CSI
Into the Closet by Davey [Reviews - 1]

Greg sipped thoughtfully on his beer as he watched Nick pass Catherine back to Warrick after taking the new bride for a spin around the dance floor. There was a time when his eyes would have been focused solely on Catherine, but that was far from the case anymore. Her being married to Warrick was not so much a factor as was the fact that he was allowed to look at Nick now. And looking he was. Nick cut quite a figure in his suit, or—to state things more bluntly—he looked really fucking hot. Sex on a stick even. His shoulders filled out the suit jacket very nicely, and his ass. Oh, man, his ass. Greg swallowed hard at the thought of that ass. The pants fit just well enough to tempt Greg with thoughts of what he now knew—from personal experience—about what lay underneath.

As heat rose in Greg’s face and pooled down into the pit of his stomach, Nick turned towards him, as if he knew what Greg was thinking. He aimed one of his sexy dimpled smiles across the room. That was the last straw for Greg. He determinedly set down his beer bottle on the bar and began to weave his way through the crowd. After a few artful dodges and near disasters—he almost ran over an elderly woman and then a waiter with a tray of wine glasses—he reached Nick’s side. Nick smiled at him. The vague thought of decorum that had returned as Greg crossed the room immediately disappeared. He grabbed Nick’s hand and tugged him away from the dance floor and out of the reception hall. Nick finally spoke as the doors swung closed behind them and muffled the dull roar of voices from the large crowd of guests. “G, where the hell are you taking me?” he asked, sounding amused.

Greg didn’t reply, instead continuing down the hallway, head turning back and forth as if he were searching for something. Nick, feeling good from a combination of happiness for his two newly wedded friends, a few beers from the bar, and the feel of Greg’s hand clasping his, decided just to go along with whatever the spiky-haired blonde was up to. Barely a minute later, Greg stopped abruptly and pulled Nick with him towards a particular door. On the solid wood door hung a gold-plated plaque inscribed with the words “Coat Closet” in flowing letters. Nick barely had time to read it as Greg hurriedly opened the door and led him through it. The door shut with a heavy thump.

Nick looked around, seeing nothing more special than a large number of dress jackets and lightweight coats of the kind his mother had insisted they always wear to church every warm Sunday when he was younger. He turned his eyes curiously on Greg. “So, Greggo, you mind telling me what’s so special about this closet?”

Greg just grinned mischievously. “Well, for starters,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “we’re all alone. Secondly, you look really, really hot in that suit.”

Before Nick could respond in kind—he did, after all, think Greg was looking pretty sexy himself—Greg shoved him up against the door, grinned wickedly, and then laid his mouth on Nick’s in a wild kiss. When their kiss finally broke minutes later, Greg, panting against Nick’s neck, whispered, “That was thirdly.”

Nick barely let out a short laugh before dragging Greg’s mouth back to his for another kiss.
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