Title: Questionable Motives
Author: VicXntric
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Warrick/Nick
Category: PWP; angst
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None, really. Begins immediately after "Primum Non Nocere" in Season 2.
Summary: Nick is just being a friend. Warrick doesn't believe that for an instant.
Disclaimer: So not mine. Will put them back tired but happy.
A/N: Not my usual Warrick/Nick fic, but this bunny wouldn't let me write anything else.

"I'm playing cards. With my friend."

Startled by Nick's reply, Warrick glanced over at him. Nick was handing his money to the dealer, a contented expression on his face.

That was the final straw for Warrick. Ignoring the chips he'd just received, he pushed away from the table and stalked out of the casino without looking back. As he drove home, he noted with dark amusement that at least he hadn't started gambling again. He hadn't even had the chance to play a single hand.

He was trudging up the steps to his door when headlights swung into the visitor's parking spot. Warrick didn't even bother checking who it was. He knew.

Seconds later, footsteps hurried up the steps behind him, then, "Here. I cashed back out for you."

Warrick didn't turn. He continued up to his door and let himself it. As soon as he closed it, a soft knock sounded. Nick wasn't giving up. Fine. He opened the door and stood back to let Nick in.

Nick stepped inside just enough to allow the door to close. "I'm sorry things didn't work out with Lillie."

"No, you're not," Warrick said flatly.

Blinking in surprise, Nick insisted. "I am, Warrick. But I'm glad you put a stop to it when you found out. It could have meant trouble for you if she was tangled up in anything illegal."

"Really? Is that what you wanted?" He stepped forward, crowding Nick against the door. "Or maybe you were hoping that you'd get another shot."

Nick struggled to keep his expression neutral. "Okay. Here," he put the bill on the small table right next to the door. "I'm gonna go now."

The moment Nick began to open the door, Warrick slammed his hands against it, trapping Nick between his arms. "S'matter, Nicky? Hit a little too close to home?" He leaned all his weight against the door so it clicked shut again. "That line about bad luck with the ladies was a load of bull, wasn't it? You haven't been with a woman since that hooker, have you?"

"Her name was Kristy." Nick turned a dull red.

"No one since then. No before that, either, right?" Warrick glared at him. "Not since you and me? Well, get this through your head--it was one time."

"I know that," Nick said quietly.

"Do you?" Warrick bent his arms until he and Nick were barely an inch away from full body contact. "You sayin' you don't want to be with me? Huh? Tell me that, Nicky."

Nick turned away from the blazing green eyes, his breathing speeding up. "That's...that's not what this was about. She was a junkie. She could have been involved in the case."

"Yeah?" Warrick bent to whisper harshly in Nick's ear. "You tryin' to tell me that you wouldn't let me fuck you right now if I wanted to?"

Swallowing hard, Nick turned his head away and closed his eyes. "Warrick..."

Warrick caught his chin in one hand and turned him back for a hard kiss. This was nothing like the last time they had been together. That had been all about comfort and tenderness with soft touches and soothing murmurs. This was punishing, furious--all scraping teeth and bruising lips.

Nick responded by wrapping his arms around Warrick's neck, and leaning completely into the kiss.

"Yeah," Warrick growled when they broke apart. "Tell me again how this was all about protecting my job." He bit Nick on the neck hard enough to leave a mark. "Tell me you don't want this."

"I was trying to look out for you," Nick insisted breathlessly. "And I want this," he whispered when Warrick stripped his jacket off his shoulders.

Warrick pulled Nick toward the sofa, ignoring the fact that Nick's arms were still tangled in his jacket. Warrick's hands under his shirt, kneading and pinching, while Nick still struggled with the jacket. Finally, his arms were free, barely in time to stop himself from falling face first into the sofa when Warrick brought them both to their knees next to it.

Nick propped his arms against the cushioned seat as Warrick leaned over him. Then Warrick pressed several fingers against Nick's lips. "This is all you're gonna get," he warned. "Better make it good."

Obediently, Nick opened his mouth and sucked several fingers inside. He felt Warrick's other hand deftly unfastening his belt and jeans and moaned around the fingers in his mouth.

"Doesn't take much for you, does it?" Warrick asked, freeing Nick's straining erection.

In response, Nick scraped his teeth against Warrick's fingers.

