Title: Admissions and Guilt
Author: Deb & Dien
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Nick/Gil
Spoilers: Through season five
Category: First time, angst, drama
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own the pretties, I'm just playing in the sandbox!
Author's Note & Warnings: Graphic m/m sexual situations, language, and reference to child molestation. Angst ahoy!
Feedback: Slings and arrows to the left, sticks and stones to the right. No burning in effigy please, I'm on a diet.
Crossposted to: csi_slash & grisslash on LJ, csi_slash @ yahoogroups

***

Gil Grissom set the final, summarized report of what the tabloid press were already dubbing "The Tranny Butchers" -- he grimaced at the callous name-- down on his desk. Another case in the never-ending barrage of them, though this one had certainly had some... specifics to it.... he rubbed at his forehead for a bit, then looked up at the knock on the office door. That should be Nick. He'd asked the CSI to drop by his office before leaving shift.

Nick moved inside when Grissom called out, fingers nervously tapping on his thighs when he stepped inside. "You uh, wanted to see me Gris?" Yes, the Texan was nervous. He only got called in when he screwed up. And if it was end of shift, he knew it was bad.

Grissom moved the paper aside, laced his fingers together on the desk, observed Nick for a second: the strong jaw line, warm eyes, body attractive under his jeans and t-shirt-- though currently nervousness in the pose, in the body language. He cleared his throat, looked down at the desk again. "Have a seat, Nick. And close the door."

Nick drooped, feeling like a kid being called on the carpet for misbehaving. A steady hand pushed the door closed and he sat, stiffly upright, though his eyes were more on Grissom's shoulder then his face. Another lecture, maybe? Or a repeat of the this is why you don't go out alone speech. Either way it was the last thing he needed after a shift that made him remember, vividly, his own confusion and issues with sexuality.

Grissom took a breath-- he didn't honestly want to embarrass his CSI, and it was plain to tell, had been plain throughout the case, that Nick was uneasy already. But... well, it had to be dealt with. He couldn't have a CSI who let his own emotions or reactions interfere with an investigation, or with interviewing sources of information such as Mercedes had been. Grissom cleared his throat again. "Nick... during the investigation, in Mercedes' bar... you seemed pretty uncomfortable." A small pause, a tiny grimace flickering over Grissom's face, then he continued, "A CSI can't afford to let personal prejudices get in the way of the evidence, Nick."

Nick swallowed hard, shifted in his seat. Now he wasn't looking at Grissom at all. "I did my job without prejudice. I treated the evidence for what it was, made no assumptions. I followed procedure to the letter." Nick congratulated himself for sounding relatively calm in spite of the panic. And dammit, he knew Grissom would pick up on the increased respiration, the sudden sweating. It's what the man did, what they all did. "I'm not…prejudiced. It's not what you think."

Grissom leaned back slightly in his chair, a small thoughtful frown on his face, regarding Nick with the same mild interest/confusion he showed minor riddles and inconsistencies in the evidence. He was about to bring up that Nick's dialogue with the trans-sexual Mercedes had been, well, maybe not breaking the procedures, but... certainly not making for a good investigative environment either; but then Nick's next words caught him off guard. The 'confused' part of Grissom's expression increased fractionally as he picked the pen up from his desk and turned it over in his fingers, eyes on Nick, who appeared flustered. "It's not what I think? Well, that implies you know what I'm thinking, but, alright, Nick. So tell me. What is it?"

"I don't want to discuss it. Are we done here?" Nick went from flustered to downright upset, fidgeting in his seat. Frightened, no, wounded eyes looking at Grissom for a moment before sliding away. "I'm tired, it was a long shift and I need to get some sleep."

Grissom sighed in the same mild, somewhat impersonal disappointment he maintained around his colleagues, his gaze dropping to his desk. "I apologize if this is making you uncomfortable, Nick, but as your supervisor it's my responsibility to make sure everyone on my team can handle any situation that may arise. If a case involving these elements is to come up again--" he spread his hands, let the sentence hang in the air. Then he frowned again, having noted that pained look in Nick's eyes. In a less distant, professional tone, he asked quietly, "Why does it bother you so much, Nick?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it." Nick's tone was sharp, more desperation then anger though. He shoved out of the chair, pacing restlessly around the room. Yes, this whole case has rattled Nick, more then he wanted to admit to himself, let alone Grissom.

Grissom's brows arched at Nick's uncharacteristic outburst; he leaned back in his chair intently observing the pacing younger man, then pushed his own chair back and got to his feet. "Take a breath, Nick," he said quietly. "Maybe the office isn't the best place to discuss this," -- the cramped space seemed a bit too small to hold the younger man at the moment. "--we can go outside if you want?"

"I don't want to discuss it in here. I don't want to discuss it outside. You're the one always saying personal should stay personal. My reasons are personal and I am not going to talk about it!" The last time Nick had been this worked up was when Ecklie tried to get him for murder. He wrenched the office door open and stalked out, desperately needing to escape the confines of the crime lab.

Grissom's eyes narrowed at Nick's tone, then he grimaced, rubbed at his forehead, then picked up his jacket with a sigh and went out the door as well. Nick was striding angrily down the corridor, almost to the door that led out to the parking lot. Gil half-jogged down the hall after him and caught him at the door, with a hand on his shoulder. "Nick," he said shortly, "I am trying to work with you on this, can you make an effort to meet me halfway?"

"Fine," Nick spat out, pushing out into the parking lot. Every muscle was tense, he felt sick. How the hell was he supposed to admit to Grissom something he wouldn't even admit to himself? A deep breath later, Nick stopped outside his Tahoe and leaned on the driver's side door. It was far enough away from the door to avoid anyone eavesdropping or coming over to interrupt.

Grissom resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Nick, just followed him out into the parking lot and put on his jacket against the cool early early morning air. He followed suit, leaned against the side of the Tahoe and crossed his arms patiently, eyes on Nick's face. "Nick, I'm not your enemy here," he said quietly, trying to sound reassuring; Nick's visible distress didn't escape him.

"I'm just not...comfortable. With anything outside what was considered normal sex in Texas." Okay, Nick was more comfortable sounding like a bigot then admitting he was confused.

Grissom paused, listened to that, mind calculating. "Okay. Well, Texas and Las Vegas certainly do have different... outlooks on things," he said with a straight face, that continued as he said, "Although, even in Vegas people aren't in the practice of sticking rattlesnakes down their jeans." A beat, then Gil added, "That was a joke, Nick. I'm told they put people at ease."

Nick was pale and sweating, hands were shaking. It really wasn't a good look for him. "Are we done now?" He hated himself for the pleading tone that had entered his voice.

Gil sighed and looked at the pavement, eyes closing for a moment. Nick was practically going to have a seizure on him. This wasn't going well. Maybe he was just going to have to break his own rule that personal information had no place in the office, that colleagues had no business knowing it. Of course, there was the possibility that it might induce that seizure in Nick, but... Grissom shrugged mentally. "Nick. Look. Let me be honest with you. It's more than the case. You say you're not comfortable with... alternate sexualities. Does that extend to homosexuality? Would you have problems working for a bisexual man? Actually, that should be "do you," because you have been working for one ever since you joined our team. Tell me if this is going to be an issue for you, Nick, and if necessary I'll arrange a transfer. I don't want our team to lose you, but I don't want you to work here if this," a gesture to include Nick's demeanor, "is how uncomfortable it's going to make you feel."

Nick sank down the side of his car to sit on the pavement. It just figured. When he spoke finally his voice was strained. "I should have said.. my alternate sexuality. I mean, what I feel just isn't done in Texas. Especially not when your Daddy is a judge and your Momma is a defense lawyer."

Oh. "Oh," Grissom said aloud, temporarily at a loss for words. Well. For all his observance, Nick had just always exuded that clean-shaven, All-American, macho, straight-forward-and-straight feel, and he'd never thought that.... well. Grissom cleared his throat again, let out an exhale, and decided to carefully sit down as well. "I see," he said carefully. "Well, Nick..." --deep breath-- "-it should then go without saying that, yes, Vegas is different from Texas, and... you're hardly going to be judged here. Or by me. Or anyone on our team."

"Do you know why I had sex with that prostitute, Grissom?" The younger man didn't wait for an answer before he did so himself. "Because Warrick was making a big deal out of the Ladies Man not having been real busy lately. That was the last time I touched anyone. Or let anyone touch me."

"...I see," Gil said again, wondering where his vocabulary had gone. He licked his lips briefly, considering just where he should take the conversation, or, try and take it, since he wasn't so sure he was in the same control of it he had thought. Well-- a brief moment for whimsy-- at least Nick was talking, now... "...that doesn't seem an especially comfortable way to live," he observed mildly. "Perhaps it made you a little jumpier with Mercedes then you might have been." Grissom almost cleared his throat again, but restrained himself to lacing his fingers together on top of his knees.

"Jumpy. Yeah, that's a good way to put it. Once she offered that whole…thing all I could think of was a hot mouth on certain parts and…yeah. Okay, now that my career is over, I'm going home." Nick got to his feet, hot looking at Gris while he dug for his keys in his pants pocket.

Grissom couldn't help the throat-clearing this time, as Nick's words, unexpected as they were, jumped right into the part of his mind that wasn't always so work-disciplined. A hot mouth on certain parts, indeed. Grissom bit the inside of his cheek hard, and resolutely forbade the thought from going anywhere else, especially to ascribe owners to either the 'mouth' or the 'parts.' Nick's other words took a second to get through the mental image. Now that my career is over.... Oops. "Nick, don't be silly, your career isn't over," he said, standing up and regarding the other man's embarrassed countenance in a not-unsympathetic manner. "Saying a few words without thinking isn't cause for dismissal, even by my standards," he said with a small, self-deprecating smile. Then forced himself to look away from Nick's strong, handsome profile before the earlier thought got out of hand.

"Look, Gris.. I'm trying damn hard to be professional. Be polite. My own family doesn't know that I'm," An aberration, a freak, a deviant, a pervert, "Like this. I'll try harder to keep personal business personal. So if we're done can I go before I humiliate myself further?" Nick was not in any shape to drive. If he got behind the wheel he'd end up on Doc Robbin's table before he went 5 miles.

"Sorry," Grissom said mollifyingly, lifting his hands briefly in a gesture that showed he wasn't trying to step on Nick's toes, wasn't trying to press the issue. "I -am- sorry, Nick. It wasn't my intention to... make you feel bad," said quietly but bluntly, as it couldn't be denied Nick was 'feeling bad.' "And it's not my intention to do so now, either, but... I can't in good conscience let you get in that car right now, Nick. You're upset, you're angry, your pulse is fast, your hands are shaking. You're not driving anywhere, not till you calm down." He took a calming breath for his own sake; he hadn't missed the loathing tone in Nick's voice when he'd said 'like this.' "I have to ask though, Nick: if being gay, or bi, is so damn bad-- am I disgusting, then? Do I offend you?"

"Jesus, Grissom.. no. No, man. You don't disgust me." Nick rubbed eyes that were suddenly a lot more watery then he cared for. "Look. I grew up in Texas. Wife beatin', real man, tough guy, swill beer, beat the wife and brand the cattle all before breakfast Texas. In a heavily Christian family. Where every single thing had to be perfect or.. or else. I hate myself, not you." Nick couldn't believe he admitted that. Hands got jammed into pockets and he started walking. If he couldn't drive home he'd walk.

Grissom turned, let Nick walk by with his hands jammed into his pockets, his blue eyes following the CSI's form. After a few seconds he walked after him, fast enough to catch up with him. "Isn't your apartment about four miles away? I could give you a ride, you know. If you want." Gil said calmly. "And I know you don't hate me. I was trying to point out to you that maybe it's not the behavior itself, just that you don't find it acceptable in yourself.... well. From what you said, you understand. Nick. I know social upbringing is a very hard thing to throw, but of all the things to tear yourself up over... please don't do this to yourself." Small pause. "You're smarter than this."

"Silk, silk, silk, Gris." Nick kept walking. Swiped at his cheeks. No. Those were definitely not tears.

Grissom winced when he saw the quick motion of Nick's hands. Well, just wonderful. Break the rule about the boundary between the team members and himself, and within minutes, someone's crying. Dammit. And the silk thing... talk about things coming back to bite you on the ass. "Nick..." Gil was forced to catch up again to the fast-walking younger man, grabbed at his shoulder. "Nick. I'm sorry, alright? Is that what you want to hear? My professional judgment is exactly that-- professional. Judgment. I have NEVER said-- or thought-- that you were stupid," he said seriously, staring into Nick's eyes.

"I'm tired, Gris. I just want to go home and forget this ever happened. Forget the way I am before I do something really stupid."

Grissom took a slow breath, let it out, realized he still had a grip on the material of Nick's shirt-- he should let go, he knew, but-- instead he just looked back into Nick's eyes, tired and pained and self-loathing as they were. Raised a brow. "Then let me drive you home. It's a long way to walk. Nick, is it so hard to let yourself be who you are? What stupid thing are you so worried you'll do?"

