Newton's 1st (CSI - Nick/Greg/Sara - Adult)
Title: Newton's 1st
Fandom: CSI
Author: plum (zeplum)
Pairing: Nick/Sara/Greg
Rating: Adult
Setting: Takes place directly after S4 - following the whole Sara & Nick promotion debacle, Sara's DUI bust, and years of flirting between Greg, Nick, and Sara.
Notes: I've had this idea since the end of S4, but only started writing it this past April. After 150 words I tucked it away only to pull it out again a month or so ago. 150 words quickly grew into 4000+, a number which surprises me to no end. Along with the fact that I wrote smut, and threesome smut at that. Truly, much with the boggling.
Many thanks to serialkarma, as always, for her conscientious betas and for humoring my dorkish freakouts.
Your fingers are trembling
And your heart is heavy and red
- Melissa Ferrick, Drive
One hundred and fifty miles outside of Vegas and he's still not sure if he volunteered for this or if he was manipulated into it by Grissom. Probably a little of both.
*
Sara's asleep in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window. Her face is tight, drawn, like she hasn't had a decent day's rest in weeks. Knowing Sara, she hasn't.
*
After he got the call, he barely had enough time to pack a bag for himself, load up on supplies, and drop by Sara's for enough clothes to last her a week -- or at least until they could drive into town to do wash. A few calls, one favor traded in, and they actually have a place to go.
Nick wasn't sure how long they'd be gone. Neither was Grissom when he called. By the look on Sara's face when he arrived at the station, it might be awhile.
*
They arrive at the cabin at midday, the sun already high in the sky. Sara drops out of the Denali without a word of fanfare and heads straight for the nearest bed. Nick makes sure she actually made it to a bed before he starts carrying things inside. Once things are secured, he takes a hike around the property to check things out. Satisfied, he finds the next nearest bed and imitates Sara.
*
He's awakened sometime around sunset by the vibration of his cell phone. He's groggy and a little disoriented, so it takes a minute before he realizes it's Greg on the other end of the line.
Nick can hear the concern in Greg's voice. The connection Greg's always had to Sara -- or simply the obvious interest in her -- has always been plain to all of them. Nick tries to reassure Greg as much as he can. Sara's sleeping. No, she hasn't said anything about what happened. No, she hasn't said anything at all.
The phone call is short, as Greg thankfully picks up the tension in his voice. But Nick hangs up with a smile on his face in spite of it all, pleased that Greg's the one that called. That Greg is the one who knows both he and Sara so well.
*
Chili's on the stove and bread is warming in the oven when Sara makes her way to the kitchen table. She looks rumpled and haggard and more than a little confused and pissed off. Nick can't blame her; he's a little confused himself. After all, he and Sara haven't exactly been on the best of terms lately, what with the promotion and everything. Nick is having trouble figuring out why Grissom called him.
"Smells good. What is it?"
"Chili. Vegetarian."
"Cool. Is there any beer to go with it?"
"Milk." When he gives her a look she just raises her hands and tries to look innocent.
"Just kidding."
They both laugh a little at that, and Nick decides that maybe this might work after all.
*
They sleep in separate bedrooms the first night, but Nick wakes up to find Sara curled up in his bed. For some reason he's not at all surprised that she's stolen most of the quilt, leaving him with only a thin blanket to block out the morning chill.
After a large breakfast -- in the AM, which kind of weirds them both out a little -- Nick gently forces Sara to come hiking with him. She protests much of the way, whining about inappropriate footwear or exercise on a full stomach. He counters with a few comments about working toxins out of her system. In response she scowls at him but shuts up. He figures it a win.
That night they read. He catches up on back issues of his forensic journals while Sara looks on with undisguised interest and envy.
"Nuh uh, this a vacation," he admonishes her. Yeah, right, one just short of detox or lock-up.
"So you read those for fun?" Sara shoots back.
Nick manages to hold his tongue before saying, "You do." They've skirted around things for years, poked holes in the dikes but never with the force to break through. Sexual tension, competition and personal demons do not make for the smoothest of relationships.
Pointing at the file box sitting by her chair, he deflects the question. "There's a lot for you to read."
She picks up a few and flips threw them, eyebrows raised. "These are Greg's, aren't they?"
"How could you tell?"
"I can't exactly see Cath reading about someplace called Discworld."
They settle in after that, Nick on the couch, Sara curled up in the wing chair across from him. He's surprised when Sara unfurls and comes to sit with him on the couch -- even more surprised when she casually makes him her foot rest and keeps on reading.
"Your feet smell."
"So do yours."
And that's the end of the conversation. By the end of the night he's running his thumb back and forth across the delicate bones of her ankle as if it's the most normal thing in the world.
*
The second and third days are much like the first, but Sara's tongue gets sharper. It's nice to see some of the old Sara coming out.
They're finishing up repairs to the porch (part of the deal to get the cabin in the first place) when she broaches the subject that's been hanging over them for days.
"Nick, what are we doing here?"
When he shrugs, she reaches over and pokes him in the shoulder. Hard.
"Grissom called and told me what had happened. He said you needed to clear your head before you came back." Nick pauses when Sara flinches; takes a moment for her to adjust. In so many words, what Gil had really said was that he wanted Sara to clear her head so she wouldn't do something stupid. Nick had sort of grunted agreement at that, keeping his opinions to himself.
"Coming up here was my idea."
"Nowhere to run?"
"Something like that," he teases.
*
A soft knock on the door wakes him. Sara stands backlit in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. Her shoulders are rolled in, one hand rubbing the other arm like she's cold. Her long, lean body looks awkward and Nick finally realizes through his sleepy haze how uncomfortable she really is.
