Title: Ace High
Author: Jackie
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not my characters, I'm only playing with them.
Summary: Games can be fun, especially when Greg is involved.
Dedication: Written for [info]carolinecrane's birthday. Much Belated at this point, but I blame that on the fact I was sick for awhile. Enjoy.


“Full house. Jacks over sixes,” Greg called, flopping his cards face-up in the center of the table.

“We’re not inviting him next time,” Warrick groaned, tossing his cards away.

Catherine looked at him, a smile tilting the corners of her mouth. “Well, I guess that’s it,” she said, turning to face Greg. “I think you’ve taken everyone’s money now.”

Nick had been out of the game for over an hour now; he’d sat back on the couch, across from the card table, scowling as he sipped what had become a warm beer. “Finally,” he grumbled, trying to suppress a smile as he watched Greg gleefully scooping his winnings into his backpack. Nick stood, crossing to the kitchen and dumping the remainder of the beer down the drain. He set the empty bottle on the counter with the others and returned to Warrick’s living room. “Are you ready now, Sanders?”

Greg turned at the sound of his name as he dropped the last few coins into the bag. “Sure, sure,” he replied, a grin stretched ear-to-ear across his face.

Nick grimaced at Greg in response, before turning to Warrick to say his goodbyes.

Both men bid farewell to their colleagues and Warrick walked them to the door. “Sorry, Nicky,” Warrick clapped him on the back. “If I had known Sanders spent way too much time watching the World Poker Championships, I never would have invited him.”

“I don’t watch that,” Greg balked. “I’m a Celebrity Poker Showdown kind of guy,” he smirked.

“I should have known,” Warrick muttered. “And he probably just watches it for the pretty girls too,” he added with a short laugh.

“You know me too well,” Greg answered with a quick sidelong glance in Nick’s direction.

Nick could barely keep from laughing as he rolled his eyes. “Let’s go,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Okay,” Greg conceded. He shook Warrick’s hand. “Thanks for inviting me, and may I say, it was an honor and a privilege to take your money.”

“Get out of here,” Warrick moaned, letting go of Greg’s hand and prodding him on the shoulder until finally the other man shuffled out of the doorway.

Following Nick down the walkway, Greg called over his shoulder. “Same time next week? Right?” he asked, smiling.

“Ugh,” Warrick growled in response, waving dismissively as he pulled the door closed.

Greg laughed at the reaction to his question, trying to jog a few steps to catch up with Nick while balancing his winnings on his shoulder. “Damn,” he exclaimed, his panting emphasizing the word. “All this change is really heavy,” he complained, looking at Nick with wide eyes.

Nick looked over, shaking his head. “Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbled. “You took my money, you carry it.”

“Fine,” Greg harrumphed, yanking the strap of his bag back up onto his shoulder. He attempted to walk away from Nick with some semblance of dignity, but struggling with the heavy backpack wasn’t making it easy.

Nick watched him walk away, smiling as Greg continued his fight with the unwieldy bag. Again, the strap slid off Greg’s shoulder and Nick could hear him mumbling curses under his breath. Chuckling, he walked up beside him. “Bet I can beat you to the parking lot,” Nick challenged. “Ready, go…” he added, cheerfully jogging past Greg and down the stairs.

“Grrr…” Greg snarled, fumbling with the bag as he fought to catch up with Nick.

Out of breath, Greg stopped in front of Nick. The other man stood there, a satisfied smirk on his face. Unceremoniously, Greg dropped the bag on the ground beside him with a resounding thud. “That wasn’t fair,” Greg pouted.

“You deserved it, Greggo. Taking everyone’s money…taking my money…and gloating like that.”

“I can’t help it if I’m a better poker player than you are,” Greg teased, sidling up to Nick brazenly.

“Yeah, well, we’ll just see about that the next time,” Nick promised, turning to unlock the door of the truck. Greg was pressed up against him and he could feel the heat across his back. “Not here,” he murmured, stepping away from Greg’s warmth as he frantically scanned the parking lot to make sure they hadn’t had an audience. Nick exhaled with relief when he had reassured himself that no one was spying on them.

Greg almost laughed at Nick’s obvious worry, but he stopped himself. Nick was already in a mood and Greg wasn’t about to make it worse. Although he couldn’t help himself when he whispered, “Mr. Bond, I don’t think we were followed.”

“Get in the car,” Nick barked, glowering at Greg’s amused expression as he opened the door.

***

The trip to Nick’s apartment was quiet except for the sound of the announcers dry voice on the local news radio station. Every once in awhile, Greg looked over at Nick’s profile as the other man concentrated on driving through the neon-lit streets of Vegas. He knew that he had aggravated Nick with his antics as they were leaving, but he was sure there was something he could do to make up for it. Sliding the book bag onto the floor at his feet, Greg dropped his hand on Nick’s denim-clad thigh.

“What are you doing?” Nick asked, surprised.

