Fic: "Workout" (Mac/Jack, PG-13)
Fandom: CSI: NY
Title: Workout
Author: gin200168
Rating: PG-13 for suggestive behavior
Pairing: Mac Taylor/Jack Abernathy
Summary: Jack turns the tables on Mac after his day is interrupted.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of Jerry Bruckheimer, Alliance Atlantis, CBS, etc. Jack Abernathy is the creation of stellaluna_, and first came into existence in her story "Light from a Dead Star" and decided to take up permanent residence in my head.
A/N: stellaluna_ gets fixing credit as usual. And credit for poking me into rescuing it from collecting more than the last 4 months of virtual dust than it already has.
Abernathy sprawls in a chair, half-reading a dusty and worse-for-wear paperback. He knows people generally don't peg him as the reading type, but he does enjoy a good book now and then. He mostly reads for entertainment, nothing heavy, and rarely anything leaning toward academic or scholarly like the stuff Mac is always sticking his nose in, the ones the guys riff on him for.
"Abernathy," Mac says, gently kicking Abernathy's leg to get his attention. At least he didn't kick hard, Abernathy thinks, but doesn't reward him by reacting.
Mac kicks him lightly again, and says his name a little louder. He can hear the annoyance start to edge into Mac's voice, and tries not to smirk in reaction. Instead, he half-glances up from the book he's reading, trying to act if he can barely be bothered and sighs. "Whatcha want, Chicago?"
"To hell with that. I ain't gettin' up. It's time to *read*, that's what time it is," he grumbles, going back to his book. End of the chapter, he tells himself. Then maybe he'll get up and do PT. Or maybe the chapter after that, he thinks, as he shifts and slouches a bit more.
Suddenly Mac snatches the book out of his hands mid-sentence. "What the--? What'd you do that for?" He jumps to his feet, snatching his book back indignantly.
"I'm pleased that you're actually reading something that's not a skin mag, even though you've probably read it a million times already. And this reading's a good thing, but you're going to get fat and lazy sitting there all day. Neither of us is in good enough shape to just sit around," Mac says to him, frowning.
"Like hell we aren't! Look at me, finest specimen you'll find 'round here…" he declares, patting his flat stomach gently. "And, well, guess you ain't so bad either," he says, lowering his voice just in case anybody is lurking around-- even though they shouldn't be this time of day-- and letting his gaze run up and down Mac's body with a lecherous grin. He can think of better ways of getting exercise than running around on a dusty trail, but it doesn't seem that Mac's in the mood to even handle the suggestion.
Mac blushes, and turns away quickly. "Come on. You're already up on your feet. The quicker we're done, the quicker you can get back to lazing about," Mac tells him as he starts heading for the door.
Despite his protests, Abernathy follows, quietly plotting the whole way.
Their walk over to the training area doesn't take long, but Abernathy clings to his sullen mood with determination. He tries to lag behind to watch Mac's ass on the trip over, trying to get something worthwhile out of this whole thing, but Mac seems to be determined not let him stray too far. Mac is obviously under the assumption that Abernathy is going to try and slip away on him; if he's going to be honest with himself, Abernathy *does* entertain the thought more than once. He decides, however, that maybe Mac is right (as usual, god help them) about keeping in shape, although heaven forbid he actually *tell* him that. No need for the boy to think that he could get away with that bossing him around business all the time.
When they reach the trailhead, Mac falls into the familiar routine of stretches and warm ups. Abernathy halfheartedly joins him, more attention focused on what he could be doing right now rather than what he's about to do. He lies down to start a set of sit-ups, and turns his head to look over at Mac, who seems to be engrossed in his own world as he stretches out his calves.
"Spot me, will ya Chicago?" he asks, startling Mac out of whatever he is thinking about. He walks over, saying nothing, and seems to go back to thinking about whatever he was before.
Mac frowns at him absently as he holds Abernathy's feet together by straddling Abernathy's calves and applying pressure from the sides while he continues to stretch his arms and shoulders.
He doesn't seem to be paying any attention to Abernathy at all, which for some reason upsets him. He wants Mac to feel out of sorts, annoyed like he is. It might be a bit petty, but if Mac is going to mess up his afternoon, he's going to mess with Mac in return. Not to mention messing with Mac usually becomes pretty entertaining for him no matter which way he goes about doing it.
Abernathy starts half-heartedly doing situps, watching Mac the whole time. He notices that in Mac's uncharacterstic lack of attention, he's put himself in the perfect position to let Abernathy drive him crazy. Perfect.