"Sara? You cold?"
"Can't sleep." She smiles weakly.
Nick rolls his eyes. "C'mon." He flips the covers up as she walks around the bed. Nick notes that she's only wearing a t-shirt and boxers (whose?). No wonder she looks cold.
And finally, wow, her legs really are that long.
"Just, try not to be a bed hog, okay?"
Once she's settled -- and he's already holding tightly to his half of the covers -- he hears her ask quietly, "Does everyone know?"
Timid is one word he would never use to describe Sara Sidle, but here it is. Nick sits up, leans on his arm for support and looks down at Sara. She's curled into a fetal position facing away from him. He reaches out a hand to run along her bare arm, for comfort, contact, but it's too intimate a gesture so he pulls it back.
"Yeah, they know." It would be hard to keep something like this secret.
When she simply says, "Okay," and nothing more, Nick turns over and tries to go back to sleep.
But he can't. He thinks of the conversation he had with Greg that afternoon, while Sara was out hiking. Greg called him on his hero complex.
"She's not a wounded bird, Nick."
"I know that."
"Do you?"
"Greg --"
"No. Just tell me, do you care about her?"
"Of course, and about you too."
"Yeah, well. That's all I needed to know. Take care of her, okay?"
"I will."
Eventually he falls back into an uneasy sleep.
*
Nick wonders when waking up spooned with Sara started to seem normal. Probably about the time that kissing the small bit of skin at the base of her neck instantly becomes the favourite part of his day.
They've been here almost a week now, and during the day they carefully pretend nothing's going on. That Sara doesn't wake with Nick's hand on her belly, fingers spread possessively; that Nick doesn't make any noise when she arches back into him when he finds a ticklish spot.
That they're only friends, and Nick already has a boyfriend.
*
Someone in the lab once remarked that when he and Sara fought, they squabbled like brother and sister. Nick never put much faith in that, but now he's becoming a believer.
"No, I'm not giving it back!"
"Sara," Nick warns.
"No," she says, holding the can high over her head.
He's backed her against the counter, arms on either side, trapping her in. And at their heights, it's not really an effective measure, but Nick's playing along. They've been chasing each other around the cabin for a good ten minutes over a can of SPAM and it's the most fun he's had in days.
"You don't have to eat it."
Sara rolls her eyes, but keeps grinning madly. "I'm not, and you shouldn't either. Do you know what's in here?"
"Don't care." He reaches for the can, stepping in and pressing his body to hers.
They're so close he can feel her chest rise and fall with every breath; that warm center that's been in his gut for days starts to coil and burn. And then her breath hitches, stops and it's like a direct current races through his body with one message. It's so easy to lean forward, press his mouth to hers. She freezes for a moment, and he waits for her to push him back, tell him this isn't right.
But she doesn't. Instead her body melts into his and she wraps one arm around his neck, pulling him in. Her short, practical nails graze over the skin at his nape and drive his sudden need to claim her mouth with his own. She lets him drive, setting the pace and intensity and it's so fucking hot, because Sara never cedes control. Hell, he checks and sure enough, she's still holding on to the SPAM. It makes him laugh, and though he moves to pull away, he can't leave without one last bite at her lower lip, and then he moves back in to soothe it with his tongue, being sure to dive in, sweep through her mouth.
As Nick looks at Sara, face flushed, eyes bright and lips already a little swollen, he wonders how Grissom could pass her by without a second look.
He kisses her lazily as he finds the hem of her shirt and slowly starts inching it up her body. He's sure to skim his fingertips over the soft, sensitive skin. Reward comes when she jumps, squeaks and drops the SPAM.
"Having fun?"
Nick keeps laughing, but kisses her quickly. "Oh, yeah."
He feels her shiver at that and can't help but grind his hips into hers. Then, before he even has a chance to do it again, because damn, it didn't relieve the pressure growing in his body so much as inflamed it, Sara's tongue is curling against his and Nick realizes it's his turn to play along. He manages to get her shirt up and off before she twists them around, so now he's the one with his back up against a wall.
She quickly discards her shirt, leaving only acres of creamy, pale skin and a simple black bra. He reaches out tentatively, like the contact will burn, but Sara's not paying any attention and soon he's not either. She distracts him with a wickedly dirty kiss, and somehow he knows this is pure Sara. There's confidence and precision, not a movement wasted, and behind it all there's the ever-present hesitation and vulnerability. Cold control instead of confusion and doubt.
Except that Sara's cool control is translating into a white burn that's making him moan into her mouth, because at the same time her tongue is teasing his, her hand's doing the same further south, stroking him just enough through his jeans that fucking on the counter doesn't sound like such a wild idea.
His voice sounds strangled to even his ears, asking her to slow down. She looks slightly taken aback, but as he firmly plants his hands on her hips, keeping her in contact, Sara's face softens. "I'm not going anywhere," he confides. And then, with a long last look into her eyes, pupils blown, he slowly draws back and pulls off his own shirt.
"There, now we can start over."
And that's when he hears the distinct sound of a screen door slapping closed.
"Then it looks like I'm just in time." Greg's voice is oddly steady and neutral to Nick's ears.
"Hi, Sara," Greg waves. "Nick, can I talk to you for a minute?"
*
"You could've called."
"Wanted it to be a surprise."
Night's falling early and there's already a chill in the air. In the dying light, Greg's face is relaxed, almost happy.
"It was. Greg, man --" and here Nick falters. Sara's always been much more Greg's out clause than his. They've talked about situations like this, but now that they're smack dab in the middle of one, Nick's not so sure -- about anything.
"C'mon, Nick, give me some credit. You...Sara...isolated from the rest of the world. Something was bound to happen."
"And you still let me come?"
