Title: A Lesson Diverted
By: quettaser
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Done for ngchallenge's Masturbation Challenge. Greg always knows when it happens.

***

I always know when it happens. Know it the minute I walk in the door. There's a certain smell to it, a taste on the air, electric tension on my skin and I really like coming home to that.

It doesn't happen often, only when I'm running extra late, when a case runs longer than expected, when Nick doesn't know if I'm coming home in time or not.

Because Nick needs his sex. Just look at him. Wouldn't you?

Not that I mind. Quite the contrary, in fact. There's no denying it, I need mine too. And we just fit together in bed. Not in the actual anatomical sense, because then you could argue that we really don't, but that's not what I'm talking about. We're just on the same level when it comes to sex. We're both trained to look for details, to gather and catalogue evidence and I'd be lying if I said that wasn't what we did with each other. He knows every inch of my body, knows which spots make me moan and which make me giggle.

And he's knows my moods, too. Knows when I need to moan, when I need to giggle. Of course, he also knows what the thoughts of him masturbating do to me. To know that he's lying in bed, alone and desperate, hand wrapped tight around his cock and moaning my name? That really helps the overtime move faster.

Although by the time I get home on those days, he's normally passed out, a big grin on his face. Nick always did have a good imagination. And sure, I'm a little bit peeved that I'll have to wait until later before I get mine, but he always more than makes up for it.

It's cute, too, the way he tries to hide it from me, like I can't tell what he'd been doing, what our room smells like. What that glint in his eye means. So who could blame me for teasing him about it? Despite all we do together, he's still hilariously repressed when it comes to being sexual. I can tell it's weird for him to think of himself as sexy, to play when he's not totally lost in it. Unless he's so turned on that he's throwing me against the wall, the moment he stops to think about what he's doing, he turns red, blushes.

And I kind of like that. He lets me take the reins when it comes to sex...not that we've used actual reins...not yet. He trusts me enough to let me start things, to let me guide him. Of course, he knows enough to know what I want, what I like, so really, it's more of a nudge in a general direction.

But I still can't get him to masturbate for me. I've tried, but he's still closed off about it. Pretends he's not doing it. I've done it for him a few times and I know he likes it, a lot. But I'm working my way there, little lessons, planned "activities," slowly getting him to let down his guard.

I can always tell the next day, too. He's always extra-attentive, giving me two orgasms to his one. Like he feels guilty for coming without me. I've tried to tell him that I don't really mind. That I just wish he'd wait until I get home so that I could watch. He always blushes, beet red, and ducks his head, refusing to look me in the eye, mumbling something akin to whatever. And that just makes me laugh harder, and him blush deeper which always leads to me kissing him. Then it's not long at all before we're back on the bed, tangled together, any notion of waiting totally forgotten.

Of course, I'm slowly educating him on the pleasures of waiting and watching. And Nick's always been an eager student. But that's a bad road to go down, especially with Grissom in the room and another hour of paperwork to finish before we can wrap this case.

I sigh and adjust my jeans, tighter than they were at the start of the night, and hope that Nick is ready for me when I get home.

 


Finally home, I walk in the door and I can smell it. Smell the sex and sweat and Nick. I smile to myself. Today is going to be a good day. As I walk towards the bedroom I strip off my clothes, not particularly caring where I toss them. They can be picked up later.

I sneak inside and spy Nick, dead asleep on the bed. I crawl into bed, naked, placing soft kisses down his neck. Fuck sleep, I need him awake. I trail one hand down his chest, lightly massaging, loving the feel of his smooth skin beneath my fingers. Further down and more skin and Jesus.

He's naked.

Nick doesn't sleep naked, always throws on a pair of boxers, even after sex. Maybe it's a residual of living with such a big family and then a frat, never quite sure of who's going to walk into his room and when.

I smile against his neck, nip softly at the exposed skin and wrap my hand around the base of his cock. He shifts in his sleep, arching into my hand, moaning softly.

"Wake up, baby," I whisper into his ear before sucking on the skin at the back of his jaw, one of his sensitive spots.

He gasps, pushing harder against my hand and I know he's awake. I pull back, mouth and hands leaving him and I sit back on my knees.

"Greg?" he mumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Hi," I say, pushing the covers down, exposing his gorgeous body. I drink in the sight, his muscles still fully relaxed, still lost in sleep.

Well, except for one. One's definitely waking up.

"Wha-?" he starts.