When Abernathy pulls his torso completely vertical, his face stops just short of Mac's crotch. Mac is still lost in thought, completely oblivious to the fact that Abernathy keeps edging minutely closer each time, shifting to compensate and get close. He pauses between movements to look around, mindful of their surroundings despite the remote location. There isn't anyone in sight, and this time of day they should be just fine for a while, especailly given that they're a bit off the main path.
Fed up with the slow progress, Abernathy digs his heels into the dirt and slides himself forward while sitting up. It's a tough move to pull off, but it leaves his face planted squarely into Mac's crotch. He inhales deeply, nuzzling his nose momentarily against Mac's cock through the fabric.
Mac jumps, startled, and frowns down at Abernathy.
What are you doing?" he whispers loudly. Abernathy's not sure why exactly Mac is whispering, but paranoia is better than carelessness, he guesses. However, Mac isn't moving, despite the rigid body language and fear plastered across his face.
"What makes you think I'm doing anything? There's just this opportunity, sittin’ all pretty in front of me. Carpe diem and all that shit you always keep talking about." Abernathy looks up at him, trying to project innocence, leaning back on his palms.
"Jesus, Abernathy! Not here, in the middle of... Someone could show up anytime!" Mac starts to back away but Abernathy grabs him by the calves, immobilizing Mac, and uses them as a support to get up to his feet.
He purposefully tries to press as much of himself as he can against Mac, wanting to make him long for more contact like he does at the moment. He grabs Mac’s ass and grinds against him for a fleeting moment -long enough to send a very clear message to Mac about how he’s feeling right now-and steps away. Mac’s flushed and obviously affected by the attention, and seems to be trying to keep himself from giving in for whatever reason that Abernathy can’t fully understand.
He steps away from him and starts off down the trail at a slow jog, turning around to look back at Mac, who has yet to move and is staring at him, frozen in place.
"Come on Chicago, get your ass moving. Maybe we’ll stop somewhere on the way back,” he throws over his shoulder as casually as possible.
He smiles broadly as he hears the crunch of gravel behind him-- despite being dragged out here, he's accomplished what he wanted, and not too long from now, he suspects he'll get something even better.
Fin
4/07
Feedback always welcome.
Link to all of my stories
Title: Workout
Author: gin200168
Rating: PG-13 for suggestive behavior
Pairing: Mac Taylor/Jack Abernathy
Summary: Jack turns the tables on Mac after his day is interrupted.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of Jerry Bruckheimer, Alliance Atlantis, CBS, etc. Jack Abernathy is the creation of stellaluna_, and first came into existence in her story "Light from a Dead Star" and decided to take up permanent residence in my head.
A/N: stellaluna_ gets fixing credit as usual. And credit for poking me into rescuing it from collecting more than the last 4 months of virtual dust than it already has.
Abernathy sprawls in a chair, half-reading a dusty and worse-for-wear paperback. He knows people generally don't peg him as the reading type, but he does enjoy a good book now and then. He mostly reads for entertainment, nothing heavy, and rarely anything leaning toward academic or scholarly like the stuff Mac is always sticking his nose in, the ones the guys riff on him for.
"Abernathy," Mac says, gently kicking Abernathy's leg to get his attention. At least he didn't kick hard, Abernathy thinks, but doesn't reward him by reacting.
Mac kicks him lightly again, and says his name a little louder. He can hear the annoyance start to edge into Mac's voice, and tries not to smirk in reaction. Instead, he half-glances up from the book he's reading, trying to act if he can barely be bothered and sighs. "Whatcha want, Chicago?"
"To hell with that. I ain't gettin' up. It's time to *read*, that's what time it is," he grumbles, going back to his book. End of the chapter, he tells himself. Then maybe he'll get up and do PT. Or maybe the chapter after that, he thinks, as he shifts and slouches a bit more.
Suddenly Mac snatches the book out of his hands mid-sentence. "What the--? What'd you do that for?" He jumps to his feet, snatching his book back indignantly.
"I'm pleased that you're actually reading something that's not a skin mag, even though you've probably read it a million times already. And this reading's a good thing, but you're going to get fat and lazy sitting there all day. Neither of us is in good enough shape to just sit around," Mac says to him, frowning.