"There was no question of letting you."
"So why are you here?"
"Truthfully? I missed you guys." Greg shrugs like this all completely normal. "Besides, right now I'm not sure who I should be jealous of, you or Sara. Y'know, just for the record."
When Greg moves in to kiss him, it's like everything else in the world shuts off and holds its breath. Greg pulls back but leaves his arms wrapped around Nick's waist. "So, got any bright ideas?" He nods his head towards Sara, making one hell of a racket in the back of the cabin.
"Don't look at me, this all happened by accident."
Greg snorts. "Yeah, seduction by SPAM didn't seem like your style."
If Nick had been five, he'd have stuck his tongue out at Greg. "Very funny."
"Yeah, but that's not."
From where they stand that can see Sara stomping through the house, luggage in hand, making like a bat out of hell for the front door. Thankfully, Greg's feet are as quick as his mind and he catches up with her by the time she reaches the last step.
"Sara, wait."
She whirls on him, mouth set in a thin line. For a second Nick thinks she's going to scream, or cry, or something, but all she does is calmly look at Greg, ignoring his grip on her forearm, and holds out her hand. "Can I have your keys?"
Greg is taken aback for a moment, but then recovers before Sara has a chance to wiggle out of his grip. "Nope, you're not going anywhere." He shoots significant looks to both Sara and Nick. "No one is. But you and me?" He gestures to Sara, "We need to talk."
*
Halfway up the drive, the cabin finally comes into view. He's taken his time, plodding slowly down to Greg's jeep and back giving Greg time to say what ever needs to be said to Sara. He figures that if anyone can reason this out to Sara, it's Greg -- he may be goofy and a smartass, but when it comes to knowing people, finding that awkward in, Greg's the best.
Nick didn't necessarily expect to find Greg's hands buried deep in Sara's hair, kissing enthusiastically like Nick wasn't expected back at any moment. Whatever Greg had said, Nick knew he'd never find out, but it had done the trick because the way things looked, fleeing the scene looked like the last thing on Sara's mind.
Climbing to the top of the stairs, Nick leans against a post and watches. He feels like a voyeur, except for the part where he's kissed both of these people during the last half hour and he's half hard just watching them. His baser impulses are driving him to step forward and become a part of this, but that seems greedy somehow, having both of them.
So he watches as Greg's hand slips down over Sara's flank, caressing and teasing the whole way, until it disappears. Greg's busy planting open-mouthed kisses on her neck when Nick watches as Sara's body bows back, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. Now he knows where that missing hand went; his mouth goes dry. At that moment, Greg opens his eyes and looks straight at Nick, the meaning clear.
Playtime is over.
Not bothering to be quiet, he steps forward and sets his hands on her hips, rocking her body back into his so she can feel how hard he is. He pulls back her hair and kisses the soft skin behind her ear. "Why don't we move this inside?" he whispers, his voice straining. Greg just stares at him, laughing silently.
*
They are three bodies in perpetual motion as they make their way through the cabin in fits and starts, ever-rotating combinations of two and three. Nick and Greg locked in a kiss as Sara circles both, unbuttoning their jeans. Sara licking up Nick's chest as she lifts and removes his shirt, Greg looking on with approval. Sara and Greg, savoring each other's mouth, the forbidden fruit.
Nick's question startles them out of their embrace. "What did he tell you?"
And Sara turns around and looks him square in the eye, saying, "Enough."
With that, whatever doubts Nick has about this lunacy are pushed to a deep, dark corner.
*
Moonlight reflects off the long planes and angles of Sara's body, hints of curve a sensuous surprise for him. Her breathing is deep and ragged, sharp breaths telling him that she's close, that Greg's mouth is just as talented as ever.
Nick whispers in her ear; dirty little nothings about what Greg is doing to her, about how beautiful she is, back arched and begging for more, how he wants to be inside her slick, hot heat so bad --
And she shatters, fists twisting in the sheets and letting out a keening sort of wail before Nick can kiss the sound away. He quiets her through the aftermath, places featherlight kisses all over her body as Greg climbs from between her legs and up the bed. When he's finally done, Greg leans into him and kisses with that freshly lewd tongue, letting Nick taste Sara still on his lips.
He grasps the back of Greg's neck, making a promise, "Later." Before leaning down to kiss Sara like Greg had kissed him.
"So. Fucking. Hot," she breathes into his mouth before their lips can connect. Nick takes it as a very good sign and proceeds to fuck her mouth with his tongue as best as he can, a preview of things to come. But she's not interested in foreplay, not interested in what he can tease and how creatively he can do it.
He gets over his disappointment quickly when she grits out, "Dammit, now," and levers her hips up, and god, how he wants to just drive his cock into that wet heat. But he shakes his head and looks toward Greg, Greg who's laying beside them on the bed, eyes half closed and fist around his own cock, slowly stroking, drawing it out.
Overwhelmed with sensory data, Nick almost comes from the combined sights, smells and feeling of it all, but Greg has his back, just like always. He hands Nick a condom from the box in the table, and when Nick's fingers fumble with the package, Greg is the one to tear it open and put it on. "Easy does it, big fella," he mocks, with a calming rubbing over Nick's shoulder. He's about to laugh, but Sara beats him to it.
She stops laughing when he pushes into her. He begins to thrust slowly, shallow. Nick wants to draw this out, "Waited so long," he speaks against the tender skin of her neck, but her answer, an addictive sound caught somewhere between a moan and a cry, hits and all semblance of control flies out the window over Sara's head.
He can't help but drive deeper, harder, and her hips come up to meet him on every thrust. Nick whispers nonsense words into her skin, claims her mouth for his own, pulls back and wonders at the look of pained concentration on Sara's face as she focuses on the feel of his cock deep inside, making her body writhe against his own.