I shush him, placing a finger on his lips and straddling his chest. I think today's the day for another lesson.

He smiles now, awake enough to know what I want, what might happen. It also helps that my hard cock is staring him in the face. Difficult not to notice that, even so soon after waking up.

I slide down his chest, settling over his hips and lean down to kiss him. He tastes a bit morning breathy, but there's something else, something...I kiss him deeper, pushing his head back, opening his mouth further, stroking my tongue along his. He moans and his hips thrust unconsciously.

And I know what it is. Just enough tang of salt for me to know.

It's his come.

Fuck. Nick's kinkier than I thought.

I slide lower, reach down and line up our cocks, moaning into his mouth at the first touch of the too-sensitive skin. The thought of Nick licking his own come from his fingers is too much for me and I reach out to grab the lube from the nightstand. Fuck the lesson, I'm not making it anywhere past here.

I squeeze enough onto my hand and snap the bottle shut, throw it behind me. I lean back and watch Nick's face, watch his eyes flutter shut as I slick our cocks. I lean back down again, slowly rolling my hips against him.

"Tell me," I say, lips ghosting along his jaw again. "Tell me what you thought about when you jerked off today."

He lets out a puff of air, his hands coming up to grip my hips, press them down tighter against his own. "You," he pants, hips arching and our cocks rub together again.

I shut my eyes, tensing from the sensation, forcing myself to hold off. I'd been thinking about this for too long, too many hours in the lab in jeans that were too tight, and Nick's already come once today, I need to make this last.

"You fucking me."

I let out something like a whine, I don't care. I can't hear it because Nick's got two fingers slowly pressing inside me. Bastard, he's more awake than I thought. Not that I'm complaining. He beings to softly scissor them.

No, definitely not complaining.

I bury my head in his shoulder, my arms collapsing under my weight, twisting the sheets in my hands. I can't decide where I want to move, forward and I brush Nick's cock with mine, backwards and I press deeper onto his fingers. My brain gives up and I just move, Nick's arm moving to wrap around my back, guiding me.

And the motherfucker's still whispering in my ear, like he wants me to come as fast as possible. Like he's purposefully trying to make me self-destruct.

And he probably is. Motherfucker.

"I think about your dick. The way it feels in my mouth, the way it tastes." He punctuates each words with a thrust of his fingers, with a buck of his hips. "I think about you fucking me. I want it rough. Hard."

I'm moaning something incoherent and his fingers are moving faster inside me, grinding his hips harder against mine. He adds a third. My eyes are somewhere in the back of my head and I let the words, the feelings wash over me. I surrender myself to my imminent orgasm. To the tingling at the base of my spine, to the tightness in my balls.

His other hand leaves my back and wraps around our cocks, pumping quickly, still whispering in my ear, "When I'm done, I lick my fingers, pretend it's you. Love the way you taste."

That's all it takes, and I'm gone. Clenching around his fingers, thrusting against his cock, and wet heat splashes between us, covering both our stomachs. I might have passed out, my muscles turned to jello, but I can feel Nick coming too, and he must have been closer than I thought.

Once I regain my breath, I sigh into Nick's neck, licking the sweat that pooled in his collarbone. Then I feel Nick's hand moving under me, coming out from between our bodies. I look up, force my screaming muscles to listen because I know what's going to happen next.

Nick just smiles at me, no trace of blush as his tongue darts out and licks the come from his fingers. No shame as he goes, finger by finger, cleaning each one, sucking them into his mouth and I twitch, still tender and recovering, but very turned on. God, what that mouth can do.

So maybe my lessons are working.

He pulls his index finger from his mouth, making a deliciously obscene pop. I twitch again, because that's not right. I'm still working on recovering from my orgasm after a very long day of work and he's not supposed to be torturing me like this, not supposed to be riling me up. He's supposed to be blushing and embarrassed, not all sex god-like.

I grumble to myself and roll off him. He leaves the bed and I know he's going to get the washcloth, clean up our mess. Warm wetness against my skin and I look down, expecting to see him standing over me.

Instead, he's leaning down, warm, wet tongue slowly lapping our come from my stomach. My cock.

I moan, feeling the familiar stirrings of arousal, my hips jumping just a little towards his mouth. He smiles again and takes my still-soft cock in his mouth, mouthing it slowly, working it until it's hard again.

I'm stuck staring, can't take my eyes off of my not-blushing, not-embarrassed, not-repressed sex god and I let out a cracked groan, "Motherfucker."




Fin!

***