Title: One Week
Author: Kimmychu
Fandom: CSI: NY
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Danny/Flack
Content Warning: Major sexual tension, Flack-snark overload, dirty thoughts. Lotsa dirty thoughts.
Spoilers: Meh, nothing important, but to be safe, post Season 2.
Summary: Danny and Flack love to dance the horizontal tango. Everyday. Three times a day. And night. But one day, Flack says yes, and Danny says no. What will Flack the sex maniac do when his lover gives him the ultimatum of no sex... for one whole week?
Disclaimer: YES, THEY BELONG TO ME - I mean, why, of course not, they're just fictional *hot* characters. Mmm, hot.

***

i. Tripadam Bhramara

Danny was dying.

He was pretty sure he was, because there was no way a man could survive such a massive surfeit of sensual pleasure.

One sweat drop trickled down the side of his face to drip off his chin, a translucent bead that plummeted downwards to become a small blot on his ripped open shirt. His hands scrabbled wildly at the broad shoulders of the man who crushed him to the wall, fingers scratching mauve cloth. He panted harshly, eyelids fluttering.

His mouth opened in a sharp cry when a powerful thrust lifted him all the way up, until he was tiptoeing precariously on one foot.

"Is this hard enough for ya, Messer?"

The resonant timbre of Flack's husky voice in his ear sent shudders of pleasure running up and down his spine. Danny cried out once more as Flack undulated his hips, pushing deeper into his body.

"Fuck -"

Danny felt every rumble of Flack's silent laughter radiating through his body from where they were connected. He whimpered, eyes screwing shut, lower lip bitten in an effort to stem the sounds pouring from his mouth. Flack was buried to the hilt within him, and standing as they were, it felt as if the other man had driven his way right up to his throat.

"I'll take that … as a yes."

Flack shifted the hand gripping his waist up to his face, caressing his cheek and running one thumb across his swollen lower lip.

"Look at me."

Danny's eyes fluttered open. Flack's big eyes pierced him equally deep as they stared back at him, scorching like blue fire. The homicide detective's handsome visage was flushed, probably as red and sweaty and hot as his was right now. Flack was breathing deeply but unhurriedly, in absolute control, as he always was during their frenzied bouts of sex. What made the taller detective appear so goofily sexy at that moment, however, was that Flack was almost fully dressed in one of his suits, except for the fact his pants and underwear were down near his knees.

Flack gently pushed his thumb between Danny's parted lips, inside his mouth.

"I love hearin' the sounds ya make … yer moans, yer whimpers," Flack murmured, never once breaking eye contact. "Yer screams … when I do this."

The taller man pulled out halfway and instantly thrust back inside, grinding his hips in a corkscrew motion and lifting Danny clear off his foot. The CSI's eyes widened perceptibly, a scream of utter pleasure tearing itself out of his throat, body quaking. Flack knew exactly where the sweet spot within his body was. The next thrust hit it again, the sensation so powerful Danny didn't even feel the slam of his head back against the wall.

Flack was now supporting his entire weight, catching one of his knees firmly high in the air, the other hand squeezing his bottom, squashing their bodies together. Their position caused Danny's bare legs to be spread wide apart, one nestling against Flack's leg, the other bent over Flack's elbow. The shorter man could feel the burn in the muscles of his legs, unaccustomed to the stretch, as well as the intense tingling ache between his legs. Fuck, he was going to be sore for quite a while this time.

"Last chance, Danny." Flack's breaths were faster now. "Tell me right now, and I'll take us to the bedroom. 'Cos if ya don't … I'm gonna fuck you hard and fastright here … until we both explode."

Danny managed to smirk wickedly at his lover. "C'mon." He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Fuck me like an animal, you rat bastard."

Flack bared his teeth in a roguish grin and growl.

It was all the warning Danny had before Flack's hips began pistoning back and forth in a punishing rhythm, every thrust shoving him up the wall by a few inches. Danny no longer bothered to curb the sounds emanating from his open mouth, the strident cries following each thrust reverberating in his apartment. His shaking arms wrapped tighter around Flack's shoulders. The constant friction of Flack's jacket against his leaking erection was unbearable, and the amazing sensation made his eyes roll back in his head.

"Aaahhhh … ohohh, Don … mmmmm … ah, fuck …"

Flack was panting roughly into his ear, the sound interspersed with grunts and swearing. Over the overwhelming pleasure spreading out through his whole body from his groin, Danny vaguely sensed Flack lowering his leg.

"Wrap yer legs … 'round my hips," Flack gasped. His thrusts were becoming erratic, but no less vigorous.

Clinging onto Flack's shoulders, Danny moved his trembling legs as best he could around his lover's hips, crisscrossing them. The homicide detective swiftly grabbed the round globes of the CSI's buttocks, long fingers curled into the solid flesh.

"Oooh yeeeah …"

Propping Danny up with his hands, Flack pulled out till only the tip was left inside, then thrust straight in to the hilt. Out. In. Out again. Then deep inside, so deep Danny choked on a scream, involuntarily tightening the muscles around Flack's hardened cock. The pressure made Flack yell, squeezing Danny's bottom in his hands so hard the shorter man was sure he was going to have bruises later on.

Danny could feel the growing quivers in the muscles of his taut body, the inevitable rush of mind-blowing bliss that was just on the horizon … almost within reach …

"Don … ohh fuck, I'm gonna come …" Danny panted, head nuzzled against Flack's, eyes nearly closed, his long-sleeved Henley shirt soaked with sweat and pre-come dripping from his erection, hard on his belly.

It took a minute for him to realize that Flack had stopped moving, standing still and keeping him against the wall, body tense.

His impending orgasm gradually receded. Danny's breath hitched. His eyes widened.

Somebody was knocking on his apartment door, which was right next to them.

"Daniel! Daniel! Are you alright?"

Danny's blue eyes closed when he identified the voice on the other side of the door. He groaned, letting his head fall onto Flack's shoulder.

Oh God. It was his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Penrose.

"Daniel! Please, tell me you're alright!"

The knocking got louder.

Flack's body was shaking, but not from what they'd been doing for the last half an hour.

"Oh shit, Don, it's -" - Danny moaned at Flack corkscrewing his hips again while he was still deep inside - "It's Mrs. Penrose!" He punched Flack on the back in a panic.

Flack raised his head to look Danny in the eye. The fucker was actually smiling.

"I know it's her." Flack grinned.

Danny gulped, hanging on precariously to the other man's torso. Oh fuck, he knew that look -

The homicide detective slowly shifted back, making him drop his feet back onto the floor so he could stand up on his own again. Still, he could only tiptoe because Flack was still buried deep inside him. Danny shivered violently at the new sensations of having his full weight bearing him down on Flack's rock hard cock.

Flack carefully pulled out of Danny, holding the smaller detective's upper body close to his, planting kisses on and all around Danny's moist lips. The CSI whimpered anyway. He already missed the feeling of his lover within him, feeling empty inside.

Danny took a step away from Flack, brushing a shaky hand through his tousled brown hair, taking a deep breath. He tugged the hem of his Henley shirt over his stiff cock, eyes searching around for his pants. Damnit, where did they go?

Mrs. Penrose sounded like she was about to have a brain aneurysm.

"I-I heard you screaming! Is there someone hurting you?" She was banging on the door again. "I'll - I'll call the superintendent, okay?"

Danny slapped both hands over his face. Oh, hell no, he didn't need another audience.

"Mrs. Penrose! I-I'm okay!" Danny finally yelled. He then whispered to Flack, who simply stood there cool as a cucumber, "Where are my pants!"

Flack just shrugged, looking like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. "I dunno."

Danny frowned, wanting to sock him in the face. God, why did the man have to be so freaking gorgeous?

The shorter detective started to stomp off towards the living area to the couch where the fun first began. Maybe that's where his pants were -

Danny was taken by complete surprise when Flack seized him by the shoulders and pushed him up against the apartment door.

"Don! What the FU-"

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out in a piercing groan, muffled just in time by his hand, as Flack kicked open his legs and reentered his body from behind. Danny leaned his forehead against the hard wood of the door, eyes scrunched up and mouth opened in an 'O' shape. Panting harder when Flack reached around and skillfully fondled his erection, calloused thumb rubbing across the head.

"Open the door, Danny."

His eyes snapped open, and he twisted his head around to glare at Flack with lethal eyes.

"Are ya fuckin' crazy!"

Flack grinned at him, humming under his breath. The taller man rolled his hips. It made Danny bite his hand in an effort to block the moan escaping his lips.

"Daniel?" The rapping resumed, this time, directly opposite Danny's head on the door. Danny was suddenly hit by the urge to laugh like a madman.

"Open the door, Danny." Flack was leaning over him, whispering into his ear and licking at his ear lobe. "C'mon, do it."

"You - you're so dead."

Flack chuckled low in his throat, running his hands firmly all over Danny's chest and flat abdomen under his shirt. "Oh yeah, and what a way to go."

The CSI couldn't help chuckling either, groaning softly under Flack's dexterous administrations. This was what he got for falling head over heels for a freaking sex maniac.

It was extremely difficult to keep his breaths slow and steady with Flack buried to the hilt inside him, huge and stretching him in ways that made him desire to thrust his hips back, feel Flack shoving his hot, hard cock in and out -

Danny sucked in a shuddering breath, then opened the door to a tiny gap with a quavering hand.

He peeked through the gap to see his elderly neighbor, attired in a long red dress with a shawl around her shoulders, staring at him with anxious hazel eyes. She smiled in great relief the instant she saw him.

"Oh, Daniel! Are you alright, dear?"

Flack was standing behind him, hidden by the door. And the sneaky bastard was continuing to stroke and molest his body as if he wasn't half-naked and being fucked from behind while he was talking to his old neighbor.

Danny was going to kill him. Big time.

"Hey, M-Mrs. Penrose." Danny attempted to smile, gripping the door knob so tight his knuckles went white. "I'm okay, s-see?"

Mrs. Penrose didn't seem to be convinced. "You're all flushed, dear! And sweaty! Are you sure you're alright?" She held a wrinkled hand to her mouth. "I heard someone screaming and - and I thought … you were being attacked by someone!"

Behind him, Danny felt rather than heard Flack giggling quietly like a schoolgirl. Danny had to bite his lip as Flack's hips grinded against his bottom.

"N-no! No, nothin' like that, really! I-I'm fine." Danny tried to smile again, using the hand that had been gripping the door knob to swat feebly at Flack.

"Oh." Mrs. Penrose smiled happily. "Oh, well. I'm glad you're alright, Daniel. Perhaps I was merely hearing things. An old woman's ears …" She tittered to herself.

Danny swallowed visibly, chewing on his lower lip. Flack had pulled up his shirt and was swiping his tongue over the skin of his back, trailing fingers through his pubic hair and using the other hand to trace the flesh where they were joined together. It was driving Danny insane.

"T-thanks for yer concern, Mrs. Penrose. Nothin' to worry 'bout … really -" Danny literally had to clamp a hand over his mouth and nose on the last word.

Flack had decided it was a good time to begin thrusting lazily in and out of his body, striking his prostate gland every time. Danny deliberately tightened the muscles around the moving appendage, hard enough that it made Flack groan and become still. The homicide detective's hands on his bare hips were like vices.

Mrs. Penrose was looking unsure again, but, somehow, she wasn't saying anything about Danny's odd action. Danny wanted to grimace. Oh shit, she wasn't realizing what was going on now, was she?

"Well, I … I think I shall go back to my apartment now. If there's anything you need, I'm always next door." She sent him a wavering smile, then tottered away on her wooden cane.

Danny immediately closed the door, wheezing in tremendous relief and at the pleasure of Flack moving inside him. Oh fuckfuckfuck, one more second and he would have fallen right there in front of her and screamed his lungs out.

He heard Flack snigger.

All of a sudden, Danny was infused with newfound energy. Oh yeah.

Payback time.

In a surprise movement, he jostled himself away from Flack, turning around to face the startled homicide detective. Flack appeared pretty silly standing there with his jacket, dress shirt and tie still on but his pants and underwear pooled around his ankles.

Danny grinned, all pearly teeth and fangs.

"Danny, whoawhoaWHOA -"

Flack flew through the air to land on his ass on the floor, arms and legs akimbo, with the funniest expression on his face. Danny was instantaneously on top of him, straddling Flack's hips and slamming Flack's arms down on either side of his body, trapping them.

"Uh, Danny, heeeey, buddy -" Flack smiled placatingly at him, displaying his winning one.

It didn't work one bit.

"Shut. Up."

Flack clammed up, lower lip sucked under the upper up. Flack was actually looking frightened.

Danny's grin grew more broad. Good.

"My turn now."

Flack's lips twitched. The blue eyes got bigger.

"Get up on your elbows. Now."

Flack obeyed silently, assisted by Danny's hands on his arms.

"Bend your legs and spread 'em."

Flack licked at his lips as he did so.

The two men stared into each others' blue eyes, sharing a deep and profound look. Danny's hands clenched around Flack's wrists. Then, he released them, rocking back on his knees and feet.

"Don't move."

Danny raised himself up, reaching a hand between his legs and Flack's. He enclosed his hand around Flack's still erect cock, pumping it with surefire, familiar motions. Flack's hands curled into tight fists. A harsh groan leaked out from between the taller detective's closed lips. Danny moaned softly, relishing the feel of the hot, rigid flesh within his grasp. It was going to feel so fucking good inside him.

Resting a hand on Flack's flat stomach, the CSI positioned himself over the man's flushed erection, using his other hand to keep it fixed in place. The mushroom-like head nudged at his slick opening, then slipped in easily. In one stroke, Danny sank all the way down until he felt soft curls tickling the sensitive flesh between his legs. He let out a lengthy, high-pitched moan, lifting the hem of his Henley shirt to hastily stroke his own dripping cock.

Damn, he could stay like this forever, straddling Flack like this, with his lover buried so deep inside him he could virtually taste the other man in his mouth.

Danny ran his tongue over his lips, staring into Flack's wide, blue eyes. The taller man began to push himself more upright.

"Don't. Move."

Flack paused, breaths increasing in speed, a sweat drop rolling down the side of his face.

Danny placed his hands on the other man's shoulders, moving Flack back to his original on-elbows pose. Now, the shorter detective was able to propel himself up and down by pushing on Flack's shoulders, as well as using his sinewy legs with his feet set on the floor for added drive.

They gazed into each other's wide, passionate eyes once more, seeing what only two bonded lovers could see in each other. This time, when Flack inclined forward to kiss him, Danny didn't stop him. Flack's lips tasted like the mint tea they drank earlier that afternoon.

"C'mon, Danny," Flack whispered hoarsely, settling back on his elbows, staring at Danny with a ravenous gaze. "Ride me hard and fast." He smirked impishly. "Like yer big bike ya love so much."

Maintaining eye contact, Danny leaned back, keeping his hands on Flack's shoulders. He lifted his hips, up till Flack nearly popped out, then slammed back down, revolving his hips hard against Flack's groin. Both of them cried out, Danny falling forward so that their foreheads touched. The CSI felt tears spring to his shut eyes. Oh fuck, he was going to die before this was over.

"No rush, babe." Flack kissed him again. "We got all the time in the world."

Danny opened his eyes, smiled tenderly at his lover. Ran his hand through Flack's dark, shorn hair.

"Hold on tight," Danny whispered against Flack's mouth.

He didn't move, merely gripping and squeezing Flack's cock with his strong inner muscles, holding it inside him for a hundred heartbeats each time. From the blissful expression on Flack's handsome mien, it must have felt really good. Danny grinned like a cat, and started swinging his hips in wide circles, making figures-of-eight, groaning at the incredible sensation of the hardness within him rubbing on all sides.

A noticeable shudder shook Flack's lanky and sweaty body. "Fuck … where did - where the hell did ya learn to do that?"

Danny cackled, a wobbly, rasping sound. "I dunno … just … just felt right."

Danny did it again, tightening the muscles inside too this time around. Flack began to pant, groaning, arms trembling.

"Danny."

The shorter man's arms were trembling too. Flack was staring at him with something akin to desperation.

"Please. Let me move."

The CSI huffed out a breathless laugh, hands contracting on Flack's broad shoulders. His tongue flitted out another time. The increasing quivering was there in the muscles of his body again, signaling the oncoming swell of his orgasm. He swallowed visibly, eyelids fluttering in anticipation.

"Do it."

Flack's immediate reaction to his words bordered on violent.

The homicide detective grabbed him around the waist, flipping them over so that he was on top of Danny instead, with the CSI's legs spread wide on either side. Flack had one arm behind his back, holding him up while he had his own arms enveloping Flack's shoulders.

Flack pulled out completely, then rammed straight back in to the hilt, grinding his hips against Danny's in a frenzy. The man's slicked erection raked Danny's prostate hard, causing the shorter man to jerk intensely and release an earsplitting cry. Danny threw back his head in an arc, moaning incessantly at the raging sensations flooding his entire body with every perfect thrust.

"Aaaaaahhhhh … aahhhaaahhhh …. AAHHH -"

He was there, he was nearly there …

Flack's lips were next to his ear.

"You're mine."

Danny's body convulsed. The mind-blowing pleasure that wracked his body was so forceful, he couldn't even croak.

"Always."

He felt something wet splatter his lower abdomen. There was also something wet streaming down his cheeks. In the distance, he heard another man shouting, a solid body quaking against his. His vision grayed out. Danny must have blacked out for a minute or two, oblivious to the world.

When he came to, Flack was lying next to him, cradling his head with one hand and gently tapping him on his cheek, calling his name apprehensively.

"Danny? Buddy, are ya still alive?"

"Hhnnn …"

Danny attempted to move, feeling sticky everywhere, a familiar, good ache between his legs.

Flack snickered, caressing his cheek. "Thank God, ya little brat. Ya scared me for a second there."

" … hnnngghh …" Danny's eyes were open into slits. He was so exhausted and boneless that he couldn't form words.