"Okay. Okay. Thank you. Drive me home. Some sleep, I'll feel better. I won't hurt myself, if that's what you're thinking. And I am who I am. I don't need anyone, don't want anyone. I can handle it, accept this in other people. Not myself." Nick was exhausted, he was too tired to hide anything. Screw the tears, they could just fall.

Gil exhaled carefully, let his fingers loosen in the fabric of Nick's shirt until his hand was just resting on the younger man's shoulder, supposedly a comforting gesture although Grissom knew comfort was.... not exactly... his strong point. Damn. Why couldn't Catherine be the one to be here for this? She knew how to give consolatory hugs, how to say soothing words, offer Kleenex-- wait: he did at least have Kleenex in his jacket pocket, he knew that much. Grissom pulled one of the tissues free from the little travel bag he carried in his pocket, handed it awkwardly to Nick. "It's... alright, Nick. You're going to be okay." And I sound like a damn robot. Grissom sighed. "Let's get you home. Come on. Back to your truck, I'll use your keys." He tried to think again what Catherine would do; patted Nick on the shoulder a bit.

"Thanks." Nick visibly relaxed, wiped his face dry. "I'm fine. Just tired." Keys were handed over to Grissom and he slowly walked back to his truck. He didn't even wonder how Grissom would get home if he drove Nick's truck.

Grissom nodded silently, turned and walked with Nick back towards the Tahoe, not quite taking his hand from Nick's shoulder until they reached it. He unlocked the doors with the keys' button-lock and got into the driver's side of the large vehicle, giving a small smile at Nick that he wasn't sure the younger man caught.

Nick climbed in, belted up. Was looking out the window when he spoke. "You asked back there what stupid thing I'd do." A pause, then a quiet admission when he finally spoke, "I want to kiss you. And I know I can't."

Grissom was glad the sound of the engine kept the strangled little noise he made from being quite so loud. He waited until the roar of the Tahoe had settled into a quiet hum, not looking over at Nick, keeping his eyes on the empty parking lot. Finally he thought he might trust his voice. "Well. Nick. I, ah, I try not to encourage relationships between investigators that work together." Deep breath. "However..." Grissom licked his lips self-consciously, darted half a glance at Nick-- oh damn, yes, there was that strong jaw line again, that touchable face. "However I feel it's only... fair to say... that I wouldn't." Swallow. "Mind that." Cough. "You are a very attractive man, Nick."

"You wouldn't mind. Well. Thanks for throwing my ego a bone, Gris." No pun intended.

Grissom had just taken the Tahoe out of park and into reverse, getting ready to back out of the spot. At Nick's next words, he exhaled and carefully put it back into park. Put the emergency brake on too, then put his hands on the wheel and took a steadying breath. Without looking at Nick, he said, "...you should know by now I don't-- 'throw bones' to people's egos. You said, I'm trying damn hard to be a professional. Well, Nick, so am I. And-- it's not very... professional of me to say more than what I did." Another swallow. "Regardless of how-- you know, I think we're both a little tired. I'm just going to drive now," Grissom said a little quickly, likely the most flustered Nick had ever seen him. He reached hurriedly for the parking brake.

"Yeah. God forbid the great Gil Grissom ever gets personal or anything." He pushed himself out of the seat and was out of the Tahoe before it moved. Walking home was a really good idea. The door was slammed and he didn't look where he was going. Nick set a quick pace just shy of a jog and started in the direction of his complex. Four miles, five miles. Maybe by the time he got there he'd have gotten rid of the nearly unbearable need to...do something he'd regret later.

Grissom sat with his mouth partly open for a few moments after Nick's damning words, then put the parking brake back on. Changed his mind and pushed it down again, looked back and depressed the gas in order to back up. After about fifteen seconds, he realized the Tahoe wasn't moving because it was still in park. Grissom exhaled, rubbed at the bridge of his nose, shifted into reverse, and backed out. Then into forward gear, five miles an hour to where Nick was jogging along on the sidewalk. He rolled down the automatic window on the passenger side, looked out at Nick as he drove slowly alongside the young man. "I think that was a little uncalled for," he called out.

"I'm off the clock," Nick called back. "I don't give a damn what you think, and I don't have to." He picked up his pace, striding out easily, breath steaming in the brisk air. A deep breath later he was relaxing into the run as muscles loosened up, fell into the familiar pattern of running.

Gil resisted the urge to drop his forehead hard against the nearest surface, because that wasn't really a very good idea when driving. Instead he just breathed out slowly through his nose, pressed the gas a little more, sped up to match Nick's increased pace. "Nick... you're making this very difficult. Get in the truck," he said out the window, hearing his own exasperation in his tone. "...please?" he tacked on.

"I'm making this difficult. I'm making this difficult? You're the one who wouldn't leave well enough alone an' just kept fussin' an' naggin' until I broke down." A light sweat broke out, Nick was an odd mixture of hot and cold. Hot from exertion, cold inside. Cold skin where the biting air chilled skin.

Gil's eyes flickered back and forth between Nick and the road ahead, making sure he wouldn't hit anything. Brows rising a bit, Grissom said, "Well. That's true, I did. I guess I can be a little stubborn when I get my mind on something. Right now my mind is on making you get in the car. So alright, Nick. Let's conduct this experiment and see which one of us is more stubborn," he said shortly. If he had to, he'd drive all the way to Nick's house at ten miles an hour, dammit.

Ten miles an hour. That was a six minute mile pace, given he was five miles from the lab. No matter, Nick would easily keep the pace for the first two miles, staying silent except for the rhythmic pounding of shoes against pavement and the soft huff of his breath. Nick stripped his jacket off by the end of the second mile and chucked it into the truck's open window.

Gil grew more and more annoyed as he drove in silence, Nick not responding after his little challenge other than to obstinately keep running. Damn it. He had better things to do with his time than this. Why was Nick making this so damn difficult? Fine, fine; he could be stubborn too, he could play the younger man's childish game if he had to. He drove. Slowly. Cars honked behind him at times, eventually passing the Tahoe where it crept along at the curb, next to the running man; Gil ignored them, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel from time to time. When Nick's jacket landed in the passenger seat, he glanced over at the young CSI again, who was sweating profusely. "You know," he pointed out reasonably, "being as tired as you say you are from the shift, in this cool morning air-- you could in all possibility make yourself sick. You look close to overheating already."

Nick glanced over at Grissom, wiped the sweat out of his eyes with a quick swipe of his sleeve. His attention went back to the median in front of him. "I'm fine," he replied shortly, more winded then he had a right to be at the end of two miles. A vague niggle of worry Grissom could be right was chased away. So what if he got sick? Not like he didn't have a month of sick days stocked up. Just then he coughed, which forced him to lengthen his stride, push himself harder. Not giving Grissom the satisfaction of being right this time.

"Dammit, Nick," Gil snapped. "Are you -that- teed off at me, do you want to prove some dumb point so badly, that you're going to be immature about it? Will you please," he gritted out, "get in the car. And we can talk about this like reasonable adults...?"

"I'm trying.." Nick was panting now, much worse then it should be for the distance he'd run, "to get rid of some nervous energy. But if you want me, in the truck, that damn badly.." another pause for a few gasped breaths, "then stop so I can get in."

"Gladly," Grissom muttered, with a quick glance in the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn't going to get plowed into as he brought the Tahoe to a stop by the curb. He reached over and pulled Nick's jacket off the passenger seat, tossed it into the back of the truck so Nick could sit down, and opened the door. "Nervous energy? Are you sure you don't mean neurotic energy?" he murmured.

Nick had been going to climb in. He really had been. His hand was on the door, opening it. Then he heard Grissom's comment. A fraction of a second after Grissom finished that comment, Nick's hand was jerked off the door as if he was being burned. Then he stubbornly started running again, same measured pace as before. Lungs ached, leg muscles burned but he wasn't going to deal with that. Neurotic. If that man only knew.

"...Nick? Nick!" Grissom said, staring after the younger man honestly flabbergasted. He gritted his teeth and gave in to the urge, this time, to thump his head against the driver side window a few times, then undid his seat belt, yanked the keys out, and threw open the door. This was ridiculous. Gil sprinted after Nick, who wasn't that far ahead and running at a steady but not lightning-fast pace. When he caught up to him, he grabbed him by his shoulder and not-quite-yelled in his face, "Nick, do you want to tell me just what your damn problem is?"

"My problem? My PROBLEM?" Nick almost bellowed, once he was stopped and spun around to face the older man. "My problem is that you won't give me..space. So. I can. Deal..with...this." Exhaustion slammed into the Texan like a brick wall, leaving him mumbling and bordering on incoherent.

"Space?! SPACE? You want space? Fine! You can have space! Excuse me for making the effort to help!" Grissom responded in the same tone, throwing his hands up. He shoved the keys into Nick's hand, turned, and started stomping off back towards the lab-- so it was over two miles away, Nick had run it, he could certainly walk it. After ten steps, he stopped, got his breathing back under control, turned, and walked back towards Nick. Another deep breath, the calm-Grissom mask resolutely pulled back onto his features. "I'm sorry I yelled. ...you don't look all that hot, Nick. Seriously. Come on, get in the truck. I promise I... will try and give you space."

Nicky was staring at the keys like he'd never seen them before, an expression of distaste that rivaled the one he wore when using the ALS on hotel bedspreads. "I don't think I feel that hot," he said softly, sounding more than a little confused.

"...Nick?" Grissom said carefully, eyes on Nick's face. Pale skin. Sweat still rolling off his face and neck, the dark hair damp with it. He reached out slowly for the keys, other hand coming up to Nick's shoulder. "Nick. Let's get you in the truck. Okay? Nick, can you hear me alright?"

"Truck. Yeah. Okay. I'm okay." Nick let Grissom take the keys but he didn't move to get in the truck. Just stood there, looking faintly confused and trying to catch his breath.

Grissom frowned in concern. His words about Nick making himself sick, well... they'd been true enough, but he hadn't honestly expected... He moved his hand from Nick's shoulder to his forehead, pressing the back of his hand to the skin there. From the running, Nick should have been hot; instead his skin felt clammy and cold. "Okay," Gil sighed. "Come on, mister 5K. Into the car with you." He placed a hand on Nick's back and guided him back towards the Tahoe. He thought he'd seen a water bottle there of Nick's.

Nick meekly went along to the truck and climbed in, settling in the passenger's side seat without a word. Given how often they ran late or worked doubles, he kept the truck stocked with bottled water and meal replacement bars. Neither was reached for, though he did grab his jacket -after twi tries- and tugged it on. Now that he'd been still for a few minutes he was starting to feel the cold, just shy of shivering.

Grissom climbed into the driver's side but didn't start the engine right away, instead grabbing one of the water bottles and popping it open. He pushed it into Nick's hand. "Drink," he said, noting the shivering and Nick's putting on of his jacket. "Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous at all? Faint-headed? Talk to me here, Nick."

Nick lifted the bottle and drained half of it before lowering it again. His brow was furrowed, obviously he was thinking hard about the questions. "Dizzy. Yeah. Kinda. Light headed. Numb. Cold. Numb cold."

Grissom sighed again and took the water bottle from Nick's hand. He leaned over and reached Nick's seat belt, dragged the shoulder belt down and fastened it. Then looked at Nick's face again in concern. "We'll have you home in a bit." Grissom sat back in his seat, fastened his own belt, started the engine again.

"I- I'm sorry I yelled at you," Nick mumbled. He couldn't keep the tears out of his voice, but he managed to hide them by closing his eyes.

"Later," Grissom said quietly. "Just sit there and rest right now, Nick." He attempted a smile. "I guess the next time we have an argument, I shouldn't let you try and walk it off, huh?"

"Do we have to argue again?"

Grissom arched a brow. "That depends," he said blandly. "Of course we don't, once you just accept that I'm right." A small pause, then he said quietly, "That was also a joke, Nick."

"Okay. A joke. But you are right. Almost always. It's why I wanna kiss you. It's safe." Nick nodded. It made sense to him, if not Grissom.

And it didn't make sense to Grissom. His face took on the look of some bit of completely unexpected and incongruous bit of evidence showing up in some case. He cast a long look at Nick, shook his head marginally, then pulled out into traffic, finally able to drive at a decent speed. "I'm... not sure I follow the logic of that statement," he said neutrally. It was better than focusing.... again..... on the idea of kissing Nick. Of Nick kissing him. Grissom took a quiet, steadying breath, and kept his eyes on the road.

"Nigel Crane," Nick spoke his name matter of factly, as if that explained everything. "Nigel was wrong. About everything. You weren't. You were right. He was wrong, it made him dangerous. You were right, it makes you safe. I know you won't let anyone hurt me. I know you won't hurt me."

