Title: Skin to Skin
By: sandersyager
Pairing: Nick/Warrick
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Summary: Sometimes it's about the thing you can't have.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to people who aren't me.

Sometimes it's about the thing you can't have. The one thing you shouldn't want, but you crave it anyway. There are a thousand reasons to say no, and all you really need is one good reason, one chance, to say yes. One moment when you think no one is watching, no one will care, no one will get hurt, and, god help you, it can be yours.

Nick punches through Warrick's resolve, knocks down the walls and reasons why not between them and he does it with a kiss. Hot and hard and Warrick barely has time to react before Nick's pulling away and telling him to "Just get in the fuckin' truck, Warrick."

They don't talk, they don't touch. Nick rolls the windows down and the early morning breeze almost cools the flush of Warrick's skin. They by-pass the strip and the exit for Warrick's apartment and all of the places they could stop for breakfast and stop whatever this thing is breaking through between them.

Warrick doesn't want it to stop and Nick drives on, wheels eating up the distance between the lab and his place. He doesn't even look at Warrick as he gets out, so certain he'll just follow, so used to Warrick having his back and backing his plays that there's no doubt this is happening.

They don't talk, once Nick has the door open and they're inside, but they do touch. Nick wastes no time pressing Warrick against the wall like he pressed him against the side of the truck, this time with his hands tugging Warrick's shirt free of his jeans while he kisses him like breathing doesn't matter. Like he wants this, too; like,why did they wait so long?

Kissing. Open mouthed, tongues sliding together, and they both taste like too much coffee and too much time and too much want to slow down one bit, but they do. They slow down and Warrick strokes Nick's cheek and grazes his teeth over Nick's lower lip, opening his eyes just enough to see the way Nick's lashes cast shadows against his cheek.

"Warrick." Nick's voice breaks on the second syllable and he draws a sharp breath with Warrick's thigh pressing between his. He pushes back, not hard but hard enough for the friction to be a relief, and their hips shift and twist, erections lining up and there are too many layers of denim and cotton in between.

Warrick doesn't want it to stop and Nick curls his fingers in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him through the apartment, pushing him down on the bed. There's the sound of material ripping, and Warrick can't be sure if it's his shirt or Nick's, and his fingers are less than steady as he reaches between them to undo Nick's jeans then his own.

Skin to skin, finally, and they've been like this before, chests bared together in the kinds of tight hugs that can pass between guys, sometimes, as long as no one holds on too long. Nick always holds on too long and now, Warrick doesn't ever want him to let go.

They've been like this before and it's different with Warrick's cock nudging Nick's hip, Warrick's mouth locked against a patch of skin at his collarbone. Nick's hands fist in Warrick's hair, his words barely a whisper as he says, "Hold on, just hold on."

There's lube and latex in the drawer, and Nick chooses one over the other, fumbling to slick his hand and get his fingers around both of their cocks. It's fast and messy and oh, god, and he swallows all of Warrick's moans in a kiss that's brutal and hard and just about perfect for everything they are.

Warrick comes hard, harder than he has in months, coating Nick's fingers and both of their stomachs, and Nick follows right after. The clean up is quick and the kiss they share is slow, and one of them tugs the blankets up around their bodies, a tacit agreement that they'll talk about it later and sleep now.

Sometimes it's about the thing you think you can't have, and you find out it's been yours all along.