The taller man pulled him into a tight hug, kissing him on the forehead. They lay on the floor, Danny snuggled on top of Flack reclined on his back, too tired to move a single inch. Danny's eyelids flickered close under Flack's comforting stroking of his arm and sides beneath his shirt. It was these moments that the CSI craved for more than the sex itself. The moments where he and the man he loved simply connected on a whole other level that even physical intimacy couldn't allow.

Over ten minutes passed in contented silence.

Then, Flack said nonchalantly, "Huh. Ya think yer neighbor knows we're havin' sex now?"

Danny somehow found the strength to smack Flack on the side of his face.

***

ii. Nagabandha Sangara

Danny was dying again, possibly for the fifteenth time that week.

"Lemme do … all the work, babe."

Danny moaned audibly, fingers coiling into the bedspread and blanket rumpled beneath his curved body. Flack resumed thrusting languidly into him, caressing his thigh, lower back and flank with ardent strokes. He hid his flushed, warm face into the pillow under his head, only to feel Flack run fingers through his tangled hair and coax him into looking up.

"Hey, don't hide." Flack brushed a thumb across the CSI's moist lower lip. "Good-lookin' face like that … total crime to hide it."

Danny couldn't reply for a few minutes. The way he was lying on his side, his thighs at a ninety degree angle to his torso, with Flack looming over him and moving in and out his body from behind his closed legs …

"Don, I'm sore … I mean it -" His rasped words abruptly cut off with a sharp whimper. The homicide detective had gone in especially deep.

"But you're feelin' good?" Flack's low voice was husky.

Danny gazed into Flack's blue, intense eyes above him. He sucked in a quick breath at another deep thrust, toes curling downwards. The throbbing feeling between his legs was beginning to transform into a soreness that wasn't the pleasant kind. But he couldn't deny it. His entire body was still shuddering with fierce pleasure.

He finally nodded unsteadily, biting his lip. Flack was picking up speed, burying himself to the hilt with every thrust. Danny's head fell back on the pillow, hands bunched into fists in the red softness. Eyes scrunched shut, teeth gnawing lip, groaning loudly at the near painful sensation of Flack's hard cock pushing its way between his buttocks. Due to their current positions, with his thighs touching each other and how his body was bowed, Flack felt massive, stretching him beyond his limits.

The shorter man slid one hand down to his groin, wrapping it around his seeping erection. He moaned at the additional stimuli, shivers coursing through his body when Flack enclosed a large hand over his own.

"Danny …"

Flack's thrusts were becoming inconsistent, going short and fast, then deep and hard. The taller detective's lanky and sweaty body was trembling. The guy was close, very close. Danny let out high-pitched whimpers that grew louder and louder with each thrust. They struck the sweet spot within his body unerringly every time. Fuck, Flack was good.

"Uhh … I'm comin' -" Flack grinded his hips hard against the shorter man's round bottom, going rigid, long fingers digging into Danny's thigh.

Danny stared with large eyes at the rapture contorting the features of his lover's handsome visage, stretching a trembling arm towards the taller man's neck and tracing the defined musculature of the heaving chest below. The homicide detective's face went slack. He toppled forward, but even in his present state, he still had the awareness to stiffen his arms and stop himself from outright flattening Danny.

The CSI blinked.

His cock was still hard and dripping in his grasp.

Danny blinked again.

This was the first time in months that Flack had come first, before he did.

Flack nuzzled him in the neck, nibbling a path up to his ear and reaching downwards to his groin. Danny squirmed at the other man's strong hand touching his very sensitive erection. At contact, the taller detective stilled, then glanced down.

"Oh geez, babe, I didn't know." Flack gently rolled him onto his back and gave him a soft kiss of apology on his parted lips. "I'm sorry."

The taller man was still inside him, softening.

"I'm gonna pull out, 'kay?"

He was grateful for the forewarning. He could really feel the ache between his legs now. Even biting his lower lip couldn't stop him from wincing at Flack cautiously drawing out. And Flack saw it.

The self-reproach in those blue eyes hit Danny like a ton of bricks.

Danny tried to respond, to tell him it was okay, that it didn't hurt anymore. However, the only thing that shot out of his open mouth was a hoarse cry as Flack swallowed up his whole erection to the root, sucking and working on it with his lips and tongue.

"Oohh … oh, shit …"

The CSI grabbed at Flack's short hair, panting rapidly while he watched his lover's head bob up and down in a recognizable fashion. Danny couldn't move his hips at all, thanks to the other man gripping them and holding him down. He tossed his head on the pillow, begging with unintelligible words for surcease to the torture. Flack's agile tongue was doing things to his cock, spine-tingling things that made him want to burst into a million, bliss-filled pieces. As soon as the taller man wrapped his lips over the head and started pushing the tip of his tongue into the slit, Danny lost it.

It was ironic how he always came in near silence when he was considered by everyone he knew to be a very vocal person. At least this time, he managed to utter Flack's name in a throaty tone.

An eternity later, Flack was stroking his legs, murmuring sweet things to him. A touch to his face, a question asked. Danny wasn't sure. He couldn't tell what else was going on, his eyes shut in fatigue. It had been some time since he'd had seven orgasms in a single night, five triggered by fantastically energetic sessions of sex. Damn, he was getting old.

He rested on his back, arms spread out on the bed, sensing Flack moving away. He struggled to call his lover back to bed, and merely succeeded in making a small sound in his throat, rough from all his moaning and yelling. Danny had no clue how long Flack was gone or how long he laid there, half-asleep, the fluid on his belly drying. Then, he felt a damp cloth being rubbed over his abdomen, more tenderly between his legs. His foot twitched when the cloth was pressed directly against the raw ache there. Oh, that felt nice.

Danny heard the click of the bedside table lamp being switched off. The cloth still left between his legs, he was smoothly turned onto his side, pillow tucked properly under his head. Instantly, Flack was spooned up behind him, plastered to his body from head to toe. The blanket was tugged over their limp bodies.

A kiss on his shoulder and ear. Sturdy arms enveloping his torso, shelter in the semi-darkness. Breathing eventually leveling out.

Danny's blue eyes stayed closed, although his mind wouldn't go to rest. Something was bugging him.

His brows lowered in a frown. He listened to Flack's soothing breaths, hoping they would calm his brain down to let him sleep. Instead, he became even more alert, minutely shifting his legs and feeling the damp cloth compressed down there.

Sex. It was all they were doing lately.

His eyes half-opened, gazing into the distance.

True, it was phenomenal, and every time was as fucking good as the first time, that day over a year ago when Danny had gotten tired of waiting for Flack to quit staring at him and do something. Getting pounded until he couldn't walk straight in the CSI headquarters' locker room was still one of the hottest experiences in his life. Not to mention because it also happened to have been with one of the hottest men in his life.

Danny tightened his hand on Flack's relaxed one, going tense under the blanket.

Sex. That was all he ended up doing with his former girlfriends and the rare boyfriend too.

Right before things went downhill. And they dumped his ass because they got bored with him. Used him all up until he had nothing left to make them feel good anymore.

He twined his fingers with Flack's. Still sleeping, the homicide detective murmured something, fidgeting, then went motionless, back in a deep slumber. Danny's eyelids fluttered. He was getting that awful sinking sense in the pit of his stomach, that same one he got whenever he figured life was about to screw him in the nasty way and leave him hanging. Yet again.

Danny pulled Flack's arms tighter around himself, suddenly cold and despondent. He stroked agitatedly at the sleeping man's heavy forearm.

No. He couldn't afford to lose Flack. He lov-

The CSI promptly rolled around in Flack's embrace to face his lover, nestling his head under the slumbering man's chin and committing his natural scent and warmth to memory. Treasuring the reassuring weight of Flack's arms over and around him, their legs intertwined together.

No. He was not going to lose Flack.

He couldn't.

Danny's eyelids drooped over hot eyes in the dimness.

Because … how could somebody continue to exist with half of themselves missing?

iii. Madandhvaja

Flack chucked more crunchy pop corn into his gaping mouth, slouching haphazardly on Danny's battered couch, bare feet propped on the short coffee table. He brushed a few crumbs off his bare chest and checkered pajama pants. His blue eyes were wide with curiosity as they stared at the television screen.

"Geez, what kinda show is this?" Flack asked between chews, turning his head to look at Danny.

"Looks like some kinda modelin' competition or somethin'."

The CSI was dressed in a black tank top and dark blue track pants, sitting next to him, lean legs folded up in front of him. Danny was hugging a pillow too, watching the show with squinty eyes. Flack studied the other man's profile for a while with a tiny smile. He was wearing those steel, black-framed spectacles that Flack liked this evening. They gave the shorter detective an eye-catching, sophisticated appearance.

Flack placed the bowl of popcorn on his lap, shifting his gaze back to the television. He used his tongue to lick at a kernel that was stuck between his molars in the back of his mouth.

Huh, he knew female modeling shows were more common than there were skyscrapers in New York city … but a male modeling reality show? That was something he hadn't seen before. The homicide detective threw some more popcorn into his mouth. And judging from the expression on Danny's face, the guy didn't seem to think it was anything exciting either.

Then one noteworthy model appeared on screen.

Flack's munching slowed to a stop. He sat up and leaned forward to better scrutinize the brown-haired participant who was now being interviewed by the judges.

Whoa, hey, now this guy looked kinda hot.

Flack angled his head, ruminating over why he thought that. He went back to chewing on the popcorn in his mouth.

The model wasn't wearing a shirt, displaying a wiry, muscular body and well-developed arms. He had short, spiked up hair. Nice blue eyes. Nice smile too, like a cat's. Hmmmm. Had an interesting accent as well, not a New York one, though it was pleasing to listen to.

And hey. He wore glasses.

Flack grinned inwardly. Ohhh, he got it.

No wonder he thought the guy was cute. He looked just like Danny. Like a poor man's version of the real thing.

He grinned on the outside. Yeah, Danny was his. The real thing, babe.

"Oh, yeaah."

Flack had his gaze focused so intently on the television, he never noticed the dejected look Danny aimed at him, nor did he notice the shorter man slinking away. It took an engrossed Flack four minutes to become conscious of Danny's absence. He moved the bowl of popcorn onto the coffee table, standing up and glancing around the living area with a slight frown.

"Dan?"

Flack scratched his head. Well, this was weird. Danny never upped and left just like that.

"Danny?"

He followed his instincts, heading for the bedroom. The door was half open, and he lightly pushed at it.

The bedside table lamps were switched on. There was a huddled bulge on the bed, swathed in the thick, dark red blanket Danny favored. All Flack could see of the man were tufts of brown hair sticking out from the top of said blanket. Danny had his back turned towards the bedroom door.

Flack scratched at his head a second time. Huh, Danny was asleep already?

The taller detective approached the bed, understanding dawning on him by the time he was clambering on all fours on the mattress. He grinned like a boy at the candy store.

Oh hoooh, the little, cunning brat … pretending he was sleeping in the bedroom so he could lure Flack to have some quality nookie time. Man, Flack loved the way Danny's brain worked sometimes.

"Daaaannnnnny." Flack touched the reclined man on one blanket-wrapped shoulder.

WHACK!

The open hand that clouted him right in the face came out of the blue. Flack was absolutely unprepared for it, tumbling backwards with a shout, head over heels onto the floor, his gangly legs sticking up in the air. Sprawled out like a ragdoll, he blinked a couple of times, staring with dazed eyes at the ceiling. His handsome visage was twisted into a comical expression.

Huhbuuuh? What the heck happened?

He blinked some more, then scrambled to his hands and knees, eyes peeping out past the top of the bed at the other man. Danny was still swaddled in the blanket, facing away.

Huuuh. Was this some kinda new foreplay thing he didn't know about? He had no idea Danny was into violence in the bedroom.

Flack cautiously crawled onto the bed once more, calling out his lover's name, hands reaching for the other man's bottom.

This time, there was no way in hell the homicide detective could mistake the foot in his face as anything except a painful foot in the face. He tumbled head over heels onto the floor for the second time that night, ending up with his butt in the air, warped like a human pretzel.

Ow.

Gravity decided to say hello, and his body toppled sideways to land on the floor with a heavy thud.

Ow. Again.

Flack rolled clumsily onto his tummy, head wobbling and one eye narrowed in a peculiar expression. What. The. Hell? He shook his head to clear it. Damn, Danny had one mighty kick. He waited for a few moments, then warily peeked over the top of the bed again.

The CSI was sitting upright on the bed, blanket around his shoulders. His arms were crossed over his chest, lips were pursed into an irate line, blue eyes blazing. He was still wearing his spectacles.

Uh oh. Danny was angry. As in, really angry.

"D-Danny?" Flack got up and sat on the bed, wisely out of reach of those super chicken legs. "Uh, if this is some kinda new foreplay kink … I don't really -"

"Sex."

Flack blinked. "Huh?"

"Sex." Danny's glare became even more ferocious, blue eyes widening. "!" He inhaled sharply, looking like a red, puffed up frog. "SEX!"

Flack craned his head at a forty-five degree angle. What the, was this Danny's new way of asking for more nookie? The taller man sat where he was like a log, staring at his lover with the most perplexed expression in the universe. Oh man, this nuttiness was too much for his masculine brain to handle.

Flack always imagined the inside of his head to be like a special nuclear plant, filled with thousands and thousands of little Flacks in yellow safety helmets, rushing here and there to process every single thought and sensation. Right now, the nuclear reactor was overheating fast and heading for a total meltdown, and all the little Flacks were running around screaming their little heads off. One of the little clones was pointing at the flaming reactor, shrieking in a squeaky chipmunk voice, "He's gonna blooooooooooooooow!"

"Sex!" Danny was yanking at the blanket in exasperation. "That's all we ever do! Do ya realize that!"

The nuclear plant that was Flack's brain went out with a throttled puff. And all that blurted out from the homicide detective's gaping mouth in the aftermath was a very caveman-like, "Uuuhhhh …"

Danny refolded his arms in front of his chest, huffing crossly. "Tell me, Don, when was the last time we did somethin' together that didn't involve sex? Hmm? Hmmmmmm?"

"I … uhh …"

"Hhhhhmmmmmmmmmm?"

Oh, wait, his brain hadn't gone topsy turvy on him yet. Flack perked up. "We … uh, we went to watch that movie! Yeah, ya know, the one with those two cowboys." Flack made a face, talking in a droll parody of a southern accent. "I wish I knew how ta quuuuit you."

For a second, Danny's lips twitched perceptibly. Then he regained control of himself and grated out, "And do ya remember what ya did when we were in the cinema, hmmm?"

"Uhhm.' Flack scratched at his neck. "I, uh -"

"Ya fondled me. In public. In a cinema full of PEOPLE." The shorter man shot forward and smacked him hard on the chest.

Owww. Flack rubbed at the bruised area. Man, Danny was serious.

"But - but … ya liked it!"

The CSI spluttered, face red, hands gesticulating wildly. "That's not the POINT!"

Flack pouted, lower lip stuck out, crossing his own arms over his bare chest. "So what are ya on 'bout?"

Danny took a deep breath, holding up his hands in a conciliatory manner. "The point is … everythin' we do now is …" The hand waving about started anew. "It's always sex!"

"But … but, ya like sex." Flack pointed at himself. "I like sex." He threw up his arms. "We like sex!"

The shorter man glowered at Flack. After that, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily, letting his head drop into his hands, face obscured.

"I didn't think I ever had to resort to this … but I gotta."

Flack watched Danny climbing off the bed with the blanket still around his shoulders, picking up a black ballpoint pen and a notepad from the dressing table. The homicide detective frowned, long fingers fiddling with the folds of his pajama pants. What was Danny up to now?

The CSI got back on the bed, sitting cross-legged and propping the notepad on his thigh. Danny gave him a mysterious look, then swiftly jotted something down on the first page.

"Here." Danny casually handed the notepad to him.

Flack squinted at the black words written on the paper, holding the page up close to his face.

"I, Danny Messer … hereby challenge Don Flack, Jr. to … an entire week of …" Flack's eyes became even narrower as he attempted to read aloud the last word. "Seh … seh-leeh … seh-leeeh-bah … seeeh." He glanced at the other man with a bemused expression. "Whazzat?"

Danny was looking like an enraged, puffed up frog again. "CELIBACY!"

"Like I said," Flack said in all sincerity. "Whazzat?"

Danny stared at him with humongous, flabbergasted eyes, lower jaw sagging. Flack could fit a whole double decker bus in Danny's mouth right now.

"You. Don't know. What celibacy. Means."

The taller man pondered about it for a minute. It sounded familiar, but … "Nope. What's it mean?"

Danny continued to stare at him in shock.

Flack patiently awaited enlightenment.

"Don, celibacy means -"

Danny's lips started to move in slow motion. Even his voice sounded bizarre to Flack as he concluded with two unbelievable, impossible words.

"No sex."

It took Flack a while to realize the man screaming his head off like a girl was himself.

When he did, his clamped his mouth shut, hands fisted in his dark, shorn hair, notepad falling onto the bed. Naaaah, he just made that up, Danny couldn't possibly have said -

"NO SEX."

The second scream of horror was ten times more shrill than the first. Flack felt his heart stop beating. Holy shit, it was the end of the world, the apocalypse was here -

Danny was frantically smacking him on the top of his head to make him quiet.

"Holy - Don, quit it!" The CSI shook him hard by the shoulders, but to no avail.

Flack grabbed at his neck with both hands, tongue sticking out, making whiny, strangled sounds. Oh crap, stars were exploding before his eyes. He couldn't breathe properly anymore, vision going all wonky, room spinning -

"Dan -" Flack coughed out, "I think … I'm … dyin' -"

A sudden slap to his cheek brought him back from the brink.

"See? Seeeeee! Ya can't even think 'bout havin' no sex without havin' a - a panic attack!"

The taller man was still so stunned by being slapped that he couldn't say a word.

"Okay, that's it, that's IT." Danny made a decisive hand motion. "It's official. The challenge begins now!"

