office equipments
Title: The Gay Glancing of the Equipage
Pairing: Nick/Greg (CSI)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Office equipments are not toys. When will they learn? Written for the 'toy' challenge at ngchallenge
Warnings/Dislaimers/Spoilers: Silly!fic.
Note: The title is taken from a line in 'The Heart of Mid-Lothian, Vol. 1' by Sir Walter Scott. Taken extremely out of context. Obviously. Silly!fic, as in... don't take it so seriously type fic. And apologies to Star Trek fans. I mean nothing by anything... *please don't hurt the messenger*
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Times like this, Nick really hates working in Las Vegas. And it shows, in stereo surround -- otherwise known as Greg Sanders.
"Nick?" Greg asks. "What's wrong?" Greg helps him out of his jacket.
"Case," Nick says simply, breaking into a small jog towards the bathroom. He must get the strange feeling off his skin. Greg follows him, all the while asking questions he doesn't want to answer. The answer'll sound absurd. But this case disturbs him. Okay, maybe the case itself is quite normal -- on the Vegas scale; but it does involve some very colorful personalities. The worst part is that he has to do it all over again tomorrow. There's still a lot of potential witnesses to sift through. Just thinking about it makes his head spin.
"What case?" Greg asks. "It's not a child-rape/murder case, is it? No, you don't look that disturbed. Is it somebody we know? Somebody you know? Somebody famous? What?"
"Nothing." Nick steps under the shower. He squeezes a handful of shampoo and rubs it into his hair rather viciously.
"Nothing, my ass. You're in the shower. Fully-clothed So... 'sorry if I don't quite buy your 'nothing'. Come on, tell."
Nick looks down and sees his shirt and pants and socks, all drenched. Greg's fingers are already working on the buttons. Nick is naked in no time at all. Greg must have plans, Nick can't help but smile.
Which Greg notices."You ain't getting anything until you spill, Cow-dung."
"Cow-dung?" Nick sputters, and feels a sliver of shampoo suds slip into his mouth. Sometimes, he can't even begin to understand Greg.
"What case? What's bothering you?" Greg's fingers are slippery and soapy on his back. Nick sighs as Greg massages the cricks and knots out of his shoulders.
"It's weird."
"Try me."
"DB. A Star-Trek con. Swabbing people dressing up as Vulcans."
"So what?" Greg asks, fingers journeying ever southwards. "You've swabbed weirder people before. And why Vulcans in particular?"
"Well... them professing Pon Farr, for one thing."
"Hey! if they're hot like T'Pol, I can't see why you're whining. Or Spock. Do you like Spock?"
"No, I don't like Spock." Nick ducks under the spray of warm water. Greg grabs a towel and wipes his wet hands on it. "Even Spock is better than some of those horny Vulcans," Nick says as he emerges from the shower, snatching the towel from Greg's hands. "I mean... most of the con-goers are okay, but some are... are... they're like... a million years older than Spock, with hormones of a person who's been celibate for a million years."
"And you have to swab them," Greg ponders, forefinger on chin. "Can't blame 'em," Greg says as he casts his eyes appreciatively all over Nick's damp body. "I mean, look at you," Greg says, waving his hand in front of Nick, "Happy Meal. Right here." Nick sees something mischievous in Greg's eyes that makes him cringe and clutch the towel closer to his body. "With free toy," Greg continues. "Big toy."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Nick huffs as he stalks into their bedroom. "You don't mind these... people... ogling your boyfriend?"
"I mind," Greg wraps his arms around Nick's bare stomach. "As long as they're only looking and not touching... I think I can let it pass. Besides... you're fun to watch when you're all flustered." Greg is all fingertips and nails, scraping gently over Nick's stomach, teasing his nipples. Greg's cheek is warm against the nape of his neck, and Greg's coffee-scented breath whispers across his shoulder. "Did you tell them you have a boyfriend waiting at home?" Greg nudges him closer to the edge of the bed.
Nick twists to face Greg and kisses him lightly. "Think you'll be playing with your free toy anytime soon?" Nick's fingers stray underneath the hem of Greg's shirt, "You're wearing too much clothes." And Nick crawls into bed and leans against the headboard. He finds lube underneath Greg's pillow and squirts a decent amount on it.