Someone says a, "God yes," but it's not Nick. He looks over at Greg, steadily jerking off beside them, his eyes shadowed with naked want, his ragged breathing a veritable fucking metronome. A wave of overwhelming possessiveness and power comes over him as he watches. Nick catches Greg's eye for a moment and growls out, "Don't dare come yet." He wants to be the one to finish Greg off. He wants those large, finely boned hands gripping at his hair as Greg spills over his tongue.
With a silent nod of assent from Greg, Nick turns his undivided attention on Sara. She's close, he can tell, so he twists his hips, hoping to find that perfect angle. When Sara's eyes fly open and it feels like half the air has gone out of his chest, he knows he's found it. "C'mon, Sara," he coaxes. "C'mon, baby, come for me." And for the second time that night Sara breaks apart in his arms, sweatslick and satiated. As it turns out, that's just what he needed to see.
*
"So now you like my plan," Greg says, smugly.
"How 'bout we say that I like the results of your plan and leave it at that?" He doesn't give Greg time to reply, kissing him so deep and hard, just like he's been waiting to. "Now," he says, Greg's erection heavy in his hand, "are you going to let me finish my job?"
He strokes up once, thumb sliding over the head. Nick brings his thumb up to his mouth; when his tongue flicks out to taste, Greg falls back on the bed in defeat.
"Fine. You win. Just don't skimp because you're tired!"
Nick follows him down, settles along side him. There's plenty of room now that Sara's in the bathroom cleaning up. She'll be back soon, but they have no worries about what she'll find upon her return.
He takes the opportunity to kiss Greg lazily, assuring him that he's not in the skimping mood. "God, it was so hot when you were going down on her," Nick tells him, then bites down on Greg's earlobe, just how he likes it. He can feel Greg's pulse racing as he places open mouth kisses down the column of Greg's throat, dips his tongue into the hollow at the base. "I've thought about it, you know, knew it would happen. Better than I ever imagined."
Greg's chest rises up against him, back arching -- just like Sara. Nick's smile hurts his face. He feels like the happiest boy in the world, would say it too if not for the fact that Greg would punch him, and Sara too.
Carrying out his promise not to skimp, Nick takes particular time and care moving down Greg's torso, sucking each of Greg's nipples in turn, flicking the hardened points with the tip of his tongue, biting gently until Greg gasps. But his real target is further south, and Nick is anxious to get there -- feel Greg hard and hot against his skin.
Nick's thrusting his tongue into Greg's navel, a crude imitation, when he feels the bed dip down. A moment later Greg moans loudly, but muffled, and when Nick looks up, it's to find Sara treating Greg's mouth to the same attention that his belly button was receiving a moment before.
Stopping for a moment, he just watches them, and though he's done a lot of that recently, he doubts he'll ever get tired of this sight. But he's on a mission, so he tears his gaze away and follows the line of hair leading down Greg's belly and says a lengthy hello to Greg's cock.
When Greg's start hips jerking up, Nick knows that Greg's on a short end, so he makes the most of his time, taking Greg deep right away before pulling back, concentrating on the head with fast sweeps of his tongue. This is how they do it right after shift, when they can't even make it out of the building before Greg pulls Nick into a supply closet and pushes him to his knees. Greg loves it almost as much as Nick does.
A hand moves onto his head accompanied by a desperate sound deep from Greg's chest. Nick takes the cue, takes a deep breath and goes down once more, hums, and pulls off enough so that when Greg comes Nick can enjoy the fruits of his labor.
*
They fall asleep in an exhausted tumble, but Nick wakes spooned around Sara, Greg nowhere to be found. He takes the opportunity to indulge like he couldn't do the night before, skimming his hands over Sara's skin, down her side, over her hip, settling on her thigh. He kisses her shoulder and nudges her awake, murmuring her name with a newfound affection.
He watches as she stretches her slender body, obviously luxuriating in the feel, complete with a happy little girl squeak that makes him laugh. "I never would've guessed you could make a sound like that," he says, kissing her happily.
"Don't you dare tell," she scolds. "Catherine would never let me hear the end of it, not to mention Warrick."
Nick grabs her hand playfully. "Don't worry, I won't say a word. About any of this," he adds significantly.
"And Greg? Where is he anyway?"
"I don't know, but --"
"Should my ears be burning?" Greg appears in the doorway, no shirt, jeans and a smile on his face.
"Just talking about this," Nick says, gesturing a rough circle to include the three of them. "That we keep it private."
"Well, duh. Call me selfish, but why advertise something this good?"
Nick can't help laughing. He gazes down at Sara, "That work for you?"
She rolls her eyes. "I must be insane to say this, but yeah, that works."
Greg grins and bounces on his toes. "Cool. Now I can get back to the waffles."
*
The drive back to Vegas the next day is significantly more pleasant. Sara’s talks to him for one, even breaking the comfortable silence at one point to inform him of exactly how she'd like to help him defile the Denali. He locks his jaw and blushes furiously at that.
It doesn't matter; he gets his revenge later when he catches her singing along with "Kiss" on the radio.
"Now that, that I'll tell Warrick about."
"Did you forget that I carry a gun?"
"So do I."
"Shit."
A few minutes later Greg calls from a few miles ahead. "Hey Greg, did you know that Sara could sing Prince?"
"Will stockings and heels make you shut up?" she growls.
He grins back at her. "Maybe."
*
The weeks that Sara's gone are slow and mind numbing in their boredom. Greg and Nick pass the time as best they can, which is to say, very, very well, but they count down the days until she comes back.
They are the ones to meet her upon release, embracing her tightly.
