Title: The Sweet Science of Bruising
By: Rhysenn
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Sex of dubious consent.
Summary: There's nothing complicated about what Gil wants from Nick.

***

Nick bent towards the sink and splashed cold running water onto his face. He ached all over - it had been a double shift from hell, which had ended with that wife-murdering bastard walking free because a rookie cop had opened the fucking trunk without a fucking warrant and had taken out the fucking evidence that would've been more than enough to put the guy away for life, except now they couldn't.

He kept his eyes closed as he braced himself against the sink, and left the water running. He loved this job, man, he really did - but sometimes, he thought bitterly, what you loved most could turn around and really, really mess you up. And times like this, you just couldn't help but wonder why.

Nick sighed, snatched a towel and scrubbed his face dry; then he looked up and saw someone in the mirror, standing behind him.

"What the- fuck!"

Nick spun around to face Grissom.

"Dammit, Gil, you scared the shit outta me! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I let myself in with your key." Gil looked at him, and didn't smile. "We were supposed to meet this morning, Nick. What happened?"

Nick held the towel in front of his crotch; Gil had seen him naked countless times before, but he felt weird standing there like that when Gil was fully clothed.

"I left a message on your phone," he said. "Didn't you get it?"

"I did." Gil leveled his gaze. "You still haven't answered my question. Where were you?"

Nick shut off the faucet behind him, and leaned back against the edge of the sink. He glowered at Gil.

"Well, then did you actually listen to what I said?" he replied, irritation creeping into his voice. "If you had, you'd have pretty much gathered that you were lucky enough to miss a really screwed up shift tonight, and I was just too tired to head over to your place."

"I leave for Edinburgh in three hours." Gil's expression remained placid. "I expected a send off."

Right. That forensic conference. Damn. Nick had completely forgotten about it.

"Look," Nick said with a sigh. " I'm sorry, all right? And I mean, you'll only be gone for a week."

Gil's eyes darkened.

"Is that another way of saying you won't miss me?"

There was a tone of danger in his voice; and Nick, despite his nerves being shot to hell, immediately recognized it. He bit his lip, and decided to just let the matter drop - no point fighting with Gil over something as trivial as this. It wasn't worth it.

"Tell you what," Nick tried to keep the draggy exhaustion out of his voice, "let me finish my shower and I'll drive you to the airport. Give me five minutes, tops."

Nick dropped the towel and turned away to step into the shower; but Gil's hand immediately shot out and grabbed his arm.

"That's not the send off I'm talking about," Gil said evenly.

Startled, Nick glanced back in time to see Gil's gaze sweep down his naked body - and something flickered in Gil's eyes, terrifyingly intense, as was the smile that curved on his lips.

"And you should know by now, Nick," Gil continued, "for you, I'll always have more than five minutes to spare."

Oh man, Nick thought, he has got to be kidding. Nick hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours, had just worked like a madman for two straight shifts only to watch the culprit walk, and what did Gil want from him?

"Gil," Nick said, trying to be calm despite the coil of dread twisting in his stomach. "Listen. I don't want to do this right now, okay? And we need to get you to the airport in time for your flight. So do you mind getting out of here so I can shower?"

Gil laughed; the sound of it made Nick's skin prickle in a very unpleasant way.

"I don't think you understand me correctly, Nicky," Gil said, still smiling. "I didn't come here so you could drive me to the airport. The cab I took could've done that."

The tone in Gil's voice was like cold steel; and Nick had seen flashes of this before, this side of Gil that had reared to the surface in split moments, such as those times when Gil shoved him down onto the bed or up against the wall, much harder than necessary, allowing no room for Nick to move or breathe.

Those moments, Nick now realized, were the clues. This was the crime.

"Gil," he said, the desperation in his voice thinly controlled. "Get out of my bathroom." He swallowed, and then added, more quietly: "Please."

Gil reached out, and Nick tensed; but then all Gil did was brush the back of his hand across Nick's cheek, tenderly. Nick held his breath for a moment; but when Gil merely turned his hand to gently cradle the side of his jaw, Nick exhaled slowly in relief, and even found himself leaning into the familiar caress.

"Nicky," Gil said his name quietly; and then: "Down on your knees."

Nick jerked backwards, away from Gil's touch. "What?"

Gil reached forward with both hands on Nick's shoulders, firmly drawing him closer.

"I think you heard me clearly enough." His words were soft, yet like the edge of a blade.

