk."

Nick nodded. Talk. Yeah, they should definitely talk.

Which was how he found himself in Greg's apartment later that morning, though talking was the last thing on his mind.

He grabbed Greg as soon as the front door closed, kissed him fiercely as he tugged and pulled at Greg's clothes. He wrapped his arms around Greg's shoulders and pulled his body close, parted his lips, slipped his tongue into Greg's mouth, frantically kissing and nipping and tasting him.

He pressed forward against Greg's body, slammed him against the wall. His hands slid beneath Greg's shirt, feeling smooth, taut skin and hardened nipples.

"Oh, God," Greg whispered as Nick's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. If he was startled by Nick's sudden arousal he didn't show it.

He yanked Greg's shirt open, popping the last few buttons, slid it down over slim, muscled shoulders, dipped his head to kiss Greg's chin, the hollow where his throat met his jaw, down his collarbone, down across his chest pausing to flick his tongue over a nipple. Greg's fingers slid through his hair as Nick dropped to his knees, kissed Greg's flat stomach, leaned to mouth Greg's cock through his jeans.

His hands were actually trembling as he unbuttoned Greg's jeans, yanked down the zipper, tugged them down along with Greg's boxer-briefs and he groaned, actually groaned with relief as his lips closed around Greg's cock.

He swirled his tongue around the head of Greg's cock, dipped the tip of his tongue into the slit to tease out the salty-sour precum. He started his strokes slowly, teasing, making Greg cry out and shudder as Nick slid his mouth the whole way, burying his nose in Greg's pubes. He continued the slow, teasing strokes, continued to take Greg into his throat every few times.

"Please," Greg whispered. "Jesus, Nick, please." His fingers gripped Nick's hair tighter and he began to thrust his hips forward.

Nick's fingers were strong on Greg's hips and he pressed him back against the wall, holding him in place. "Shhh, baby," Nick whispered after pulling off his cock. He licked from the base to the tip like a lollipop. "Just let me do it."

"Nick, God, I want to…I need to…"

"You will," Nick whispered, tipping his head up so he could look into Greg's eyes. He didn't break eye contact as he parted his lips, took Greg into his mouth again, began to suck him harder, faster.

He slicked a finger with spit and when he slid his hand between Greg's legs, Greg moved his feet further apart to give Nick better access. He tugged at Nick's hair and whimpered as Nick began to finger fuck his ass. He ground his hips forward to slide as much of his cock into Nick's mouth as he could. He ground his hips back to feel Nick's fingers spreading him, filling him, stroking him in just the right spot.

"Nick," he whispered. "I'm gonna…right now I'm gonna…"

Nick either didn't hear Greg's warning or he didn't care. He felt Greg's cock pulse and tasted the bitter cream fill his mouth and he swallowed quickly, swallowed it all, kept sucking until Greg was completely spent. He kept his fingers in Greg's ass, stroking and twisting them slowly. He looked up into Greg's amazed eyes. "Bedroom?" he asked.

"I…" Greg shook his head, unable to think.

Nick stood and slowly slid his fingers out of Greg's ass. "Bedroom," he whispered against Greg's cheek. "Unless you want me to fuck you right here, pressed against the wall."

Greg kissed him, parted his lips, moaned into his mouth, and for a moment Nick thought he wanted to get fucked against the wall, until he whispered, "Bedroom. Down the hall. This way."

They kissed and stumbled their way to the bedroom, pulling clothes away clumsily and not caring where they fell. Greg climbed across the bed and slid open a drawer on his bedside table for condoms and lube, and Nick knelt at the end of the bed, his fist wrapped around his dripping cock, stroking it slowly as he eyed Greg's tight ass.

"God," Nick said as his eyes traveled up and down Greg's naked body. "God, I'm gonna fuck you so good. Get on your knees. I wanna fuck you from behind."

Greg placed the condom packet and the bottle of lube on the bedspread next to Nick's knee, then turned and knelt, propped up on his elbows, his head hanging down against his forearms.

Nick ripped the condom wrapper open, smoothed the latex sheath on. He dripped lube onto his fingers and rubbed it over his cock. He was about to lube up Greg's asshole but instead he leaned down and pressed his tongue against the tight little pucker. Greg gasped and ground back against him.

Nick spread Greg's cheeks with his hands, pressed his face right in there, his tongue licking and swirling and eventually dipping in, and Greg moaned something Nick couldn't quite hear but it sounded like, "Don't stop."

Nick had no intention of stopping. He breathed in Greg's musky scent, reached around to grip Greg's cock and wasn't surprised to find that he was getting hard again; he was still in his 20's, after all.

He fucked Greg with his tongue, felt his pucker tighten and relax, felt it every time Greg shuddered. He licked and sucked until he couldn't stand it, until he had to be inside of that hot little ass. He dripped lube onto his fingers, worked his fingers into Greg's ass and Greg was moaning, rocking back against Nick's fingers, a sheen of sweat covering his back and arms.

"You want me to fuck you, Greggo?" Nick asked, his voice a growl.