Grissom swerved a bit in traffic, earning a honk from the car behind him; then got back fully in his lane with a clearing of his throat. "Well. That's.... interesting logic, Nick," he said a little weakly. The thought of Crane-- of being compared to Crane-- and in that sense... Grissom wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with that. He had stayed so calm, so impersonal, after that mess... when what he'd wanted to do was smash Crane's face into a wall, over and over. You didn't mess with people on his team. And that the slimy little bastard had chosen Nick... he'd been surprised himself, at how angry he'd been; forced himself to be especially professional about it. Softly, Grissom said, "No, Nick, I won't ever hurt you."

"I haven't felt safe since that whole thing. I walk around my place half the day to make sure he isn't there. Look for stray wires. Cameras. Check the attic. Look everywhere. The only time I feel safe is at work. When you're there." That was a slightly more coherent explanation. Nick's voice was still unsteady, a little too soft, a little too breathy. Almost like the words and the speaker were out of synch. Disjointed.

Grissom swallowed slightly. He'd noticed after the affair with Crane that Nick had spent more time at the lab, but..... well, to Grissom that had been only reasonable. Work was always the best thing for him to do if trying to move past... things. You could bury yourself in work. But the idea that Nick had been coming to work more often for his presence there.... Gil felt like sitting down, remembered that he actually was already. "Well. Glad I can...help," he said roughly, casting another glance over at Nick, who seemed to be definitely out of it by this point, if he was speaking like this. "Nick, is this your complex coming up?" Gil asked, clearing his throat and grateful for the distraction.

"Uh huh." Nick shook his head, trying to clear the fog. "Unit seventeen. I moved since..the last time you were here. I couldn't stay after what he did." Another pause, then, "It's blue. My new place is blue."

"Blue's a nice color." The Tahoe turned into the apartment complex. Grissom's eyes scanned the building numbers, saw the seventeen. The large vehicle hummed to a stop in the parking spot assigned to it, and Gil unfastened his seat belt. "Stay there, I'm coming around to help you out," he said as he got out of the truck, headed around the hood to Nick's side of the car.

"I like blue," Nick offered. He struggled with his seatbelt, finally getting it unfastened just as Grissom opened the door. "It reminds me of your eyes. You have really pretty eyes, Gris. I could stare at 'em for hours."

Gil surprised himself when he realized he was blushing. He couldn't distinctly remember the last time he had blushed, but it had certainly been before Nick was even born. Now why, he asked himself, can I just manage to think about the idea of 'Nick' and 'kisses' without embarrassing myself, but some off-hand comment about my EYES-- and he isn't even all here for it, listen to him-- is making me blush like I'm back in HIGH SCHOOL? Grissom shook his head. "I think you're a little out of it, Nick," he managed to say, helping Nick down from the high seat of the Tahoe. "Come on, not that far to the door."

"I took a Vicodin. Before leaving work," he offered. He managed to get himself out of the truck with Gil's help, slow and unsteady steps bringing him to the door. "Will you stay?"

Deep breath, and hunting through the key ring for a likely-looking one for the apartment. "I'm definitely going to make sure you're all right," Grissom offered, wondering how he was going to manage to walk out after Nick's semi-conscious revelation that his presence made him feel safe. Gil got the door open, placed his hand on Nick's shoulder again and led him inside.

Nick stepped inside the tidy condo. Of course he wasn't home long enough to make a mess and days off were spent studying and laying in supplies for the week ahead. Wood floors were softened with area rugs, furniture was the overstuffed sink-into-and-relax kind. No pictures, nothing overtly personal. It could have been a hotel room if not for all the forensic texts and magazines scattered around.

Grissom took in the room at a glance, more concerned with Nick himself at the moment than his living space; saw the comfortable looking couch and guided Nick towards it. "All right, jacket off and let's get you lying down. You'll feel a whole lot better," Gil promised. "I'll get you some more water." He started to move towards the kitchenette.

Nick peeled his jacket off, carefully hung it up. Shoes were toed off next. Slow sinking into the couch, and a soft groan when he got his feet up and stretched out. A soft chenille throw pillow was under his head, a matching throw tugged down. And before Grissom was back with the water, Nicky was half asleep.

Grissom filled a glass with water and came back, pausing only when he saw that Nick already looked half-gone. He sighed and stepped closer, crouched down next to the younger CSI. Maybe he should just let Nick drift off... no, Nick should drink the water, with all he'd been sweating during the ill-advised run, his body could use more hydration. "Water, Nick. Just a little bit, then I'll let you sleep. Come on, Nicky," he wheedled, trying to get Nick to open his eyes and sit up for the water.

Nick opened his eyes, squinting a bit. And there was a definite giggle when he looked at Grissom. "Gris, man. There's two of you." He did sit up, awkwardly. Smiled almost proudly, a smile that softened, infinitely tender when he was concentrating on Grissom.

Grissom found himself returning the sweet smile automatically. Wondered if Nick had -any- idea how... endearing he looked. Only after a few seconds did Gil realize he was just crouching there, staring at Nick-- smiling at Nick-- and holding the water. He coughed self-consciously, and held the water up near Nick's face. "I think that's your vision. I'm pretty sure there's just one of me, Nick."

"Wish there was two of you. Then I could have one." Nick took the water, sipped slowly. As he drank, his eyes slid partway closed, his grip on the glass becoming tenuous at best.

Grissom realized to his horror the blush was back with a vengeance, and quickly took Nick's glass from his hand before it fell. He set it down on the carpet, safely out of reach. There was -nothing- remotely 'professional' he could say to Nick's comment, so he cleared his throat instead. "I'm going to check your temperature again," he murmured, and again pressed the back of his fingers to Nick's forehead. Nick was warmer, not as clammy and cold as he'd been outside. "Better. How are you feeling? The dizziness gone yet?" He reached for Nick's wrist, fingertips finding the pulse. Grissom began to count under his breath.

"Mm. You have..great hands. Soft an' strong an'..just great." Nick's pulse was jumping now that Grissom was touching him. Even in a detached and professional as it was. "Still dizzy. Hurt myself on the case. Shh. Don't tell anyone. So I took the pill. It helped. But..safe. I feel safe with you here. Don't go. Please..?"

Grissom was pretty sure he was running out of steadying breaths to take. He was a professional, that was in no question, and how had this all gotten turned around so quickly on him? Thankfully Nick said something that wasn't related to his hands and how... great... or otherwise they might be. "Hurt on the case?! Nick-- you have to -report- things like that," he admonished, more weakly then he might have, if Nick hadn't been looking at him in quite that way, speaking quite so dreamily. He was all too aware of the rapid pulse under his fingertips. And how warm Nick's skin was there... "How hurt? Where?"

"You're yelling at me. Don't yell at me.." Tears welled up in Nicky's eyes, he blinked them back. "I made.. I tripped. It's fine. The pill made it fine." Nick looked wounded that Grissom had admonished him.

"I'm not-- ...I'm not yelling, Nick," Grissom said, closing his eyes. "What did you hurt when you tripped?" He looked at Nick's face, noted the shininess in his eyes, and sighed heavily. "I'm not mad at you, Nicky."

"I- I don't remember," he answered. Grissom was on the floor, Nick was on the couch and he decided Gris was just too far away. So instead he slid to the floor, managing to snuggle right up next to the other man. "I...remember now. I hit the door frame. Right shoulder."

Oh boy, thought Grissom as Nick managed to get way-- WAY-- into his personal space. Oh boy. It was ironic, he thought: all the work to try and get Nick to talk to him about what was bothering him, to let that anger down just for a bit; and now that the Vicodin had kicked in helped along by the physical stress and exhaustion... maybe this was a little more than he, Gil, had bargained for.

Didn't help things that, regardless of how his methodical, logical, evidence-processing brain was repeating over and over the words about 'professional responsibility' and 'supervisor' and every-other-thing... that his body was not at all displeased to have Nick's warm, solid form snuggling up to it. Slow down there, Gil, he told himself sternly. Aloud he said softly, "Must have hit it pretty hard if you took a Vicodin for it." He felt his arm sliding around Nick's body, took a breath.

"Mm," Nick murmured, head coming to rest on Grissom's shoulder. A very tentative kiss was offered, a there and gone press of closed lips to Gil's neck. "Dislocated it. Just...banged it into place again."

Grissom felt his heart skip at least two beats at the tentative, almost-imagined brush of lips on his neck. Accident, accident, that had been almost -certainly- an accident-- alright. He forced himself to sternness. The evidence never lied, and the evidence was that Nick had stated he wanted to kiss him, and just had. A light feather butterfly of a kiss. So what was he, Gil Grissom, going to do about it? "Sounds painful," he whispered, feeling his fingers start to stroke gentle circles on Nick's back.

He knew it was a mistake, all kinds of a mistake, but.... but Nicky was out of it, drifting so nicely, it wasn't like he would remember, so really, what was the damage? Just... a very little indulgence... and-- Gil exhaled softly, shuddering-- he had been wanting this, even this little bit of touch, for so long...

"Wasn't so bad." Nick's mouth was close enough to Gil's bare skin to send words flowing over it. Lips brushed again, a little more daring. A little less cautious. Quiet moans followed, body arching like a cat's under the soft touch. "Mhm. I was right. Great hands. Will you stay with me, Gris?"

Professional responsibility was rapidly fluttering away on swift wings.... Gil felt his eyelids flutter at the feel of Nick's breath on his neck, such sensitive skin there; and then his lips again, it was so sweet, so unbearably sweet. This... this is wrong... this would be taking advantage of Nick... he's not really aware.... damn it, he'd probably be getting -sick- if he really was here for this.... or if he knew how... much I think about him. The -sort- of things I think about him. For God's sake, Nicky, I'm your boss. Lots of things he could say; should say. Gil stroked lightly down Nick's spine, feeling the warmth of the other man's skin through the shirt. Closed his eyes. "I'm.... not going anywhere, Nicky," he breathed unsteadily.

"Thanks, Gil." Not that Nick would be allowing him to go anywhere. Unaware of the struggle Grissom was having, Nick clung to the older man like a limpet. Arms slid around, holding on. Lips rested on sensitive flesh, bringing Nick the taste of salt, male, something uniquely Grissom. The Texan could finally, finally relax. He'd be safe; Gil wouldn't let anyone hurt him.

Grissom swallowed and exhaled carefully as Nick's lips found his neck again, resting there, so intimately-- like they just belonged there, were supposed to be there. Nick was holding him tightly but there wasn't any tension in his form now. He was so relaxed. God, this was what it felt like, Gil thought with a part of him urging panic, to be completely trusted.

While he'd admitted his bisexuality to Nick less than an hour before, it hadn't meant he'd had a lot of meaningful relationships. As a young man in college, Grissom had approached sex, and sexuality, with the same interest and desire to learn as he did anything. Los Angeles had had a thriving community of the 'alternative' lifestyles, and, far from being repelled, he'd been intrigued, tried out sex with women and with men. Sex was like roller coasters, got rid of the tension, the stress, let you unwind. It could be fun and fascinating. But he'd pretty much stuck to partners who shared his viewpoint on it. Not those who wanted more. And it was pretty near novel, to be held this tightly and trustingly by someone else. To be held like Nick's life depended on it. "You're welcome, Nicky," he whispered, wondering just how the name came so easily to his lips.

"Come on. We should go to bed. More comfy then the floor," Nick reasoned. "Can borrow...clothes. To sleep in." The younger man wasn't really reasoning through his sudden desire to hold on to Grissom. Just knew he needed to. In some small way, perhaps his life did depend on it. Lips slid over a tendon, teeth tracing a lightly pink abrasion into the skin. "Taste good."

Whoa, whoa, WOAH there, Grissom told himself firmly. Whoa. It was one thing to sit here holding a distressed Nick, maybe in some court-of-metaphorical-law he could get away with pleading nothing more than concern and comfort; it was another entirely to contemplate moving this to a bed. Even if he did indeed "borrow clothes to sleep in." Gil swallowed again at the feel of parted lips moving on the muscle of his neck, teeth trailing there too. This had all the earmarks of a situation that could get really out of control.

And yet.... yet he couldn't just leave, could he? Nick wasn't doing that well, was drugged and obviously... needed... someone here to help him out... needed -him- here... And also, Nick didn't look like he was willing to let go without a fight. "Okay," Gil said shakily. "Let's get you to bed." He started to stand, helping pull Nick upright with him.

Nick laughed, more of a giggle if he were to be honest. The room spun around him and he tightened his hold on Grissom to stay on his feet once he managed to get to them.

"Do you know how hard I tried not to dream about you? Tried not to want you or think about you as anything other then my boss?" Realizing, belatedly, that Gil didn't know where the bedroom was he waved vaguely down the hall and pointed to the right. "Second door," he mumbled.

Lips ghosted over Grissom's jaw, the awkward embrace just encouraging Nick to keep exploring. Another soft laugh -giggle- at the beard, it tickled Nick's nose so he tilted his face, his own cheek pressed to Grissom's cheek. "Did you know I was never with a man before? Wanted to. Dreamed about it. Used it for fantasies. But I just couldn't..."

