Title: Physical Evidence
By: Macx

Pen envy.

There was a time Nick would have laughed about the term. Was it even a medical term? A psychological one? Maybe from some really weird field of science? Like... the study of pen and oral fixation?

Whatever. He would have grinned and chuckled and laughed, and finally declared that he would never be envious of a pen of all things.

Until that day.

That day at home, doing mundane, at home things. Paying bills, going through bank records, filing papers, answering emails and so forth. Really normal stuff everyone did once in a while, mostly on days off or rainy evenings. Today there was no rain, but it looked like it, but it was actually Nick's day off and Grissom wasn't on call.

They had done some things around the house - none of them involving anything of the intimate physical kind - Gil had made a shopping run, and while Nick now tackled some of the papers to file, Grissom had decided on checking the bank account statements.

Which was right around the time the pen envy started.

Nick stared at the black ball pen, watched it closely, and he felt something sizzle through him.

Shit, shit, shit... definite case of pen envy. And if there wasn't a field of study yet, there damn well was one now and it involved Dr. Gil Grissom, entomologist, crime scene investigator, and Nick Stokes... the poor man suffering from the affliction.

It went into Gil's mouth, the tongue wrapping around the end, licking, sucking slightly, and then it was briefly released as Grissom signed something. Glasses perched on his nose, the blue eyes riveted to the multitude of papers, Grissom was unawares of his watcher - or so Nick suspected.

The pen was twirled once, then it disappeared in the moist depth of Gil's mouth, firmly surrounded by soft lips, and that tongue...

Nick suppressed a groan, but he couldn't suppress his reaction to the images now flashing through his head. Something was tightening down south and it wasn't happy about the confines of the jeans.

Think of something less...erotic! he ordered himself.

But since when was a pen erotic?

Answer: the moment it had touched Gil's lips, had been sucked into that mouth he knew so well...

Nick turned away from the sight that had him rather hot and bothered, trying to concentrate on something else.

His eyes strayed back.

And he felt himself harden more.

What Grissom was doing to that pen should be outlawed!

Suddenly those sharp blue eyes looked up and Nick felt like caught with his hands in the cookie jaw... well, rather like being caught with his hands down someone's front... inside someone's pants...

His own pants were becoming more and more uncomfortable and he shifted slightly. That didn't help as denim rubbed over his boxers and they in turn...

Hell!

"Nick?"

The question sounded innocent enough and the eyebrows rising over those blue eyes indicated confusion.

"Something wrong?"

No! Nothing at all! Aside from the fact that I want to rip that pen from you and replace it with something much more appreciating of the whole sucking and licking!

Nick cleared his throat and shook his head, then bit back a moan as the pen was suckled again. He saw a bit of pink tongue flash over the black plastic and metal. Then the pen was released and a thumb rubbed over the moist surface.

"I... think I need a break," Nick managed.

Grissom's head tilted in his usual, quizzical way.

"Getting a bit cross-eyed here," Nick murmured and almost fled the living room and into the kitchen.

The fridge yielded a cool soda and he inhaled deeply after the first swallow, trying to calm down. Man, he had it bad. It wasn't that their sex life had waned down to nothing or had been reduced to the occasional fling. There was a healthy amount of sex left and right and center, Nick decided. He couldn't complain at all.

So why this reaction?

Must have been too many bills and papers. Made him crave something more... energizing.

Like a pen.

In Gil's mouth.

His arousal returned at the thought and he screwed his eyes shut.

Oh damn!

"Nick, is everything all right?"

The voice startled him and he whirled around, forgetting both the can of soda and his very blatant state of arousal.

Just an arm's length away stood Grissom, glasses still on, pen in hand... the pen... that damn pen!

And now the sharp eyes fell on his groin and the eyebrows rose again. A smile tugged at his lips and the last distance was crossed.

"Something on your mind?" he asked playfully.

Uuhh... playful Grissom... bad, very bad... then again, Nick decided faintly, bad was good. Very good.

"Yeah," he whispered.

Nick's hand reached for the one that held the pen and Grissom's eyebrows climbed again.

"You," Stokes murmured.

"I hope so. I'd be severely disturbed if it were someone else."

Nick pulled him closer, bringing them in body contact. "Well, to be honest... it was someone else... something else, actually."

"Oh?"

"The pen."

"The pen."

Nick smiled as he leaned forward. His fingers twisted the pen out of Gil's grasp and flicked it onto the kitchen counter.

"Forget the pen," he growled.

"What pen?" was the angelic reply.

Nick growled something and crushed their lips together, pushing his aching arousal against Grissom's lower body, needing the contact. Strong hands cupped his behind, held him, and one hand stroked over his back.
 
 

Nick knew he was dying. Excruciatingly slow and while wrapped in a haze of absolute, sheer bliss. His breaths came in labored pants as he felt Gil's hands knead, massage, tease, along with the licks, strokes and kisses of those talented lips. He was spiraling out of control.

It was so good. So very, very good to be out of control. Just feel. Nothing else. Feel and sense and experience.

Pen envy was good.

Pen envy had gotten him a naked Gil.

Grissom leaned down and captured his lips in a long kiss, deepening it, threading his fingers into the short hair and holding him close. The kiss was slow and hot, but the softness soon made way for a small war of dominance, as each plundered the other's mouth, wanting, needing, demanding more. Gil pulled away, breathing hard, looking into the liquid brown eyes, grinning. Then he attacked the slender column of Nick's throat, eliciting a sharp gasp as he gently teethed one of his lover's special spots. Nick's hands ran over his sides and back as Gil worked his way down south. He stopped at the little nubs on the hard planes of his chest.

Nick moaned softly as they were treated with the same thoroughness as everything else so far.

"Gil..." he pleaded.

Grissom took his merry time as he teased the slender man, nipping at a hip, a side, a thigh. He plunged his lips over the straining arousal, drawing a cry from Nick, who bucked his hips toward the wet heat. Strong hands pushed him down, holding him in place. Nick squirmed underneath the torturous lips and hands, yearning for release. It wasn't given quickly. Gil liked to prolong the pleasure and no begging or pleading could make him hurry up, but when Nick finally climaxed, it was like an inner explosion. Gil scooted up the shivering length and tenderly kissed him, his own eyes full of contentment as well.
 
 

"What brought that on?" Gil asked a little breathlessly.

"Pen."

"You said so before."

"I was envious of the pen. If you want to suck on something long and hard, promise to ask me first, will you?"

"Seems I have to do... bills more often," Grissom murmured into his ear while strong arms enveloped him, pulling him back against the body of his lover.

"Hmmm..." was the sleepy reply.

Nick felt wonderfully relaxed, at peace, and very much had the sensation of being a puddle.

Gil smiled and continued to stroke over his slowly cooling skin. Nick dozed off, but he never fell completely asleep. He was very much aware of Grissom gently cleaning up, then staying with him in bed.

It felt good. So very, very good.

Who was he to ever complain about pen envy again?