Warrick yanked Nick's jeans and shorts down only as far as necessary before taking his wet, slippery fingers from Nick's mouth and sliding them between the firm cheeks. He grasped Nick's leaking cock in his other hand and began stroking in time with his fingers.

Nick looked back at him, "What the hell are you waiting for? You expect me to beg?"

"Yeah." Warrick pushed his fingers in far enough to prod the tiny gland.

Nick started begging. Loudly.

With a humorless smile, Warrick unfastened his jeans with one hand, keeping the fingers of his other buried inside Nick. He even managed to get the condom out of his wallet with only one hand. When he finally did have to remove his fingers, Nick let out a whimper at the loss of sensation. Warrick quickly rolled on the condom and positioned himself behind Nick.

"God...Warrick, please..." Warrick went slowly at first, then realized Nick was loose and accepting and entered the rest of the way with a single thrust. Nick let out a choked cry of pleasure and braced himself against the sofa, pushing back and impaling himself even further.

"Goddammit, Nicky..." Warrick groaned, pulling out almost completely and plunging back inside. Nick rocked back against him, matching him thrust for thrust. Warrick took one hand off Nick's hips to grip Nick's cock again, roughly stroking him back to full hardness. He continued pumping until Nick gave a shout only half muffled by the cushions, and even then continued to milk the softening member for several more seconds.

But then Nick tightened around him, and tremors wracked his body, and that was enough to send Warrick barreling toward his own mind-shattering climax. "Damn it..." he groaned as he emptied himself into the willing body. "Damn it, Nicky..." He collapsed onto Nick's back, and only the fact that Nick was already half on the sofa kept them from toppling to the floor.

Warrick caught his breath with difficulty. "Fuck," he muttered, pressing his face against the sweat-soaked shirt still on Nick's back. "Jesus, Nicky."

"Yeah..." Nick's voice was barely audible.

Pulling out at carefully as he could, Warrick stood unsteadily and went to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. He stayed there for a few minutes, trying to figure out how the hell that had happened, and then gave up. When he went back into the living room, Nick had his clothes straightened and fastened and was pulling his jacket back on. "Nick...Christ, Nick, I'm sorry."

"For what?" Nick shrugged, obviously trying for nonchalant but failing spectacularly. "You were right about me wanting it."

"That wasn't what this thing with Lillie was about--not until I forced the issue. I know you don't operate that way, Nick."

"It's okay," Nick nodded, addressing his shoes. "I'm gonna head home now."

Warrick suddenly felt his throat close at the misery in Nick's voice. There was no anger or frustration left in him now, just a strange, disjointed sorrow. "I'm sorry I can't be what you want, Nick."

"But you are," Nick said with an achingly wistful smile. "That's the problem, isn't it? My problem, though." He opened the door, "G'night, Rick."

Slumping against the wall, Warrick pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes in an effort to rid himself of the sight of deep longing Nick's eyes.

* * *

Nick shifted in the driver's seat for what could have been the fifth or fifteenth time. He was sore, but not unpleasantly so. This had been nothing like the first time, when Warrick had showed up at his door after the Hendler case. Even so, Nick had noticed that for all the roughness, for all his anger, Warrick had never once done anything to cause any serious pain. That was far more than Nick could say for his first relationship--a relationship that had kept him away from men until he met a smooth and sleek Vegas-born CSI.

He blinked to keep his vision clear, at least until he made it home. It honestly hadn't been about his feeling for Warrick--at least Nick didn't think so, but when Warrick made it about that, Nick could sense where things would lead. And whether it made him desperate or pathetic, he was grateful for the opportunity to be with Warrick again no matter how or why.

Nick knew he had to move on--there was no telling how this would affect their friendship, and Nick prayed it hadn't been ruined. He decided there was no point worrying about that until he saw how things went at work tomorrow night, if he could just be cool about it--

An amused snort escaped him as he pulled up to his house. Since when had he ever been able to be cool about things? That was Warrick's area of expertise.

Okay. No more thinking about Warrick, Nick decided as he let himself in. It was going to be tough enough to fall asleep with the memory of Warrick's hands on him, Warrick's cock inside him...

Enough.

Nick went to his fridge, and decided against a beer, grabbing a bottle of orange juice instead. As he closed the door, he noticed a note he'd written and groaned internally. Better set the alarm, then. The satellite guy would be there to install his new sports package before noon--so the company said.

Well, if 150 channels weren't enough to distract him, then what would?

End