"Bu - but … we haven't had any nookie tonight yet!"

Whoa, he never knew Danny could turn that dark a shade of red and purple.

"NO SEX FOR A WEEK, DON!"

The taller detective roughly ran his hands through his mussed hair in frustration. Oh, ohhhh, so that's how his lover wanted to play it, huh? Fine.

"Gimme that!" Flack snatched the ballpoint pen from the other man's clutch, added something beneath the written trial and shoved the paper back.

Danny held the wrinkled notepad between his hands, blue eyes widening ludicrously.

"Wha - no masturbation!"

The homicide detective crossed his arms in front of his robust chest, appearing very smug.

"Damn straight! If we're not gonna have sex for a week, that includes jerkin' ourselves off too!"

The CSI released a high-pitched squeal of outrage.

"You - you …" Danny sputtered some inarticulate words, calmed down then said, "Fine. FINE." He seized the pen from Flack and wrote down something else under Flack's rule.

The notepad slammed straight into Flack's face.

"Oww, shit … that -" The taller man read what the other detective had written.

"What, NO PORN!"

Danny's lips curved up in a very fiendish smile. "Oh yeah. No jerkin' off, no porn!"

Flack swore he could feel steam blasting out his ears.

"Ohh, oohhhhh, OOOOHHHH, you wanna play tough guy, hahn!"

Flack suddenly realized something, and shut his eyes. "Oooohhh, I don't need to look at porn." He angled his head, smiling like an imp. "I got porn central right here in my head, twenty-four seven, three-hundred and sixty-five days of the year, babe." He started pulling up the most erotic memories of them having sex, his smile growing broader. "Mmmm, yeah, spread those legs, Danny, oh babe -"

The other man had taken the now scruffy notepad and was liberally bashing his head with it, growling menacingly. Flack blocked the next few hits with his forearms, still grinning away with his eyes closed.

"Ohhh yeah, Danny, ya feel so good …"

One yelp-inducing blow managed to get through and land right on the top of his skull, shutting him up.

The taller man wrenched the notepad away, rubbing his sore head. Man, who'd have thought getting hit with a freaking notepad could hurt like that? He pouted, glowering at an equally sullen Danny.

"Well, I ain't done yet." Flack picked up the pen that was rolling on the bed between them and jotted down yet another rule for the challenge.

Danny was beginning to look unsure of himself now, which made Flack snigger inwardly. Heh, this ought to make the guy change his mind and throw away this stupid challenge.

" … no use of sex toys, assorted phallic objects or vegetables, including cucumbers, carrots, aubergine … that resemble dildos!"

Flack wagged a forefinger at the gaping, red-faced man. "Ohh, I know you, Messer. Did ya think I was gonna forget yer dildo collection, hmmmm? And I know ya wouldn't think twice 'bout stickin' one a' them veggies up there if it wasn't stated in the rules!"

Flack nearly snickered aloud at Danny dragging downwards at his own face with his fingers in vexation. Oooh hoh, just a little bit more and Danny was gonna brea-

"Fine."

Danny literally signed the damn notepad, a defiant expression on his attractive face.

"I accept your rules. So you gotta accept mine too. And the challenge is still on."

The taller man's hands curled into fists. Damnit! Damnitdamnitdamnit …

The notepad with the stupid challenge and the stupid rules and Danny's stupid signature was before him, the ballpoint pen thrust into his face.

"Sign it." Danny smirked mercilessly. "Or are ya a chicken, huh?" To add to the insult, he began making humorous chicken sounds, even flapping his bent arms like wings.

Something snapped like a twig inside Flack's skull.

He wrestled the pen from a sniggering Danny, virtually carving his signature next to the other man's on the paper.

"So there!" Flack flung the pen down in a temper. "Ya happy now?"

"Uh hmm."

The homicide detective's jaw dropped when he saw Danny pointing in the direction of the open bedroom door, face deceivingly blank.

"You … yoooouuu … you're sendin' me to the couch!"

The shorter man blinked innocently at him, eyes wide. "Ohh, I know you, Flack. Did ya think I was gonna let ya sleep in the same bed tonight, knowin' you're gonna try every trick ya got to have sex?" Those big, blue eyes narrowed shrewdly. "And I know ya wouldn't think twice 'bout it!"

This time, Flack let out a scream of fury, looking very much like a Neanderthal caveman who'd totally lost all his ancient marbles.

"You're gonna crack, Messer, ohhh, you're gonna friggin' crack like glass 'fore tomorrow's over!"

Flack furiously seized two pillows from the bed, even attempting to run off with the blanket Danny had around his body. Flack had to let go when the CSI almost bit his hand off.

"Says the sex maniac who screams like a GIRL!"

"CRACK LIKE GLAAAAAAASS!"

Flack stuck up his nose at Danny with a loud hmph, then stormed off to the bedroom doorway.

"Yeah, we'll see 'bout THAT!"

The taller detective slammed the door shut behind him, cutting off whatever Danny was going to yell next. He stomped over to the sofa, sitting heavily on it. Shit. Shitshitshit. He hurled the pillows down beside him, sulking like mad.

No sex.

For an entire week.

No sex with Danny.

For. One. Whole. Week.

Flack kept cool and quiet. For about thirty seconds flat.

By the thirty-third second, he had his face buried in one of the pillows, howling his frustration and beating the couch cushions under him with tight fists.

Not being able to make love with Danny for one whole WEEK?

Don Flack, Jr. was fucking DOOMED.

***

iv. Ekabandha

For Danny to say that the following morning was awkward was the understatement of the century. He had been awake before six in the morning, alone in the bed, faintly shivering from the chill.

And no Flack there with him, around him or inside him.

Which was really peculiar and distressing, to say the least.

But not as distressing as the apparent morning wood that was tenting his blanket right where his groin was.

Danny flopped back onto the bed, groaning, shielding his eyes with an arm. Damnit. According to Flack's rules, neither of them were allowed to jerk themselves off. Which meant, either he cheated by masturbating without Flack's knowledge, or it was time to revisit the cold shower days.

Damnit.

He hated cold showers.

Especially when he had to take them this early in the morning.

Danny sighed loudly. Stupid Flack. The guy didn't have to make up that dumbass rule in the first place. One of his hands instinctively slid past the waistband of his track pants, downwards to his erection. He could … touch himself … just a bit -

The CSI bit himself hard enough in the lip to hurt. He wrenched his hand away at the last minute, cursing endlessly under his breath. No way, there was no way he was going to prove Flack's words right.

He made an incensed sound, rolled over onto his flat stomach, hugging a pillow beneath his head and chest. Shit, this was even worse. The pillow smelt just like his lover. And this was one of Flack's favorite positions while he thrust insi-

"Fuck!"

Danny scrambled out of bed, stamping angrily for the closed bedroom door. He didn't give a crap whether Flack was asleep or not and was making enough noise to rival a stampeding herd of elephants. He was not going to suffer alone.

He flung the door open, storming into the living area.

Well, what did he know, the guy was sitting there on the couch like he owned the place or something.

"Mornin'," Flack said curtly.

The homicide detective sat at ease on the sofa, legs spread and his arms crossed over his chest. He was looking out the window, with his head turned away from Danny. The two pillows at the end of the couch appeared slept in, if the head-shaped dent in the center of the top one was any indication. Danny's toes curled inwards at the sight of the taller detective bathed in warm, bright sunlight. God, why did that man have to. Look. So. Good.

Danny couldn't help glancing at the other man's groin.

Unlike himself, Flack didn't appear like he was having any trouble down there.

"Mornin'," Danny rejoined just as tersely, tearing his eyes away from the other man, scuffing the floor with his bare feet. He unconsciously tugged the hem of his black tank top down as low as it could go.

Flack snickered.

The CSI's head snapped back in the taller man's direction. He snarled deep in his throat, blue eyes narrowed dangerously at Flack's evil smirk. The fucker was laughing at him!

"I'm gettin' the shower first." Danny stalked off for the bathroom, not waiting for a reply.

Behind him, Flack sniggered again, a rumbling sound that went straight to a certain part of his anatomy that was happily disobeying him at the moment.

"That's fine. I'm sure there'll be plenty of hot water left."

That sonofa-

Without looking back, Danny flipped his third finger high in the air to make sure Flack saw it. He rushed into the bathroom and banged the door shut with a foot, hands in tense fists. Flack's snickering was loud even through the closed door.

"Hey, you're the one who doesn't wanna do that for a week, remember?"

Danny ran his hands through sleep-ruffled hair, releasing an infuriated roar through gritted teeth. It was okay if he went back out there and kicked the guy in the nuts, right, right?

He clung onto his displeasure for a minute, then let it go with a resigned sigh, slumping against the bathroom door. As much as he hated to admit it, Flack was right. He was the one who came up with the damn challenge in the first place. He gazed down at his groin, cursing for the first time his body's inability to not jump to total attention at the mere thought of sex.

"Why can't ya listen ta me fer once, huh?"

He slapped his forehead with his palm. Oh great, now he was talking to his dick.

Muttering under his breath, Danny went to turn on the shower, setting it to the coldest setting. The chilly water washed over his hand as he stuck it under the cascade, causing goosebumps all over his body. A quiver ran through him at the stark sensation. Oh, this would definitely work. Even the hardest erection wouldn't be able to withstand iciness like this.

He hastily stripped, leaving his clothes on the tiled floor, and leapt under the shower. He yelped. Gyaaah, it was fucking cold. Danny hopped around in the shower stall, his teeth chattering. He swiftly became drenched.

It took some time for the shivers to diminish so he could wash his hair and body. He opened one eye to a slit, using his hands to feel for the shampoo and liquid soap. It was bad enough he had to touch himself where he shouldn't be touching according to some idiot's rule. Memories of all the times he and Flack had sex there in the shower assaulted him as intensely as the cold water, making him tremble in a very different way.

Fuck, no, nothinkingaboutsex …

Danny tried his hardest to think of sad and depressing issues, except all he could imagine in his mind was the homicide detective standing behind him, stroking his torso and legs with large hands, whispering into his ear as he -

The CSI deliberately curled his fingers into his palms until it stung. Okay, this was not a good start. Why the hell did he bring up the damn challenge in the first place?

The image of Flack staring at the television last night materialized in his head. Flack, staring at that model like he wanted to eat the guy up.

The same stare Flack always aimed at him.

Danny's lips thinned into an unhappy line. They'd barely passed the one year mark, and Flack was already openly ogling other men on the television. How long was it going to be before the man began ogling men in real life too? How long was it going to be before Flack got bored and moved on to someone else? Danny let his forehead touch the tiled wall of the shower stall, closing his eyes. That dismal notion that it was possibly not very long at all deflated him more effectively and faster than the ice-cold water did.

He shut off the shower, silence filling the bathroom. Well, he couldn't back out now. By the time the week was over, he was certain he'd find out if he truly had something good going on with Flack.

Or if he was headed straight for yet another awful crash and burn situation.

Danny stepped out, using the towel hanging on the shower stall door to dry himself briskly. The ten million dollar question was whether he would even survive this one. His brain wouldn't permit him to really contemplate on it.

The brown-haired detective hung the towel back on the rail attached to the shower stall door. It was then that he realized he had completely forgotten to bring a fresh change of clothes with him into the bathroom. He scrunched his eyes closed, groaning softly.

Oh great. Just great.

In any other situation, he'd simply saunter out in the buff without any reservation whatsoever and tease Flack with his nakedness -

Danny suddenly smirked. Oh yeah, the ultimate revenge.

He strolled unperturbedly to the bathroom door and opened it.

"Took ya long 'nough."

Flack was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom doorway. He was smirking, but the second he saw that Danny was nude, the smirk instantaneously disappeared.

The CSI's pink tongue flitted out, licking at parted lips. Gazing directly into Flack's wide, blue eyes, he rubbed at his lower belly, baring white teeth in a wayward grin.

Flack's gaze drifted downwards. Those beautiful eyes of his became even wider.

Danny cackled, tongue flitting out once more.

"Don't worry … I'm sure you won't be needin' the hot water either."

Danny felt Flack's intense stare on him all the way to the bedroom. More specifically, the man's stare on his bottom. He laughed under his breath at the other man's loud and clear swearing. Served the guy right for poking fun at him before.

Breakfast turned out to be an edgy affair. Flack had been wise enough to take his fresh change of clothes into the bathroom with him, so Danny never got the chance to eyeball the guy. Maybe that was a good thing anyway. The shorter detective wasn't sure how he was going to handle a hot, naked Flack knowing he couldn't even touch the man without exploding on the spot. The guy already looked so damn fine in a pink-colored suit and striped tie.

Flack kept staring at him all the way through their meal at the kitchen table. Any other time, Danny would be preening under the attention, and stare as much at the other man. Probably kiss each other silly and grope one another like they usually did. Now, he had to battle the constant urge to hurl himself at Flack to receive his special daily dose of protein that no one else could give him.

Danny ran his tongue over his lower lip. The homicide detective's eyes followed its movement, and Flack mirrored his action by licking at his own lip. Danny couldn't help licking his lip again. And Flack did the same, staring at Danny as if he was all that existed.

"C'mon, we gotta go," Danny rasped, forcing himself to look away. "We're gonna be late."

The CSI could tell Flack was itching to say something, and he hurriedly dumped his used utensils into the sink and walked into the living area before Flack could do so. He put on his coat, checking that he had his wallet, keys and cel phone, and that everything he needed for the day was in his bag.

The taller man came out of the kitchen a moment later, lips pursed and blue eyes as intense as ever. Flack stood before Danny, saying nothing. They stared into each other's eyes, frozen in place, lit on one side by sunlight. For an instant, it seemed like Flack was going to grab him by the arms and kiss him, challenge be damned.

Flack stared at him for another minute, then silently went to pick up his car keys on the coffee table. Danny had to close his eyes once his lover moved out of sight, his breath leaving his body in a shuddering exhalation. His toes curled inside his shoes. He was going to remember the sheer yearning in his lover's eyes the entire day and more.

When they were out of Danny's apartment and got into Flack's car, the tension between them spiked severely. Danny's fingers drummed frenetically on his thighs as he sat quietly in the passenger seat, avoiding eye contact with the other man by glancing out the window. Flack's hands were tight around the steering wheel, to the point the knuckles were white. The shorter man could sense the growing pressure within the other man eventhough he wasn't looking at Flack. He started an internal countdown to the moment the homicide detective finally blew up.

Ten, nine, eight …

Danny heard Flack take a deep breath.

Seven, six, five, four …

Flack was staring at the back of his head now, probably glowering in that sizzling way of his.

Three … two … one -

"Danny, this is stupid!"

Boom.

Danny turned his head to gaze at Flack. Flack had an expression that was an amalgam of frustration and supplication on his handsome mien, blue eyes big with contained exasperation.

"This - this challenge thing is stupid, 'kay? What's the point of it anyway!" Flack twisted sideways so he faced Danny. "C'mon, take it back, okay? We don't need this."

Shit, Flack was giving him his best puppy-eyed look. The one he could never deny for long.

"Please?"

Danny gritted his teeth. God, he wanted so bad to just say yes, but …

"No."

Flack threw up his hands, falling back against the driver's seat heavily.

"No, Don. I just … can't."

"Why? Why not?"

All of a sudden, Danny was pissed off himself. "Look, what's the big deal if we don't have sex for a week, hahn?"

Flack couldn't answer. Instead, he went back to gripping the steering wheel like he was strangling it, face contorted in a scowl.

"C'mon, Don, tell me." When the taller detective remained silent, Danny said, "What, if we don't fuck, we got nothin' else, that it?"

That made Flack gawk at him with sharp, wide eyes.

"Well?"

Flack's eyes stayed focused on him. Danny's foot twitched, but the CSI displayed no other outward reaction, apart from gazing back at Flack just as obstinately.

Flack's mouth opened. There was no sound. Almost immediately, Flack clamped it shut, shaking his head in a resolute manner and starting up the car.

"Forget 'bout it. We're both mad, and I ain't talkin' 'bout this now."

Danny crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the car window, lips downturned in dissatisfaction. "Fine."

Danny felt the other man staring at him again.

Obviously, he had to be a masochist, because he swiveled his head to return the gaze. Something deep inside him clenched hard at the blatant torment in the homicide detective's blue eyes. His hand also tightened on the armrest of the car door.

"Fine."

Flack turned away, scowl more grave than ever, stepping harder on the accelerator than normal. Danny resumed staring out the window, one hand over his mouth. He swallowed visibly, his throat feeling so parched.

Not even twelve hours into things, and they were already quarrelling with each other. And the sexual frustration alone was going to drive Danny crazy before he knew it.

Danny closed his eyes.

How the heck were they going to survive the next six and a half days this way?

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Danny was moaning.

The piercing sounds seemed to echo in the room, overwhelming the muted noise of the red silk sheets rustling beneath the writhing man. Danny was lounging on a pile of similarly red pillows, his lean legs spread apart on the bed. He was nibbling on one thumb, while the other hand was busy stroking his hard and dripping cock.

It was utterly erect, bouncing up towards Danny's flat belly everytime he completed a stroke from root to flushed head. Some pre-come had splattered against the smooth skin of his abdomen, glistening under the ambient lighting of the room.

Flack licked his lips, rubbing at his own stomach.

This was the Danny he loved seeing most, the Danny who had no inhibitions, no secrets, no masks. The Danny who opened up only to him this way.

The man on the bed stroked himself one more time, then beckoned Flack to him with a crook of one forefinger and an impish smile. The homicide detective grinned, clambering onto the velvety bed and positioning himself on his hands and knees over the other man.

Danny hummed, stretching up both arms to caress his neck, shoulders and chest. The shorter man was murmuring something under his breath, but Flack couldn't catch the words. The homicide detective lowered himself on top of his lover's body, molding them together from chest to thighs, shifting his head until the tips of their noses touched.

Danny's lips moved again. Flack frowned lightly, still unable to hear what the other man was saying.

"What is it?" Flack tilted his head to the side so his ear was right in front of Danny's mouth.

