Title: Morning Rain
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Mike Keppler
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: NC-17
Series: 1) Raining in Las Vegas, 2) Let the Rain Come Down
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Mike Keppler, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Greg wasn't sure just how Mike got them both back to his bedroom; he still felt dazed and more than a little confused. How had this happened? When he'd opened the door and seen Mike standing there, time had seemed to stand still; everything had stopped.

Then it had all moved forward in double, no, triple time. It was as though someone had pressed a fast forward button on his life, and sent everything careening crazily out of control. He couldn't keep up; he felt breathless, caught up in a whirlwind.

One moment, he had been sprawled on the kitchen counter after the best fuck of his life; the next, he was in Mike's arms, his legs wrapped around the other man's waist, being carried into the bedroom where he could only assume that he was going to be fucked yet again.

Not that he had any objection to that, Greg told himself as he leaned back against the pillows, his eyes on Mike. From what he could tell, the older man might take a little time before he was ready for another round; Greg couldn't help wondering what he had in mind.

His muscles tightened in response as Mike silently rolled him over onto his stomach; whatever was going to be done to him, he was more than ready. His breath was already coming faster, his body anticipating what Mike might do, arousal coursing through him.

"The view from the back is almost as nice as the front," Mike murmured, leaning down to nip at Greg's earlobe. "It should be illegal to have an ass this perfect, Mr. Sanders." As though to punctuate his words, Mike's hands moved down, cupping Greg's ass cheeks and squeezing gently.

Greg gasped as Mike's thumbs slid caressingly down the cleft of his ass, spreading his cheeks as the other man knelt between his legs. The pad of one thumb stroked over his entrance, bringing a soft moan to his lips; he wanted more, but he wasn't going to ask for it.

No, this was Mike's game. He was the one who had started it, so Greg was going to take his cues from the other man; he wasn't going to instigate anything. He'd tell Mike what he liked, and what he wanted, but he wasn't going to lay out a road map and directions.

Though at this point, Mike didn't seem to need any kind of direction at all; he lowered his head to nip at Greg's shoulder, then that warm mouth began to move down his spine, very slowly, even as the soft pad of Mike's thumb circled his opening but never quite pushed inside him.

By the time Mike's mouth had reached the small of his back, Greg's patience had worn thin. He wanted Mike inside him again; he wanted to fucked hard and deep, just as he had been on the kitchen counter. He needed to be filled, overpowered, taken.

"Don't tease me," he growled, lifting his head from the pillow and trying to twist around to look at Mike. "If you're going to fuck me again, then do it. I'll go nuts waiting for you." He tried to push his hips back, wanting Mike's fingers to slide inside him again.

Instead, Mike brought another gasp to his lips by moving his mouth lower, his warm tongue tracing circles around the small of Greg's back before licking down the cleft of his ass. Greg groaned softly, arching his back, an electric current seeming to shoot up his spine.

Then Mike's tongue was replacing the thumb that had been stroking him, wet warmth between his legs, licking over his entrance. The sensation drew a sharp cry from him, his hips jerking, his fingers clenching around the sheets and holding on.

This was one barrier that he'd never broken through; he'd never been comfortable with letting anyone take him like this before. Most men hadn't wanted to even try, and the one who had tried to force him into it had been kicked in the balls and quickly disappeared from Greg's life.

This was the final frontier, the one place on his body where no man had ever gone in such an intimate way. And now Mike had broken through that barrier without even asking permission, taking what he wanted as though Greg had nothing to say about it.

But somehow, he didn't mind. His body was responding to Mike's touch in way that it never had to anyone else; Greg had the suspicion that Mike could demand anything he wanted, and he would do it willingly. All this man had to do was ask, and he could have Greg in any way, shape or form.

Mike's touch reduced his body to nothing more than putty in the other man's hands; his nerves were a shower of synapses searching for a connection, winding themselves around Mike, desperately needing Mike's touch to bring him to gratification.

Greg cried out as Mike's tongue flicked against his entrance again, his muscles tightening in anticipation. Was Mike simply going to tease him all day, driving him insane before he finally got what he wanted again? He hoped not; he was already close to the edge.

"Calm down, beautiful," Mike whispered, raising his head, his voice seeming loud in the quiet of the room. "You'll get what you need, I promise. I just need a little time to recover from that last round. And I like making you squirm."

