Title: The Heart's Filthy Lesson
Author: Mortifyd
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Fandom: CSI
Rating: NC-17
Archive: yes, just notify me
Spoilers: None, kinda PWP
Warnings: Bondage, unsafe sex, roughness, pain, finger sucking, hot m/m action. YOU MAY NEVER BE ABLE TO LOOK AT GIL QUITE THE SAME WAY AGAIN AFTER READING THIS STORY...I CAN'T, AND I WROTE IT...
Special thanks to: Kyrdwyn and Jenn who beta-ed and made suggestions

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“It’s the hearts filthy lesson...the hearts filthy lesson...the hearts filthy lesson...falls upon deaf ears...”
~David Bowie

Gil signaled the bartender for another scotch, neat.  One of the great things about Vegas is the availability of everything twenty four - seven. He was tired, knew he should just head home, but he wasn’t quite ready to face another night alone. He continued to drink and do a little window shopping, watching the pretty boys on the dance floor.

The music was too loud, the air filled with smoke, but the scenery was pleasant; hard bodies covered in sweat, too little clothing and other hard bodies. Gil couldn’t decide what made him feel older, the fourth scotch or the fact that he had no idea what that noise the young men were gyrating to was. He sighed and took another sip of his drink, eyes sweeping over the crowd restlessly.

He felt his demons rising, the need he tried to keep rather tightly under control slipping away from his grasp. Too much flesh, too much booze, too much loneliness. He wanted to play. He closed his eyes to shake it off, to push it back down, but Greg’s face was what he found behind tired eyelids. That wasn’t helping. He decided to finish his drink and  head for the john, maybe a splash on the face would put him back in control. He swallowed the dregs of his single malt, levered himself up with the edge of the table and headed down the dimly lit corridor.

He reached for the door as it flew open, throwing him a little more off balance. A couple of guys brushed past him as he entered; impossibly white tee shirts and teeth, perfectly mussed hair and the invincibility of youth. His head was starting to throb from the music and the mixture of stale tobacco, marijuana, urine and a dozen colognes in the small room. He stood over the sink and ran lukewarm water into the basin, and took a hard look at himself.

He’d been told the gray made him look distinguished, tonight it just made him feel old. A slight double chin had snuck up on him somewhere along the line,  his nose was a little crooked, his cerulean eyes bloodshot from the ambient smoke, lack of sleep and liberal application of scotch to his insides. He splashed the still tepid water on his face and  decided it was definitely time to take himself home. He turned off the tap, annoyed to notice it wouldn’t close completely and headed out into the noise.

As he moved slowly past the table he had previously occupied, the bartender brought over another scotch with a smile.

“Courtesy of your boyfriend,” he said, setting the tumbler down on a less than crisp bar napkin.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Gil replied. “Who sent the drink?”

“Well, he sure knew you. Cute guy. Clean shaven, kinda young looking, great mouth. He’s over there on the dance floor.” He gestured toward a clump of young men laughing and dancing together under the swirling lights. They looked pretty much the same as the others, except for one, who kept his back to them as he danced. There was something familiar about him, and against his better judgement, Gil sat back down to solve the puzzle. “Might as well, I’m cabbing it anyway. Thanks.” He tipped the bartender a five  and took a sip, never taking his eyes off his mysterious admirer.

Gil was halfway through the drink when his memory hit him with the clue by four. “Coulda been a rock star,” the voice whispered in his head. “There’s still time, Greg.” He mumbled to himself, then slammed the rest of the scotch; the burn in his throat distracting him from the burn in other places. He closed his eyes again, thoughts now running at a mad pace in his alcohol dazed brain. This was not what he needed.  But it IS what you wanted, that dangerous part of his mind whispered seductively. He drifted in the alcohol fog for a minute, then opened his eyes. Greg was seated across from him, hair stuck up in a dozen directions, shiny with sweat and desire.

“Hey Grissom, you look like you’re on the road to hammered-ville. Want another one?” Greg asked, a smirk on his face.

“No thank you, Greg, I’m sure I’ve had more than enough.” His lips felt slightly numb, but he was willing to bet he was sporting a matching smirk, not to mention there was that inconvenient but oh-so-nice warmth in his groin. At least you aren’t THAT hammered, the sly voice whispered in his head. The smirk got bigger as he looked the young man  over again.