"ARIGATO GOZAIMAAAAAAAAAASU!"

The taller man jumped violently at the yelled salutation, temporarily blinded by extreme bursts of light. Barely a second after that, he heard the identifiable sounds of camera clicks.

Flack blinked numerous times, a comical expression of surprise on his visage.

His vision gradually cleared from the bright camera flashes, and he discovered he was face to face with a gigantic entourage of Japanese tourists carrying expensive cameras of varying sizes, eagerly snapping photographs of him. Flack gaped at them with eyes as huge as saucers, frozen to the spot by something akin to horror.

What the hell was going on here!

"Wha -"

A couple more flashes and clicks, and the photoshoot ended as quickly as it began. Together as one, the whole group of Japanese tourists bowed before him. Then, they stood upright and ambled off, smiling and waving goodbye at him as if he was some famous New York city attraction or something. Some of the young women in the group giggled amongst themselves as they glanced back at him, covering their smiles with dainty hands.

Flack blinked some more. Wow, that was weird.

He heard someone attempting to smother an amused guffaw next to him.

"Flack, what has gotten into you today?"

Flack glanced at the man who was beside him.

Hey, it was Hawkes. The Doc was attired in a long-sleeved, collared shirt and jeans, along with a black leather jacket. The guy was seriously fighting to stop himself from laughing his head off, one hand wrapped over his mouth. Hawkes' kind, brown eyes were crinkled up so much Flack could hardly see them.

"What the friggin' hell was that all 'bout, Doc?"

Hawkes coughed, sniffled once and made a great effort to smooth out his facial features into his usual professional mien. "Well, that's what you get for daydreaming away and standing in the middle of Times Square like one of those human statues."

Flack made a face. "Aww, c'mon, ya don't think those tourists thought …"

Hawkes cracked and burst out laughing, bending over and clutching at his sides.

The homicide detective threw up his arms in a huff. "Oh, that's wonderful, just wonderful."

The former ME managed to stand up after a few minutes, wiping at his face. "You were - you were just standing there with this goofy smile on your face," Hawkes said between chortles. "And - and you didn't even react when those Japanese tourists came up to you and asked you if … if they could take pictures of you -"

"So they came up to me when you didn't say anything, and they asked if it was all part of your act to be like a statue … I - I don't know why I did it, but I told them that it was -" Hawkes was wracked with more amused laughter, shaking his head and pressing a hand against his abdomen. "And they put some money into your jacket pocket … and - and after that, they all took photos of you. So they could show their relatives back home … one of the wonders of America, they said."

Hawkes rubbed at his eyes, still grinning. "Ah, I do love the Japanese."

Flack gawped at Hawkes a little more, then looked down at his jacket pocket. Sure enough, there were a couple of money bills sticking out of it. He pulled them out, eyes widening at the amount in his hands. Whoa, these Japanese folk sure were generous people. The tall detective folded them up and placed them back in his pocket, greatly appeased. Well, that was the easiest hundred bucks he ever made yet.

Hawkes was gazing at him with a very curious expression, teeth gleaming in the midday sunshine. "Okay, I really want to know what you were thinking all that time, Flack. Because, I have never seen you like that. Ever."

The erotic image of Danny sprawled nude and sweaty and sexy on those red silk sheets dominated Flack's brain for the twentieth time that day. He gulped, lips twitching perceptibly. Nuh uh, no way was he going to tell Hawkes that. Nobody apart from Danny and himself even knew they were in a relationship far beyond plain friendship.

"Trust me, ya don't wanna know, Doc." Flack waved it off, looking as blasé as he could. He only hoped he wasn't blushing as red as he thought he was.

Hawkes angled his head to one side, his eyes narrowed astutely. His smile widened. "Okay, okay, I won't push you about it."

"Thanks," Flack replied sincerely, letting out an inward sigh of relief. Thank God Stella was working with Danny today instead of him. He didn't need to deal with a whirlwind of a Greek woman on top of his lust-addled condition. Flack was dead certain Stella would have bombarded him with questions and teasing until he crumbled like a cookie. The Doc, on the other hand, was a nice guy. Hawkes never butt his head into anyone's business or lost his temper, and Flack was absolutely cool with that.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving." Hawkes scanned the crowded area they stood in, mulling over what to eat for lunch. The former ME smirked. "That chase earlier was a nice end to the morning, wasn't it?"

Flack grinned broadly. Oh yeah, that had been good. He and Hawkes had been assigned to what appeared to be a clear-cut case of a robbery gone bad. The victim, a middle-aged man in a pricey business suit, had been found dead in an alley a few blocks away from the Times Square Armed Forces Recruiting Station between Broadway and 7th Avenue. Point blank shot to the heart. From the slack face, no dirt or rips in the clothes plus the lack of any bruising or cuts anywhere, the poor bastard probably didn't even know what hit him.

The homicide detective's job had been made much, much easier when Hawkes came upon what was a dropped ID card, about a dozen feet away from where the victim was found. It didn't belong to the dead guy, so the logical deduction was that it might very well belong to the murderer. Flack had been on his mobile phone checking up details on their potential suspect when he caught sight of a lanky man in a green hoodie, who looked a hell lot like their perp.

Flack nearly whooped with joy when it dawned on him that it was their suspect. Of all the freaking idiotic things to do, the dumbass actually returned to the scene of the crime to retrieve his missing ID. He and Hawkes had a hell of a time racing after the perp through the congested city crowd. And boy, did it feel great to tackle the guy NFL-style and flatten him like a pancake on the sidewalk. All that pent-up energy inside him since he woke up had to go somewhere.

"I think I'll get a salad from there," Hawkes said, motioning with his head towards a small cafeteria further down the opposite side of the road. "What about you?"

The taller detective already had his eyes set on a hotdog vendor nearby. "Nah. I'm a hotdog guy."

Hawkes chuckled. "To each his own. Meet you back here?"

"Yeah, get our munchies, then I'll drive ya back to the labs."

"Thanks! I'll be right back." Hawkes joined the group of people crossing the street and soon disappeared out of sight in the bustling mass.

The moment the Doc was gone, Flack smacked his forehead a couple of times, berating himself under his breath repeatedly. Damnit, it wasn't even one in the afternoon yet and he'd already made a total fool of himself in public, thanks to him constantly fantasizing about Danny. In front of a whole bunch of foreign tourists, to boot. And probably half of New York city. And Hawkes.

Yep. He was so going to squeeze the life out of Danny the next time they met.

Flack groaned. Damnit, even simple words were enough to get him all revved up. He bit his lower lip hard. How fortunate for him that he had his long coat on.

"Heeeeeey, Flack!"

Flack smirked widely. Well, look who it was, old Big Joe who used to sell hotdogs two blocks away from his precinct. According to the rotund, fifty-four year old vendor with the strong Turkish accent, Flack was his number one client, period.

"Hey, Joe, so this is where ya ran off to, huh?"

Big Joe cackled. "Yeeaah, business is good here, ya know? Felt it was time for a change of scenery. Heh."

Flack put on a mock expression of woe, slapping one large hand over his heart. "Ya hurt me, Joe. Left me all alone without a word, and here I thought I was yer best customer. What did I do, hahn?"

Big Joe cackled once more, placing giant fists on hips. "Ahh, you bein' the top detective that ya are, I figured you'd sniff me out sooner or later." He wagged a pudgy finger at Flack. "And ya did, eh?"

The hotdog seller took out a bun that certainly didn't look like a regular hotdog bun. "Here, I'll make ya somethin' special today!"

Flack's thick eyebrows lifted. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear the bread Big Joe held looked a lot like a pair of …

"See, it's a new thing I thought up. I call it … the Italian Sub!"

At the mention of the word Italian, Flack's mind inevitably floated back to a particular person. Namely, a certain bespectacled man who happened to be very much Italian and had one lovely bottom that looked just like those buns -

" … and after I've spread on the flavored butter, I put in the sausage -"

Flack's blue eyes widened at Big Joe shoving the meat between the buns. Oh hell, that was one thick, long and red sausage. And he knew that brand of butter. In fact, it'd been the same one he used the first time he and Danny had done it doggy-style in the kitchen -

"And instead of mustard, I use mayo now!" The greasy sound of the mayonnaise squeezing out of the bottle made the homicide detective's toes curl inwards. Fuck, that sounded just like lube coming out of -

Perhaps the universe decided it was an excellent moment to play a joke on Don Flack. Jr. Perhaps he was simply standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps the hotdog vendor squeezed the bread too much or something.

Without warning, the sausage suddenly shot out from between the buttered buns.

Straight at Flack's face.

It bounced off his cheek, leaving a wide smear of white mayonnaise and butter across his lower face and over a portion of his lips. His large hands instinctively came up to catch the flying sausage in mid-air, his eyes squeezed shut from the astonishment of getting smacked in the face with a giant stick of meat. The dang thing was all slippery from the butter and mayonnaise, so it kept popping out of his grasp like a fish trying to escape. After the third time it slipped out of his hands, he finally had a good hold of it in his left hand.

Oh man, it was just like holding Danny's -

"Ohhh, I'm so sorry!" Big Joe had some tissue papers and rushed around his stall to frantically wipe at Flack's coat. "I don't know what happened!"

Squeezing the sausage, all the homicide detective could see in his mind was Danny stretched out on those red sheets once more, encouraging him to encircle his hand around the man's erect cock.

"I love it when you rub your thumb there, Don."

Flack began stroking his thumb against the underside of the flushed erection, savoring Danny's unrestrained moans. Oh yeah, babe, he had the hottest man in the world right here with him …

It took some time for the tall detective to realize he was using his thumb to stroke the side of a very greasy Italian sausage instead. With his eyes half-open and a dumbass smile on his face. In the middle of Times Square. While a fat Turkish man was waving a hand over his eyes repetitively, tentatively calling his name.

Flack jerked, glanced at the meat in hand. Eeewwwww. He let out a funny noise of disgust and chucked the sausage away.

Damnit, he was fantasizing out of control. Again. Why did Danny have to be so freaking hot?

"T-tissue … paper?"

Flack managed to send Big Joe an awkward, polite smile, plucking the tissue papers from the other man's hands and wiping his own with them. He then wiped his face clean, staring hard at the mayo on the tissue paper. Geez, why did the stuff have to look just like -

"I make you another one, okay?" The hotdog seller was back behind his stall, hastily getting out another shapely bun and an even bigger sausage.

"Joe, it's oka-"

"Exxxtra large sausage in HOT BUNS!"

Flack crumpled the tissue paper in his fist. His lower lip had to be raw from being bitten by now. Okay, he. Did. Not. Need that image. His eyes involuntarily closed. Oh crap, there Danny was once more … lying on his belly and looking up at Flack with those pleasure-filled eyes as he pushed ins-

"Exxxtra mayo eeeeverywheeeeere!"

Flack made a keening noise. Danny was convulsing, mouth open in a silent scream, coming and going so tight around him -

"Here." The homicide detective felt something hot and soft placed in his other hand. "It's on me, ah?"

Oh. It was another of Big Joe's special … hotdogs.

Big Joe patted him on his arm, smiling. "You enjoy your Italian Sub!"

Flack smiled tremulously. Danny was back in his gutter of a brain again, licking his lips and wriggling his very own Italian special at Flack.

"God, you have no idea how much I wanna," he murmured.

The hotdog vendor was already busy serving other customers, and hadn't heard Flack's heartfelt admission.

Apparently, Hawkes did.

"How much you want to what?" The CSI had a small plastic bag in hand, probably carrying his salad or whatever he got for lunch.

Flack was startled by the abrupt appearance of the former ME beside him. Geez, how the heck did the guy come and go so quietly like that?

"Uh … nothin'." Flack smiled in what he fervently hoped was a genuine manner. "You want a hotdog?" He handed it over to the other man before Hawkes could protest.

"I -" Hawkes stared at the hotdog in hand before glancing at Flack with a confused expression. "You - you don't want it?"

The taller detective cleared his throat. "I, uh, already had one. Guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought."

At that moment, Flack's stomach growled so audibly a few pedestrians walking past the two detectives turned their heads to look at Flack.

The homicide detective's fingernails dug into his palms. Shit.

Hawkes gazed pointedly at him. "Are you … sure you don't …"

Flack gave the other man a parody of a smile. "Yeah, Doc." He took one look at the dark red, thick sausage snug between the brown buns, and hastily glanced away. "I'm sure."

The former ME blinked, then merely shrugged. "Okay."

Flack gritted his teeth when Hawkes sunk his teeth into the hotdog. Man, who'd have figured the guy's mouth could open up so big. And the way the white mayonnaise was sticking to the man's full lips -

"C'mon, gettin' outta here. Now." Flack stomped off down the sidewalk towards his car parked a couple of blocks away, not hanging around to see if Hawkes was following him.

For the thousandth time that day, Danny was at the forefront of his lusty thoughts. This time, his lover was kneeling before him, nubile tongue out and flicking at the tip of his dripping cock, white fluid spattered all over his face -

The taller detective ran a hand down his handsome visage in frustration.

That did it.

He was totally swearing off hotdogs and anything that remotely resembled a sausage or a pair of hot buns for … for …

Flack got inside his car and leaned his head on his forearms on top of the steering wheel, sighing heavily. Seven days. Seven fucking days without touching his lover like he desired so badly. He unconsciously shifted his legs slightly apart, enormously aware of the hardness between them that was well concealed by his coat. Whatever reason Danny was sticking to this idiotic challenge for, the homicide detective hoped it was worth killing him with an atrocious case of blue balls.

As he waited for Hawkes to show up and get in the car, he whispered five forlorn words to himself.

"Miss ya, ya stubborn bastard."

***

v. Hirana

If the television showed another freaking clip of two people kissing one more time, Danny was going to pulverize it to pieces. He angrily pushed a button on the remote in hand to change channels.

" … 'The Persian cat originates from the country that was once Persia, now called Iran, in the Middle East. Experts believe -'"

Danny's thumb pressed down on the button again.

" … 'Yeah, yeah, I am Batman. Then the mugger, he comes to and he starts choking me. So I'm fighting him off with one hand and I kept driving the bus with the other, ya know. Then I managed to open up the door and I kicked him out the door, ya know, with my foot, ya know, at the next stop.'"

Danny snickered. Seinfeld always made him laugh. But he'd already seen this episode a hundred times. He pushed the button a third time.

" … 'You wanna shove a fucking strapped-on dildo up my ass! You crazy bitch, I bet it hurts like a muthafucker!'"

Huh, the Jerry Springer show. Another show that amused him to no end with the sheer stupidity and depravity of humankind.

"'It's called pegging, ya fat, stupid bastard!'"

One of the CSI's eyebrows shot up. Pegging, eh? He spread his legs wider, scratching at his belly under his white tank top, and slouched indolently on his couch. Oh, he remembered what it was about now. He and Aiden had spent hours browsing the internet on kinky sexual practices after their case involving the human furniture. Half-way through their enlightening exploration, they'd stumbled on an explicit photo of a man kneeling on a bed while a woman was fucking him from behind with a strapped-on dildo. Danny had to endure over a week of teasing from his former CSI partner about whether he would ever consider getting it up the ass with a strapped-on dildo.

He smirked to himself. Man, if only Aiden knew how big a collection of dildos he had.

Or how he virtually screamed with delight whenever Flack pumped that phenomenal, hard cock of his in and out of his body -

Danny groaned loudly, collapsing on his side on the couch. He curled up into a fetal position, hugging a pillow tight to his body, blue eyes squeezed shut. The tingling sensation between his legs was back again for the thousandth time that night, causing him to squirm on the cushions.

Fuck. How long did he go without thinking about Flack this time?

He glowered at the clock hanging on the wall nearby, and groaned a second time. Oh, great.

Four minutes.

Danny rubbed his stubbly face against the pillow, whining. Four damn minutes. That had to be a new world record. It was better than the last time, which was a pathetic forty-five seconds of no Flack in his brain.

And just over thirty-six hours of no Flack in his mouth or ass. And about 12 hours of that time didn't include challenge time.

"Stupid rat bastard."

He had no clue whether he was cursing his lover or himself.

Danny laid there for nearly ten minutes, moping quietly with an obvious pout on his attractive features. Now and then, he nuzzled his nose into the plump pillow in his arms, breathing in the scent of the man who'd slept on them that morning. Flack always smelt so good. Like sunshine. And hot apple pie.

"'YAAARRRRRGGHHH!'"

Whoa, the boyfriend or husband or whatever was attacking his woman live on the Springer show. Danny watched the fiasco with a look of disdain for about half a minute, then changed the channels. Bah, those fights were often staged anyway.

" … 'And the king of the jungle mounts his mate -'"

The blue-eyed man made an irritated sound. Quick press of the remote button.

" … 'Ohh, babe, I need you -'"

Danny scowled. Damnit, it was another stupid scene of two people kissing. And the slurpy, smooching sounds were galling him beyond belief.

" … 'Mmm, oh, touch me there -'"

Fuck!

The riled CSI switched off the television and hurled the remote somewhere into the distance over his head. A resounding crack made him grimace. Oops, he should have thought twice about doing that.

Danny sighed deeply. He rolled onto his back, laying his head on a second pillow while still cuddling the first. It was barely eleven at night. On any other night, he wouldn't be sprawled on his sofa alone, much less still be wearing any clothes. His horny lover would never have allowed it. On any other night … He shut his eyes.

It didn't help to impede the inescapable memory of the last time he and Flack had made love on the very couch he rested on.

"Did I ever tell ya … how much I love seein' ya on yer knees?" Flack had rasped in his low timbre, softly into his ear.

The homicide detective was thrusting languorously, deep into his body, plastered against his back. One of Flack's large hands was stroking his throbbing cock, thumb rubbing against that sensitive spot just under the head, on the underside. It made the shorter detective shudder, a low moan escaping his open mouth. He loved it when Flack did that. His hands tightened on the cushion of the back of the couch until his knuckles turned white.