Greg stands at the foot of the bed, smiling at him. And Nick smiles back as he strokes himself -- long, languid strokes -- as Greg undresses. "You like?" Greg asks, crawling on top of him. Skin brushing against skin, and Nick falls in love all over again.
"I love," Nick breathes under his breath, pulling Greg down. Kissing is Nick's favorite pasttime, and Greg can kiss Nick into an orgasm. Not that he'll ever tell Greg for fear of Greg's inflated ego.
"They didn't touch you, right? Didn't leave any incriminating evidence on my crime scene..." Greg asks as they reluctantly pull back for a gasp of air. Nick likes it when Greg turns all possessive.
"No," Nick mumbles as he nibbles the soft skin of Greg's neck.
"You sure? I can always use the ALS to check, or dust you for prints," Greg grins, playing with Nick's nipples, a small flick here and a light pinch here, and Nick suckles more forcefully. That'll definitely leave a spectacular bruise.
"Sorry. Scrubbed clean. Evidence gone." Nick still remember the 'dusting for fingerprint' part. It was Greg's first day as a CSI trainee, still learning how to best apply powder on fingerprint. It was a very messy affair, involving standard-issue brushes and chocolate powder, and each other's bodies. They really have to misuse office equipment more often, Nick chuckles.
"I want to fuck you, Nick..." Greg whispers in his ears, nibbling on his earlobe. "Wanna process you so bad." Greg is learning how to talk dirty in procedural language. Soon, Nick won't be able to think straight when processing a crime scene. Soon he won't even be able to look at a pipette and not think subversive things. He'll have to transfer to another job. Good thing he loves Greg so much.
"First rule of engagement," Greg stretches above him, one nipple hovering just within licking distance. And Nick doesn't really need to be invited twice, and relishes Greg's bodyshudder as he licks and slurps. "Never forget to wear the rubber."
Nick sees a whole list of promises in Greg's eyes and he sighs contentedly as Greg hums in delight. The night will be long, he'll have little sleep, there's a whole slew of aliens to swabb come morning. But, as he feels Greg's fingers heading towards the right direction, he lets all thoughts slip out of his mind.
---
Pairing: Nick/Greg (CSI)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Office equipments are not toys. When will they learn? Written for the 'toy' challenge at ngchallenge
Warnings/Dislaimers/Spoilers: Silly!fic.
Note: The title is taken from a line in 'The Heart of Mid-Lothian, Vol. 1' by Sir Walter Scott. Taken extremely out of context. Obviously. Silly!fic, as in... don't take it so seriously type fic. And apologies to Star Trek fans. I mean nothing by anything... *please don't hurt the messenger*
---
Times like this, Nick really hates working in Las Vegas. And it shows, in stereo surround -- otherwise known as Greg Sanders.
"Nick?" Greg asks. "What's wrong?" Greg helps him out of his jacket.
"Case," Nick says simply, breaking into a small jog towards the bathroom. He must get the strange feeling off his skin. Greg follows him, all the while asking questions he doesn't want to answer. The answer'll sound absurd. But this case disturbs him. Okay, maybe the case itself is quite normal -- on the Vegas scale; but it does involve some very colorful personalities. The worst part is that he has to do it all over again tomorrow. There's still a lot of potential witnesses to sift through. Just thinking about it makes his head spin.
"What case?" Greg asks. "It's not a child-rape/murder case, is it? No, you don't look that disturbed. Is it somebody we know? Somebody you know? Somebody famous? What?"
"Nothing." Nick steps under the shower. He squeezes a handful of shampoo and rubs it into his hair rather viciously.
"Nothing, my ass. You're in the shower. Fully-clothed So... 'sorry if I don't quite buy your 'nothing'. Come on, tell."
Nick looks down and sees his shirt and pants and socks, all drenched. Greg's fingers are already working on the buttons. Nick is naked in no time at all. Greg must have plans, Nick can't help but smile.
Which Greg notices."You ain't getting anything until you spill, Cow-dung."
"Cow-dung?" Nick sputters, and feels a sliver of shampoo suds slip into his mouth. Sometimes, he can't even begin to understand Greg.
"What case? What's bothering you?" Greg's fingers are slippery and soapy on his back. Nick sighs as Greg massages the cricks and knots out of his shoulders.