"Welcome home."
-end-
Fandom: CSI
Author: plum (zeplum)
Pairing: Nick/Sara/Greg
Rating: Adult
Setting: Takes place directly after S4 - following the whole Sara & Nick promotion debacle, Sara's DUI bust, and years of flirting between Greg, Nick, and Sara.
Notes: I've had this idea since the end of S4, but only started writing it this past April. After 150 words I tucked it away only to pull it out again a month or so ago. 150 words quickly grew into 4000+, a number which surprises me to no end. Along with the fact that I wrote smut, and threesome smut at that. Truly, much with the boggling.
Many thanks to serialkarma, as always, for her conscientious betas and for humoring my dorkish freakouts.
Your fingers are trembling
And your heart is heavy and red
- Melissa Ferrick, Drive
One hundred and fifty miles outside of Vegas and he's still not sure if he volunteered for this or if he was manipulated into it by Grissom. Probably a little of both.
*
Sara's asleep in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window. Her face is tight, drawn, like she hasn't had a decent day's rest in weeks. Knowing Sara, she hasn't.
*
After he got the call, he barely had enough time to pack a bag for himself, load up on supplies, and drop by Sara's for enough clothes to last her a week -- or at least until they could drive into town to do wash. A few calls, one favor traded in, and they actually have a place to go.
Nick wasn't sure how long they'd be gone. Neither was Grissom when he called. By the look on Sara's face when he arrived at the station, it might be awhile.
*
They arrive at the cabin at midday, the sun already high in the sky. Sara drops out of the Denali without a word of fanfare and heads straight for the nearest bed. Nick makes sure she actually made it to a bed before he starts carrying things inside. Once things are secured, he takes a hike around the property to check things out. Satisfied, he finds the next nearest bed and imitates Sara.
*
He's awakened sometime around sunset by the vibration of his cell phone. He's groggy and a little disoriented, so it takes a minute before he realizes it's Greg on the other end of the line.
Nick can hear the concern in Greg's voice. The connection Greg's always had to Sara -- or simply the obvious interest in her -- has always been plain to all of them. Nick tries to reassure Greg as much as he can. Sara's sleeping. No, she hasn't said anything about what happened. No, she hasn't said anything at all.
The phone call is short, as Greg thankfully picks up the tension in his voice. But Nick hangs up with a smile on his face in spite of it all, pleased that Greg's the one that called. That Greg is the one who knows both he and Sara so well.
*
Chili's on the stove and bread is warming in the oven when Sara makes her way to the kitchen table. She looks rumpled and haggard and more than a little confused and pissed off. Nick can't blame her; he's a little confused himself. After all, he and Sara haven't exactly been on the best of terms lately, what with the promotion and everything. Nick is having trouble figuring out why Grissom called him.
"Smells good. What is it?"
"Chili. Vegetarian."
"Cool. Is there any beer to go with it?"
"Milk." When he gives her a look she just raises her hands and tries to look innocent.
"Just kidding."
They both laugh a little at that, and Nick decides that maybe this might work after all.
*
They sleep in separate bedrooms the first night, but Nick wakes up to find Sara curled up in his bed. For some reason he's not at all surprised that she's stolen most of the quilt, leaving him with only a thin blanket to block out the morning chill.
After a large breakfast -- in the AM, which kind of weirds them both out a little -- Nick gently forces Sara to come hiking with him. She protests much of the way, whining about inappropriate footwear or exercise on a full stomach. He counters with a few comments about working toxins out of her system. In response she scowls at him but shuts up. He figures it a win.
That night they read. He catches up on back issues of his forensic journals while Sara looks on with undisguised interest and envy.
"Nuh uh, this a vacation," he admonishes her. Yeah, right, one just short of detox or lock-up.
"So you read those for fun?" Sara shoots back.
Nick manages to hold his tongue before saying, "You do." They've skirted around things for years, poked holes in the dikes but never with the force to break through. Sexual tension, competition and personal demons do not make for the smoothest of relationships.
Pointing at the file box sitting by her chair, he deflects the question. "There's a lot for you to read."
She picks up a few and flips threw them, eyebrows raised. "These are Greg's, aren't they?"
"How could you tell?"
"I can't exactly see Cath reading about someplace called Discworld."
They settle in after that, Nick on the couch, Sara curled up in the wing chair across from him. He's surprised when Sara unfurls and comes to sit with him on the couch -- even more surprised when she casually makes him her foot rest and keeps on reading.
"Your feet smell."
"So do yours."
And that's the end of the conversation. By the end of the night he's running his thumb back and forth across the delicate bones of her ankle as if it's the most normal thing in the world.
*
The second and third days are much like the first, but Sara's tongue gets sharper. It's nice to see some of the old Sara coming out.
They're finishing up repairs to the porch (part of the deal to get the cabin in the first place) when she broaches the subject that's been hanging over them for days.
"Nick, what are we doing here?"
When he shrugs, she reaches over and pokes him in the shoulder. Hard.
"Grissom called and told me what had happened. He said you needed to clear your head before you came back." Nick pauses when Sara flinches; takes a moment for her to adjust. In so many words, what Gil had really said was that he wanted Sara to clear her head so she wouldn't do something stupid. Nick had sort of grunted agreement at that, keeping his opinions to himself.
"Coming up here was my idea."
"Nowhere to run?"
"Something like that," he teases.
*
A soft knock on the door wakes him. Sara stands backlit in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. Her shoulders are rolled in, one hand rubbing the other arm like she's cold. Her long, lean body looks awkward and Nick finally realizes through his sleepy haze how uncomfortable she really is.
"Sara? You cold?"
"Can't sleep." She smiles weakly.