"Holdin' on to the couch like ya are now … yer legs spread wide like they are now …"

Danny felt his lover's other hand slide along his inner thigh, up between their legs, long fingers caressing the heat where they were joined. His hips involuntarily bucked when Flack pressed the tips of his fingers hard against his perineum. The CSI whimpered, letting his head fall forwards onto the back of the couch, between his hands.

"You're so tight, babe."

Flack's thrusts were increasing in speed once more, his hands clutching Danny's hips. The taller man was striking that gland within him unerringly each time. Danny arched his back and let out a sharp cry as Flack yanked his hips backwards fast into the next deep thrust. Oh fuck, he felt that all the way up to his throat. The shudders that shook his sweaty body returned ten-fold, causing him to spread his legs even further apart on the sofa.

Uhh, Flack was filling him up so good …

"So." Flack nibbled on his earlobe. "Talk."

The homicide detective had stilled, running hands all over Danny's sticky torso under his unbuttoned, white dress shirt. Flack was naked, but Danny felt as if he was the one who was utterly exposed instead. Eventhough his damn tie was still around his neck and his black socks were still on his feet.

Danny's pleasure-fogged mind couldn't comprehend the other man's statement. "W-wha?"

"Talk, Messer." There was definitely a hint of humor to Flack's voice. "That's what ya wanted to do, right?"

"You -" Danny's breath hitched harshly at Flack pulling out halfway … and staying there.

Flack snickered. "C'mon, Danny, ya wanted to talk, so let's talk."

Danny whimpered again. The taller detective's hands on Danny's hips kept him from moving backwards. If Flack had been driving him fucking wild before, now the guy was simply driving him fucking crazy with frustration. Danny deliberately tightened his inner muscles, desperate to goad his lover into moving once more. It didn't work.

"Tell me how yer day was."

The CSI whined audibly. He heaved against Flack's restraining hold, to no avail. Shit, why did Flack have to be so strong?

"I -"

"C'mon, Danny. Talk. Or I'm not gonna budge an inch."

Danny rested his forehead against the sofa, panting. His lover's hands were about the only things keeping him on his knees. That, and the slick hardness that was partially inside him. It wasn't enough. He needed all of it.

Flack began to pull out completely.

"Fucker! Gimme - gimme a minute!"

Danny could literally hear Flack grinning his head off.

"Five seconds."

"Shit …" The shorter man couldn't help huffing out a strangled chortle anyway. It was just like Flack to torture him this way. And he'd never openly admit it to the other man, but he thoroughly enjoyed every second of it, what with the glorious reward at the end.

Flack was tracing random patterns on the back of Danny's neck with the tip of his tongue, sending a shiver of pleasure rushing down Danny's arched spine. When Danny still hadn't blurted out more words, he started pulling out a second time. He was almost out now -

"W-woke up at seven!"

The homicide detective's roguish chuckle rumbled in the expanse of the living area where they were. Flack unexpectedly thrust halfway in again, causing Danny to jerk and groan in surprise. The shorter man's hard cock oozed pre-come that dripped onto the cushion below him.

"Go on."

"T-then … I-I had breakfast …" Danny wheezed, face flushed red and his spiky hair an untamed mess. "Took the - the s-subway, then - AaaAHHH!"

Flack had shoved himself in to the hilt, corkscrewing his hips once.

"Hn, subway. Gotta love them big, long trains going in and out of them tunnels, hmmm?" Flack nibbled on his neck. "Then what?"

The taller man was shifting his legs, pushing them together while the guy was still deep inside hi-

"Then what, Danny? Tell me."

Danny could do little except moan and whimper in a high-pitched tone. His thighs were now touching each other, with Flack's lanky legs flanking his, and the new position was making Flack feel gigantic within him.

Oh shit, no, Flack was drawing out again -

"And - and …" Danny instinctively squeezed his legs closer together, as well as the muscles constricting around the homicide detective's erection, in an effort to stop Flack from withdrawing. "And, Mac sent me and Lindsay out … to - to interview s-some suspects …"

"Uh hmmm."

"Then … I w-went back to the l-labs … had lunch with … Lindsay. Mmmmm, move, damnit …" Danny attempted to drive his hips backwards to take in all of Flack, but Flack's grip was too powerful and forced him in place. "L-Lindsay … she said …"

Flack's thumbs were slowly rubbing circles on the smooth skin of his hips. "Said what? Hmmm?"

Danny steadied his breath, then twisted his head back to gaze at Flack from the corner of his half-lidded, blue eyes. "She said … she had the hots for me … wanted to make me hers."

The sudden silence in the apartment was deafening.

Flack's fingers dug painfully into his hips.

The CSI gulped, his own fingers curling into the cushion of his sofa.

Without warning, Flack fully pulled out. Danny's soft whimper at the loss transformed into a hoarse scream when his lover rammed back inside, hips thrusting forward although he couldn't penetrate any deeper. Flack was preventing his legs from spreading, which kept his butt cheeks squeezed tight around the thick and hot erection sliding in and out of him.

"Aaaaahhhh, oh, fuck, fuck!"

A piercing whine followed each of Flack's next six successive thrusts, all similarly intense and deep with that familiar burn that made Danny yearn to grind himself fiercely against his lover. His arms were shaking so intensely it was going to be mere moments before they buckled -

"Clever boy."

Flack was motionless again, buried snugly inside him. One of the taller detective's arms was wrapped around his heaving chest, holding him up.

"Naughty, naughty boy," Flack murmured into his ear. Danny could tell the other man was smiling broadly. "Thought ya could get a rise outta me with jealousy, hahn?"

Danny swallowed noticeably. "S-she did say that."

There was now a different stiffness to Flack's lean torso. The kind the taller man usually had before he flew into one of his rare fits of rage.

Flack growled low in his throat.

The CSI shivered.

This time, Danny cried out at Flack roughly withdrawing out of his body. He winced a little. Ow, that burned. A tight clutch on his shoulder spun him around and maneuvered him into sitting down heavily on the couch, one leg bent on the cushions and the other stretched out between Flack's spread legs. Wide, blue eyes glowered at him from above.

Uh oh, Flack was really mad.

"What. Did. She. Say." Both of Flack's hands were on either side of his head, fingers clawing into the cushion. The homicide detective looked like one seriously pissed off deity who'd just discovered somebody had despoiled his favored devotee in the worst possible manner.

Danny licked his dry lips nervously. "She - she said Hammerback told her I … that I had a crush on her or somethin'."

Flack released another incensed growl at that remark.

"And she told me … she had a - a crush on me too."

Danny unconsciously shrunk back against the sofa, expecting a furious reaction from his lover.

"And what. Did you say. To her."

Flack shifted until their noses touched, never once breaking eye contact. The shorter detective couldn't glance away even if he tried. The taller man had a stare that mesmerized anything it fell upon.

"I told her …" Danny's tongue flitted out, running over his lower lip. "Told her … I was spoken for."

He tentatively reached out to enclose one hand around Flack's impressive erection.

"Big time." Danny bit his lip, then flashed the other man his patented, winning grin. He slowly pumped his hand up and down the engorged appendage, fingers slippery from the lubricant on the condom.

For a minute or two, all Flack did was loom over him, staring at him with those big, beautiful eyes. Flack displayed no outward reaction to Danny's administrations, other than the pupils of his eyes widening. Danny never failed to be awed by the other detective's discipline over his body and everything else about himself. It was just one of the many things about the gorgeous homicide detective that turned Danny on so badly.

Danny stroked the pad of his thumb across the tip of Flack's rigid cock.

Flack shoved himself away from the couch and Danny's grasp, standing upright. The taller man's pale and flushed skin glistened under the ceiling lights of the living area.

The CSI's pink tongue flitted out once more. The aching need between his legs became even more intense at the sight of nude, sweaty Flack gazing down at him like the guy wanted to eat him up for dessert. Danny stroked himself, breaths becoming quicker. God, he was the luckiest sonofabitch alive.

"Geddup."

Danny stood up on wobbly legs, rubbing at his lower belly with both hands. He hoped Flack didn't notice how much his legs were quivering.

Suddenly, he was struck by the prodigious need to say those few words he'd always wanted to say.

"Don … I …"

"It's okay. I know." Flack's gaze had softened dramatically, filled with a prevailing emotion that threatened to overcome Danny and make him behave in a really unmasculine way.

The gentle kiss on Danny's lips was a stark contrast to what he was experiencing mere moments ago. It made his mind reel. In a weird but mild way.

"Did I hurt ya?" The taller man's hands were fondling the roundness of his bottom.

Danny smirked, dragging down Flack's head for another yielding kiss. "S'nothin' compared to our sex marathon after the last World Cup match."

"Hell, yeah, you Italian horndog," Flack said with an amused chuckle against Danny's lips. "If I knew seein' Italy play and win would turn ya into a friggin' sex maniac … I'd have planned our last holiday to Italy instead of San Francisco."

The CSI laughed, reflexively arching his body into Flack's touch. "I'd say that was a very … educational trip."

Danny sent the other man a meaningful look from beneath his eyelids.

The homicide detective's blue eyes were rekindling with palpable desire. "Oh yeaah."

Danny's eyelids fluttered. Flack had pushed two fingers into him, scissoring them. He rubbed his body against his lover's, reveling in smooth skin and the velvety body hair across Flack's broad chest. Danny traced the treasure trail that ran downwards from the other man's navel to his -

The shorter detective moaned and shuddered when Flack's fingers went deeper, brushing against his prostate. One of Danny's hands enveloped itself around Flack's erection on impulse.

Oh, wow. Maybe it was all just in his head, but it sure felt like the guy was even bigger and harder than before.

"Oh, we ain't done yet, Messer." Flack grinned widely. "Not until you're comin' so hard that you're screamin' yer lungs out."

Danny couldn't say a word in response. His cock, however, had the perfect comeback. It jerked against Flack's flat belly. And the taller man felt it without doubt.

Still grinning, Flack's tongue snaked out to lick at his upper lip. The man made a predatory sound, then slowly pulled out his fingers.

"Mine."

Danny gasped. The possessiveness in his lover's voice should be alarming him. It didn't. All he knew was that it sounded … right. He couldn't imagine anyone else in the world saying the same thing to him. But Flack, Flack was different.

He touched Flack's cheek, gazing into the taller detective's wide eyes.

"Yours," Danny whispered huskily, lips moving against Flack's own, parted ones.

The sun-bright smile that lit Flack's crinkled features said more than all the words in the universe could.

Flack resumed kissing Danny as he guided the shorter man around to the back of the couch. The fact that they didn't bang into a single object was something of a testament to Danny how accustomed Flack was to his apartment.

Or was it their apartment by now?

Danny was made to face the back of the couch, so he also faced the television in front of the couch and coffee table.

"Bend over."

The CSI quietly acquiesced, bending down at the hips until his palms were touching the cushions he knelt on minutes before, his legs straight and his buttocks high in the air. Danny was glad he had socks on. The cool floor of his living room under his feet would be making his lean body tremble more than it was already.

"Spread yer legs."

Danny sucked in a stuttering breath, then did so. His legs moved into an inverted v-shape, opening out and exposing his nether regions for Flack's clear view. He ended up on tiptoes.

"Now … that's what I call a fuckin' gorgeous sight, right there." Flack stood behind him, pushing his dress shirt away to stroke his lower back. The homicide detective's condom-covered cock slid between his butt cheeks.

Danny's arms began to quiver. "Don. Please."

He heard Flack take a deep breath.

"If Monroe's ever stupid enough to come after you again …" The taller man positioned himself at the entrance to Danny's body. "This is what I'm gonna show her."

Flack thrust in, not stopping until his thighs made contact with the back of Danny's. The shorter detective's strident yell echoed in the apartment. This was the first time they'd ever done it in this particular position, and it was mind-blowing.

Danny felt hands around his neck, loosening his tie and removing it. He blinked, trying his best to not hyperventilate from the overwhelming pleasure suffusing his body. His upper body fell further forward over the back of the couch after Flack grabbed at his forearms and … What the? Was Flack tying his wrists up -

Another thrust drove whatever coherent thought Danny had left out of his brain. He choked on what he knew was going to be a vociferous scream, biting his lower lip hard to maintain the final remnants of control. Strained against the bonds tight around his wrists.

If Mrs. Penrose came around banging on his front door again thanks to his irrepressible screaming, he was going to force Flack to open it. In the nude. Without the benefit of hiding behind the door.

That is, if he survived the oncoming tsunami of Flack goodness first.

"Who do you belong to, Danny?" Flack withdrew. Plunged in to the hilt.

Danny could only answer with a throaty cry.

"Who do you belong to?" It was astounding how Flack could piston his hips that way and still talk without sounding like he was fucking his lover into the sofa.

The CSI couldn't move due to his current position. All he could do was lie bowed over the back of the couch, taking everything Flack was giving to him and more. With his arms now tied behind his back, he was finding it somewhat difficult to breathe. White starbursts started to pop up behind his lowered eyelids. The friction of his hard, throbbing cock against the couch's surface was nearly unbearable.

"Who do you belong to? Tell me!"

He could sense his orgasm was close, so fucking close …

"You!" Danny cried out, blue eyes scrunched shut, fingers digging into the pillow. "I belong to you!"

Wait … weren't his wrists …

Danny's eyes snapped open.

Oh, fuck.

He released a heartfelt groan, burying his face into the pillow he'd been hugging all this time.

That had been simply a memory. A fucking outstanding one, but nonetheless, a memory. Danny reluctantly rolled onto his side, moaning softly at the undeniable ache that was tenting his track pants.

A memory that had just made his night a whole lot more agonizing.

Fuck.

He stared at the ceiling through half-closed, unhappy eyes. He honestly felt like bawling his eyes out.

It'd never been like this before.

He was a guy who had plenty of girlfriends, and the odd boyfriend here and there. And he'd never, ever suffered like this whenever he had no sex at the time he was with them. Not even when he didn't get any for weeks at a time.

Ah hah, a voice in his head said, but this time, there's so much more to things than mere sex now, isn't there?

Danny went back to lying on his side and curled up into a fetal position, obviously paying no heed to the hardness between his legs.

Damnit, why did his brain have to go all - all brainy on him now?

He wanted to go back to that moment in time, when Flack was thrusting so deep and hard inside him, and making him come over and over and -

Letting out an exasperated roar, he lunged to his feet and stormed to his bedroom, carrying the two pillows that had been on the sofa with him. He threw himself onto the bed, inadvertently writhing and rubbing himself on the silky covers. The real and pleasurable stimulation on his groin now was almost as good as him using his hands to jerk himself off.

His sinuous wriggling intensified, as well as his moans and whimpers. It was okay, right? Flack wasn't going to blame him if he orgasmed this way, right? After all, it wasn't stated in the rules that he couldn't -

Right there and then, his mobile phone rang.

Danny immediately became stock-still.

His phone had settings where he could specify individual ringtones to different people in his phonebook.

And the one playing was Flack's.

Danny twisted his head to stare at the vibrating cel phone on the bedside table. His fingers wound themselves into the bed covers, his breaths coming out in soft pants. He was suddenly very aware of the dampness at the crotch of his track pants. Shit, so close to going over the edge.

The CSI licked his lips. Yeah, that's it. Maybe listening to Flack's voice would do it. And the guy couldn't blame him if he did come just from listening to Flack talk. Nothing about that in the rules.

Danny scrambled on the bed to the bedside table and picked up his ringing mobile phone.

"Don?" Man, his voice was hoarse. How much had he been screaming before?

It was silent on the other side of the line for a moment.

Then Danny heard the faint, quickened breathing of his lover.

"I know what you're doin'," Flack rasped in a guttural voice. "Rubbin' yerself all over the place is considered masturbation."

The shorter detective's hand curled into a fist. Fuck, how the hell did he know -

Flack's breaths increased in pace for a couple of seconds. Danny could virtually sense Flack forcing himself to breathe slower.

"So. Don't. Even. Think 'bout it."

The line went dead.

Danny took the phone away from his ear and stared at the device with wide eyes.

He … That … Why, that freaking sonofabi-

Danny flung his cel phone away, pulling at his tousled hair and screaming out his ire for all it was worth. He didn't even give a shit that he was behaving precisely like a spoilt brat while he pounded his fists and kicked his feet into the mattress, howling his dissatisfaction into one of the pillows on his bed.

How dare he! How dare Flack say that to him when the asshole was probably doing it himse-

His mobile phone was ringing again. And again, it was his lover.

Danny glared with searing eyes at the stupid thing that was vibrating less than two feet away from him, teetering on the edge of the bed.

Hell no, he was not going to answer it. Flack could go fuck himself.

Danny shut his eyes and let his head drop onto the pillow, face obscured. Oh no, nononono, he didn't need that imagery right now. He whined, bunching the pillow around his head. Flack was long enough that he could do it, oh fuck -

The ringing tone had stopped playing.

He raised his head from the pillow and glanced at his silver and orange colored phone with hazy eyes. Waited for a while.

Sure enough, a buzzing noise told Danny that Flack had left him a voice message.

Six minutes passed with Danny mulling over in silence whether to listen to it or not. Flack sounded pretty short of breath on the phone just now. Maybe the guy was as tormented by sexual frustration as he was. Maybe he wanted to give another friendly piece of advice about frigging masturbation. Maybe he wanted to persuade Danny into calling off the challenge again. Maybe -

Danny sighed. Well, brooding about it wasn't going to enlighten him anytime soon.

He stretched out his hand to pluck his phone up before it plummeted over the side of the bed and broke to pieces on the floor or something. Then, he set it to speaker mode, and opened up the voice mail message he received.

Danny lay on his side with two pillows beneath his head, unable to halt himself from smiling as Flack's resonant voice floated to his ears.

"You drive me insane, ya know that? Hahn? Danny?"

Danny's tender smile turned into a smirk.

Flack sighed, then continued his voice message.

"I dunno how yer day went … I hope it went better than mine did, that's fer sure. Got to chase a perp this mornin' … boy, it felt good to tackle him."