“Nothing,” Greg answered, smiling innocently.

“Right,” Nick said, sarcasm dripping from the syllable. However, he made no effort to remove Greg’s hand from its place on his leg.

Boldly, Greg began to trace intricate patterns across Nick’s thigh. He smiled as his hand grazed across the other man’s crotch; Nick inhaled sharply. “I was thinking…” Greg began.

“We’re in trouble now,” Nick muttered, trying to focus on his driving as Greg’s fingers continued their subtle exploration.

“Shut up,” he answered. “Now, as I was saying, I was thinking that I might know a way for us to find out who’s really the better poker player.”

“Really?” Nick said as he made the turn into the lot of his apartment building.

“Yep,” Greg grinned, reluctantly pulling his hand away as Nick negotiated the truck into his designated parking slot.

“So, what is it?” Nick questioned as he slid the shifter into park and turned the engine off.

“As soon as we get upstairs,” Greg promised, hoisting the book bag onto his shoulder as he slipped out of the truck. He started across the lot and ended up dragging the bag behind him up the wooden stairwell. Greg waited, impatiently, for Nick to reach his door.

Nick pushed the key into the lock and turned the knob; he pushed the door open and held it as Greg entered the apartment. “So?” Nick said, closing the door behind them.

“Geez, give me a chance to get inside,” Greg huffed, shoving his bag into a corner of the room. Flashing a grin towards Nick, he systematically began to rifle through the drawers of the side table. Greg rummaged though the mess of papers and pens, obviously searching for something.

Nick stood there watching the other man’s movements with interest. “Looking for something?” he asked, amused as Greg shoved another drawer shut and started on the next.

“Ah ha!” Greg cried triumphantly, pulling a small box out and raising it in his fist. He turned around victorious as he held up a deck of cards for Nick’s inspection.

“So this is your big idea, huh? A deck of cards,” Nick wondered, his eyebrow raised in consternation. “So, were going to play some more poker. What an ingenious plan.”

“Not just poker,” Greg smirked, batting his eyelashes as he shuffled the deck expertly. With just a few steps, he had closed the distance between them.

“What are you talking about?” Nick asked, feeling the first hint of a blush creeping up his neck.

“Strip poker,” Greg flirted, already playing the game as he ran the deck along the line of buttons on the front of Nick’s shirt.

The heat rushed into Nick’s cheeks. “Strip…” he sputtered, wondering if he’d heard Greg correctly.

“That’s what I said,” Greg teased. “Strip poker. I’ll even give you a head start,” he offered, voice barely above a whisper as he slowly pulled his own t-shirt over his head.

“I’m not playing…” Nick’s voice cracked as Greg leaned forward and captured his mouth in a kiss.

Instinctively, Nick responded, wrapping his arms around Greg and tracing the smooth lines of his bare back. Greg’s tongue pressed insistently against Nick’s teeth, demanding entrance. He parted his lips, allowing Greg access. He knew the moment the other man’s tongue thrust proprietarily into his mouth, eagerly exploring every inch, that he was going to give in to whatever Greg wanted. Even if it was strip poker.

Reluctantly, Greg began to pull away, inch by inch. Breathlessly, he spoke, “Come on. Play with me.”

The blush that was already settled in Nick’s cheeks seemed to grow impossibly redder at the obvious double entendre. Aware that, at this point, resistance was futile -- Nick could only nod in agreement.

Greg grinned, pleased with Nick’s acquiescence. Taking his hand, he led them both to the couch and laid the deck of cards on the coffee table as they sank down onto the soft cushions.

“Okay,” Greg started, retrieving the deck as he began to shuffle. “Five Card Draw, best hand wins. Of course. Whoever wins the hand gets to chose what the other person takes off.”

“Alright,” Nick agreed, his head still a little cloudy after the kiss.
“Good,” Greg replied. “Cut the cards?” he encouraged, setting the pile in front of Nick.

The other man reached out a hand, measuring his cut as he split the deck into two almost even stacks. Greg smiled as he looked at the piles, Nick was always so precise in everything he did and this was no exception. He picked up the cards, sliding the deck back together; Greg dealt each of them five cards. He picked up his hand, trying not to give anything away as he glanced at Nick. The other man was intently studying his own cards.

“Three,” Nick said, pushing his discards across the table. Greg tossed three fresh cards toward him.

“Hmmm…” Greg said, contemplating. “Dealer takes three.” He threw his unwanted cards to the side and pulled three more from the deck. He sorted the new cards into his hand and looked over at Nick. “Ready?”

“Pair of eights,” Nick said, dropping his cards face-up on the center of the table.

“Pair of fours,” Greg frowned, turning over two of his cards so Nick could see them.

“I win,” Nick grinned. “Let’s see, what should you take off?”

“Hold on a minute, pal.”

“What?” Nick asked, confused.