"Like hell we aren't! Look at me, finest specimen you'll find 'round here…" he declares, patting his flat stomach gently. "And, well, guess you ain't so bad either," he says, lowering his voice just in case anybody is lurking around-- even though they shouldn't be this time of day-- and letting his gaze run up and down Mac's body with a lecherous grin. He can think of better ways of getting exercise than running around on a dusty trail, but it doesn't seem that Mac's in the mood to even handle the suggestion.
Mac blushes, and turns away quickly. "Come on. You're already up on your feet. The quicker we're done, the quicker you can get back to lazing about," Mac tells him as he starts heading for the door.
Despite his protests, Abernathy follows, quietly plotting the whole way.
Their walk over to the training area doesn't take long, but Abernathy clings to his sullen mood with determination. He tries to lag behind to watch Mac's ass on the trip over, trying to get something worthwhile out of this whole thing, but Mac seems to be determined not let him stray too far. Mac is obviously under the assumption that Abernathy is going to try and slip away on him; if he's going to be honest with himself, Abernathy *does* entertain the thought more than once. He decides, however, that maybe Mac is right (as usual, god help them) about keeping in shape, although heaven forbid he actually *tell* him that. No need for the boy to think that he could get away with that bossing him around business all the time.
When they reach the trailhead, Mac falls into the familiar routine of stretches and warm ups. Abernathy halfheartedly joins him, more attention focused on what he could be doing right now rather than what he's about to do. He lies down to start a set of sit-ups, and turns his head to look over at Mac, who seems to be engrossed in his own world as he stretches out his calves.
"Spot me, will ya Chicago?" he asks, startling Mac out of whatever he is thinking about. He walks over, saying nothing, and seems to go back to thinking about whatever he was before.
Mac frowns at him absently as he holds Abernathy's feet together by straddling Abernathy's calves and applying pressure from the sides while he continues to stretch his arms and shoulders.
He doesn't seem to be paying any attention to Abernathy at all, which for some reason upsets him. He wants Mac to feel out of sorts, annoyed like he is. It might be a bit petty, but if Mac is going to mess up his afternoon, he's going to mess with Mac in return. Not to mention messing with Mac usually becomes pretty entertaining for him no matter which way he goes about doing it.
Abernathy starts half-heartedly doing situps, watching Mac the whole time. He notices that in Mac's uncharacterstic lack of attention, he's put himself in the perfect position to let Abernathy drive him crazy. Perfect.
When Abernathy pulls his torso completely vertical, his face stops just short of Mac's crotch. Mac is still lost in thought, completely oblivious to the fact that Abernathy keeps edging minutely closer each time, shifting to compensate and get close. He pauses between movements to look around, mindful of their surroundings despite the remote location. There isn't anyone in sight, and this time of day they should be just fine for a while, especailly given that they're a bit off the main path.
Fed up with the slow progress, Abernathy digs his heels into the dirt and slides himself forward while sitting up. It's a tough move to pull off, but it leaves his face planted squarely into Mac's crotch. He inhales deeply, nuzzling his nose momentarily against Mac's cock through the fabric.
Mac jumps, startled, and frowns down at Abernathy.
What are you doing?" he whispers loudly. Abernathy's not sure why exactly Mac is whispering, but paranoia is better than carelessness, he guesses. However, Mac isn't moving, despite the rigid body language and fear plastered across his face.
"What makes you think I'm doing anything? There's just this opportunity, sittin’ all pretty in front of me. Carpe diem and all that shit you always keep talking about." Abernathy looks up at him, trying to project innocence, leaning back on his palms.
"Jesus, Abernathy! Not here, in the middle of... Someone could show up anytime!" Mac starts to back away but Abernathy grabs him by the calves, immobilizing Mac, and uses them as a support to get up to his feet.
He purposefully tries to press as much of himself as he can against Mac, wanting to make him long for more contact like he does at the moment. He grabs Mac’s ass and grinds against him for a fleeting moment -long enough to send a very clear message to Mac about how he’s feeling right now-and steps away. Mac’s flushed and obviously affected by the attention, and seems to be trying to keep himself from giving in for whatever reason that Abernathy can’t fully understand.
He steps away from him and starts off down the trail at a slow jog, turning around to look back at Mac, who has yet to move and is staring at him, frozen in place.
"Come on Chicago, get your ass moving. Maybe we’ll stop somewhere on the way back,” he throws over his shoulder as casually as possible.
He smiles broadly as he hears the crunch of gravel behind him-- despite being dragged out here, he's accomplished what he wanted, and not too long from now, he suspects he'll get something even better.
Fin
4/07
Feedback always welcome.
Link to all of my stories