The CSI cackled.

"Yeah, you'd know that, wouldn't ya? Never realized how much energy we actually spend makin' love until we … couldn't do it anymore."

Danny's toes curled at the L word.

"So, yeah, Hawkes and I were down at Times Square after the case was wrapped up, and guess what? I got mistaken by Japanese tourists as one of them … them … whaddaya call 'em again? Human statues? Ya know, like that silver guy ya investigated last year with Aiden. And I was standin' there like a dumbass, and accordin' to what Hawkes said, he told them I was one a' them human statue acts … and they started snappin' photos a' me!"

Danny laughed a second time. Damn, he'd have loved to have been there to see that.

"Geez, talk 'bout embarrassin'." Flack guffawed softly. "Heh. Least I earned 'bout a hundred bucks from it. Them Japanese people are pretty generous folks, I tell ya."

The homicide detective paused for a moment.

"Ya know the reason I was so outta it? I was fantasizin'. 'Bout you."

Danny's eyes closed.

"Yeah, it was crazy … you were … everywhere. It didn't matter where I went or what I was doin' … you were always there." There were rustling sounds, as if Flack was on his bed and wriggling around. "And you were always naked. Yeah. It was like havin' wet dreams while I was awake or somethin'. You have no idea what a bad case a' blue balls I've had since we went our separate ways this mornin'."

Ohh, Danny indubitably had a good idea what his lover had gone through today. At least it seemed that he did a much better job of hiding his frustrations from Stella than Flack had from the perceptive Hawkes. However, he really should have been smarter than to suggest getting Chinese take out for lunch. Watching Stella sucking up noodles from the white carton was total torture. The head bobbing perfectly mimicked Flack's head bobbing up and down as the man went down on his -

"I dunno why you want this, Danny … I dunno why, but I know there's a good reason for it. There always is. Ya don't do things for no reason. I know you."

The CSI opened his eyes to slit, gazing at his mobile phone as it carried on playing Flack's voice message.

"I just hope it's worth killin' me for, babe, 'cos I'm dyin' here." Flack said hoarsely, and released a wavering chuckle. "So … yeah …"

The taller detective fell silent, although Danny could still hear him breathing.

"So, yeah … I … I'll see ya tomorrow."

There was more silence. Then Flack swallowed audibly.

Danny got up on his elbows, breath held in. Flack wanted to say something else, he was sure of it -

"I miss you."

A second later, the voice message ended.

It took Danny a while to pick up his mobile phone again to set it back to stand by mode. His blue eyes were stinging for some reason. He rubbed them with the back of his hand.

All of a sudden, he didn't care about getting off anymore.

He wanted Flack. And Flack couldn't be there with him because not being able to touch each other was driving them both nuts.

He left his phone next to the pillows on the bed, and opened up the dark blue blanket that was folded at the end of the bed, swathing himself in it. It smelt faintly of Flack. He tugged the blanket up until his nose was covered, his half-closed eyes peeking over the edge. The scent comforted him.

Danny sighed heavily. It was his own fault. He started it, and he was going to see it to the finish line. Even if it killed him. If they couldn't even keep a short-term agreement like this … how was he ever going to believe things would last between them?

He got his mobile phone in hand and pressed a few buttons on it.

And if he spent the night snuggled up on his bed, listening to Flack's soothing, murmured words over and over again, no one else was there to rag him for it.

***

vi. Samputa

"I'm telling you, Mac, something's going on between the two of them."

Mac sighed inwardly. His thin eyebrows were raised, hazel eyes narrowed.

"Flack and Danny are sooooo doing it!"

Oh boy, Stella was at it again.

"Stella. It's very possible for a man to have a purely platonic relationship with another man, you know."

Stella lifted one of her eyebrows and smirked at him. "Yeah, you'd know that, wouldn't you, ex-Marine man?"

Mac endeavored his best to keep a straight countenance in the face of Stella's apparent excitement. There were very few people in the world who could openly tease Mac Taylor and get away with it alive. There were even fewer people in the world who could make him smile. And there were even less people in the world who could make his heart skip a beat or two with a smile of their own.

And the beautiful Greek woman, attired in a jade-colored tank top and black trousers, who stood next to his office table was one who could do all three.

Possibly the only one now.

Little butterflies began their habitual dance in his belly again.

He sighed inwardly a second time. Not that he was going to tell her anytime soon.

Bright, morning sunlight streamed through his office windows, saturating the colors of the room and everything in it. His CSI partner appeared especially vibrant under the sunshine, a soft halo surrounding her, her green eyes gleaming. She looked almost angelic.

Well. As angelic as a woman hell-bent on proving to him two male members of his staff were in a secret … relationship.

"Look! I'm not seeing things!" Stella huffed, slapping the light brown, case folder in hand down on the table in her enthusiasm. "I mean, have you noticed how much Flack stares at him?"

Mac did some bemused staring of his own, blinking twice at her.

He liked Stella when she used to be more sane.

"It's true! Flack stares at Danny all the time!" She gesticulated passionately with her arms. "If he's not staring at the guy's face, he's either giving him a whole body look over, or he's staring at Danny's butt."

Mac's eyebrows shot high up on his forehead.

"Yes! His. Butt."

The corners of the ex-Marine's lips twitched visibly, but he said nothing. Wow, wait till Flack or Danny heard about this.

"Okay. Okay. We'll wait until they get here, and then, you can see for yourself." Stella half-sat on the edge of his table, folding her arms over her chest and gazing at him smugly. "You'll see. I know I'm right."

Mac finally grinned and shrugged his shoulders in a blasé manner. "Okay, Stella. Whatever you say."

His Greek partner's large eyes instantly narrowed in suspicion, one corner of her red lips upturned in a wry smile. "Hey. You're supposed to have some sarcastic comeback so I can go on with my theories on how I'm sure Flack and Danny are doing it and convince you."

"Which is why I'm not," Mac said, looking at the case folders in front of him on his desk and not at Stella. He'd gotten it drilled into his brain the first time Stella brought up the issue. Who would have figured she was capable of going on and on about Flack and Danny being an item for over three hours? And he wasn't that crazy to stare into those green eyes when Stella was on a mission. One sultry glance from those eyes was nearly sufficient to put him on his knees. And more.

Stella began to reply, then seemed to think better of it. Mac could sense she was dying to stick her tongue out at him. He kept his gaze on the top folder as he opened it up. Huh. One of his eyebrows lifted at the location of that particular murder, and it took all his willpower to not grin.

It was going to be an interesting day for a couple of his CSIs.

"Yes! There they are!"

He felt a soft poke on his upper arm.

"Mac! C'mon, look!"

Mac shot a pointed stare at Stella, who smiled too innocently at him. "If I do this, will you promise to never bug me about 'Flack and Danny doing it' ever again?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." Stella drew a quick cross with her right forefinger across the left side of her chest.

"Show me your other hand." The hazel-eyed CSI smirked.

Stella rolled her eyes, but she was also smirking while she moved her left arm and hand into view. "See? No crossed fingers."

His smirk broadened. "How do I know you didn't uncross your fingers before showing them to me?"

The Greek woman threw up her hands and let out an annoyed sound. "Mac! Just. Look!"

He chuckled quietly, face crinkled. Stella looked damn gorgeous when she was mad. He glanced through the glass walls at the two detectives striding down the hallway towards his office.

Flack and Danny were walking side by side, appearing like their usual neat and professional selves. The homicide detective had a dark grey jacket on, with a plain, white dress shirt and a red striped tie. His trousers were a similar shade of grey. Danny was wearing a short-sleeved black top with an unbuttoned Mandarin collar, and a pair of faded jeans with cuffs that almost dragged on the floor and partially covered his boots. Mac thought the whole outfit flattered the bespectacled man well.

It seemed Flack felt the same way too.

Mac angled his head to one side. No, Flack wasn't walking beside Danny, he was walking a step or two behind the man. And … no way. No way. Mac's eyes widened. The homicide detective couldn't be sneaking glances at Danny's butt.

Mac blinked many times. Naaah, he was simply imagining things, that's all. Stella's ideas were getting to his head.

Danny suddenly halted in his steps in the middle of the hallway, turning his head in Flack's direction and gazing sharply at the other man. Flack skidded to a stop too, returning the shorter detective's stare with equal fervor. They stood there, facing each other in silence as lab technicians in white coats sauntered past them. Except, from the tangible emotion in the two detectives' eyes, Mac could virtually tell a conversation of a thousand unsaid words was going on between them.

After a minute more of quiet staring, Flack said something, his handsome visage in a frown. Danny bit his lip, looked away for a moment, then replied. The CSI's shoulders were hunched, one hand rubbing distractedly along his other forearm. Whatever they were discussing, it was an issue that was making Danny behave as if he was guilty of something.

Danny's response caused the frown on Flack's mien to deepen. The homicide detective glanced away to one side, his face obscured from Mac's view for a moment. Flack's fisted hands were on his hips. It was a rare pose for the tall detective to strike, one that Mac had only beheld whenever Flack was under a lot of stress.

Then, Flack revolved his head to gaze Danny in the eye once more. And the evident distress on Flack's face was more than enough to make Mac's spine stiffen. What could possibly have brought such pain to the man?

Flack seemed to be pleading to Danny, his large hands waving about. The CSI merely stared at the other detective, blue eyes wide and poignant. When Danny remained silent, Flack took a step forward.

Mac unconsciously released a muted, inquisitive sound from between pursed lips as he continued to observe the two men's interactions.

Now, Flack was standing very near to the CSI, his face inches away from the shorter detective's.

The ex-Marine slowly drummed the tips of his fingers on the smooth surface of his desk. He knew Danny was hardly fond of people getting so physically close, especially as close as Flack was right now. Was his protégé going to react badly to this invasion of his personal space?

Mac held his breath.

He watched Danny's tongue flit out.

Flack stretched out one hand towards Danny's arm.

Danny's lips began to part.

And all of a sudden, the homicide detective leapt backwards in a panic, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets. Danny had also taken a step or two backwards, nervously rubbing at his forearms more than ever. The CSI's face was red. Interestingly, so was Flack's.

A corner of Mac's lips curled up.

Maybe … just maybe, Stella might have a point about the two detectives.

Flack's head whipped from side to side to check if anyone had seen what happened. Those blue eyes made contact with Mac's own hazel ones. For an split second, Mac saw alarm in Flack's wide eyes. Then it vanished, replaced with a shuttered expression.

Mac shifted his gaze onto Danny. Danny wasn't as skilled at concealing his emotions as Flack was, and Mac clearly perceived the terror in his protégé's eyes.

So. Was he going to insinuate in some way that he'd witnessed the unusually intimate behavior between the two detectives? Or was he going to pretend like he didn't see a thing for the sake of everyone's sanity?

Mac made his choice.

He picked up one of the case folders on his table, hoisted it up in the air and pointed at it impatiently.

Flack seemed to recompose himself rapidly, brushing at his suit jacket, acting cool. Danny was still casting worried glances in Mac's direction, although he appeared much more relieved. Mac struggled not to smirk. He privately wondered how the two younger men would react to finding out Stella believed they were having some secret love affair. Heh.

The glass door of his office opened.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Mac said as Danny and Flack entered the room. "Nice of you to finally join us."

"Sorry, Mac. Traffic jam," Flack replied. "Hey, Stell."

Danny said his own greetings to his fellow CSIs, going to stand next to the homicide detective in front of Mac's office desk. The blue-eyed CSI was behaving more hyperactive than normal. In fact, the younger detective could barely stay motionless for more than a few seconds. One moment he was scratching at his neck or arm. The next moment he was either frenetically beating fingers against his thighs or tapping a staccato with his boots on the floor.

As soon as Danny commenced a mini-concert of simultaneous drumming fingers and feet, Flack decided to put a stop to it with a stealthy kick to Danny's shin.

Which compelled Danny to gift Flack with a similarly surreptitious kick in the same portion of the homicide detective's leg.

Which, in turn, encouraged Flack to return said kick with a harder kick.

Which drove Danny to let loose another, even harder kick.

And Flack claimed victory for the round with a powerful stomp on Danny's foot.

The bespectacled CSI's surprised, mouse-like squeak resounded in Mac's office.

Mac's scrutinizing gaze flitted in suspicion from Danny's face to Flack's and back.

"Are you two done?"

Flack straightened up, cleared his throat and crossed his wrists in front of him. "Yes, sir."

Danny kept quiet, nibbling on his lower lip, looking everywhere aside from Mac.

The ex-Marine stared meaningfully at them, eyebrows high in curiosity.

"Is there something you'd like to tell us?"

Danny and Flack stared at him with dumbfounded expressions for a few moments, then stared at each other with wide eyes. Then they went back to staring at him.

Mac leaned forward, palms flat on the table. "Weeeeell?"

"Uhm …" Flack peered uncertainly at Danny from the corner of his eyes.

"Nah, everythin's fine." Danny shrugged.

The homicide detective got his cue and added, "Yeah, nothin's goin' on, Mac. Nothin' ta worry 'bout." He grinned. It looked more like a grimace.

Mac carried on casting upon them his patented I-do-not-accept-any-insolence-from-my-subordinates stare.

Flack cleared his throat a second time, tugging at his sleeve cuffs. Danny started scratching at his neck again, rocking on his heels. The CSI was sending Stella a furtive, beseeching look for help. Mac took a quick glance at her. She stood beside his office desk, facing towards the other two detectives, one hand cupped over her mouth. Even so, he could tell from the way her eyes were crinkled that she had a humongous smile on her beautiful face.

When she realized he was gazing at her, she took away her hand and gave him a self-satisfied look that said, "Seeee? I told you, didn't I?"

Mac was wise enough to not say anything. For now.

"Whatever's going on between you two, deal with it. As soon as possible." Mac sat down on his leather-bound chair behind his desk. "I will not have my detectives acting like three-year-old children."

Neither Flack or Danny said anything in response, but stood where they were quietly with their heads somewhat bowed. Danny had gone from scratching his heck to scratching the side of his head and rearranging his spectacles higher up his nose. Mac was aware as well that the younger CSI had a habit of doing this whenever the man felt sincerely contrite, and was fairly assuaged the two detectives were going to behave themselves. For now.

His office door opened once more.

"Lindsay, Hawkes," Mac addressed the two CSIs who'd come into his office. "Good of you to join us."

"Good morning," Hawkes answered, going to stand near Stella. The former ME was dressed in a round-collared, long-sleeved shirt and khaki trousers, and based on the guy's wide yawn, he probably hadn't slept in a while.

Lindsay also appeared like she hadn't snoozed in the last twenty-four hours either. However, she was prim and proper in a simple, v-necked top and dark green trousers. and she kept blinking as she stood next to Danny, sniffing once. Then she turned her head to gaze at Danny.

"Hey, Danny." She smiled.

"Hey, Linds."

Out of the blue, Mac heard a strange and low growling sound, like that of a ferocious tiger's.

Puzzled, he looked at each of the four detectives standing in front of his desk, starting with Hawkes from the right. The dark-skinned man was absent-mindedly rubbing at one of his eyes. Nope, it wasn't him. Mac looked at Lindsay next, who was sneaking quick looks at Danny. No, it wasn't coming from her either. He looked at Danny. No, it wasn't the bespectacled CSI, who stared at Flack with a slight frown from the corner of his eyes.

A very angry Flack who was giving Lindsay the ultimate evil eye. And he did look like a ferocious blue-eyed tiger.

Mac's eyebrows shot up his forehead again. They were getting a workout of a lifetime this morning.

"Flack."

The homicide detective kept on glowering at the newest addition to the team over Danny's head, eyes narrowed to slits and lips in a thin line. He didn't respond to Mac calling him. Did the man even hear him?

"Flack!"

Danny grabbed the opportunity to exact revenge by stamping hard on Flack's closest foot.

The taller man yelled at the abrupt pain of Danny's boot crushing his shoe and toes.

"OWWW!"

Mac thought that Flack hopping around like a rabbit on one foot was one of the funnier sights of the week. It certainly didn't help that everybody else in the room were trying hard not to crack up or were gawking at Flack attempting to retaliate with a similar action on Danny's feet. This was such bizarre behavior from the homicide detective that Mac was at a loss for words. On the outside, he was his regular stoic self. On the inside, he was extremely amused. He hadn't been this entertained in ages.

It took him a moment to speak seriously to the two troublemakers of the day.

"Would you both like a private room? I'd be more than happy to arrange for one with white, padded walls."

Flack was standing motionless once more, deliberately looking away from everyone and out the windows behind Mac. His face was flushed. He muttered under his breath, "I'd like it much better if it had a white, king-sized bed instead."

Flack's comment was uttered faint enough that only he and Danny caught it.

Danny elbowed Flack in the side, scowling at the taller man.

For probably the hundredth time that morning, one of Mac's eyebrows lifted in disbelief.

The hazel-eyed CSI steepled his fingers on his desk, patiently waiting until all his detectives had settled down. Stella had her arms crossed over her chest, her red lips twitching in amusement at Danny's and Flack's earlier antics. Hawkes had his hands in his trouser pockets, glancing once in a while at the other two male detectives with curious, brown eyes. Lindsay was looking at the open case folder on his desk, a sheepish smile on her features. Danny stood with his legs spread, arms crossed in front of him, brows furrowed in a deep frown. And Flack … Mac wasn't sure how to describe the weird expression on the lanky detective's visage.

He merely hoped Flack wasn't going to strangle Danny the second they got out of his office.

"Okay," Mac said in a voice that brooked no more disruptions. "Your cases."

He shut the folder he was reading before and handed it over to Danny.

"Danny, Lindsay, Flack, you'll be working on this one." He then motioned to the folder Stella had in hand before the other detectives came into his office. "Hawkes, you'll work with me and Stella on the Prospect Park case."

"So it's true?" Hawkes said. "You know … about D'Anda and Jones? And Ramos and Carter?"

"Yeah," Stella said, stifling a snicker.