Nick paused a moment. "Maybe I shoulda maybe not took that second pill."

"Maybe you shouldn't have," Gil agreed quickly, eyes glued to a far point on the wall as he kicked Nick's bedroom door open. Heaven help him if Nick said something about him. Hurriedly, he decided to speak before Nick could finish the sentence. "Okay. Bed. Let's get you lying back down, I think you need it." I think -I- need to lie down. The sight of Nick's bed, as he pulled the younger man towards it, sent an unexpected bolt of heat straight through his body, pointing out it was a good-sized bed, big enough for two. Grissom moaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut against arousal that wasn't wanted at the moment.

"Mm. That sounds good. You gonna sleep with me?" Nick meant it in the most innocent way, unfortunately the sleepy drawl made it sound like an invitation and not an innocent question. "It's big enough for both of us," Nick pointed out as Grissom got Nick sitting on the edge. "And you promised you wouldn't leave."

He didn't mean. It. Like. That, Grissom told his body. His body was having none of it. Quite sure he was blushing again, the tips of his ears sure felt hot, Grissom said in a strangled tone, "I see that. The bed. Big. I, I promised. I did. Ohgod." Where-oh-where has competent, cool, composed, Gil Grissom gone to? Gil asked himself in exasperation. Thank heavens Nick seemed a little too out of it to pick up on... any of it. Grissom took a deep breath, counted to ten, then toed off his shoes. He had a plan of action. He could do this. Put Nick down to sleep, lie down next to him until he drifted off-- which would probably take about 3.5 seconds-- then get up and discreetly leave the bedroom. Call a cab.

"You're gonna leave..." Nick sounded heartbroken, eyes filling with tears that stubbornly spilled over. Hurt brown eyes -somewhere between the color of mocha and dark chocolate- lifted to look at Grissom. Nicky looked absolutely wounded. "You lied. You don't wanna stay. You don't like me." The 'me' was almost cut off, a quiet almost-sob interrupting the word.

Nick sniffled, hiding his face against Grissom's shoulder when the other man sat down, admitted that he did like Nick. The gentle touch soothed him, helped calm him down. "All I wanna do is sleep next to you. That's not bad." He paused, glanced up at Gil again through tear soaked lashes. "Is it?"

"No, Nicky," Gil whispered through a smile that hurt, somewhere deep down. "Not bad at all..." And he couldn't leave now, that much was damn obvious. Grissom sighed under his breath, dropped back onto the mattress, soft and comfortable. Held out a hand to Nick's shoulder. "Lie down. It's all... going to be okay," he said, and if it was a lie, so be it.

He watched for a moment, unsure of himself. Then Nick lay down next to him, using Gil's shoulder as a pillow. Eyes closed and his arm slid over Grissom's waist. "It's not okay, is it?"

Grissom wanted-- he wanted to just let it go, let it be, let himself rest. Let Nick put his arm over his waist, just like he was doing, and let Nick's hair tickle his cheek, and... "It will be okay," he said quietly, not sure whether that would count as evading the question in a court of law or not. He wriggled his arm under Nick's body to the other side, bent it at the elbow so he could stroke his fingers through Nick's hair. Because he wanted to. "It will be. Rest, Nicky."

All the tension Nick had slid away, the longer he lay there, petted, held close, the easier it was to relax. Breathing slowed, muscles sliding into the laxness of sleep. Then Nick spoke, his voice a soft and frightened whisper. "You won't let him get me, will you Gil?"

"No," Gil said automatically, before he even thought about who "him" was. Crane? Was it Crane? Was Nick still freaking about that piece-of-shit-- "No, I won't. ...who, Nick?"

"Nigel," was the quiet admission. Nick tensed after that confession, trying to get even closer. If it were possible.

The tension was back in Nick's body, all over again; Grissom closed his eyes, feeling suddenly unbelievably tired himself. "...I will not let him hurt you," he said softly, seriously. "My word, Nicky." And, feeling as if something was needed to seal it, prove it, drive it home, he reached down to Nick's hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the fingers gently. It was a promise.

Nick relaxed at the promise, shivered when Gil kissed his hand. "Do you know why...I'm so scared of this? Of myself?" Some part of Nick's brain was screaming at him to shut up before he made his life any worse. Unfortunately that part was firmly gagged by the double dose of Vicodin Nick had in his system.

It was a hell of a question, and Gil thought, absently, that he should not let Nick answer it. But. But. Well. Didn't he just live for questions. And answers. "No, Nick. Tell me why," he breathed onto the younger man's fingers.

"Because. You're the kind of guy I could fall in love with. If I ever admitted to myself that it was okay to be like this. Like guys."

And Gil could just understand why that was so frightening, because it certainly sent a small chill up his spine. Love. Four-letter word. He was a CSI. He had work. He had a life that had careful rules and boundaries, and they did not admit something like.... love.

Of course, they didn't admit him lying here on the bed of one of his team members, listening to Nick breathe, hand stroking his hair. Gil let out a long, slightly shuddering breath. "I see." Didn't really know what else he was supposed to say to a revelation like that. Just kept up the gentle stroking on Nick's head with his fingers, closed his eyes.

"And you didn't like hearing that." But Nick was really too tired to run away again so he stayed where he was. And if he was honest with himself he didn't want to run. Staying there, with Gris holding him, stroking his hair, it was lulling him to sleep.

"I.... don't know how I feel about hearing that," Gil said after a moment, forcing himself to honesty. "It... scares me a little bit too, Nicky." Was it just, he thought, that Nick was so out of it, so floating, that made it possible to do these, say these things? It was like it wasn't real, it wasn't part of the same life with the lab and known quantities. The walls of Nick's home, and the walls of soft dreamy speech, separated everything from the real world. Allowed him to be honest. Not just the honest of criminal evidence, but the truth where it ran bone-deep. "I can understand why it scares you."

"I just wanted to be normal. Made myself forget. Dated girls. Never seriously. Lived a lie. Made myself forget," he repeated. "Then I came here and everything was different. Maybe I could be...what I was. No one here knew me. It would be safe enough. An anonymous face. A dark corner. Ten minutes. And never worry about seeing them again. But I just could never do it. Locked it all away again. Then there was you," he offered with a sigh. "Couldn't stop picturing you. Seeing you. Wanting to know you.."

Grissom exhaled. He shouldn't be hearing this. In a way, it was taking advantage of Nick-- not physically, but mentally, spiritually. Some way or another. The fact that Nick was giving him all these things, such personal, personal, carefully guarded things. He shouldn't be hearing these. Didn't want to.

But Nick needed to tell them. And maybe. Maybe. He needed to hear them...

Gil tilted his head to one side, stopped staring at the safe, safe ceiling. Now he was looking at Nick's face, the strong square jaw, expressive mouth. His fingers itched with the desire to trace those lips. He brought himself back to Nick's words. Not the first time some subordinate had had a crush on him, he reminded himself sternly-- just look at Sara. But these things faded in time; they realized Grissom wasn't quite what they'd thought. "You get over it pretty quick," he murmured with a small self-deprecating smile.

"I didn't get over anything." Heavy eyelids opened, it took his eyes a moment to focus on Gil's face. "I just keep hiding. Then tonight you were there and asking and pushing and I just...broke. I can't keep hiding. I can't keep lying. I can't."

"Oh Nicky," Gil breathed, wondering just where the ache in his chest had originated from, was it his ribs, his vertebrae, his lungs, in an awkward position? Heart, Grissom. Heart.... "I.... don't want you to have to lie." Grissom swallowed. Allowed his fingers to close the distance to Nick's lips, trace along them.

Nick's lips parted, gently closed around one of Grissom's fingers. A quiet moan followed, teeth lightly scraping the tip of one of the fingers. He'd wanted to do this forever. Almost since the day he'd first laid eyes on Gil Grissom.

It was not what he'd been expecting; he'd only wanted to touch, brush against those soft lips, just give in to a little temptation. Not feel Nick's lips part under his fingers, hot moist breath moving over his skin like a prayer; teeth digging gently in and sending the same sort of electric shock through his body as Nick's moan did. Grissom felt a shudder run from his scalp to his toes. He ran his thumb along Nick's chin, feeling the roughness of morning stubble. Grissom took a shaky breath, the fingers of his other hand tightening involuntarily in Nick's hair.

At the inadvertent tug, Nick sucked in his breath and one of Grissom's fingers. This was a novel situation, one he enjoyed. Nick experimentally swirled his tongue around, licking. Then a little bit of suction. Again, that nagging part of his brain said this was wrong, it was bad. Nick shut that train of thought down, allowing his eyes to close and just feel for once.

A physical groan escaped Grissom's lips, entirely without his permission. It had been... way too long... and Nick's mouth was hot and wet and his tongue was.... oh, this was bad, this was so bad. So why wasn't he pulling his hand away? Did it have something to do with the expression on Nick's face, pure bliss as it was? Dear God. "Nick," Gil said shakily. "Nick. I'm not so sure we should be doing this." There. There. His concession to morals.

Nicky cracked his eyes open, pulled away. Ended up rolled on his side, away from Grissom. Rejection hurt, especially after he'd bared his soul to the man. "I'm tired," he said, voice wavering. Eyes were tightly closed, not to block the light but to block tears from falling.

He could feel Nick's hurt, practically tangible; feel Nick drawing back into himself, bringing all the defenses back. No. He wasn't going to allow Nick to pull away from him... "Nick--" Grissom decided he'd said enough. Words weren't his strong suit anyway. Instead, he scooched over on the bed, placed his arm around Nick firmly. "I'm not letting go, Nicky," he murmured to Nick's shoulder. "Just-- rest right now. Other stuff... later."

It'd take a stronger man then Nick Stokes to hold out against a warm, snuggling body in an otherwise confusing situation. He didn't answer Grissom, just took a few deep breaths to relax. He was working on a retort, and before he could finish forming it, the Texan was sound asleep, snuggled back against Gil.

For Gil's part, he listened to Nick's breathing as it grew steadier and deeper. His arm tightened a bit around Nick's body, holding him close. Grissom's face showed his concern as he wrestled with inner questions and unlikeliness of the situation. Nick... handsome, strong Nick... whom he'd had more than one stray thought about over the years of working with him... so vulnerable. Confessing emotions for him that... just didn't -fit- with how things -worked. Gil squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, suddenly realizing he was tired as well. Long shift, he reminded himself, knowing it wasn't the real reason. Gradually his own breathing started to deepen as well.

It was easy to sleep with Grissom there, comforting to have that solid wall of warmth behind him. If he had to be absolutely honest it was the first night he slept peacefully in nearly three years. He trusted Gil with his life, with his deepest secret. His fears. And Grissom was still there. Still holding him.

It was several hours later when Gil Grissom realized he'd dozed off, holding Nick. Consciousness returned slowly and shyly, first the sensation of warmth, soft comfort. Then the knowledge of a slight stiffness in his neck that told him it would be painful to move it. Then a smell, masculine and pleasant and somehow familiar... his brain went off the muddy trails of consciousness as he tried to process, identify, categorize it. Finally the knowledge that he was up against a solid, wonderful-feeling body, his chest pressed to the person's back, his arm around the person's torso, his face against the back of their neck. Gil smiled sleepily into whomever-it-was's skin, exhaling in lazy satisfaction.

Nick groaned at the feeling of air tickling the back of his neck, still hazy from sleep and the aftermath of his emotional outbursts. Warm, comfortable. Safe. His mind went down its own path, wondering the last time he'd ever felt this safe. Hazy memories of Texas, his own bed, a few weeks after his ninth birthday. Nick stifled a yawn, wondering what dredged that up. Crane was the more immediate threat. The one who could kill him, not just hurt him. But that didn't matter, he thought hazily. Gil's here. He'll prote- "Shit!" Nick jerked awake, away from the arm holding him. Actually fell off the bed, landing on his ass and scooting backwards into the corner. Last night came flooding back, one hand going to his shoulder, rubbing the protesting muscles.

The warm body that had been under his arm suddenly wasn't, accompanied by a loud "Shit!" and a banging noise. Grissom jerked fully into consciousness, having had years of practice at needing to be instantly awake and thinking. He sat up swiftly-- felt a pain in his neck telling him that he'd regret that later-- and stared, eyes wide, trying to place his unfamiliar location. His eyes found Nick, and the events of the night, or the morning depending on whose clock you were on, came to his mind as well.

Gil blinked. "Hey," he said, blinking again and fighting a yawn as he looked at Nick.

"God. Grissom, man. I am so sorry.." Nick stayed where he was, barely getting his breathing under control. Panic was a mild term for the storm of emotions he was dealing with. "I.. I'm sorry," he added lamely. The damage was done; he probably lost the closest thing he had to friend because he couldn't keep his mouth shut last night.

