Title: The Porn Challengee
By: geekwriter
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17
Summary: About 850 words. The prompt I used was whisper(ed).

***

Greg slammed his keys down on the hall table. They skittered across the surface and crashed to the floor, but he didn't even notice; he'd already stalked into the kitchen where he was opening cupboard doors and slamming them closed after finding nothing in them he wanted to eat.

"Greg," Nick whispered. He was standing at the entrance to the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched.

"We're having cereal for dinner," Greg said. He poured two bowls of Kix and slammed one down on the counter near Nick, causing half the contents to spill over the side, onto the counter and then the floor.

"Greg--"

"No."

"Greg, I didn't even--"

"No."

"Will you at least listen--"

"No. Jesus! We cannot talk about this now. I feel like punching you in the face and I don't really like that feeling, so we're going to eat our fucking cereal for diner and maybe in fifteen years when I'm not so pissed we can talk about it."

Nick nodded and scooped up the Kix on the counter, dumped them back into the bowl. "Can I have milk?"

Greg glared at him and Nick looked away. Dry cereal it was.

"You are just--" Greg spluttered. "You're so fucking--I can't even--"

"You're blowing this way out of proportion, G."

"He had a gun!"

"So did I."

"You should have called for backup."

"I did call for backup."

"You should have waited."

"There wasn't time. If I hadn't--"

"Do you always have to do the Right Fucking Thing?" Greg demanded.

"How am I supposed to answer that?"

"Say no! Say that sometimes you'll put your own life in front of the lives of others."

Nick sighed and shook his head. "G, I..."

"Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not--"

"Don't look at me like you're sorry. You're not sorry, you're just--ugh!" Greg lunged forward and for a moment Nick thought Greg was going to strangle him. Instead, Greg grabbed him and kissed him hard.

"Greg," Nick tried to say, but Greg's tongue was in his mouth, Greg's hands were tugging his hair. When they parted for breath Greg bit Nick's lower lip, making a noise almost like a growl as he did so. The sound went right to Nick's cock and he gripped Greg's hips tight.

"You are such," Greg snarled between kisses. "A fucking. Hero."

Nick wanted to ask why that was bad, but Greg bit him agan and reached down to rub Nick's cock through his jeans. He rubbed roughly with the heel of his hand, making Nick shudder and reach back towards the counter for support.

Greg varied his kisses with sharp bites and Nick leaned into all of them willingly. Both of Greg's hands were on his jeans then, yanking them open, tugging them down. Nick let his head fall back as Greg's hand wrapped around his cock and began to jerk it fast and rough. He felt Greg's mouth on his exposed throat, sucking and nipping lightly.

He whimpered when Greg took his hand away, but it was back again soon, slippery with--what?--oh, cooking oil. Brilliant, brilliant Greg.

The slip slide of Greg's hand was perfect, just enough friction to make his eyes roll back. Greg was grinding his own cock against Nick's hip, his breath coming hard. He jerked suddenly, his grip tightening on Nick's cock as he came, burying his face against Nick's neck.

Nick bucked his hips just a few more times and then came, spilling over Greg's fingers and onto the floor.

"Fuck," Greg whispered as he rubbed his cheek against Nick's throat.

Nick was still gasping for breath, his legs beginning to shake.

Greg kissed Nick's throat, licked the sweat off his jaw. "You made me come in my pants like some kid." His voice was low and sleepy, a calm counterpoint to his earlier ranting.

Nick managed a laugh. "Me? I'm pretty sure that was all you." He slid his arms around Greg's waist and held him close.

"He could have shot you."

"He didn't."

"He could have. If you didn't--"

"She would have died if I hadn't."

"It's not your fault the uniforms did a shitty job of clearing the scene."

"I couldn't wait for backup. You know that. Not everything goes the way it's supposed to in the field."

Greg nodded and stroked a small scar on Nick's cheekbone, one of the few ant bites that had left a permanent mark. "I know. I just hate it every time you almost die."

"I didn't--"

"He could have--"

"He didn't." Nick kissed Greg's forehead. "You know the job, G. You know that things go wrong. I followed procedure."

"I know. I just, when I'd heard that there'd been shots fired..."

"I'm OK." Nick kissed Greg's forehead again, stroked his back. "You wanna order in?"

Greg nodded. "Indian food. Palak paneer."

Nick nodded and brushed his cheek against Greg's hair. He leaned back a little bit and reached for the phone. They had India Palace on speed dial. "All right. Indian food it is."

***