Greg decided it was now or never. “You want to get out of this place? You don’t look like you should drive.” He licked his lips nervously, eyes flickering over Gil’s face and torso. “We could...uh, get some breakfast or something.” Breakfast was the farthest thing from his mind, but he knew he had to play this game carefully if he was going to play at all.

Gil’s eyes narrowed as he pretended to consider the idea. His hunger was gaining the upper hand, and food wasn’t on the menu. That part of his mind ran full tilt, flashing pictures in a syncopated rhythm to the steady thud of the music in the bar: Greg naked, Greg bound, Greg begging, Greg’s ass covered with burning handprints and cum. He was past caring about propriety, awash with lust and the desire for control.

“Are you okay to drive, Greg? I was planning to cab it home.” He wasn’t sure Greg would be willing to play his little games, the gentlemanly thing to do was offer him an out. Gil toyed with his glass as he waited for Greg’s reply, his tongue caught between his teeth as his private cinema continued to play with the possibilities.

“I’m good, Grissom. I didn’t drink much tonight, I just wanted to have some fun.” There was no way he would admit that he had been trying for weeks to figure out how to get Gil into a receptive mood.  Liberal application of alcohol was the best he had come up with. He felt slightly embarrassed by that,  Grissom deserved better, but it wasn’t going to stop him from taking advantage of the situation since it appeared to be working.

“Let’s get out of here.” There was quiet command in the statement, and Greg nearly leapt from his seat, eager to please. Gil rose to his feet in the cautious way of a dignified man full of drink, fighting the urge to grab Greg and simply drag him out the door.  He compromised with his needs by gripping Greg’s near arm firmly as the walked into the blissfully cool desert air.

They moved quickly to the car, Greg opened the door for Gil, amazed this was actually happening. They settled into their seats, buckled up and Greg started the car, Black Flag screaming out of the speakers. He quickly smacked the power control as a blush crept up his face. “Sorry about that.” He pulled into the light traffic, sneaking a look at Gil as he checked the mirror. The smirk Gil tried to suppress got away from him, but it was tempered with genuine affection for the young man.

“Where exactly are we going, Greg?” Gil had a good idea where they would end up: Greg’s apartment. The studious way he was avoiding any eye contact and his show of concentrating on the road made that the surest bet, so he decided to make it easy. “I’m not really hungry, but I could use a cup of coffee.” Blue eyes noted the heightened tension in Greg’s shoulders as he continued to drive to their destination without answering.

“Coffee, check. I can take care of that for you, Grissom, in just a few minutes.” Greg was fairly beaming as they pulled into his parking spot with no complaints. Gil followed him to the door, his eyes drawn to Greg’s ass as he walked ahead of him. His hands tingled with the anticipation of leaving marks on white skin. Greg flung the door open and gestured Gil inside, then closed the door behind them.

“Please, make yourself at home, I’ll get the coffee started.” Greg started toward the kitchen, but he never made it. Gil came up behind him and put both hands on Greg’s hips, then spun him around. “I don’t think I need that coffee after all, Greg. What do you need?” he asked, eyes darkened with lust, clinging to his last reserves of control.

Greg dropped to his knees, shaking as he struggled to open Gil’s trousers. He moaned against the tented material in frustration as his fingers betrayed him.  A sob caught in his throat as his diligence was rewarded; Gil’s erection sprang forth thick and glistening, precum weeping from its tip.

He didn’t think, couldn’t think; Greg’s wet, willing mouth the center of his universe. Gil didn’t dare look, it would have been too much to bear. His control was shredding away from him, tissue paper in a firestorm. That was part of the need for him, to test his own will, his ability to reign in the beast that lurked beneath his unflappable exterior. He closed his eyes, growled in his throat and locked his hands in Greg’s hair, controlling him, possessing him, using him. He thrust roughly into Greg’s mouth, riding on the edge, heedless of teeth, the sharp-slick sensation and groans of the young man adding to his pleasure, pushing him to the brink of self destruction.

Greg gave himself to the man before him, this was not the time to worry about technique or impressions. The power, the sheer force of Gil’s personality and desire overwhelmed him, feeding a submissive need he hadn’t been aware he possessed. He felt Gil’s rhythm become more urgent and redoubled his efforts, only to have his lifeline taken away. Gil pulled back, using his vice like grip in Greg’s hair to nearly drag the boy to his feet. This was not how the game was going to end.