Grissom was in the process of gingerly trying to rotate his neck to one side without making the twinge of sore muscles worse when he heard Nick's strained, "I'm sorry." He turned a mild, curious gaze on the younger man. "For what?" he said simply.

The rest had done him good, he thought; left him feeling calm and capable of handling whatever revelations Nick might deal him now. A small smile crossed Gil's lips as he mused that was easy to think now; Nick seemed to have a way of getting past his composure though. Gil finally gave into the yawn, then said, "There's nothing to be sorry about."

"I told you- things. Things I never meant to tell anyone. I mean.. God, I messed up. I'm sorry." He was trying desperately to remember everything he'd admitted to the older man last night, came up with a huge bunch of blanks.

Gil wanted to wince at the desperation in Nick's tone, at how horrified Nick was at having let personal things out. Instead, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, found the carpet with his socked toes, and stared intently at Nick's face. "Nicky," he said carefully, "if I'd been upset or offended at anything you said last night, would I still be here right now?"

"I don't know. That's the problem. I don't know what I said. How much you know. I don't remember anything except...begging. I begged you to stay. And then it hurt. And you were holding me.." His voice cracked, skull thunking against the wall when he dropped his head back, unable to hide the tears or frustration.

Grissom stood and walked over to where Nick was miserable in the corner, dropped down to a crouch in front of him, and reached a hand out cautiously for Nick's cheek-- cautiously, because he didn't know if, now that the drugs had worn off, Nick would still even -want- physical contact from him. He might not. "You didn't beg," Grissom said quietly. "And I'm... so very.. very.... sorry if I hurt you, Nick."

His first reaction was to blink, it was a known fact Gil didn't just touch people. His second reaction was shock, Gil rarely apologized, especially over something like emotions. Nick's third reaction was to tilt into the touch, Grissom's hand sliding easily over tear damp skin when Nick nuzzled into it. "What did I tell you last night?

Grissom smiled a little sadly. "True things, I think." Pause, his smile fading. "Things I may not have been.... ready to hear. But--" and Grissom's tone took back some of its usual crispness, "nothing that you should apologize for. Nothing that makes me judge you." He stroked his thumb over Nick's cheekbone.

"Did I tell you about- I mean.. Did I tell you about her?" Eyes slid closed, he was relaxing in spite of himself. Grissom just made him feel safe. Safe enough to tell him anything.

Grissom's brows knit together briefly; the only 'her' he could think of was Nick's brief reference to the prostitute. He didn't think Nick was referring to that. "...no, I don't remember anything like that," he said gently, sure that whatever it was, it was important to Nick if his expression was any clue.

"I.. I was nine. She was a last minute babysitter. She had her boyfriend come over. I was nine," he repeated softly. "When it was over, I sat in my room, in the dark. Door locked. Waiting for my Momma to come home." Somehow, he thought it was important for Grissom to know this.

Gil didn't quite get it at first, get what Nick was referring to. His face showed only confusion, then the confusion was replaced by comprehension, then anger. Grissom's blue eyes flashed coldly as he realized what had been done to Nick. And at nine-- years-- old--... his hand that had been at Nick's face clenched angrily; Gil wasn't by nature a violent man, but he thought that if he could somehow confront that babysitter....

It physically hurt Nick when Grissom's hand pulled away. He lifted a hand to run it over his chest, wondering at the absence of blood. When someone rips your heart out, shouldn't you bleed? He unclenched his hands, opened his eyes. Voice calm, eyes and expression blank. "I think you should go now."

At first Nick's words didn't even register. Grissom was too busy trying to remember the Texas statute of limitations on rape-- god, what a hideous word, for such a hideous act-- too busy trying to master his cold anger. When Nick's suddenly calm voice penetrated, he did a double-take, looked to see Nick's face too perfectly composed. "Go?" Gil echoed dumbly. "There's no way I'm leaving. My God, Nick..."

"I think you should go now," Nick repeated. Hands had clenched back into fists when Gil spoke, he took great pains to force them to relax again.

Grissom shook his head slowly, truly not comprehending why Nick wanted him to leave. He stared at Nick's face for a moment, then said slowly, "If... if you really want me to, Nick, I will. But... why? Hell, how? How can you just-- tell me that-- tell me that someone horribly, horribly abused your trust when you were a child, and then-- expect me to just walk away? Nick...." Grissom's voice was pained.

"I want you to leave. Why? You want to know why?" Nick's voice rose in volume, the last word almost shouted. "Because when I told you, you jerked your hand away like I disgusted you. So get out. I want you to leave. Now. Get out of my house!"

Grissom stared in stunned silence for a moment, then understood and groaned softly, dropping his face to his hand. In a low earnest voice, he said, "Oh, God. No. No, that's not it at all... Nick, I was angry at her-- oh hell Nick, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. Jesus. I'm not disgusted by you! I'm disgusted at her!"

"I want you to go. I don't- Just leave. While I have some dignity left." Nick's composure slipped a few notches, that carefully schooled blank expression gone, replaced by exhaustion, regret. Hurt.

Gil scrubbed wearily at his face with his hands; looked up miserably at Nick and exhaled. "If that's what you want. I don't want to make things any worse than I already have." Slowly, he dropped his hands to his sides, started to stand. Then he stopped, one hand on the floor, gazed intently at Nick's face. "But you listen to me, Nick. You don't disgust me, dammit." And he reached forward for Nick's face again.

Nick leaned forward, scooting out of his corner. When Gil's hand touched his face, Nick turned into it, slowly wrapping his arms around the other man. He was so tired of being alone, isolating himself from everyone else. All because of her.

Gil breathed out in relief; he'd been worried Nick would jerk back, freeze up, or perhaps worst of all, just suffer the touch with absolute apathy. But no, Nick responded, came back out of the miserable little corner he'd tried to pull himself into, and strong arms circled his body again. Grissom took a few breaths, brought his other arm up too, curling it around Nick's back, holding him close. "There," he breathed. "There. See? Here we are, Nick. No disgust, okay."

"O-okay. I'm okay." Better was more accurate. Okay was a long way off. "No one else knows. Except Cat. I never told my Momma."

Grissom felt a small flash of jealousy that Catherine had known and he hadn't. He quickly squished it- hadn't he been the one thinking that Cat was the better comforter?- in favor of a deep rush of pity. Dear God. To live with something like that-- never telling anyone-- never letting out that dark dank nasty little secret-- Grissom's eyes squeezed shut, and he unconsciously tightened his hold on Nick. "Damn her," he muttered darkly, referring to the so-called sitter. "Damn her for doing that to you. If I could, I'd...." ...what? Find her, jail her? No, it wasn't enough. Teach her what it was like to violate a child's trust...? How? ...no, Grissom thought sadly, what he really wanted to do was make it right for Nick.

And he didn't know how to do that.

"I'm sorry." Nick wasn't sure why he was apologizing, but he did it anyway. The hold he had on Gil loosened a bit, hands stroking up and down the now tense back trying to relax him.

Grissom almost laughed at Nick's apology. "You have nothing to apologize for. Knock it off," he said ruefully, closing his eyes at the feel of Nick's hands on his spine. Oh. Oh, that felt nice. Fleeting mental image of Nick's hands on his neck, working out that kink; Grissom quickly pushed it away. He knew all too well what sort of -other- mental images it would lead to. Still, it didn't stop him from relaxing a bit into the soothing feel of Nick's strong hands lightly stroking. A small sigh coming from Gil's lips.

"I'm sorry for being sorry?" Nick's tone was gently teasing, hands working slowly up and down Gil's back, pausing now and then to work on a stubborn knot. Since Gris didn't seem to mind he continued; up to shoulders, then the neck, thumbs pressing in gentle circles to relieve tension, pressure. "We should move this to the bed. I can get better access.."

Nick's touch moved from gentle strokes to actual rubbing, getting out those stubborn knots that Gil always told himself he'd go see a masseuse about but never quite made the time for in his schedule. It felt... unbelievably heavenly... enough to distract him from everything, Nick's confession, his anger at the sitter, the not-really-proper-ness of their current situation. When Nick suggested moving to the bed, Gil nodded before the connotations quite got through to him. When they did, he had to fight back a groan-- oh dammit, he'd spent the last several hours curled up on the bed with the man and he hadn't embarrassed either of them, so what was the danger? Grissom moved towards the bed, murmuring, "Nick, you should have put back rubs on your resume."

"Take your shirt off, lay down. Get comfortable. I'll be right back." Nick padded out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a small bottle of mineral oil and a couple towels.

Grissom had swallowed at Nick's words, audibly he was sure, but before he could say something like, "No, Nicky, that's okay, just with my shirt on will be fine" Nick was already out of the room. He fidgeted for a second, then told himself that it was really very simple: Nick apparently needed some physical closeness. A massage would do for that. It had nothing to do with how much he wanted it. Or anything. This was for Nick's benefit. Completely.

Gil had his shirt off and was lying down when Nick came back in. To his surprise, he felt a little self-conscious-- couldn't remember the last time he'd given a thought as to what someone else thought about how he looked. But, well; here he was. Fighting down the blush reflex again.

Nick licked his lips at the sight of his boss spread out on his bed like a buffet. Had to tamp that down though, Gil needed to relax, and Nick needed to do something helpful. It was a pattern; think about the past, feel guilty and dirty, then try to help someone else. It had driven him to be first a cop, then a CSI. Nick shook his head to clear it and knelt on the bed, knees resting against Grissom's thighs. A little oil was poured in his hands, warmed. Then hands were set on Gil's back, stroking easily.

The tension that Nick's earlier efforts had removed had all come back during the few moments the younger man had been out of the room, but at the first touch of warm, slick hands on his back, Gil practically melted. Ohhh. Grissom had a deeply hedonistic side he usually kept well under wraps, but Nick's strong fingers on his skin seemed to just bypass those 'wraps' completely. Gil stifled a groan, not well.

"That's it. Just relax. Let me do this for you." Once skin had warmed, Nick started to knead, knuckles raking down either side of the spine, fingertips following in an upstroke, gently pressing, kneading any residual tension away. He worked in quadrants, methodical and thorough. Needed a better angle for the shoulders and neck, so he straddled Gil's thighs, settling his weight there. Now he could get some force behind his hands, use the added pressure to coax the worst knots to relax.

"Jesus Nick," Gil said roughly, because it was better than letting himself moan again. "Oh... wow..." He closed his eyes, biting on his lower lip slightly to keep from making more incriminating noises. God. It felt so damn good. And Nick's body, above his own....on his legs... Grissom spent a moment in thankfulness that he was lying face down. His body's speedy reaction to Nick's touch should go unnoticed. "Ow! Yes, yes, right there, ow, yes..." Gil hissed as Nick's fingers found the crick in his neck.

"Feels good, huh? Just relax. I'll make it better." Nick shifted forward, now he was straddling Gil's ass and working the muscles in his neck and shoulders. Thumbs found and exploited pressure points, forcing muscles to give up every last bit of tension.

Gil whimpered, and he honestly couldn't tell whether it was from the hands working surely at the pressure points on his neck, or the fact that Nick had just straddled his ass. Thankfully it wasn't too loud, and the part of Grissom's mind that wasn't turning into sensuous jello was busy musing that it was one thing to lie on a bed with an emotionally-wiped-out, unconscious man in your arms, and another to have that same man on top of you, touching, moving, every shift sending a bolt of heat through your body. Bring it back to the professional, Gil thought desperately, co-worker, co-worker, co-worker. Subordinate. Office. Cases... "Feels great," he managed to say, thinking his voice was okay. The hoarseness told him he'd misjudged.

Nick bent down, kissed the back of Gil's neck. Sat up, stripped his own shirt off and then slid to lie next to the other man. His hand kept stroking over Gil's arm, just to keep contact. The kiss earned a groan into the blankets of the bed, as Grissom gave up. Why was he trying to fight it so hard, anyway? It wasn't as if Nick wasn't attracted to him-- for God only knew what reason; Grissom didn't consider himself as attractive or well-built as Nick, knew he wasn't charming personally either-- no; indeed, last night's kisses and confessions had testified to Nick's attraction. And it would be a bald-faced lie to say he wasn't attracted to Nick, hadn't been on some level since the first day he'd seen the handsome new face at the office. He thought it must boil down to the whole 'work' thing. He was Nick's supervisor. This wasn't a good idea.

There was not a chance in hell he could summon enough belief in that statement to resist this, though. Especially when he felt Nick's bare chest brushing against his shoulder, realized Nick had taken his shirt off. Hell with it, Grissom thought dazedly, half rolling onto his side. There were limits to his self-control. And he leaned his head forward, mouth seeking Nick's.

Nick met him half way, lips parted in welcome. Why he'd decided, finally, to do this was beyond his ken at the moment but he went with it anyway. With a kiss in full swing and Grissom lying on his side Nick shifted, sliding an arm around the other man.