Hawkes grimaced in sympathy.

"What 'bout them?" Danny asked. The folder he gripped with both hands was still closed.

"Believe me, you don't want to know," Stella replied with a smirk. "Let's just say, our fellow detectives won't be going back to Taco Bell for their spicy chicken burrito anytime soon."

Everyone except Mac grimaced and released a dismayed noise at the statement. He was too busy making an effort not to laugh at the other detectives' unanimous reaction.

"So we workin' on their cases now?"

"Yes, Danny, only temporarily until they get back from sick leave. Since our cases were wrapped up yesterday, I saw no reason not to help out." Mac leaned back in his chair, resting his forearms on the armrests. "We need to finish collecting forensic evidence from both crime scenes. Flack, there're still a few witnesses D'Anda hasn't interviewed. Their names and info are in the case file."

"No problem."

Flack angled his body towards the CSI, and Danny automatically opened up the folder in hand to scan over the case details.

Now, it was Danny's turn to yell.

Actually, it was more of a shrill shriek that caused everyone to revolve their heads to gape at the bespectacled, brown-haired man.

"Is there something wrong, Danny?" The corners of Mac's lips curled up.

"I … uh … Mac?" The younger CSI sputtered for a minute, his face tomato red. "Are ya - are ya sure the location of the crime scene is, ah, correct?"

Mac could see Danny forcing himself to calm down, even smiling nervously at him. Mac's lips twitched. Okay, seeing Danny flustered about this was much more entertaining than Flack bouncing like a wired bunny.

"Yes, it's correct."

Danny's lips moved, but there was no sound emitting from between them for a couple of moments. "But -but the crime scene is outside, right?"

"No, it's inside the store." The ex-Marine flashed a very uncommon, teasing grin. "In their dildo stock room."

The homicide detective standing next to the flabbergasted Danny suddenly went into a severe coughing and choking fit, bent forward while he slapped at his own chest to catch his breath. If Mac didn't know any better, it sounded like Flack was doing a terrible job of veiling his laughter under all that coughing.

Mac's answer prompted Danny to sputter even more, eyes wide in something akin to terror.

"Why, Danny, I didn't realize you had a phobia of … dildos." Mac was in a playful mood today. It wasn't everyday that he got a Flack on the verge of cracking up like a madman or a Danny looking like a teenager who'd been caught doing something very naughty.

"I …" Danny gulped.

Flack was standing upright again, taking deep breaths and smacking a fist against his sternum. The guy's mien was dark red from exertion, his pink lips pursed closed and downturned. Mac could literally see the muscles spasming in the lower half of Flack's face.

"Do you have a phobia of dildos as well, Flack?" Mac asked in an offhand manner.

Stella hid a snicker behind a tiny cough. Hawkes stared at Flack and Danny with an amused expression. Lindsay appeared to be utterly baffled by her co-workers' peculiar behavior.

"Nope." Flack sniffed, holding his head high. "I ain't threatened by them things … I'm a perfect nine, if ya know what I mean."

"Okaaay, too much information," Lindsay murmured. She seemed to be too embarrassed to look at the homicide detective.

"Don, please, do feel free to elaborate." Stella grinned, pearly teeth gleaming.

Flack grinned back and winked, face crinkled.

"Well, Danny, do you have a problem with working on this case?" Mac swiftly asked his protégé before things got out of hand in his office.

All eyes fell on the crimson-faced CSI.

Danny bit his lower lip.

A humorous, guffaw-like noise escaped Flack's clammed up mouth like the sound of air leaking out of a balloon.

Danny shot the taller man a deadly glare, then glanced at Mac with a determined look.

"No, I got no problem." The bespectacled man rocked calmly on his heels, lips puckered. Then he glowered at Flack once more, from the corners of his blue eyes.

Flack stood silently where he was, staring ahead at nothing in particular. There were still muscle tics here and there along the man's lower jaw.

"Good." Mac waved in the direction of the door. "Off you go."

Lindsay was the first to head for the open office door, glancing back at Mac with a tentative look. For a second, Mac pondered whether the newest member of his staff would feel uncomfortable being surrounded by tons of sex toys in one of New York city's largest sex shops. He shook off his doubts. Nah. There had to be sex shops like those in Montana too.

Danny and Flack went next, the shorter detective obviously swaggering for show and the homicide detective following a little too closely for Mac's liking. Or was it just Stella's outrageous notions planting things in his head again?

"I'm going to get my kit. Meet you in the car park?" Hawkes said.

Mac nodded.

"Okay." The former ME exited the office.

The hazel-eyed CSI got to his feet, putting on his jacket that he'd draped over the back of his chair. Stella watched him doing so with half-lidded eyes, a little smile on her fine-looking face.

"You. Are. Evil."

Mac grinned at her. "I learnt from the best, didn't I?"

She laughed, a rich, evocative sound.

"You saw it," Stella said.

"Saw what?"

Stella tsked. "Don't act coy with me! You know what I mean."

Mac held up his hands in a mollifying way. "All I saw was two men having a discussion in the hallway about something that was personal. That's all."

"Oh, c'mon, don't tell me you didn't notice Flack trying to kiss Danny!"

"Stella." Mac smoothened out his jacket sleeves and gazed at her with a reprimanding look. "You need help."

The Greek woman pouted, then said resolutely, "Okay. Tell you what. I bet you three hundred bucks Flack and Danny are doing it."

Mac choked on his breath and gaped at his CSI partner. "What!"

"Yeah, you heard me. Three hundred bucks." Stella folded her arms over her chest. Her full lips puckered. Mac had the opinion it was very sexy.

"You -"

"Three hundred bucks." Stella smiled wickedly. "If you win, you get the money and a dinner that's my treat. If I win, I get the money and you'll have to treat me to a nice dinner. How about that?"

Mac stared blankly at Stella.

Inside his chest, his heart was beating at an exceedingly accelerated pace. It was quite possible it was going to fly right out of his body anytime now.

He couldn't believe it.

He'd just been given the break of a lifetime.

Regardless of whether he'd win or lose the bet itself … he was going to be a winner either way.

There really was only one answer to the issued challenge.

Mac's solemn face broke into a vast smile.

"You're on."

***

vii. Aibha

The gigantic, vibrating dildo in Flack's hands was whirring noisily in tandem with the homicide detective's role-playing frolics.

"Bzzzzt! Bzzzzzztttt!"

Flack hopped across the room, swinging his arms around as if he was fighting with an invisible opponent, using the sex gadget as an imaginary light saber.

"Wwzzzzzzttttt! BZZZTTT!"

The lanky detective landed with a thump before Danny, pointing the buzzing dildo straight at the spot between Danny's narrowed eyes, inches away from the CSI's frowning visage.

"Danny." Flack enveloped his nose and mouth with one hand, making funny breathing sounds. "I … am your master." He then thrust his hand towards Danny, took a deep breath and continued talking in that weird and deep, wheezing voice.

"Join me and my dildo, and we shall rule the universe … togetheeeer."

Danny glowered at the other man from where he was kneeling on the floor, sealing up evidence bags to be placed into his kit. Damnit, Flack was acting like a hyper, manic two-year-old who had too much sugar in a go. And why did he have to mess around with the most ridiculous looking dildo of all!

"Don't ya have somethin' better to do than play with friggin' dildos?" Danny ground out between gritted teeth.

The bastard. Flack knew how difficult it was for him to just work in that room, surrounded by millions of dildos and sex toys. The jerk was fucking around with him. And not in the way he really wanted the guy to either.

"Nope. Already interviewed everybody." Flack shook the vibrating sex toy like a ragdoll, pouting. "Aww, c'mon, Danny, you be Luke Skywalker and I'm Darth Vader. C'mon, you're supposed to do the screaming thing now. Like this!"

Flack stuck the enormous, pulsating dildo between his legs and slapped both hands dramatically onto his cheeks.

"NoooooooooooOOOOOOOOO!"

The sight of the tall homicide detective standing right in front of him with a giant, vibrating dildo sticking out from between the thighs was too much for Danny. He bowed his head into his upturned palms, hiding his face in mortification. Oh shit, he was going to have the image of Flack with a gargantuan, neon-green dick in multi-colored polka dots in his mind for a looooong time.

A gargantuan, neon-green dick in multi-colored polka dots that throbbed like it was dancing to that Macarena song.

Danny shook his head. That was not a pretty vision.

"C'mon, Danny, you're supposed to go, 'Nooooo, you're not my fatheeeeeer!'"

Thank God they were inside a room instead of being outside where everybody could have watched Flack embarrass the hell out of himself.

Danny felt the plastic head of the dildo poking him in the shoulder. Boy, that thing could shake.

"C'moooooon, Danny, do it."

The fact that Lindsay was just a few feet away from him and laughing her head off at Flack's antics was not helping. At all.

"Flack, you were telling the truth when you said you weren't phobic to dildos," Lindsay said between amused chortles.

"Damn straight, Monroe. I loooooooooove dildos!" The tall man had the damn thing in his grasp again, flailing it around like an utter nutball and making those silly light saber sound effects.

Flack's ardent declaration jumpstarted Lindsay into another fit of laughter.

Danny pinched at his temple with his thumb and forefinger, resisting the urge to groan. Or pounce Flack where the man was and - He sighed audibly. Watching his lover fooling around with the stupid object was giving him a headache.

Not to mention a hard-on that was well obscured by his jacket.

Being surrounded by so many dildos had given him a semi-erection from the moment he stepped into the sex store's stock room. It was bad enough that the store was one of the largest and most infamous sex shops in the city. But, noooooo, they just had to restock all their dildo supplies this very day. Along with new batteries. For every single product.

Flack had snickered like crazy when he practically ran like a bat out of hell from the store's entrance to their dildo stock room where the murder had taken place yesterday. Lindsay, on the other hand, was too busy gaping at most of the items and paraphernalia on display. She probably thought he rushed like that because he was discomfited to be seen there, although he was there on official business. She looked somewhat self-conscious herself, going particularly red at an exhibit of two male mannequins dressed in some very scanty leather bondage costumes.

Danny didn't blame her for her reaction.

After all, he'd responded in pretty much the same way the first time he visited the shop, merely a week after he and Flack became a lot more than just friends.

This was the store where Danny had gotten nearly all his dildos in his present collection. The shop assistants knew him by his first name, knew most of his sexual kinks and, eventually, knew he had a secret boyfriend. Heck, they even knew the exact dildo lengths he enjoyed most and how hard or soft he liked the phallic objects to be.

The good thing was, only the night shift assistants knew him.

Now that was something else to be thankful to God about.

"Do ya love me, Bob? I love you."

Danny wrinkled his nose at Flack now playing with two more regular-sized dildos, making them talk to each other. However, one of them was a normal, pale orange color, while the other was bright blue and semi-transparent. And apparently, the bright blue one was called Bob.

"I do, Mary Jane, I really do. But we come from such different worlds, you and I. Things could never work out between us."

Flack rubbed the two dildos against each other, making kissy noises.

Danny rolled his eyes.

Lindsay giggled, her face red from laughing so much.

"Okay … okay." She struggled to her feet, plucking up her kit and a large brown paper bag that carried a black, strapped-on dildo and harness with blood spatter on it.

Danny wondered silently whether she had any fun dusting it for prints.

"I'm going to bring this stuff out." She suddenly looked thoughtfully at Flack, her eyes narrowed but a tiny smile curving up her lips.

"Danny … you'll be alright on your own?" Lindsay said in a good-humored manner. "I'm not going to have to pick up a giant dildo and fight Darth Flacker here, am I?"

"Darth Flacker." Flack made a comical face of contemplation. "I like that."

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Danny smirked snidely at the other man, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can take Dumb Flacker here with one arm tied 'hind my back any time."

Lindsay laughed under her breath, shaking her head in amusement. "Okay then, I'm going." She headed for the stock room's door, then stopped next to Flack.

"You behave yourself." The CSI from Montana smiled mischievously at the homicide detective.

"What are ya on 'bout? I'm always on my best behavior." Flack stuck his lower lip out and brushed at his jacket, putting on an innocent air.

Lindsay glanced back at Danny, smiling at him too.

"Go on," Danny said, waving her off. "I'll be fine. Promise I won't hurt him too bad."

The two men stared silently at each other long after Lindsay left the room, Danny still kneeling on the floor and Flack standing a few feet away, his back facing the half-open door.

With Lindsay gone, Danny felt the tension between them go sky-high.

Goosebumps came out all over his body. Flack was staring at him as if he was going to be the taller man's first meal in a whole century. He shuddered once. Then, Danny's hands turned into fists on his lap. No, he couldn't cave in now.

"Ya know. I'm thinkin' reaaaal hard 'bout turnin' this place into a scene for a second murder," Danny said with narrowed, blazing eyes.

Flack didn't reply. Instead, he took a couple of languid steps backwards, stretching out an arm behind him to shut the stock room door.

"S'funny, Messer. I was thinkin' 'xactly the same thing."

Danny curled his fingers into the hem of his jacket.

The homicide detective's large hand wrapped itself around the knob. "But maybe the kinda death I got planned for you is different from what you're thinkin' for me."

The click of the door lock being pressed down was deafening.

Danny gasped. His blue eyes widened.

"The challenge's still on, Don." For some reason, Danny couldn't speak above a whisper.

Flack leaned against the door, running the tip of his tongue across his lower lip. He had that look on his handsome face, that wicked, undeniable look Danny knew so well.

Danny gulped. Fuck, he was in trouble.

"I know. I haven't forgotten." Flack lifted one of his hands ands gazed casually at his nails, mien deceptively blank. "Kinda hard to forget when ya wake up in the mornin' … and find yerself alone."

Danny closed his eyes, turning his head away. He had no snappy comeback to that. He knew precisely how Flack must have felt this morning.

"See, thing is … In a way, I'm sorta glad ya brought up this challenge," Flack said in a low, sensuous tone. He sauntered towards one of the shelves, reaching for one of the dildos he'd been playing with minutes ago.

"Couldn't touch myself, couldn't watch porn … not that I ever watch it anymore since I've been with you. Couldn't rub myself 'gainst anythin'. It drove me crazy all day yesterday." The taller man had the pale orange dildo in hand now, stroking it slowly. "But then, after I called ya and left ya that voice mail … that was when I learnt just how powerful a man's imagination can be, Danny."

Danny licked his lips, mesmerized by Flack's voice and words. His legs had parted slightly. His jeans felt so tight around his groin. He stared at Flack's fingers fondling the sex toy.

"Do ya think 'bout us, Danny?" Flack rubbed the pad of his thumb against the head of the dildo. The man's blue eyes gleamed brightly under the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. "Do ya imagine us, tangled up in that red blanket you love … slidin' 'gainst each other, slick with sweat and saliva … you moanin' in my ear, while I'm deep inside ya?"

The CSI sucked in a harsh breath, winding his fingers into his spiky, brown hair. He scrunched his eyes shut. It didn't work at all in removing the imagery Flack delivered with his seductive words. Danny suddenly yearned to yank down the zip of his jeans and push his hands inside -

"I think 'bout it all the time."

Danny sensed the other man kneeling in front of him. A soft stroke to his face. He brought his hands down to his sides, opening his eyes until they were half-lidded. All Flack did was gently hold his lower jaw with his fingers, and yet, Danny could feel his lover's touch everywhere.

"I think 'bout … your eyes, the way they change with your moods. How they can burn like blue flames one instant, and become cool as ice in the next. I think 'bout your mouth … how it stops my world with just a single kiss. A single smile."

Flack inhaled deeply, then exhaled equally so, and gradually.

"I think 'bout … your arms and legs, strong as mine, twining with mine as we move together, wrapped around me … your hands, your agile hands, running through my hair, over my face, my chest … my body." The homicide detective rubbed a thumb over the trimmed bristle on Danny's chin. "I think 'bout your body … how it fits so well with mine, how it twists and arches so gracefully with every caress. How it speaks to me without the need for any words."

Danny swallowed visibly. His breaths were uneven, coming out from between his parted lips in shaky gasps.

"I think 'bout your voice … the way it soothes me when it feels like there's nothin' good left in the world. I think 'bout your laugh, knowin' how it never fails to make me laugh too … I think 'bout … your face. And I'll remember - I'll remember that there really are great wonders left in the world."

His lover's sapphire gaze was so fiery. Filled with something that made Danny's heart palpitate uncontrollably.

"I think … about you," Flack murmured quietly, trailing off into an easy silence. The homicide detective smiled at him, a closed-lip, tender smile that shone like the stars gifted to the endless night sky.

It was funny. Even with his eyesight blurred so, Danny could still see how it seemed like the sun rose in Flack's eyes. He never realized what beautiful eyes the taller man had, especially when they were overflowing with that emotion he didn't dare name.

"Don …"

Flack was tilting forward, shifting his face closer and closer to his. Flack was going to kiss him, he knew it. Danny wanted him to, challenge be damned.

The CSI automatically slanted his head to the right, anticipating the familiar suppleness of the other man's lips on his own.

He felt Flack's exhalation brush his lips.

His eyes began to flicker close.

And an unexpected banging on the locked stock room door startled them both.

"Hey, you guys okay in there?"

Flack fell back into a cross-legged, sitting position on the floor, cursing glibly under his breath. He was shielding his face with cupped hands. No doubt the guy had a fierce, angry scowl behind them. The pale orange dildo rolled on the floor next to him.

Danny ran a wobbly hand through his disheveled hair, enfolding his other arm over his abdomen in a defensive manner. Bizarre that he felt like he was completely stripped and exposed, eventhough he was fully clothed and alone with the man who'd seen him naked countless times. Maybe being surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of dildos in a sex shop's stock room had something to do it. That, and the cop on the other side of the door who was beginning to sound concerned.

"Hello?"

Flack chose to speak up first.

"Yeah, we're okay. CSI's just packin' up." The taller detective huffed, then added, "We'll be out in a sec."

"Okay. Just checkin'."

Retreating footsteps indicated that he and Flack were alone once more.