Nick rolls his eyes. "C'mon." He flips the covers up as she walks around the bed. Nick notes that she's only wearing a t-shirt and boxers (whose?). No wonder she looks cold.
And finally, wow, her legs really are that long.
"Just, try not to be a bed hog, okay?"
Once she's settled -- and he's already holding tightly to his half of the covers -- he hears her ask quietly, "Does everyone know?"
Timid is one word he would never use to describe Sara Sidle, but here it is. Nick sits up, leans on his arm for support and looks down at Sara. She's curled into a fetal position facing away from him. He reaches out a hand to run along her bare arm, for comfort, contact, but it's too intimate a gesture so he pulls it back.
"Yeah, they know." It would be hard to keep something like this secret.
When she simply says, "Okay," and nothing more, Nick turns over and tries to go back to sleep.
But he can't. He thinks of the conversation he had with Greg that afternoon, while Sara was out hiking. Greg called him on his hero complex.
"She's not a wounded bird, Nick."
"I know that."
"Do you?"
"Greg --"
"No. Just tell me, do you care about her?"
"Of course, and about you too."
"Yeah, well. That's all I needed to know. Take care of her, okay?"
"I will."
Eventually he falls back into an uneasy sleep.
*
Nick wonders when waking up spooned with Sara started to seem normal. Probably about the time that kissing the small bit of skin at the base of her neck instantly becomes the favourite part of his day.
They've been here almost a week now, and during the day they carefully pretend nothing's going on. That Sara doesn't wake with Nick's hand on her belly, fingers spread possessively; that Nick doesn't make any noise when she arches back into him when he finds a ticklish spot.
That they're only friends, and Nick already has a boyfriend.
*
Someone in the lab once remarked that when he and Sara fought, they squabbled like brother and sister. Nick never put much faith in that, but now he's becoming a believer.
"No, I'm not giving it back!"
"Sara," Nick warns.
"No," she says, holding the can high over her head.
He's backed her against the counter, arms on either side, trapping her in. And at their heights, it's not really an effective measure, but Nick's playing along. They've been chasing each other around the cabin for a good ten minutes over a can of SPAM and it's the most fun he's had in days.
"You don't have to eat it."
Sara rolls her eyes, but keeps grinning madly. "I'm not, and you shouldn't either. Do you know what's in here?"
"Don't care." He reaches for the can, stepping in and pressing his body to hers.
They're so close he can feel her chest rise and fall with every breath; that warm center that's been in his gut for days starts to coil and burn. And then her breath hitches, stops and it's like a direct current races through his body with one message. It's so easy to lean forward, press his mouth to hers. She freezes for a moment, and he waits for her to push him back, tell him this isn't right.
But she doesn't. Instead her body melts into his and she wraps one arm around his neck, pulling him in. Her short, practical nails graze over the skin at his nape and drive his sudden need to claim her mouth with his own. She lets him drive, setting the pace and intensity and it's so fucking hot, because Sara never cedes control. Hell, he checks and sure enough, she's still holding on to the SPAM. It makes him laugh, and though he moves to pull away, he can't leave without one last bite at her lower lip, and then he moves back in to soothe it with his tongue, being sure to dive in, sweep through her mouth.
As Nick looks at Sara, face flushed, eyes bright and lips already a little swollen, he wonders how Grissom could pass her by without a second look.
He kisses her lazily as he finds the hem of her shirt and slowly starts inching it up her body. He's sure to skim his fingertips over the soft, sensitive skin. Reward comes when she jumps, squeaks and drops the SPAM.
"Having fun?"
Nick keeps laughing, but kisses her quickly. "Oh, yeah."
He feels her shiver at that and can't help but grind his hips into hers. Then, before he even has a chance to do it again, because damn, it didn't relieve the pressure growing in his body so much as inflamed it, Sara's tongue is curling against his and Nick realizes it's his turn to play along. He manages to get her shirt up and off before she twists them around, so now he's the one with his back up against a wall.
She quickly discards her shirt, leaving only acres of creamy, pale skin and a simple black bra. He reaches out tentatively, like the contact will burn, but Sara's not paying any attention and soon he's not either. She distracts him with a wickedly dirty kiss, and somehow he knows this is pure Sara. There's confidence and precision, not a movement wasted, and behind it all there's the ever-present hesitation and vulnerability. Cold control instead of confusion and doubt.
Except that Sara's cool control is translating into a white burn that's making him moan into her mouth, because at the same time her tongue is teasing his, her hand's doing the same further south, stroking him just enough through his jeans that fucking on the counter doesn't sound like such a wild idea.
His voice sounds strangled to even his ears, asking her to slow down. She looks slightly taken aback, but as he firmly plants his hands on her hips, keeping her in contact, Sara's face softens. "I'm not going anywhere," he confides. And then, with a long last look into her eyes, pupils blown, he slowly draws back and pulls off his own shirt.
"There, now we can start over."
And that's when he hears the distinct sound of a screen door slapping closed.
"Then it looks like I'm just in time." Greg's voice is oddly steady and neutral to Nick's ears.
"Hi, Sara," Greg waves. "Nick, can I talk to you for a minute?"
*
"You could've called."
"Wanted it to be a surprise."
Night's falling early and there's already a chill in the air. In the dying light, Greg's face is relaxed, almost happy.
"It was. Greg, man --" and here Nick falters. Sara's always been much more Greg's out clause than his. They've talked about situations like this, but now that they're smack dab in the middle of one, Nick's not so sure -- about anything.
"C'mon, Nick, give me some credit. You...Sara...isolated from the rest of the world. Something was bound to happen."
"And you still let me come?"
"There was no question of letting you."
"So why are you here?"