The mouth that opened willingly under his own was warmer, sweeter, than it had any right to be. Gil moaned into Nick's mouth, tongue sliding over Nick's, exploring hungrily. Nick's arm around his body, fingers over bare skin, felt fantastic. He brought his own fingers up to stroke through Nick's short, dark hair, loving the feel of Nick's skull under his palm. "Nicky..." he murmured when they briefly parted for air, then he brought their mouths together again, wondering if he'd ever get enough of these kisses.

Nick was drowning in those kisses, lips soft and pliant, tongue shyly venturing to rub against Gil's, then exploring further. He couldn't help the moan or a shift, trying to get closer. Nails dug into skin, leaving half moons behind.

Gil slid his hand down, from head to neck to spine, breaking contact as little as possible, his hand coming to rest on Nick's hip, just above the other man's jeans. He shifted on the bed, dragging their bodies into as full a contact as possible, hooking one leg over Nick's own. So long he'd allowed himself half-formed thoughts about this-- maybe they'd played out a little different in his head, in fact, most of them had taken place at work-- but now....? Felt like he'd found the world's best roller-coaster, and this was a long dive down into pure sensation.

Nick couldn't help the tensing, he couldn't help drawing back slightly once he felt trapped. A small squirm, then he relaxed. It was okay, he was with Gil. Everything was going to be fine. As if to apologize for tension he deliberately relaxed, fingers tracing patterns on Gil's oiled skin.

Even now, Gil couldn't help but be observant. He felt the tension and withdrawal in Nick's form, and broke their kiss to lean his head back. "What is it, what's wrong?" he asked breathlessly, hand sliding over Nick's spine, down to his jean-clad ass.

"Nothing. I'm fine. It's fine. Promise." Nick was panting, lips red and swollen from Gil's kisses. "Just, I didn't expect this," he indicated Gil's leg by running his hand down the thigh. "It scared me until I remembered it was you. Then I was fine."

Gil took a deep breath and carefully slid his leg back off of Nick's own. "Not going to hurt you," he said thickly, leaving off the touches of Nick's spine in order to gently brush the younger man's cheek. "Just-- I know you haven't-- are you.... are you okay with this, Nick? I... I don't want you doing anything you don't want to..."

Nick smiled, the first real one he'd given in nearly twenty four hours. "I know you won't hurt me. It's why you're in my bed. I care about you, Gil. I always have even when I didn't want to admit it. Believe me, I want this. I want you." The Texan blushed, from the roots of his hair all the way down his neck.

It took Gil a moment to remember to breathe, but he did. Stopped just staring at Nick and returned the smile, then ran a teasing finger over the place on Nick's neck where his skin was red. "And I want you. Oh, so much, Nicky... and I'm not going to embarrass myself by telling you for how long, either." A small smile, then he leaned forward to kiss Nick again, more gently.

Nick kissed back, almost lazily, taking his time, exploring Gil's mouth, learning his taste, mapping the textures. One thing Nick loved was to kiss, he could suck face for hours. It had been one thing -he only thing- he'd really been comfortable with.

Grissom closed his eyes in bliss, his tongue gently sliding against Nick's own in a light duel. The must of moments before had faded at the reminder of how new to it all Nick was.... it was okay, though, he could take his time, that was at least one of the benefits of age. He smiled whimsically against Nick's lips, his hands crawling back down Nick's body, his chest this time, exploring just as surely as Nick's tongue was his mouth. Gil must have hit a sensitive patch of skin, since Nick moaned, sounding almost surprised. His back arched, hand sliding down Grissom's thigh, trying to tug it back over his own leg. He wanted the closeness, suddenly craved it.

Gil grinned, almost ferally, against Nick's mouth, then let Nick tug his leg back over. He skimmed his fingers back up Nick's chest, looking for the spot that had elicited the moan. Actually, it was several spots, each one getting a gasp, a moan or some other pleased noise. Nick slid his own leg between Gil's, pressing eagerly forward, hips rolling in search of friction. No more fear, just a shy wanting.

The blend of eagerness and shyness was unbelievably erotic, and Gil drew a hissing breath as he thrust forward with his own hips, feeling the bulge of Nick's erection bump his own through the layers of fabric they each still had on. Never leaving off his attention to Nick's chest with his hands, Gil gasped, "Evidence supports... that we have too many clothes on, Nick..."

Nick laughed, a softly strangled sound. "Well. Let's.. take some of them off."

"I concur," Gil managed, and dragged his hands down further, over Nick's flat, toned abs-- not that he wasn't going to pay more attention to those later, he thought-- to the jeans. He snapped open the button, unzipped the fly, realized his hands were actually trembling just a bit.

Nick hissed, hips pushing forward, grateful for the release from the too confining denim. His hands were fumbling with the fastening to Gil's trousers; finally he got them undone and paused, not exactly sure what to do next. "What.. What do you want me to do now? I mean, I've never..before."

Grissom felt laughter threatening: not the desperate hard laughter of earlier, when Nick had been apologizing for things that weren't his fault. Just innocent, happy, joyful laughter; he smothered it and his smile in the crook of Nick's neck. When he brought his face back, he was still smiling at Nick, his eyes twinkling. "I want you.... to relax... and let me make you first time... as wonderful as it should be, Nick." His smile was tender.

Nick absolutely melted at that smile. It was the first time he could remember Grissom giving him a smile like that, a smile tinged with approval, affection. When he spoke, his voice was hesitant, as he confessed his secret. "You want me to relax when I have the only guy i ever fantasized about willing to.. do things to me? With me?" He was equal parts stunned and grateful that Grissom wanted him. Didn't understand why, but he was grateful.

"Willing? " Gil said, managing not to choke on his own grin. "Nick... do you know how much I've-- it's more than 'willing,' let me tell you. Oh. If I had known you weren't as straight as I thought all this time.... well..." Another mischievous grin, then Gil lowered his mouth to Nick's neck, kissing along the line of his throat down towards his chest. More quietly, against Nick's skin, he said, "...I'm just surprised you're willing, with an out-of-shape old man like me..."

Nick actually whimpered when Gil spoke, but it was hard to tell if it was his reaction to the words, the touches, or both. The second part tough drew him up short, a hand sliding to Gil's face, grasping his chin so Grissom had to look at him. "Gil, you're the only man I've ever wanted. I think you're beautiful. The most beautiful man I've ever seen."

It wasn't his imagination this time, Gil thought; his heart really was capable of skipping a beat or two here and there. Steady, steady pulse just -silent- for a second or so, then back again. He stared wordlessly into Nick's brown eyes, then turned his chin and kissed the tips of Nick's fingers. "Thank you," he breathed, barely audible. "For that. And for trusting me. And allowing me to do this... be this... for you..." His hands started moving again on Nick's skin.

Nick offered an incredibly tender smile, leaning down to kiss Grissom again, a whisper of lips against cheek. "You could be this and so much more. I want you to be everything for me. Always did. Scares me, needing you this much. Then you smile or look at me and I forget to be scared."

Grissom stared at Nick for a long second, whatever thoughts were behind his blue eyes his and his alone. Then he smiled, gently and perhaps a bit sadly; and leaned his head forward to kiss Nick carefully. "Whatever I'm able to be for you, I will be," he murmured, fingertips ghosting over Nick's flat, lean abs.

"You're not...happy." Quietly. "You don't really want this, do you." Not so much a question as a statement.

"Nick..." Gil said in a soft tone, something pained underneath it. He couldn't quite meet Nick's eyes, pulled his head away to lay it on Nick's chest, his eyes tightly closed. "Nick, I do want this. I-- happy? I'm... delighted to be..." he trailed off in a sigh, hands closing on Nick's hips as if he needed something to hold on to. "I just... Nicky, I, I'm not, I don't know if I can-- I've never-- Godthisishard," he said in a rushed exhale.

Nick retreated behind his manners, took a deep, careful breath. Forced his voice and expression to be politely neutral. Yeah, that wall of manners was all he had going just then. "I think you should go now."

Gil heard the words, again, that Nick had tried to drive him away with earlier, and his moment of personal-whatever-it-was vanished under irritation. It was a lot better to be irritated at Nick, he mused, then trying desperately to match up to this level.... "Dammit, Nicky," he growled, sitting up abruptly. "Dammit, I'm -trying-, Nick, I am. You-- will you at least give me a chance to explain? Will you do that much, before telling me to go away, before pushing me out?"

"You can't let me in," he shot back. "Why should I be the only taking the risk?"

"I'm trying," Gil repeated, a note of desperation in his words. "Nick, I've never done this, alright? I-- yes, I've had sex, maybe I know more about that end of things, but this, this doesn't follow any of the rules, it's not, you're asking so much here, and I'm trying but--" he became vaguely aware that he was babbling; that he, logical and composed Gil Grissom was just running at the mouth like a hysterical rookie. Gil took a deep breath, his eyes closing. When he spoke his voice was low and controlled again. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should go."

"Maybe you should. If all I wanted was a fuck, I could get one on the strip for a hundred. I want more. I deserve more. But if you can't get past what I am, what happened to me.." Nick's voice took on a note of badly concealed hysteria, "Then you should just get out and pretend this never happened. Pretend I don't love you."

Grissom shook his head like a man in denial. Part of him was already mentally finding his shirt and getting up and leaving; the rest was focusing on one of the sentences Nick had said. "Goddammit, Nick," Gil exhaled, "it-- is-- NOT-- who you are-- or what happened to you-- dammit! You want to know who you ARE, I'll tell you who you are, you're a smart, compassionate, attractive, talented, wonderful man-- and what happened to you was horrible but it doesn't define you! You think I have to get past that? Get past it? Nicky..." Gil trailed off, then said in a low fervent tone. "I don't want to fuck you, I don't want a fuck. I care about you, Nick. And I know you deserve more. And I. Am. Trying." He exhaled, shudderingly. "But it's just not easy for me. Not because of anything wrong with you. Because-- because-- because I'm just not good at that. Nick, it is NOT your fault that... that... I'm not capable of saying what you just said to me."

"Then just go. I can't do this to you. It's not fair. Just chalk it up to nerves. Painkillers. Stupidity."

Gil was silent for a moment, just placed his face in his hands and rubbed at his eyes for a long second. Finally he looked up and said "No," with the sort of final implacability he usually reserved for talking to the sheriff. He rolled onto his back on the bed. "I'm not going anywhere," he said stubbornly. "I demand a chance. You can't just toss me out-- or give me an easy -way- out-- when I don't match up perfectly right away. Sorry, Nicky. You can't get rid of me that easily."

"You're gonna kill me, Gil." Nick rolled over until he was firmly pressed against Grissom's side. He wrapped himself around the other man, hid his face in the crook of Gil's neck.

A faint smile found its way unbidden onto Gil's face. "Or possibly the other way around, Nick..." Gil breathed, sliding his arm around Nick. He exhaled slowly, shifted his head a bit to allow Nick more room.

"I love you. I can't help it. I thought it was just friendship. But it's not. I just.. I need you. Anything you're able to give."

Gil closed his eyes at the soft air on his neck when Nick spoke, stroked his fingers over the available patch of Nick's spine. He licked his lips then said, "I... will do whatever I can... to be worthy of that, Nick. I promise. Just... just give me time--" a faint smile, an attempt at a joking tone; "--remember I'm older than you. Those defenses have had longer to be in place."

"I never let anyone close, Gil. Never. I've always been afraid. I'm allowed to have my own defenses."

Gil smiled weakly. "Makes two of us, Nicky. Christ, I don't want you to have to be afraid."

"I am afraid. Kristy was the only.. only time. With anyone. Ever."

"Ever? Nick--" Gil sighed, and his arm tightened around Nick's body. After a second, a sad smile quirked onto his face. "You've certainly done a good job fooling people..." He shifted a bit, onto his side, wanting to see Nick's face.

"I was an Eagle Scout. Baseball player. Frat boy. EMT. Cop. And.. now a CSI. And let people think what they wanted."

"People will do that, won't they," Grissom admitted, bringing his other hand up to the side of Nick's face. "What do you want to be, Nick?" His thumb stroked along Nick's cheekbone.

Nick closed his eyes, relaxing into the gentle caress. "Yours. Just yours."

The face in front of Gil's own was so completely open, and so beautiful... Gil felt a pain in his chest that he wasn't quite sure he could pinpoint, but he could still breathe around it so he was just going to have to live with it, he decided. And he leaned forward to kiss Nick again, carefully, tenderly.

Nick went soft under the kiss, hands sliding up and over bare skin. Carefully, each touch gentle. Tentative.

Gil exhaled, firmly telling his heart it needed to be steady and calm, that those light, hesitant touches were not making his pulse speed and race. He was partly successful, and slowly deepened the kiss, tongue probing at Nick's lips, hand sliding up to stroke through Nick's hair.

A soft moan was lost when Nick opened his mouth, eagerly pressing into the kiss. Not hesitant now, his tongue was sliding out to taste, touch, explore.