“Bed.” His voice was thick, the ragged tone strange to his own ears. Greg pointed down a stunted, narrow hall and Gil half dragged him, Greg scrabbling to keep up as Gil flung the door open and near pitched him in the room.

“Strip,” he commanded hoarsely. He worked to control his breathing, adrenaline fire pulsing through his veins, alcohol fog boiling away. He had only closed his eyes for a second, but Greg was naked and kneeling before him again, greedy mouth trying to capture his hardness, demanding his attention. “No, Greg. Not yet,” he whispered. He ran a hand through the younger man’s hair, trailing down to trace the line of his jaw, to brush a finger across swollen, shiny lips. Greg sucked Gil’s finger into his mouth, hungry for flesh, aching for more.

“Please...I...” Greg felt tears well up, caught in an undertow of emotion that frightened and exhilarated him. He had no words for the transformation, nothing to compare this terrifying clarity against. He wanted this, he needed this, the ferocity and power of Gil’s
undivided attention lit a flame that was consuming him.

“No Greg, not yet. Lay down on the bed.” He wanted to taste those tears, to revel in Greg’s loss of control and innocence, but he had to keep his control. He stepped back, gesturing to the bed when Greg followed him on his knees. “Do you trust me, Greg?”  The dark wet eyes told him everything he needed to know, the whispered sounds were of little consequence. “Then do what I told you, Greg, lay down on the bed.” The younger man moved forward again, clinging to one of Gil’s legs, unwilling to relinquish the contact he desperately needed, even as it terrified him.

“Greg. On the bed. Now.” The sharp tone cut through his terror and he moved, afraid that he would be abandoned to his inner chaos if he didn’t obey. He let go and crawled up onto the bed, one hand straying to his aching cock as he awaited the next command.

“Greg, no touching. Just watch.” A throaty moan and a nod was all Greg managed in response, but he released his grip, his cock made a smacking sound against his abdomen. Gil unbuttoned his shirt and removed it slowly, the cool air soothing his heated flesh. He stepped out of his trousers and boxers, damp from Greg’s earlier attentions and simply drank in the young man for a moment.

He was beautiful. Tear streaks marked his face, his cock heavy with blood, contrasting against the pale freckled skin. Gil wanted to taste him, to devour him, to transform him. His hands ached to reach out and mar that flawless skin, to being more tears, to sooth
the beast that drove him.

“Do you trust me, Greg?” he whispered again. Gil moved to join him on the bed, reaching out to trace the damp streaks with a fingertip, bringing the salty sweet tears to his lips. Greg nodded and scooted closer to Gil as the tears welled up again but did not fall, aching for something undefined but very, very near.

Gil pulled him close for a moment, breathing in the scent of submission, then shifted to reach the belt from his pants. It snicked though the cloth loops and Greg shivered against him. He couldn’t express what he wanted with words, his heart hammering in his chest as he twisted the leather into a figure eight, then grasped one of Greg’s wrists gently.

“I...I have cuffs...I...I’ve never worn them.” Greg’s breathing was ragged, it was hard to force the words out. He turned to dig under the bed, exposing his ass to Gil’s heated gaze. He grunted with success, holding sturdy leather cuffs over his shoulder, almost an offering, shivering as Gil idly traced gentle fingers down the backs of his legs. Gil nudged him to the top of the bed, guiding him gently but insistently onto his knees, then cuffed Greg to the headboard.

He knelt behind his prize, nuzzling his back, tasting his sweat, soothing the tense muscles that jumped at his caresses. “Do you trust me, Greg?” he whispered as he pressed his cock against Greg’s ass, grinding slowly against him.

“Ohyes...I’lldoanything...anything Grissom...just hurry...” He pushed back, only to find air. The belt whistled through the air and stunned him with a loud crack. Before he could get enough air to scream it bit into him again, pale flesh seared with angry red welts. And again. The next one came across the back of his thighs, neat, hot stripes all in a row.

He lunged back against the restraints, Crying out “Oh god!” as Gil hit him again, adding another stripe below the last one. His ass burned, he fought to keep his legs underneath him as Gil continued, another stripe over already tender flesh.