Now there was a different kind of tension in the room. The awkward kind that only popped up between them after the one week celibacy challenge was initiated.

Danny scratched nervously at his neck.

Flack was staring at him again.

Danny quickly went to bundling up all the evidence he'd collected that morning, chucking them into his kit in a way that was probably too rough. He nibbled on his lower lip as he did so, avoiding eye contact with the other man.

Shitshitshit, that was too close. Way too close.

He slammed the silver and white container shut, and locked it. Danny stared downwards at his hands. His hands were quivering.

Flack was still staring at him.

Okay, deep breath, Messer, Danny thought to himself. Don't. Cave. In.

"Dan -"

Danny swiftly got to his feet, evading Flack's grab for his arm. Flack scrambled to his feet as well, attempting a second time to hold Danny with his hands.

"No, Don, just … no."

He couldn't bear to look Flack in the eye. He was dead certain he'd crumble under that gorgeous, blue stare. He raced for the door, opening it so violently it banged against the wall. He ran out, down the corridor, not waiting to see if Flack followed him or not.

Danny only slowed down when he came into the front and main section of the store, forcing himself to relax and slow his breathing. People would definitely get curious if he walked out of the place looking like he was all flushed and horny. Geez, at least his hard-on was gone.

The bespectacled CSI groaned faintly, pinching at his forehead again. The last thing he needed was for the news to spread that he and Flack might have been doing a lot more than plain investigating in the stock room.

Which would be bad. Because it was true.

Danny consciously hunched his shoulders inside his jacket, keeping his head dipped and eyes on the floor. Fuck, he was striding through the accessories aisle that displayed the handcuffs and leather ropes and ties and spanking paddles.

His favorite aisle of all.

He sped up his steps, covering his lower face with a hand. Okay, just ignore the customers, don't worry about the other cops and just keep walking -

"Daaaaaaanny?"

Danny skidded to a halt, next to the cashier that was situated near the front entrance of the store. Also the area where most of the other occupants of the shop were right at that very minute.

He bit his lip hard, a terrified expression on his face.

Oh. Fuck.

It was her.

"Daaaaaaaanny? Oh my Gooooooood, it's you! Hiiiiiii!"

The CSI's face crumpled in a near hilarious way, lips downturned in an upside down 'U' shape. He let out a single sob. Oh shit, it was Alyssa. One of the friendliest night shift store assistants.

Who happened to have the loudest, most piercing voice of them all.

"Woooow! I didn't expect to see you here at this time!"

Danny pasted on a parody of a smile on his lips and turned to face Alyssa at the cashier. He had to confess that she appeared different during the daytime. For one thing, she wasn't dressed in total black like she usually was. However, she had her customary tri-hawk haircut, and still had enough steel on her face and ears to set off a metal detector.

"Hi, uh, Alyssa? Listen -"

"Ohhh, I knoooow, I work the night shift, but today, I traded places with Mimi. You remember Mimi, riiiiiiight? She was asking about you the other day, you knoooow."

"Alyssa -" Danny went up to the cashier, making subtle chopping motions with his hand at his neck. "Alyssa, listen -"

Oh God, the other police officers were staring at him now -

Alyssa's brown eyes suddenly widened in recollection. She snapped her fingers, jumping up and down a few times. "OOOOHHHHH! That reminds me!"

Danny gave up on being subtle and went all out blatant in trying to quieten the perky shop assistant. He attempted to seize her wrists to hold her down and calm her. "ALYSSA! Please -"

"That's RIGHT! Your Aneros Prostate Massager is HEEEEEEEEEREEEE!"

Everyone in the store rotated their heads in unison to stare at Danny and the cashier girl.

"Ooooooohhhh, you'll love it, Danny! It's wonderful! It's shaped juuuuuust the way you like them! And it's fantastic for men who have sensitive prostates, so it's PERFECT for you!"

Danny sensed every eye on him, boring into him with either amusement, horror, disgust or all three. It was horrible. He wished like hell for the earth to swallow him whole right now.

"Hold on, I'll show it to you!" Alyssa disappeared behind the counter, delving around for the packaged device.

Somebody was standing beside him now.

Danny glanced sideways from the corners of his eyes.

Oh, great. It was Flack.

Who looked like he was suffering from muscle spasms all over his lower face.

"TA-DAAH!" Alyssa had a black, smooth dildo-like apparatus in her hand. "Watch this!"

She pressed a button, and it began to vibrate at an impressive speed. The buzzing noise was the only sound in the entire shop for a couple of minutes.

Danny didn't dare to look away from the pulsating dildo thing. He wanted to cry.

Alyssa switched off the device, placing it on the counter.

She was gazing at him with a bemused expression. "Daaaaaaanny? Are you okay?"

When Danny didn't reply, she glanced at Flack's face. Then down at his belt. Where his police badge was.

She stared at it for some time, then looked back at Danny. Pursing her black-glossed lips, she tentatively leaned forward over the counter to see the CSI kit Danny was carrying. She stared at that for some time too. Then, she sat back, drumming her fingers on the glass counter.

Alyssa looked at Danny. Looked at Flack. Then back at Danny once more.

And then she got it.

"Oh." Her mouth transformed into an 'O' shape of understanding. "Ooohhhhh. You're working right now. On the, uh, murder scene, right? The cops said they were going to send somebody over today to do some stuff in the stock room or something …" She chuckled timidly. "Oops." She shrugged, grimacing widely. "Sorry."

The silence in the store was earsplitting. At least, to Danny it was. He especially felt the gawking stares of the other two police officers who were there to watch the place along with Flack.

Both Flack and Danny stared vacantly at the punky shop assistant. After a while, the taller man turned in near slow-motion to Danny and said, "Excuse me. I have to go outside."

The homicide detective strolled in a composed fashion towards the entrance doors of the store, through them and turned left, out of sight.

A moment later, the hysterical sounds of someone laughing like a lunatic floated in from outside.

"AAAAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAH!"

Some whacking sounds, as if somebody was kicking at the wall in fits.

More boisterous laughter.

A heavy thud, like somebody toppling to the floor. Even more rabid laughing.

Inside the store, Danny slowly inclined forward until he was face down on the cashier counter, his forehead touching the glass. His spectacles dug painfully into his face, but he could care less.

Great. Just great. By the end of the day, the whole NYPD and possibly the whole damn world was going to know he liked sticking penis-shaped objects up his ass to massage his sensitive prostate.

Wonderful.

Fantastic.

Danny groaned in misery, squeezing his eyes shut.

Why hadn't the earth gulped him down yet?

"Oh. My God … Flack! What are you doing rolling on the ground like that!"

Danny feverishly hoped Lindsay would kick the asshole in the balls real hard.

"Uhmm. Uh …" Alyssa was drumming her fingers near his head. "You can take the massager home today … if, uh, if you like."

With his face still stuck on the glass of the counter, Danny shook his head minutely.

"Well, uh, okay … we'll send it to your apartment instead! How about that?"

Danny felt like laughing his head off and bawling his eyes out at the same time.

Alyssa hesitantly patted him on the back of his head. It didn't help make him feel better.

The bell at the shop's front door rang.

Again, the CSI felt somebody's presence next to him.

"Uhm … Danny? I don't know how to tell you this … but I think Flack's lost his mind," Lindsay said anxiously.

When Danny didn't say anything in return, Lindsay said to Alyssa, "What happened to him?"

"Ooohhh, see, just now I recognized him and said HI! And then he came up and said hi to me too and after that, I suddenly remembered that he ordered a special Aneros Prostate Massager and it just arrived TODAY! And then I took it out and showed it to him." The cashier girl's voice dropped to a low whisper. "I think he liked it a lot."

Danny let out a sad, keening sound. No, scratch that, he didn't want the earth to consume him. He wanted to die.

For a minute or so, Lindsay was quiet. Danny could tell his peer was at a loss for words.

"Uhm. Well." Lindsay patted him on the back of his head like Alyssa did. "You know … there's nothing wrong with owning a dildo. I've got one. It's a two-headed, purple one that vibrates on three different speeds."

"Oooh! Niiiice one! I think that's one of our more popular products, you know!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Danny bought one too!"

Danny began to wail.

He was never, ever going to show his face in this sex shop ever again.

"No, wait. I think he got the one with turbo speed instead."

EVER.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Don't. Touch. Me."

Flack veered backwards, hands up in a pacifying manner.

"Okay, okay, whatever ya want, Danny." Flack replaced his hands on the steering wheel, staring ahead as he waited for the green light to come around on the traffic signal post.

Two minutes passed.

Flack whistled a random tune, his pink lips puckered. Good thing Monroe had gotten her own ride to the crime scene. He had a feeling things were going to go real bad in his car pretty soon, the way Danny was looking like a pissed off Doberman dog itching for a meal of barbequed Flack.

He ground his teeth together, gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles went white.

No, no, he had to keep it in or -

"Soooooo. Prostate massager, eh?"

Flack, his brain muttered, you idiot.

The homicide detective swiveled his head to look at Danny.

Uh oh. Danny was giving him the lethal glare of doom and destruction.

The really lethal one.

"Yes. Asshole."

Oh man, Danny was talking through his teeth. A very bad sign.

Flack's leg twitched fiercely. Ahh, NO, don't fall for the bait -

"Yeah, I'm kinda assumin' that's where the thing's supposed to go, ya know?"

The taller man bit his lip hard. He didn't have the guts to look at his lover. Ohh, he was in deep shit, for sure.

Danny didn't make a sound.

The traffic light turned green.

And the redfaced CSI took the chance to wrap his hands around Flack's neck to throttle the daylights out of him.

"WaahhAACCKK -"

Flack started to suffocate, tongue sticking out of his open mouth, visage turning purple from lack of air.

"You … friggin' … ass … frea-" Danny's hands became tighter, cutting off his air supply.

Flack yanked at the hands enclosed tautly around his neck, smacking wildly at Danny with his other hand and making gasping noises. Holy cow, Danny was so pissed off the guy was yammering in tongues now.

Flack succeeded in wrenching one hand away.

The cars behind his were honking their horns noisily.

The homicide detective slammed down his foot on the accelerator.

The speeding up caused Danny to fall back into his seat, snared in his fastened seat belt. Flack coughed, blinking away the tears in his eyes, clenching hard on the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car around a bend.

Okay, that's it, he was gonna freaking park and they were gonna freaking talk this out -

His vehicle glided head on into the first empty parking space he found, screeching to an abrupt halt on the side of the road.

Flack cleared his throat, coughed some more, then exclaimed, "What the hell, Danny! Are ya tryin' ta kill me!"

Danny's upset, wide-eyed glare said everything.

"Shit." Flack rubbed at his sore neck, grimacing. Damn, Danny could get tough when he wanted to.

After a few moments, Flack looked back at the other man. The CSI was sitting with his arms crossed in front of him, staring ahead with a squinty, livid scowl on his attractive features. The man was breathing roughly.

Why did Danny have to look so stunning in the midday sunshine like that?

"Danny, look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to laugh so much back at the store. It just … it was just -" He had to bite his lip in order to not break into a guffaw. Man, would it be bad if he laughed at this point. "I couldn't help it, okay? The look on that cashier girl's face was priceless -"

Flack made an attempt to clasp Danny's shoulder.

It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did when the shorter man forcefully jerked away from his touch and deliberately turned away, ignoring him.

The homicide detective huffed heatedly. Fuck it, it wasn't his fault things were the way they were.

"Ya know … none of this woulda happened if you'd just get rid of that stupid challenge. We would have had a heck lotta fun in that room -"

Danny aimed another irate glare at him. "Yeah, that figures, somebody got killed in there and all ya can think 'bout is sex."

"C'mon, Danny! I wasn't the only one and ya know it!" Flack twisted in his seat to face his lover, glowering himself. "I know you. Remember? I know you."

"Oh, yeahyeah, I guess that's what all that sweet talk bullshit was 'bout, huh? Said all that just to get to m-"

Flack suddenly saw only red.

"That was not bullshit."

Danny faltered into silence, staring at him with wide, apprehensive eyes.

"That was not bullshit." Flack's lips became a thin, angry line. "I did not say all that just to get to you. I did not say all that because all I wanted was friggin' sex."

He pointed one forefinger at himself, poking his own chest, right above the heart. "I said all that because I meant it. I meant every fuckin' word. 'Cos I was pourin' my heart out, Danny."

Flack took a deep breath, then sat back into his seat, gazing out the front windshield. The damn sunlight was making his eyes sting. Yeah, that was it.

This time, Danny was doing all the staring.

"Ya know somethin' else?" Flack licked at his dry lips, continuing to stare outside. "I'm the only one between the two a' us who talks. I mean, really talk. We've been together for over a year now … and in all that time, I was always the last person to find out 'bout your past. Had to learn it from Mac, of all people. S'funny, that." He released a mirthless chuckle.

"If we never worked on the Tanglewood case … would you have told me, Danny?" Flack finally revolved his head to gaze at the other man. "Would ya?"

Danny's blue eyes glistened. The CSI's lower lip trembled for an instant. Then he looked down at his hands, a sad downturn to his lips.

"Some things in my past … I wish I could erase forever."

Flack studied the golden shine of Danny's hair in the sunlight. He waited for a minute before responding.

"Is that a yes, or a no?"

Danny lifted his head. His eyes now seemed old and resigned. "You're blue blood, Don. From a line of New York's finest, and in all senses of the word too. As for me … I'm the guy your dad probably warned ya 'bout." He smiled joylessly. "The little rat from the streets, who hung out with all the wrong people. The one who's beneath ya." Danny bowed his head again.

Flack ruminated over what Danny had imparted to him, studying what he could see of Danny's mien. What the fuck? Danny didn't really believe that, did he?

"S'good thing I don't friggin' listen to my old man then, isn't it?"

The CSI glanced up at that, the cheerless smile on his face transforming into a surprised but pleased one. Flack stared avidly at Danny's visage, refreshing his memories of his lover's face and smile. Damn. It was a beautiful sight.

Flack smiled fondly in return. "What? Ya think I give a shit what other people think? If that was true … I wouldn't be here with you, Danny."

The smile on Danny's face grew wider, his pearly teeth showing through. He ducked his head, abruptly appearing shy.

Flack sighed inwardly in vast relief. Okay, things didn't end up as bad as he expected. Which was really good. Sad Danny made him more distraught than furious Danny.

"I understand if you're reluctant to tell me 'bout Tanglewood and all that. But I want ya to know that I won't judge you on that. I never did, and I never will." The homicide detective decided to unfasten his seatbelt so he could sit more comfortably. "With all the nasty crap we see on our jobs … I know what true evil is." He smirked. "And you? Man, Messer, I can still see yer halo dangling above yer head there."

Danny cackled. "Flattery ain't gonna get ya anywhere, Don."

Flack shifted in his seat, closer to Danny. One of his knees touched the shorter detective's. "Don't wanna be anywhere else. Haven't ya figured that out by now?"

Danny gently nudged Flack's knee.

It was the first voluntary and demonstrative physical action Flack received from Danny since the whole celibacy farce started.

Flack grinned. Damn, he felt like he was fourteen years old again and heads over heels in love with somebody. The only difference now was, he wasn't fourteen years old anymore. He glanced at the other detective, whose eyes were trained on the spot where their knees were touching. Danny's face was red. The homicide detective's gaze then fell on Danny's hand, which was on the man's thigh and close to their knees.

Huh. The rules of the game never said anything about touching each other in a non-sexual method. Flack puckered his lips in deliberation. Should he risk it?

Flack cautiously stretched out his hand towards Danny's.

He rested it on top of the CSI's, leaving it there for a couple of seconds before intertwining his fingers with the other man's. Flack squeezed Danny's hand once. It was nice. Just holding hands like this. He had no idea why they didn't do more often.

"Ya gotta talk to me, buddy," Flack said placidly, stroking Danny's fingers. "Sometimes … sometimes, I feel like I dunno anythin' 'bout ya 'cos ya never tell me things. I'm not a mind reader. As much as I'd like to tell ya I'll automatically know what ya want and what you're thinkin', I don't." He paused. "S'why I enjoy makin' love with ya so much. All yer masks disappear when we do. I get to see to real you."

Danny was quiet. Flack wasn't worried. He knew the other man had listened to every word.

"And … well. I'm happy when you talk to me 'bout yourself. 'Cos it shows ya trust me," Flack finished off.

Two minutes passed in calm hush. They sat where they were, their hands molded together on Danny's thigh, breathing in synchronization. Flack could virtually hear the bespectacled man thinking. If what he said today got through that thick skull, Flack was a happy man. It wasn't everyday that he succeeded in astonishing his lover into silence either.

Flack gave Danny's hand one last squeeze, then released it and set the gear back to drive mode.

"I won't ask ya to take back the challenge anymore."

Danny looked sharply at him.

"I won't, 'cos, as I said before, I know you're doin' it for a reason," Flack added. He guided the car onto the road, resuming their journey to CSI headquarters. "And I know you'll tell me why when it's all over. If I make it till the end of the week, anyway."

That got Danny to snigger.

"Don."

"Hmm?" Flack gazed at Danny when they halted at another traffic stop.

The shorter man's blue eyes were almost transparent in the bright sunlight.

"To answer yer question … I do think 'bout us. I think 'bout us a lot." Danny cast a coy smile at him. "I think 'bout you, just as much. Every day and night."

Something similar to a hot supernova burst inside Flack's chest.

"I'm not the king of prose like you … dunno how to say everythin' else without soundin' like some corny romance novel." Danny huffed out an embarrassed laugh, gazing down at his shoes. Then he looked up once more, obviously desiring to see Flack's reaction.

The homicide detective smiled tenderly.

"You don't hafta be. You always did move my earth with the smallest of things, Danny."

That evening in his own apartment, after a day of watching Danny at the labs and paper work at his precinct, Flack went up to his calendar with a black pen in hand.

And marked that day, as the day he moved Danny's earth with the truth from the depths of his heart.

***

Next part of story - One Week.

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