"Truthfully? I missed you guys." Greg shrugs like this all completely normal. "Besides, right now I'm not sure who I should be jealous of, you or Sara. Y'know, just for the record."
When Greg moves in to kiss him, it's like everything else in the world shuts off and holds its breath. Greg pulls back but leaves his arms wrapped around Nick's waist. "So, got any bright ideas?" He nods his head towards Sara, making one hell of a racket in the back of the cabin.
"Don't look at me, this all happened by accident."
Greg snorts. "Yeah, seduction by SPAM didn't seem like your style."
If Nick had been five, he'd have stuck his tongue out at Greg. "Very funny."
"Yeah, but that's not."
From where they stand that can see Sara stomping through the house, luggage in hand, making like a bat out of hell for the front door. Thankfully, Greg's feet are as quick as his mind and he catches up with her by the time she reaches the last step.
"Sara, wait."
She whirls on him, mouth set in a thin line. For a second Nick thinks she's going to scream, or cry, or something, but all she does is calmly look at Greg, ignoring his grip on her forearm, and holds out her hand. "Can I have your keys?"
Greg is taken aback for a moment, but then recovers before Sara has a chance to wiggle out of his grip. "Nope, you're not going anywhere." He shoots significant looks to both Sara and Nick. "No one is. But you and me?" He gestures to Sara, "We need to talk."
*
Halfway up the drive, the cabin finally comes into view. He's taken his time, plodding slowly down to Greg's jeep and back giving Greg time to say what ever needs to be said to Sara. He figures that if anyone can reason this out to Sara, it's Greg -- he may be goofy and a smartass, but when it comes to knowing people, finding that awkward in, Greg's the best.
Nick didn't necessarily expect to find Greg's hands buried deep in Sara's hair, kissing enthusiastically like Nick wasn't expected back at any moment. Whatever Greg had said, Nick knew he'd never find out, but it had done the trick because the way things looked, fleeing the scene looked like the last thing on Sara's mind.
Climbing to the top of the stairs, Nick leans against a post and watches. He feels like a voyeur, except for the part where he's kissed both of these people during the last half hour and he's half hard just watching them. His baser impulses are driving him to step forward and become a part of this, but that seems greedy somehow, having both of them.
So he watches as Greg's hand slips down over Sara's flank, caressing and teasing the whole way, until it disappears. Greg's busy planting open-mouthed kisses on her neck when Nick watches as Sara's body bows back, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. Now he knows where that missing hand went; his mouth goes dry. At that moment, Greg opens his eyes and looks straight at Nick, the meaning clear.
Playtime is over.
Not bothering to be quiet, he steps forward and sets his hands on her hips, rocking her body back into his so she can feel how hard he is. He pulls back her hair and kisses the soft skin behind her ear. "Why don't we move this inside?" he whispers, his voice straining. Greg just stares at him, laughing silently.
*
They are three bodies in perpetual motion as they make their way through the cabin in fits and starts, ever-rotating combinations of two and three. Nick and Greg locked in a kiss as Sara circles both, unbuttoning their jeans. Sara licking up Nick's chest as she lifts and removes his shirt, Greg looking on with approval. Sara and Greg, savoring each other's mouth, the forbidden fruit.
Nick's question startles them out of their embrace. "What did he tell you?"
And Sara turns around and looks him square in the eye, saying, "Enough."
With that, whatever doubts Nick has about this lunacy are pushed to a deep, dark corner.
*
Moonlight reflects off the long planes and angles of Sara's body, hints of curve a sensuous surprise for him. Her breathing is deep and ragged, sharp breaths telling him that she's close, that Greg's mouth is just as talented as ever.
Nick whispers in her ear; dirty little nothings about what Greg is doing to her, about how beautiful she is, back arched and begging for more, how he wants to be inside her slick, hot heat so bad --
And she shatters, fists twisting in the sheets and letting out a keening sort of wail before Nick can kiss the sound away. He quiets her through the aftermath, places featherlight kisses all over her body as Greg climbs from between her legs and up the bed. When he's finally done, Greg leans into him and kisses with that freshly lewd tongue, letting Nick taste Sara still on his lips.
He grasps the back of Greg's neck, making a promise, "Later." Before leaning down to kiss Sara like Greg had kissed him.
"So. Fucking. Hot," she breathes into his mouth before their lips can connect. Nick takes it as a very good sign and proceeds to fuck her mouth with his tongue as best as he can, a preview of things to come. But she's not interested in foreplay, not interested in what he can tease and how creatively he can do it.
He gets over his disappointment quickly when she grits out, "Dammit, now," and levers her hips up, and god, how he wants to just drive his cock into that wet heat. But he shakes his head and looks toward Greg, Greg who's laying beside them on the bed, eyes half closed and fist around his own cock, slowly stroking, drawing it out.
Overwhelmed with sensory data, Nick almost comes from the combined sights, smells and feeling of it all, but Greg has his back, just like always. He hands Nick a condom from the box in the table, and when Nick's fingers fumble with the package, Greg is the one to tear it open and put it on. "Easy does it, big fella," he mocks, with a calming rubbing over Nick's shoulder. He's about to laugh, but Sara beats him to it.
She stops laughing when he pushes into her. He begins to thrust slowly, shallow. Nick wants to draw this out, "Waited so long," he speaks against the tender skin of her neck, but her answer, an addictive sound caught somewhere between a moan and a cry, hits and all semblance of control flies out the window over Sara's head.
He can't help but drive deeper, harder, and her hips come up to meet him on every thrust. Nick whispers nonsense words into her skin, claims her mouth for his own, pulls back and wonders at the look of pained concentration on Sara's face as she focuses on the feel of his cock deep inside, making her body writhe against his own.