“How does it feel, Greg?” The leather bit him again, knocking him off balance as he tried to catch a ragged breath. “Tell me, how does it feel?” Gil was almost gone, his cock aching, arms tight, nostrils flared as he struck again. “Tell me!”

“OhgodGil....it burns....mygoditburns....OhGil....Ohchrist...” his breath hitched as he babbled, the burn and aching hard on mingling into something new and delicious. He
tensed, expecting another assault, but cool fingers grazed his burning flesh, soothing the agony to a dull throb of dark pleasure.

Gil knelt behind him, tracing the marks he had made again and again. He pushed Greg forward and slipped right against him, then drew Greg back so he could rest, supported on Gil’s body. He wrapped himself around Greg, stroking his chest, his thighs, his belly, whispering gentle words in his ear.

“Let it out, Greg, it’s okay to let it out.” He continued to stroke the shivering young man as the tears began in earnest, shuddered as Greg relaxed into him, giving him what he desperately needed. Gil kissed the side of his face, his neck, then grasped him gently but firmly by the cock. He stroked him slowly, trying to draw the moment out. Greg was too close, writhing in Gil’s arms he whimpered, gasping his name as he came in his hand.

Gil let him rest a moment, but his need would not be denied. “What do you want, Greg?” His kisses became more insistent, nips and licks as Greg squirmed in his lap, grinding against his cock. He thrust against him, edging Greg back on his knees as he waited for his answer. “Do you want more?” The nips became harder, licking his shoulders and biting more insistently as Greg steadied himself under Gil’s guidance.

“Fuck me, Gil...” Greg moaned, his spent cock stirring in anticipation; he steadied his grip on the headboard. “God Gil, I need it so bad...” he ground his ass against Gil’s insistent hardness as he continued to beg. Gil slicked his fingers with Greg’s cum and began to open him up, easing efficient fingers inside tantilizingly, then positioned himself, unable to delay any longer.

He wanted to be gentle, he really did, but it wasn’t possible this far gone. The beast surged from his grasp, and he pushed into Greg, wrapping an arm around him to hold him steady as he thrust, grunting and biting as the boy bucked beneath him.

“Ohgodyes! OhgodGil...jeezusssmore...” Greg’s cries became steady groans as his mind melted away. Nothing existed but Gil: his cock thrust inside him, his teeth sank into shoulder, then ribs, even the upper part of one arm at some point, the burn of the welts grew as they sweated together as one. He was consumed, transformed into an extension of another. It should have been frightening, but Greg felt safe; Gil had given him a new way to exist. He shouted as he came again, gripping the headboard and surrendering to the beautiful agony of it all.

Gil had lost. He tensed as Greg shouted, biting again as came in him, howling as he emptied himself, reason gone. Rational man reduced to primal animal, driven by instinct and lust. He clung to Greg’s heaving form for dear life, leaning against him, pushing him into the headboard with his weight as he struggled to regain control. With shaking hands he released Greg from his bonds, startled at the crimson trail oozing from the last bite. They collapsed into a tangle on the bed and simply lie there together, their pants mingled and echoed as the madness receded, leaving them to their own thoughts.

Gil sighed, trying to figure out what to say when Greg rolled on top of him, looked into his eyes and simply said, “Thank you.” He covered Gil’s face with slow, gentle kisses, then snuggled against his chest, entranced by the heartbeat he had felt in his body earlier. He felt Gil preparing to speak and put his fingers over his lips, grinning to himself as Gil
sucked them instead of talking. They drifted for a while, content in the afterglow until the aches and sting of dried sweat, cum and blood began to make them restless.

“I should clean that up, I bit you too hard,” Gil whispered, shame growing at his loss of control. “The human mouth is filthy, you know.” He stroked a free hand through Greg’s hair, regret threatening to overwhelm him. Greg slid off him and sat up on the bed, then stretched to shake the kinks from his muscles.

“It’s cool, Grissom. Let’s take a shower and you can patch me up later.” He grinned and got up, tugging at Gil’s hand, then led him into the bathroom. As they got into the steaming water Greg wrapped his arms around Gil and kissed him deeply. As they broke for air, he said, “You going to want that coffee now?” and laughed as the surprise on Gil’s face.

end

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