"Oh my god," Nick recoiled, pushing Gil's hands off his body and backing away as far he could. "I can't believe you're asking me -"

"Nick," Gil interrupted, his voice still calm, "I'm not asking you."

Nick stared at him in disbelief. Now, he really couldn't believe this.

"What's the matter with you, Grissom?" he snapped, without thinking. "Can't live a day without sex?"

And at that moment, Nick knew he had gone too far - and the sheer, determined focus that darkened Gil's eyes almost to black, the sight of which had aroused Nick so many times before, now sent a cold shiver up his spine.

"If it were only sex I couldn't live without," came the chilling reply, "then I wouldn't be here, now, would I?"

Nick looked at the man standing in his bathroom - and he wanted to cry, because this man wasn't Gil Grissom, and yet he was. Nick felt vulnerable, trapped, and being completely naked did not help. The fear must have shown on his face, because Gil took a step back and surveyed Nick; it was the same way Gil surveyed a crime scene, mapping out space, time, knowledge of things not clearly discerned, which would give him all the advantage.

And that's what Gil always had on him: all the advantage. Even without having to take it by force.

"When you're on a case," Gil said, uncannily reading Nick's thoughts, "you always do whatever the case requires of you."

He advanced again, this time directly blocking the path to the door and trapping Nick between the sink and the shower.

"And I expect nothing less when you're with me."

"My god, Gil," Nick whispered; they were inches apart, and now he was fetched up against the sink. "Please, just back off, just - don't. Please, Gil."

Nick knew how pathetic it was, that he was reduced to pleading like this.

"You can fight me," Gil answered, spreading his hands in a wide gesture. "You're a healthy, strong man, Nick. You can fight me if you wanted."

"I don't want to fight you," Nick's voice cracked, more than just a little. "It doesn't have to be this way."

Gil reached forward, catching Nick's face in both his hands; Nick tried to turn away, but Gil's grip was firm, bruising.

"Yes, it does," Gil said, and then kissed him, hard.

Gil's mouth on his was hot, heavy, and the burn of Gil's beard on Nick's face was rough; Gil's tongue thrust deep, and Nick could barely breathe. He would have lost his balance if not for being trapped between Gil's body and the sink; the hard porcelain edge bit into the small of his back from the force of Gil pressing against him, and Gil's hands raked over his body, fingernails dragging across bare skin.

Nick felt a hot flush of shame as Gil's hand slid lower, and closed over his cock; he had never felt dirty when Gil touched him, but he did now, like this, and he hated even more that he was quickly getting hard in Gil's palm, because.

Because this felt anything but right.

"Oh god, Gil," he gasped against Gil's mouth as Gil's hand tightened around his cock and started to pump; he struggled in his restricted position, the friction of Gil's clothes against his naked skin a stark reminder of exactly who would set the pace, who was in control.

"Nicky," Gil commanded. "Look at me."

Nick turned his face away. He couldn't look at Gil, it was too humiliating with Gil stroking him like this, with him pinned and panting like a whore. He didn't mean to, god, he didn't even like it this way, but Gil had always succeeded in pushing him to limits that even he hadn't known.

"Look at me, and tell me this doesn't turn you on," Gil said; the rhythm of his hand around Nick increased, and Nick squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to gasp when Gil's fingernails scraped over the head of his cock. "Tell me you don't want this."

Nick made a choked sound as Gil leaned down and sucked on his nipple, the sharp edge of his teeth like a warning and a promise, sending a fiery sensation through him that shot straight down and made him even harder. Then Gil's mouth moved away from his chest, along with the twin rush of relief and need as Gil's hand left his cock.

Nick opened his eyes, dizzy and breathless. He saw that Gil was squatting in front of him - not kneeling, he noted ironically - and Gil's eyes were steadily fixed on his, watching every expression that Nick knew he was way past trying to conceal.

"Look at me," Gil said, and the fleeting smile that curled his lips was one of victory, "and tell me to stop."

And then Gil took Nick's cock in his mouth.

Nick moaned as the wet heat engulfed him, taking him so deep that the head of his cock hit the back of Gil's throat. His fingers gripped the sink behind him, clawing helplessly into the smooth surface. Gil's tongue expertly licked around his shaft, and it didn't take long to send him spiraling over the edge - with a strangled cry he came in Gil's mouth, wave upon wave of embarrassment and pleasure and hurt and emptiness, until the last was all there was left.