"Say it. Tell me what you want." The dirty sex voice was back from wherever it hid when he wasn't horny and ready to fuck. "I wanna hear you beg me for it." He rubbed the tip of his cock against Greg's asshole, pulled back every time Greg arched back against him.

"Please," Greg's voice was strangled. "Please, Nick, Jesus. Fuck me."

"You want it?" Nick asked.


"You need it?"

"God, yes."

"Say it. Tell me you need it."

"I need you to fuck me. God, I need your cock in me so bad."

Nick groaned as he pressed against Greg's asshole, not thrusting forward, just pressing firmly until Greg opened for him and he slid inside, slid up to the hilt, and Greg gasped and jerked his head up. Nick slid his hands up and down Greg's smooth back, gripped his hips as he began to pump slowly, letting Greg get used to the sensation.

"Harder," Greg moaned. "Fuck me hard, Nick, please."

"I will, baby," Nick purred. "Be patient."


"Hold on."

"Now, God, please, now."

Nick smacked his ass lightly. "Greedy boy," he whispered.

Greg laughed at that. "Yeah," he panted. "So give it to me."

Nick's hips picked up speed, instead of just grinding into him he was thrusting hard, and every time Greg gasped or cried out he felt the thrill of it all through him.

Soon they were just fucking each other hard, bodies slamming together, bed springs squeaking, headboard pounding against the wall over and over and over again. It seemed to last forever, but forever wasn't long enough because Nick didn't ever want to come, didn't ever want to stop, didn't ever want to be anywhere but in that bed with Greg, bodies humping and bucking together as if they were one organism.

It couldn't last. He knew it couldn't last as much as he wanted it to. He felt Greg getting close, could tell by the noises he was making and his quaking thighs. He slid his hand around to Greg's chest, pulled him up, pulled him up so that his chest was to Greg's back and he was kissing and licking the back of Greg's neck, tasting his sweat, biting at the tender flesh. His hand slid down Greg's torso, gripped his hard cock in his hand and stroked it in time to his thrusts and soon Greg arched his neck back, pressing his head against Nick's shoulder, arms gripping Nick's thighs as he came.

Nick felt the tremors begin around his cock, the muscles spasm and contract like they were trying to pull him in even deeper. He wrapped his arms around Greg's chest, held him tight, so tight, his hips thrusting of their own accord. He was so close. He was so close and he heard Greg grunt and whisper, "Yeah, give it to me. Give it to me. Shoot your load inside me, Nicky."

His arms crushed Greg against his chest as his hips jerked and the surge of electricity spread from his balls through his entire body and his cock swelled, tingled, then began to pulse shot after shot. He knew he was screaming, knew he was making a strangled cry of pleasure and pain but he didn't care, couldn't even hear it. There was nothing else in the world, nothing but his body and Greg's body and he was coming so hard, coming harder than he ever had.

They collapsed onto the bed, sweaty and sticky and gasping for breath. Greg whimpered when Nick pulled out of him, then rolled onto his back. Nick tossed the condom in the general direction of the wastebasket and collapsed next to Greg.

"Yeah," Greg whispered after a few moments. "I feel like that was a very productive talk."

Nick laughed and turned, pulling Greg's body against his. "Shower?" he asked.

Greg shrugged. "I don't mind being sticky and sweaty if you don't." He nuzzled his face against Nick's chest. "I thought for sure you were going to break up with me."

Nick lifted his head up to look at him. "What?"

"Just…the way you were avoiding me tonight. I thought you'd changed your mind."

"I wasn't avoiding you."

"You kind of were, actually, but it's OK. I know why."

Nick sighed.

"It's weird for me, too," Greg said. "I don't know how I'm supposed to act around you."

"We just act like we always did before."

"The flirting and everything?" Greg asked.

"What flirting?"

Greg laughed. "Our flirting."

"We never flirted."

"We did so flirt. We flirted every time you were in my lab."

Nick frowned. "How come I never knew we were flirting?"

"I don't know. I was practically throwing myself at you. I figured you just weren't interested."

Nick sighed. "I guess I'm not very good at flirting."

"Oh, I beg to differ. You were a great flirt."

Nick thought about that for a moment. "I've never really done this," he said softly. "Dated anybody."

"Dated a guy, or…?"

"Anybody," Nick whispered. "I just…you know. Tricked, I guess. Had one-night stands."

"That's really sad," Greg said, reaching up to stroke Nick's chin. "And lucky you, you start dating and you get stuck with me."

Nick stroked Greg's hair and squeezed him tightly for a moment. "I am lucky," he whispered.

Greg laughed ruefully. "Right. You get stuck with a basket case meth head and you're lucky."

"You're not a basket case," Nick whispered, "and you're not a meth head."

"You're sure you don't want to break up with me?" Greg asked. "Because if you're going to do it I'd appreciate it if you did it right now and got it over with."

"Not gonna break up with you. I love you."

Greg was silent for a moment. "And when you stop?"

"Stop what? Loving you?" Nick brushed his lips across Greg's forehead. "Never gonna happen."

Greg nodded and lay his head on Nick's chest. He didn't say anything else, but Nick knew he didn't believe it. He didn't know how to make Greg believe it, but it was true.
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