Title: Can't Owe More Than a Life
Author: noword4it
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: AO
Summary: Coda for Who Are You?
Disclaimer: I do not profit from this venture except in the currency of fun, and the characters and events of CSI do not belong to me.

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They came together for the first time the morning after. The morning after that shiny silver gun was pointed at Nick's head. Gil had snapped subtly but profoundly as he crept to that killing woman. His body had shocked with adrenaline, not the prickly itch but the full body shudder like sea legs and sun stroke.

'She can't shoot him because I want him.'

A simple wild, possessive thought that galvanized him, led to success: Nick was OK.

Gil drove too fast after processing, writing, and reporting. Nick hadn't returned to the lab. Gil pounded on his door.

"Nicky?"

Nick's eyes shone still wet when he looked out at his boss. Gil lost control. Grabbing Nick's shoulders and pressing his tongue to the thin soft skin under the young man's eye. Salty. Warm. Alive.

Grissom knew he was taking advantage when Nick cried out, and he moved to catch the puff of breath on his lips. He backed Nick inside, kicking the door shut. Swept his hands fingers down Nick's arms to his bare hands. Nick started to shake apart.

They leaned towards one another. Cheeks and chests touching. Listening to heartbeats and breath. Gil followed Nick's slight pulls and pushes until they entered his bedroom. Gil pressed forward to smell the sweat that he watched roll down Nick's neck. When his lips caught the musky drop, Nick wrenched his hands free to grab Gil's head and drag.

Gil felt the man's unmistakable need for safety. Nick had come too close to death to fight Grissom off with pride or shame or fear. He was defenseless.

But Gil hadn't expected Nick to be ready for him. To suddenly kiss him hard on the lips then slide to mouth the sensitive corner.

Nick was defenseless but powerful. He owed Gil his life. He could take whatever he wanted from the older man but never owe him more than he already did.

So he took.

He took the spit from Gil's tongue, sucked the breath from him. He took the vibration of Gil's groan with fingertips on his throat. When Gil pushed him onto the bed and knelt between his knees, he took out hairs in his fists. He took his own taste off of Gil's palate. He took Gil's blood from under his skin when he scratched lines into his hips. He took Gil so far into himself that he sobbed for each breath.

Gil's mistakes had never made him so happy as this one. He palmed Nick's ribs as he breathed, the flexible flesh stretching as Nick's chest expanded, contracted, and hitched. Nick was crying and grinning and thanking Gil over and over.

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