“I may have forgotten to mention this pair of tens, too.” He flipped the remaining cards in his hand over, laughing as he saw the shock register on Nick’s face. “So, I think I’m the one who gets to make a choice,” he said, his tongue slipping out and running across his lips as his eyes traveled slowly over Nick’s body. “I’m gonna have to go with the shirt…at least make us even.”

“Fine,” Nick muttered, as he began to push the buttons through their holes.

“Need some help?” Greg offered, scooting closer to Nick and reaching out towards him to push the shirt off his shoulders. He felt Nick shiver beneath his touch as he brushed the fabric aside.

“I got it,” Nick protested, pulling away. He had agreed to play this game and, dammit, he was going to win at least one hand before this was over. Nick pulled his shirt off, tossing it over the arm of the couch. “My deal, right?” he said, glancing at Greg’s slightly hurt expression. “Let’s play.”

Five hands later, Nick was sitting there in only his boxers, Greg still in his jeans; both men had lost their shoes and socks, and after that last hand, Nick had lost his pants. It was his deal and he picked up the cards and began shuffling the deck.

Greg was having a little trouble concentrating on the game, instead his mind was more focused on Nick’s smooth, tanned skin and how it rippled each time he ruffled the cards. Greg watched intently as Nick dealt the cards, slowly he picked up his hand. He didn’t think he could last much longer, just sitting here playing poker, all that exposed skin seemed to be calling out to him and he needed to touch. Looking at his cards, Greg knew he had nothing, but he didn’t care. At this point, he just wanted the game to be over. Nick was looking at him expectantly. “I’m good. No cards.”

“Okay, your choice,” Nick said, tossing away two of his own cards and pulling new ones from the deck. “Let’s see ‘em”

Greg flipped his cards over, a mixture of suits and nothing higher than a Jack. “Beat that,” he joked.

Slowly, Nick flipped his cards over, one at a time. Six of Clubs. Nine of Spades. Ten of Spades. Jack of Hearts. And now the last card, “Ace high,” he said, turning over the ace of Spades. “Guess that means I can make it even now. Okay, Greggo, lose the pants,” he said, smiling.

Greg stood up, slowly unbuttoning his jeans and then beginning to push them down over his hips.

Nick inhaled sharply as he watched, realization setting in when he noticed that Greg wasn’t wearing anything beneath the denim. “You’re not…” he mumbled, face reddening.

“Nope,” Greg answered, matter-of-factly. “You win. Game’s over,” he smiled, stepping out of the pants that had pooled around his ankles. “Finally…now I can do this…” his voice trailed off, hands pressing against Nick’s chest as he pushed him back onto the cushions, straddling Nick’s pelvis as he bent down for a kiss.

They were pressed together, teeth scraping lips as Greg slipped his tongue into the warmth of Nick’s mouth. The kiss was fevered, hungry. Greg wriggled his hands down between them, never breaking contact. He tugged impatiently at the thin cotton that still separated them. He needed to feel Nick’s body against his own, all of it and the boxers were only in the way.

Nick noticed his struggles and lifted them both off the couch just a little, giving Greg the room he needed to pull the boxers off. Greg moaned as their cocks touched, both hard. He grudgingly pulled away from Nick’s mouth, trailing breathy kisses across his jaw. Nick whimpered, the sound bubbling in the back of his throat, as Greg nipped at the tender skin behind his ear.

Greg continued to suckle at the sweet flesh as he maneuvered his hands between them. Wrapping a fist around Nick’s cock he began to stroke, moving his hips slightly as they began to rub against one another. Soon, Nick’s hand joined him. Greg threaded his fingers with Nick’s and together they began to stroke, rhythmically, the sensation unbelievably erotic. Desperately, Greg wrapped his free arm around Nick’s neck, willfully dragging him into another kiss.

The heat between them flashed, the air filled with the crackle of the electricity that hummed between them. Their hands kneading as the gentle caresses became restless, faster and faster. Greg gasped as he felt himself teetering on the edge, burying his face in Nick’s shoulder the cries were muffled as he felt his cock convulse in orgasm. Sticky come already coating their hands as Nick came, the warm fluid mixing between them.

Panting, Greg looked up, Nick’s eyes were closed as he struggled to catch his breath. Gently, he nuzzled against Nick’s sweat-slicked chest, listening as gradually Nick’s heart rate slowed to normal. Greg knew that even if he had let Nick win that last hand it was worth it. Anything that could get him to this position, wrapped in Nick’s strong embrace, was worth it. Greg would have been perfectly happy to lay here like this, forever; yet, he knew that they were going to have to move before they were, literally, stuck together.

“You okay?” Greg whispered, tilting his head to look into Nick’s face.

“Absolutely,” Nick mumbled. “So that’s my reward? For winning?”

“Oh no, that was my consolation prize. You still have the opportunity to claim your prize,” Greg teased, smiling. “But, I do think we should clean-up first.”

-END-