"It's weird."
"Try me."
"DB. A Star-Trek con. Swabbing people dressing up as Vulcans."
"So what?" Greg asks, fingers journeying ever southwards. "You've swabbed weirder people before. And why Vulcans in particular?"
"Well... them professing Pon Farr, for one thing."
"Hey! if they're hot like T'Pol, I can't see why you're whining. Or Spock. Do you like Spock?"
"No, I don't like Spock." Nick ducks under the spray of warm water. Greg grabs a towel and wipes his wet hands on it. "Even Spock is better than some of those horny Vulcans," Nick says as he emerges from the shower, snatching the towel from Greg's hands. "I mean... most of the con-goers are okay, but some are... are... they're like... a million years older than Spock, with hormones of a person who's been celibate for a million years."
"And you have to swab them," Greg ponders, forefinger on chin. "Can't blame 'em," Greg says as he casts his eyes appreciatively all over Nick's damp body. "I mean, look at you," Greg says, waving his hand in front of Nick, "Happy Meal. Right here." Nick sees something mischievous in Greg's eyes that makes him cringe and clutch the towel closer to his body. "With free toy," Greg continues. "Big toy."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Nick huffs as he stalks into their bedroom. "You don't mind these... people... ogling your boyfriend?"
"I mind," Greg wraps his arms around Nick's bare stomach. "As long as they're only looking and not touching... I think I can let it pass. Besides... you're fun to watch when you're all flustered." Greg is all fingertips and nails, scraping gently over Nick's stomach, teasing his nipples. Greg's cheek is warm against the nape of his neck, and Greg's coffee-scented breath whispers across his shoulder. "Did you tell them you have a boyfriend waiting at home?" Greg nudges him closer to the edge of the bed.
Nick twists to face Greg and kisses him lightly. "Think you'll be playing with your free toy anytime soon?" Nick's fingers stray underneath the hem of Greg's shirt, "You're wearing too much clothes." And Nick crawls into bed and leans against the headboard. He finds lube underneath Greg's pillow and squirts a decent amount on it.
Greg stands at the foot of the bed, smiling at him. And Nick smiles back as he strokes himself -- long, languid strokes -- as Greg undresses. "You like?" Greg asks, crawling on top of him. Skin brushing against skin, and Nick falls in love all over again.
"I love," Nick breathes under his breath, pulling Greg down. Kissing is Nick's favorite pasttime, and Greg can kiss Nick into an orgasm. Not that he'll ever tell Greg for fear of Greg's inflated ego.
"They didn't touch you, right? Didn't leave any incriminating evidence on my crime scene..." Greg asks as they reluctantly pull back for a gasp of air. Nick likes it when Greg turns all possessive.
"No," Nick mumbles as he nibbles the soft skin of Greg's neck.
"You sure? I can always use the ALS to check, or dust you for prints," Greg grins, playing with Nick's nipples, a small flick here and a light pinch here, and Nick suckles more forcefully. That'll definitely leave a spectacular bruise.
"Sorry. Scrubbed clean. Evidence gone." Nick still remember the 'dusting for fingerprint' part. It was Greg's first day as a CSI trainee, still learning how to best apply powder on fingerprint. It was a very messy affair, involving standard-issue brushes and chocolate powder, and each other's bodies. They really have to misuse office equipment more often, Nick chuckles.
"I want to fuck you, Nick..." Greg whispers in his ears, nibbling on his earlobe. "Wanna process you so bad." Greg is learning how to talk dirty in procedural language. Soon, Nick won't be able to think straight when processing a crime scene. Soon he won't even be able to look at a pipette and not think subversive things. He'll have to transfer to another job. Good thing he loves Greg so much.
"First rule of engagement," Greg stretches above him, one nipple hovering just within licking distance. And Nick doesn't really need to be invited twice, and relishes Greg's bodyshudder as he licks and slurps. "Never forget to wear the rubber."
Nick sees a whole list of promises in Greg's eyes and he sighs contentedly as Greg hums in delight. The night will be long, he'll have little sleep, there's a whole slew of aliens to swabb come morning. But, as he feels Greg's fingers heading towards the right direction, he lets all thoughts slip out of his mind.
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