Someone says a, "God yes," but it's not Nick. He looks over at Greg, steadily jerking off beside them, his eyes shadowed with naked want, his ragged breathing a veritable fucking metronome. A wave of overwhelming possessiveness and power comes over him as he watches. Nick catches Greg's eye for a moment and growls out, "Don't dare come yet." He wants to be the one to finish Greg off. He wants those large, finely boned hands gripping at his hair as Greg spills over his tongue.
With a silent nod of assent from Greg, Nick turns his undivided attention on Sara. She's close, he can tell, so he twists his hips, hoping to find that perfect angle. When Sara's eyes fly open and it feels like half the air has gone out of his chest, he knows he's found it. "C'mon, Sara," he coaxes. "C'mon, baby, come for me." And for the second time that night Sara breaks apart in his arms, sweatslick and satiated. As it turns out, that's just what he needed to see.
*
"So now you like my plan," Greg says, smugly.
"How 'bout we say that I like the results of your plan and leave it at that?" He doesn't give Greg time to reply, kissing him so deep and hard, just like he's been waiting to. "Now," he says, Greg's erection heavy in his hand, "are you going to let me finish my job?"
He strokes up once, thumb sliding over the head. Nick brings his thumb up to his mouth; when his tongue flicks out to taste, Greg falls back on the bed in defeat.
"Fine. You win. Just don't skimp because you're tired!"
Nick follows him down, settles along side him. There's plenty of room now that Sara's in the bathroom cleaning up. She'll be back soon, but they have no worries about what she'll find upon her return.
He takes the opportunity to kiss Greg lazily, assuring him that he's not in the skimping mood. "God, it was so hot when you were going down on her," Nick tells him, then bites down on Greg's earlobe, just how he likes it. He can feel Greg's pulse racing as he places open mouth kisses down the column of Greg's throat, dips his tongue into the hollow at the base. "I've thought about it, you know, knew it would happen. Better than I ever imagined."
Greg's chest rises up against him, back arching -- just like Sara. Nick's smile hurts his face. He feels like the happiest boy in the world, would say it too if not for the fact that Greg would punch him, and Sara too.
Carrying out his promise not to skimp, Nick takes particular time and care moving down Greg's torso, sucking each of Greg's nipples in turn, flicking the hardened points with the tip of his tongue, biting gently until Greg gasps. But his real target is further south, and Nick is anxious to get there -- feel Greg hard and hot against his skin.
Nick's thrusting his tongue into Greg's navel, a crude imitation, when he feels the bed dip down. A moment later Greg moans loudly, but muffled, and when Nick looks up, it's to find Sara treating Greg's mouth to the same attention that his belly button was receiving a moment before.
Stopping for a moment, he just watches them, and though he's done a lot of that recently, he doubts he'll ever get tired of this sight. But he's on a mission, so he tears his gaze away and follows the line of hair leading down Greg's belly and says a lengthy hello to Greg's cock.
When Greg's start hips jerking up, Nick knows that Greg's on a short end, so he makes the most of his time, taking Greg deep right away before pulling back, concentrating on the head with fast sweeps of his tongue. This is how they do it right after shift, when they can't even make it out of the building before Greg pulls Nick into a supply closet and pushes him to his knees. Greg loves it almost as much as Nick does.
A hand moves onto his head accompanied by a desperate sound deep from Greg's chest. Nick takes the cue, takes a deep breath and goes down once more, hums, and pulls off enough so that when Greg comes Nick can enjoy the fruits of his labor.
*
They fall asleep in an exhausted tumble, but Nick wakes spooned around Sara, Greg nowhere to be found. He takes the opportunity to indulge like he couldn't do the night before, skimming his hands over Sara's skin, down her side, over her hip, settling on her thigh. He kisses her shoulder and nudges her awake, murmuring her name with a newfound affection.
He watches as she stretches her slender body, obviously luxuriating in the feel, complete with a happy little girl squeak that makes him laugh. "I never would've guessed you could make a sound like that," he says, kissing her happily.
"Don't you dare tell," she scolds. "Catherine would never let me hear the end of it, not to mention Warrick."
Nick grabs her hand playfully. "Don't worry, I won't say a word. About any of this," he adds significantly.
"And Greg? Where is he anyway?"
"I don't know, but --"
"Should my ears be burning?" Greg appears in the doorway, no shirt, jeans and a smile on his face.
"Just talking about this," Nick says, gesturing a rough circle to include the three of them. "That we keep it private."
"Well, duh. Call me selfish, but why advertise something this good?"
Nick can't help laughing. He gazes down at Sara, "That work for you?"
She rolls her eyes. "I must be insane to say this, but yeah, that works."
Greg grins and bounces on his toes. "Cool. Now I can get back to the waffles."
*
The drive back to Vegas the next day is significantly more pleasant. Sara’s talks to him for one, even breaking the comfortable silence at one point to inform him of exactly how she'd like to help him defile the Denali. He locks his jaw and blushes furiously at that.
It doesn't matter; he gets his revenge later when he catches her singing along with "Kiss" on the radio.
"Now that, that I'll tell Warrick about."
"Did you forget that I carry a gun?"
"So do I."
"Shit."
A few minutes later Greg calls from a few miles ahead. "Hey Greg, did you know that Sara could sing Prince?"
"Will stockings and heels make you shut up?" she growls.
He grins back at her. "Maybe."
*
The weeks that Sara's gone are slow and mind numbing in their boredom. Greg and Nick pass the time as best they can, which is to say, very, very well, but they count down the days until she comes back.
They are the ones to meet her upon release, embracing her tightly.
"Welcome home."
-end-