Gil didn't think he could ever stop being amazed at Nick, how quickly he managed to shift, to pull broken pieces together and be the competent CSI Grissom -knew- him to be-- or, more than just a CSI, a competent man. Competent... and passionate. Gil felt the enthusiasm of Nick's kiss urging him on, and forced himself not to let reckless speed and lust carry it all away. Kept the pace steady. Exploration and hunger, yes, but under control, under control, always under control. He wasn't going to let Nick get scared, he swore it to himself. He kept his hands steady and gentle on Nick's skin and hair.

The younger man pressed closer, grinding cautiously. Friction was a good thing, it was easy to forget and just feel. He trusted Gil or it never would have gotten this far.

Gil groaned into Nick's mouth as he felt the press of hips against his own, the grind of fabric and flesh. He broke the kiss long enough to breathe for a moment, forehead pressed against Nick's, breath slightly ragged. Then kissed Nick's lips again, briefly, then trailed his mouth along Nick's jaw, towards his ear.

Nick turned his head, giving Gil better access. A soft groan, hips pushing up, demanding more contact. "P-please..?"

"Process, Nick; process," Gil teased shakily, but his hand slid down Nick's side, over the younger man's shoulder, flank, and hips; then down between their bodies, stroking over the denim of Nick's jeans and the bulge there.

Nick let out a strained laugh that turned into a gasp when Gil touched him so intimately. He groaned louder, pushing into the hand, writhing. "Yesss.."

Gil pressed his mouth to the juncture of Nick's neck and shoulder, keeping himself from saying something similar, then parted his lips and sucked on the pale skin there, blunt teeth working aimlessly at flesh and muscle, tongue tracing absent pattern there as well. His hand snapped open the button of Nick's jeans and pulled the zipper down, then reached for the hard flesh within, clad in boxer briefs. "Beautiful Nick," he breathed against Nick's neck.

"You are.." Nick made some soft, needy sound in the back of his throat when Grissom touched him, hips moving easily, begging for more.

Gil's hand, square-palmed and strong-fingered, worked down the front of the boxer-briefs, curled around Nick's erection momentarily before he sat up, pulling his lips away from Nick's skin reluctantly. But he wanted those jeans -off-, wanted Nick bare and naked and glorious. Gil slid his fingers into the jeans belt hooks and dragged them and the boxers down and away. "-Very- beautiful," he murmured, eyes traveling back to Nick's face.

Nick's eyes were wide, he was fighting back some memory. A small shake of his head and he visibly relaxed. Shifted to make it easier to be stripped. "Now you. Your turn. I wanna touch," he whispered huskily, drawl in full force.

Gil swore his cock twitched inside his trousers at Nick's drawl, and he nodded, not quite sure he could trust his voice right then. He pulled away from Nick's body and undid the buttons of his own trousers, eyes on Nick's face, a small smile on his lips. "Whatever you want, Nicky. Whatever... and however..."

"You. I want you. I don't know what to do, Gil.."

"So have me," Gil said, spreading his hands for a moment, as if things really were just that easy. He shucked off his trousers and boxers, letting them fall to the floor; his cock bobbed happily to be free of the confining fabric. Gil looked serenely into Nick's face. "Touch. If you want. There's no guidebook, Nick, there's no wrong way to do this. And there's no one to judge you."

"I just want you to feel good. I want to do this right."

Gil swallowed thickly. "Nick. I feel damn good right now, okay? Anything you do will be right." He exhaled shudderingly, reached out for Nick's hand and kissed his palm gently. "What. Do you want. To do?"

"I want you. I mean, I read about the basics. I want that." He shivered at the kiss, lifted his palm to rub it over the beard. "I want...you in me. On me. Touching me. Is that-" Nick took a deep breath, looked up. "Is that okay?"

Gil made a strangled sound in his throat, knew that this time his cock had definitely responded to the idea, and cleared his throat with an effort. "That's fine," he managed after an effort. "That's fine. If that's what you want." Deep breath, Gil, deep breath. "Just-- might be a lot for you. Your first time. We'll.... go slow. Okay?"

"Okay. Slow. I guess...I guess I should tell you I uh...experiment sometimes." Nick was bright red after that admission. "With...things. Toys."

"Oh," Gil said faintly. As if he'd needed any more mental images of Nick.... the younger man, pleasuring himself, hand behind his sculpted body, driving in with some toy, head thrown back, noises coming from his mouth... "Ohh.... Nicky, you -are- trying to kill me..." He swallowed again and reached forward, finding Nick's shoulder with his hand and stroking slowly down over the planes of his chest, fingers seeking out Nick's nipples.

"I just thought -oh God, Gil- I thought it would help me not want this as much. Do- do you want to see them? Use them?" Nick was practically begging, his whole body moving to encourage more attention from those hands.

"Umm," Gil said weakly, trying to keep coherent. "Maybe- later. For now.... for now I just want us, Nicky. You. Me." His hands slid down around Nick's sides as he leaned in, mouth seeking out the flesh he had explored with his fingers. Gil's lips closed on Nick's right nipple, tongue moving against it even as his beard scratched against Nick's skin.

He was done talking, back arching up on a bow with the first feel of Gil's mouth on his nipple. A low grunt, hands sliding into graying curls to keep him there. Might have been a hissed, "yes" in there somewhere, but it would be hard to tell.

With Nick's hands tangled in his hair, Gil kissed and sucked and licked and nibbled at the hard pebble of flesh between his lips, rubbing his face against Nick's flat chest. He used his hand to tease and stroke the other nipple into hardness, savoring every noise and movement Nick made, every responsive motion. Trying not to break the contact of his lips and Nick's skin, he shifted over closer, pressing body against body.

Once Nick got past the shame of his desires and his good ole boy act, he was an eager partner. A hand left Gil's hair to stroke down the other man's back, nails digging into flesh when a particularly good spot was found. The more aroused he got, the more vocal he became, Breathy moans, stuttered whispers, gasping noises of approval and surprise fell from kiss swollen lips.

Nick's responsiveness only turned Gil on more. Nicky smelled and tasted so damn good, and made such beautiful noises.... Gil worked his way across Nick's flat, toned chest to the other nipple, administering the same treatment, even as Gil arched his back at the feel of Nick's nails on his skin. The pleasured noise he made was muffled against Nick's skin as Gil ground his hips against Nick's, hands moving almost desperately over the younger man's smooth body.

Nick gave up all pretense of control, hands sliding eagerly over Gil's body, finally settling on the other man's ass. Sot rubbing soon became tight gripping and he pulled Gil tighter to him, grinding up, arching his back. More noises fell from his lips, along with desperate begging sounds.

"Oh god Nicky," Gil gasped roughly against Nick's skin. He was trying to be gentle, to make Nick's first time everything it should be; but Christ, with Nick rubbing against him, gripping him, making those soft, soft noises.... His hands slid lower on Nick's body, caressing the younger man's hard cock eagerly; his head followed in the same direction, pressing hasty kisses in a line down Nick's stomach.

Nick whimpered Gil's name as he started to caress the rock hard flesh, hips arching upwards in a blatant demand. When Gil started kissing downwards, Nick gasped, a hand now settling in and tugging on graying curls. Impatient, Nick wasn't sure what the other man was going to do but he knew it'd be good.

Gil grinned a bit at the feel of Nick's strong hands tangling impatiently in his hair. He kissed Nick's belly button briefly, then licked his lips briefly, his eyes betraying his own lust. Gil's tongue emerged from between his lips as it often did when he was thinking about a case, but what followed was not something that had -ever- happened on a case. Gil wrapped his lips around the head of Nick's cock and traced the silky-skin there with his tongue, slowly sliding more of Nick into his mouth.

"Oh God.." Nick whimpered, hips pushing up. No one had ever done that before. Had to curl his hands into fists and squeeze until nails bit into his palm to keep from coming in Gil's mouth right there.

Gil smiled around Nick's cock, self-satisfaction glinting in his blue eyes. His hands settled on Nick's hips, holding him down onto the bed; Gil took a breath through his nose before lowering his head further, tongue moving on the underside of Nick's cock as the stiff organ disappeared inside his mouth. A slight moment of adjustment-- it had been a few years since Gil had done this, actually-- to the feel of a blunt cock-head pushing at the back of his throat, then Gil made a muffled noise of satisfaction as he started to suck.

Nick was squirming, since the hold Gil had on him wouldn't let him arch up. A gasp followed, a whine on the tail end of it. Wasn't going to last, he could already feel the orgasm building. "I can't.. stop, please. I can't.."

Gil wasn't about to take his mouth off, but he looked up at Nick's face, reached a hand up to his chest to get his attention, stroking over Nick's skin reassuringly. With his eyes and touch he tried to say It's all right, Nicky, I want you to. Come for me Nicky... The satisfied look flashing again in his eyes, Gil smirked inwardly, then swallowed.

Nick held that gaze for a long moment, then Gil was swallowing him. He wasn't strong enough to hold out against the warm, slick heat surrounding his cock, and with a shout of Gil's name he was coming, breath falling into sobs. It went on forever, it was over too soon, leaving him empty and aching inside.

Gil grinned mentally as he felt Nick's orgasm hit, then the burst of warm, salty liquid in his mouth. Nick had no idea how gorgeous he was right now; pale sweaty body shuddering and out of control, breathy sobs, those beautiful muscles trembling against the sheets.... Gil swallowed, pulled his head back licking Nick's flesh clean as he went, then crawled back up Nick's body, fingers moving through the sweat on Nick's skin, a predatory smile on his face. "You are so damn beautiful, Nicky," he whispered.

If Gris wanted meaningful conversation, he'd have to wait. Nick just effectively shot his brain down gil's throat. Best he could manage was a soft grunt. "Mmm."

Gil chuckled softly, burying his face in Nick's shoulder and neck for a moment, breathing in the scent of him. He stroked down Nick's sides with his hands, delighting in the feel of it, of everything; in the glazed look in Nick's eyes, in the sound of his breathing, in the way he could still taste Nick on his lips and tongue. Gil tilted his head and gently kissed Nick.

Nick shivered at the gentle touches, lazily returned the kiss. Tasted himself, blushed. But damn if it didn't make him want to do the same for Gil, make him feel just as good.

Smiling against Nick's mouth, Gil closed his eyes briefly, a noise not unlike a purr coming from his throat. His own erection, which had only flagged a bit during the attention he had happily paid to Nick's cock, was pressed against Nick's thigh, and Gil moved his hips a little, growling in soft pleasure at the resultant friction. "Mm. Dammit, Nick, you're too damn gorgeous, do you know that...?" he said through his smile.

"Mm. Yeah. That's.. yeah. How can I.. I mean, yanno. You're still.. and I could, yanno. Go again," Nick offered, slightly embarrassed. His cock was still hard, aching again from those little grinds. Knew he had at least one more left. "I'm not scared. I'd really like to...yeah. You know." Bright blush followed, he couldn't say the words.

Gil laughed brightly against Nick's red-flushed skin, muffling his chuckles in the younger man's cheek. Lifting his head, he grinned boyishly at Nick, then said, "Why Nick, that's the most eloquent proposition I believe I've ever had." His smile softened a bit, then he said, "I want whatever you want here, Nick. Anything you feel comfortable doing." He raised his hand to cup Nick's cheek, fingers caressing the line of Nick's jaw. "...if you want... if you're okay with it... I'd still like to be inside of you, enjoy you that way. And make you feel good that way too. But whatever you want, Nicky," he whispered.

Nick slapped Gil's ass lightly. "Yeah, and I'm supposed to believe you could hold elegant discourse after shooting your brain out your cock?" Eyes went wide when he realized what he said and Nick groaned, hid his face under a pillow. "But yeah. I want that. I mean you. Inside me. I bet it's a lot better then toys."

Gil laughed again, softly, his grin growing mischievous again at the slap to his ass. "Well, we certainly hope so," he said cheekily, a brow arching, then sat up a bit on the bed. "Speaking of your, ah, toys though... I don't suppose you have any lube lying around?" He cast an inquisitive glance back at Nick.

"Nightstand. Drawer. Yeah, help yourself." In the drawer along with various types of lube were a nice assortment of toys, some slender and delicate, others wide and ridged, others that had exact anatomically correct builds.

Gil nodded, and leaned across the bed to the nightstand. He opened the drawer, expecting maybe a tube or two-- not the various containers that met his eyes. Or the... other objects in the drawer. Gil drew a wheezing breath after a few seconds, coughed; his imagination was swift, and gleefully engaged in painting pictures of Nick with some of these.... toys. Oh, God. Taking a steadying breath, Gil selected one of the lubes, shut the drawer firmly, and turned back to Nick knowing that now -his- face was bright red. "You weren't kidding about having toys," he said in a slightly strangled tone.

Nick sat up, instinctively grabbing a sheet to cover himself with. Embarrassed, shy, nervous. "I.. I.." He couldn't defend himself, just looked at Gil with wounded eyes over what he took as censure.