"Turn around."

Hands forcefully helped him obey, and Nick found himself spun around and shoved up against the sink. It hurt, the rim of the sink nudging into his abdomen, and he leaned forward to relieve the pressure. It also gave Gil easier access, and that would mean it wouldn't hurt, as much, and Nick was past fighting anyway.

He didn't think he even tried, and that was something he wasn't going to easily forgive himself for.

Behind him Nick heard Gil unzipping his trousers, followed by the sound of Gil rummaging through the bottles in his cabinet, presumably looking for something to use for lube.

"There's a tube of hand cream," Nick said; his voice was quiet, broken, utterly exhausted. "You can use that."

Gil's hand slid over his softening cock, wiping up the fluid that remained and smearing it around the entrance to his body. He heard the sound of a tube snapping open, and Nick bit his lip as the cool, smooth cream followed, pushed in and around his asshole by Gil's fingers - stretching him, twisting deeper.

Nick closed his eyes, tried not to tremble against the sharp invasion.

"Condoms," he whispered. "Outside."

Behind him, Gil paused; there was a heartbeat of silence.

"No," finally came Gil's reply; and Nick's heart sank as he heard the ragged tone of need in Gil's voice, to match the urgency with which he nudged his cock up against Nick's entrance, poised and ready.

It wasn't that Nick didn't trust Gil. He did, and having sex bareback was something they'd talked about before and were going to do anyway. But evidently Nick's idea of bringing their intimacy to a new level was not the same as Gil's.

Gil's hands held his hips so he couldn't move away - Nick sucked in a deep breath, grasping for control, finding none, and then Gil entered him, firmly. Nick clenched his teeth and tried not to make a sound as Gil's cock stretched him - and it hurt, it fucking hurt, Gil hadn't prepped him well enough and Nick was just too damn tense for this to work well.

"Stop, wait," he gritted out, breathlessly. "Gil, oh god, slow down, please -"

Gil held back slightly; he waited a moment, and then tried again, pushing steadily, and Nick felt dizzy from the burning sensation that flayed the nerves all the way from his ass down the back of both his legs. He forced himself to relax, to make the way easier, and gradually he felt the entire length of Gil's cock sheathed inside him.

Before he got used to that, Gil started fucking him: slow, hard strokes, hitting a deeper spot each time. Nick gasped, tried to remember to breathe, to focus on anything but the pleasure-pain of Gil's thick cock moving inside him. Gil leaned forward, pressing the entire length of his body against Nick's back as he pounded into him from behind, making Nick's body shudder with each thrust.

"Open your eyes, Nick," came the low command.

Nick hung his head, didn't look up - his knuckles were white from clutching the sink for support, bracing himself each time Gil rammed into him. Sweat trickled from his forehead, down the bridge of his nose and fell into the basin.

"I want you to look into the mirror," Gil ordered; a pause, and then, "I want you to look at us."

Nick finally raised his head and opened his eyes; not so much because he wanted to, but because he knew Gil would not stop until he did. And what he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

Nick stared at himself, his eyes rimmed with red, lashes flecked with wetness; and then there was Gil behind him, holding his gaze in the mirror as he moved with deliberate strokes, each forward thrust reverberating with exquisite pain inside Nick's body.

Nick stared at their reflection; and as he did, Gil bent forward and, without breaking eye contact, pressed a kiss to Nick's shoulder.

Nick dropped his gaze, and swallowed a sob. He couldn't bear to watch, couldn't bear what that simple act of tenderness meant amidst everything else that Gil was doing to him - he felt Gil moving faster, thrusting deeper, and then Gil was coming inside him, in hot, long spurts, and Nick just rode it out, stoically, because that's what he did whenever anything got too much: he just waited for it to be over.

When Gil finally pulled out and let him go, Nick could barely stay standing - he slumped against the shower door and gripped the edge of the sink for support.

"I'll let you get on with your shower," Gil said, zipping up his trousers; Nick could hear the satisfaction in his voice. He'd got what he wanted. "I'll wait for you outside."

Nick didn't look up until the door shut behind Gil, finally leaving him alone; then he closed his eyes and slid down to the floor.

He ached, to the deepest part of him.

Sometimes what you loved most could turn around and really, really mess you up.

And times like this, you just couldn't help but wonder why.




- fin -

***

Next story in series - An Exercise in Cruelty.