Greg couldn't answer; the only sound he was capable of making was another soft groan. He clutched at the pillow, raising his hips, silently begging Mike for what he couldn't put into words. He'd never asked for this before, never thought that he'd want it.

That warm, wet tongue swirled around his entrance again before pressing inside him, making Greg cry out in surprise, his hips flexing, then relaxing. If he had known that being tongued would feel like this, he would have succumbed to it long ago.

He spread his legs further, trying to give Mike better access to his body, wanting that tongue to slide further inside him. It felt different from having fingers or a cock inside him, but no less pleasurable -- in fact, he was sure that this was better than anything he'd ever experienced before.

Mike was lifting his hips off the bed, pulling him to his knees; Greg's body was pliant, clay in his hands. If he'd wanted to move on his own, he couldn't; what Mike was doing to his body paralyzed him, pleasure coursing through his veins, setting him aflame.

He couldn't go on for much longer like this, Greg thought dazedly, clutching frantically at the sheets, not realizing that his nails had ripped through the fabric in one corner. He had to come; his orgasm was building slowly and steadily, ready to roar through his body.

When Mike's tongue thrust inside him again, Greg couldn't hold himself back any longer. With another cry, he let himself go, coming harder than he had when Mike had fucked him on the counter. For a few moments, everything was blackness, oblivion swallowing him up.

He was sure that he'd stopped breathing, his heart ceasing to beat. Or was it that his heart had sped up to such a rapid rate that he could no longer keep track of its individual beats? It didn't really matter; he was coming back down to Earth now, much more rapidly than he wanted to.

It was an effort to turn his head to the side; his body felt heavy, his limbs incapable of movement. Mike was sitting up, getting off the bed, moving to the bedroom door. For one panicked moment, Greg thought that the other man mean to put his clothes back on and leave.

His eyes widened; he reached out to Mike weakly, his mouth opening to speak but no sound coming out. If Mike wanted to leave, then he had every right to. They'd made no promises to each other. For all he knew, he'd just been a one-night -- or make that one-morning -- stand, and nothing more.

Greg couldn't stop tears from welling into his eyes at the thought; a few streaked down his face, wetting the corner of the pillow. Instantly, Mike was back by the side of the bed, kneeling and taking Greg's face between his hands, looking concerned.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he whispered, thumbs stroking Greg's skin, wiping away the tracks of his tears. "I'm just going to the bathroom to brush my teeth -- that is, if you've got a spare toothbrush. If you don't, I'll improvise," he said with a smile, leaning forward to brush his lips against Greg's mouth.

The relief was almost palpable. "I'm okay," Greg murmured, shaking his head. "For a minute, i just thought ...." He let his voice trail off, knowing that Mike would realize what he'd thought, and feeling ashamed for having thought that the other man would do something like that.

As though to underscore his thoughts, the rain came down against the windowpane in a burst of sound; Mike stroked a hand through his hair, then rose and moved towards the door again. He turned to look back at Greg, raising his brows in a silent question.

Greg nodded, his voice quiet when he spoke. "Yeah, I've got an extra toothbrush. Look in the medicine cabinet over the sink. First shelf, on the right. Looks like that might be your toothbrush from now on." He turned over, his eyes not leaving Mike's, stretching his body invitingly across the bed.

The frank sensuality in Mike's gaze as the other man's eyes traveled over his body brought a blush to his cheeks; no one had ever looked at him in that way, even after they'd just had sex with him. It was obvious that Mike still wanted him -- and that their day was far from over.

"Back in a minute," Mike said softly, his gaze holding Greg's for another moment; turning away, he moved down the hallway to the bathroom. Greg could hear the water being turned on, then the door closed, blocking out the sound.

He relaxed back against the pillows, closing his eyes. He'd never been as sated as he felt at the moment, and judging from the look in Mike's eyes, there was still more to come. But all he wanted to do right now was lie here and bask in his afterglow.

His eyes strayed to the window; the rain was coming down steadily now, spattering against the glass. It looked as if it might never stop; it would be a perfect day to curl up under the covers and sleep, let the sound of the rain on the window lull him into slumber.

Greg smiled to himself, closing his eyes and starting to drift off. When Mike came back, he'd be awakened if he happened to fall asleep -- and it would be interesting to see just how Mike would decide to bring him back into the world to the sound of the morning rain.

***

Next story in series - Raining in My Mind.