Nick's nervous reaction made Gil blink, and once again he had to remind himself of how new Nick was to this, how fragile in some respects the strong young man was. "Oh, Nicky..." he murmured, dropping back onto the mattress and smiling tenderly at the other man. "It'll take a while for you to get that I'm not going to judge you here, won't it?" He snorted softly, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement on his face. "If I seem a little... well... weirded... it's because I'm trying not to embarrass myself with an over-eager reaction to your, uh, toys, Nicky." Gil waggled his eyebrows in self-mocking lechery, and said in a mock confidential whisper, "They're hot."

Nick blushed, visibly relaxed when Gil spoke to reassure him. "I can share," he offered. "The ugly pink one is my favorite. All these little bumps that hit the right spots.." A blush followed that admission.

Gil exhaled to steady himself, shifting a bit on the bed to try and relieve the uncomfortable pressure between his legs, and smiled weakly. "Oh at some point I'll take you up on that," he wheezed. "When I'm a little more patient."

"I guess, I should tell you," Nick blushed again, or more aptly still. "When I was...using those, I fantasized about you. You're a walking wet dream for me, Gil."

Gil made another little strangled noise, eyes glazing a bit at the thought: he'd already had a pretty fascinating mental image of Nick pleasuring himself with the toys. Now it was compounded by the knowledge that Nick had been thinking of him while doing so. Gil shuddered a bit, thinking the room had no right to be this hot. He moved back to Nick's body, lips coming to Nick's ear, and breathed, "Fantasies. Tell me...." His hand crawled down Nick's chest slowly.

A shiver at the touch, his own hand reaching to gently hold Gil's. "I fantasized about you being here. In my bed. Holding me, touching me." Nick broke off, took a deep breath. Made himself look at Grissom. "You inside me. It's why I finally bought the toys. Made it more real. I just...I didn't know how to tell you. Ask you."

Gil took a deep breath unconsciously mirroring Nick's. "Well. I'm here now, aren't I?" he said with a small, conspiratorial smile. "Better late than never. But you could have just asked me." His smile broadened a bit, in wickedness as well. "Ive... thought about you, you know. Lots."

"Gris, I was an EMT, then a cop. I saw real quick how macho law enforcement slash rescue guys treat faggots. And worse, I didn't care about them. I cared about you, needed your approval. You think I could risk throwing what little I had by telling you I'm gay?" Nick was so off balance he got up to pace restlessly across the room, still nude and not really caring.

Gil sighed. He watched Nick move, one part of him still quite enjoying the site of Nick's bare body moving. He let Nick pace for a few moments, then rolled off the bed himself and into Nick's path, arms coming up and grabbing Nick, pulling him close. "And I wish you hadn't had to feel that way. But what do you suggest, Nick? Do we dwell on that? Or do we just be thankful we're here now, and move on from that?" he said, pressing his lips into the side of Nick's neck.

"God. This is so easy for you, isn't it? You understand yourself, know yourself. Comfortable with it." Once grabbed, Nick sagged and let himself be wrapped up in those arms, shivering as words slid over his skin. "I just.. Maybe you can accept it that easy, but I can't. I mean, I kept kidding myself I wasn't gay, even after I started playing with toys. But fuck that. Here and now, fine. Forget the rest, because I'm not going back to it."

Gil just held Nick for a few longer seconds, wishing he could somehow take all the horrible experiences and associations Nick had had of his own sexuality and remove them, forever, destroy the evidence, wipe it all away. Nick deserved so much better than the self-hatred and trying to convince himself of some absurd 'normality.' Gil sighed and his arms tightened around Nick. "You know that I'm here, Nick. For whatever you need. Even if it's just to talk."

"You're here now. The rest doesn't matter. You're here. I'm not dreaming. It's not..it's real. Very real. Say something," Nick pleaded. "So I stop babbling."

A smile fleeted across Gil's face as he looked into Nick's eyes, then said, "Or I could just kiss you." And he did, thoroughly; hands sliding down from Nick's shoulders to his waist, hips, ass; fingers mapping the territory thoroughly.

The kiss worked, it shut Nick up. And he threw himself into it whole heartedly, all but devouring Gil's mouth. Lips mashed, his tongue plundered, hands gripped the other man's hips. Fingers dug in, would leave marks for a long time after.

Gil groaned into Nick's mouth as the physicality of the situation reasserted itself. He automatically ground forward with his hips at the feel of strong fingers digging into his flesh. Gil broke the kiss long enough to say roughly, "Bed," and tried to walk Nick more or less back in that direction; his lips found Nick's again, hunger rising hard in him.

Nick stumbled backwards at the gentle push, leaned forward to capture Gil's lips again, trapping him in another kiss that bordered on brutal. That's when he lost track of how far away the bed was and tumbled back onto it when his knees hit, Gill pulled down on top of him.

"Mmwhf," Gil elucidated as he tumbled unexpectedly to the bed on top of Nick, limbs tangling. Nick's hungry kisses were overwhelming, sent heat shooting straight down to his groin. "Oh yes, yes Nick," Gil breathed when their lips parted for a moment, hands moving shamelessly on Nick's skin to pull them closer, hips shifting for greater contact; as he let Nick's tongue into his mouth, not fighting him, just suckling on the other man's tongue and lips.

Nick groaned sharply, hips pushing up to grind, legs tangling shamelessly with Gil's. Nothing else mattered now, he wanted everything, and now. Gil’s mouth was his own personal buffet, hands slid eagerly, almost meanly over skin, nails digging in, fingers leaving bright pink lines behind.

Gil gave a moan that sounded like it had been torn from deep in his body at the aggressive feel of Nick's hands on his skin, the rough caresses, the almost-pain of nails digging into his skin. His back arched at the welcome sensations as he thrust back against Nick's hips, hard cocks rubbing against each other. It was so fucking good, and it had been a long time since Gil had had it this intense, had the waiting for it; shivers ran through his body as he willingly let Nick touch wheresoever he would.

Nick was panting when he drew back, hands smoothing over the slightly raised lines. "I love you, Gil. And I want this." God, did he want this. The grinding, the kissing, the cocks brushing. Half tempted to reach down and jerk them off together, but he wanted more. Wanted to feel Gil inside him, wanted it all.

"Oh God Nicky," Gil breathed raggedly, fingers clutching at Nick's upper arms. "Yes, yes..." He pulled back, sliding down Nick's body, feeling friction at every turn. Gil reached for the lube as he settled, kneeling, between Nick's legs.

Nick groaned in response to the words, knees drawn up to expose himself intimately. Hoped he wasn't turning Gil off by being so forward but the last year or so he'd gotten to crave being filled, that's where the toys had come in.

Gil felt his mouth go a bit dry at the sight of Nick so easily offering himself, offering entrance. Oh Christ, he hadn't wanted to just pound into someone this badly since he'd been a teenager, he didn't think. With shaking hands, Gil opened the jar of lubricant he'd grabbed and liberally slicked his fingers, his other hand coming up to rub soothingly at the underside of Nick's thigh as he prodded Nick's arsehole with one lubed fingertip.

Nick clenched at the foreign sensation, but a deep breath later he was relaxed, pressing back against the slick digit. A low, guttural moan followed when he was breached, hips pushing up to try and get more. It was incredible.

Nick's responsiveness didn't fail to amaze Gil; he let out a little sigh at the feel of Nick's muscles closing around his finger, the counterpoint sound of that low, sensual moan balancing everything beautifully. "You're so lovely, Nick," he breathed, his other hand dropping to the lube and getting some onto his palm and fingers. He wrapped that hand gently around Nick's cock as he slid another finger in in back, stroking slowly inside Nick's body.

"Gil, Gil, Gil," he chanted, body writhing under the onslaught of sensation. Nick set a slow, easy rhythm, hips lifting in the upstroke, dropping and pushing back on the downstroke. A soft gasp followed, then a stifled sob. "God, I can't.. I'm gonna.."

"Shh, it's okay, it's alright," Gil murmured, lost in the sight of Nick as he was. "Just hold on a little longer, Nicky. I want to be in you..." His hand slipped off Nick's cock, returning to the thigh; his other slid out, then reached down to his own shaft, guiding him forward. "Breathe, Nicky, breathe and relax for me, alright, okay..." he said in a low reassuring tone, mostly nonsense syllables that got worse as, his own control and patience notwithstanding, he felt Nick's hot skin pressed against his own cock, and nearly lost his self-restraint again.

Nick cried out sharply, the first touch of skin almost sent him over. Then he was fighting to breathe, fighting to relax like Gil told him to. Not much existed right then beyond Gil's voice and the feel of satinslick skin slowly forcing inside.

"Oh god," Gil said in a guttural groan as Nick's skin closed around him, squeezing him in velvet heat and slickness. It was too good, too good, hips wanted to thrust and screw and fuck and he didn't want to do that to Nick, he wanted to make love to him, Gil thought hazily. His hips moved forward, pushing, and then he was in, the unbelievable feel of Nick's body around his own. Gil closed his eyes and exhaled a shuddering, prayer-like breath, then brought his hand back to Nick's cock, caressing the skin. "It's okay now Nicky," he whispered, his expression that of a man experiencing heaven.

Even with all the prep, all the practice with the toys, Gil was bigger. Wider. And it hurt, but in a delicious kind of way. Nick was panting when Gil finally settled, eyes tearing. It hurt, but he did start to relax, forgetting the discomfort of being breached when a workworn hand started stroking his cock again. Hips shifted and he moaned, repeated the movement. "Good, so good.."

"Yeah," Gil said breathlessly. "Just... keep breathing... Oh fuck Nick, you feel so damned good, dear God..." He started to move, slow at first, but thrusting in, deep angle, trying to find Nick's prostate; his rhythm matched by his hand on Nick's cock.

Nick's hands lifted, fingers and nails biting into Gil's shoulders. Hips moved lazily, languidly, muscles relaxing with easy deep stroke. Then Gil hit something inside and Nick almost shouted, white light blinding him. "Oh God, oh God, please.." Nick was more active now, rocking up, falling back, trying harder to get more, deeper, now.

Nick's reaction showed him he'd pretty much hit what he'd been aiming for, and Gil would have grinned if he'd been up to doing anything but panting at the moment. He thrust in, harder, deeper, knowing the angle to move at now; the sharp-bits of almost-pain from Nick's nails delicious and maddening, his own hands moving randomly, from Nick's groin to unplanned touches over his torso, just to touch, just to feel, aimless and lost in the pattern of it as Gil was. "Oh yes, yes, yes yesyes," he hissed softly, coherent speech not quite capable. Not at this moment.

Nick wanted to tell him how good it felt, how it was better than he fantasized it could be. Wanted to pull him close, kiss him, hold him, just have him right there and then Nick felt the orgasm pooling, tingling at the base of his spine. A scream was wrenched out of the Texan, deep and guttural as he spilled his release between them.

Gil was vaguely aware of Nick's climax, the shudder of muscles, wrench of bodily release, and come spattering his chest and hands. All of it felt obscenely, wonderfully good; he looked down at Nick through half-open eyes, torn between wanting to see Nick and wanting to just let sensation carry him clean away. A few more thrusts and that was his own edge, the roller-coaster feel of adrenaline and free fall, absolute giddy liberation that made him laugh, a sound not of amusement but just sheer joy and pleasure. Gil came hard and satisfyingly, slumping onto Nick's chest, a beatific grin on his lips even as he panted for breath.

Nick's legs slowly relaxed until they rested on the bed again, muscles trembling from the effort of holding them up and open. Couldn't breathe, couldn't think, just could feel. Hazy sensations, like the heat of his lover's breath against his cheek, the slickness of come and sweat sandwiched between them. The pleasurable ache where he was still connected to Gil. And finally the feeling of everything being absolutely right, like this was where he belonged.

Lazily, almost absently, Gil stroked over Nick's body, his sides where sweat had pooled on them, his arms and hips and legs. "Mmmm... any idea... how wonderful you are, Nicky..." he murmured in absolute contentment, then blinked a bit, opened his eyes wider and took his weight off Nick's chest, put it on his forearms instead. "Sorry. Must be crushing you." He smiled down at Nick, ducked his head down for a kiss.

Nick was having none of that retreat. Softly trembling arms circled the older man, pulling him back down. Kiss accepted shyly, gratefully, cheeks tinged pink from the praise.

Gil smiled again, touched by the gesture, and Nick's desire to be close. He wrapped his arms Nick as well, rolling a bit awkwardly onto his side without disentangling their bodies; he knew he wasn't exactly a toothpick of a human being. Gil sighed happily, stroked along Nick's spine.

Nick took a shuddering breath, held it for the count of five and then let it out. He was incredibly drowsy, body aching and sated, muscles relaxed. Heavy eyelids slid closed, lips gently pressed to Gil’s neck. A shower can wait, he thought drowsily. I don’t want this to stop just yet. And that’s how he fell asleep, lulled by Gil’s soft petting and the tender words he was whispering when he didn’t know Nick was listening.

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