Title: Artistic Inclination
By: flipflopadd1ct
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Greg's an artist. Who knew?

***

"You sure you don't mind?" Greg asked as soon as he let Nick inside and shut the door.

"It's fine, Greg," Nick reassured him, nodding. "I've just never done something like this before."

"It'll be fun," Greg winked. He led Nick through the living room, Nick taking in the sights as they went. This wasn't the first time he had been in Greg's house, but the surroundings never ceased to amaze him - the rumors about a DNA tech's pay turned out to be true. Greg's decorative style was extravagant, hi-tech, and eclectic. For example, above his fish tank hung a Star Wars movie poster, while next to it was a portrait of Marilyn Monroe. And his furniture –

"Nick?" Greg was wearing an amused grin.

Nick didn't realize he had zoned out. Maybe it was the anxiety he was trying to hide. "I like your house," he shrugged, embarrassment growing.

Greg smiled in response. He was now standing by the double glass doors that led to his backyard. "Ta-da!" he said, indicating the display Nick was seeing.

Greg had moved one of his couches so that it was facing the doors. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the floor and the cushions. A chair from the dinner table was sitting towards the right.

What caught Nick's eye were the uncovered doors. Immediately, a twinge of nervousness turned his stomach upside down.

"Does the window have to be so open? I mean, what if your neighbors see?"

"I need the light," Greg said, sitting down in the empty chair. "Besides, none of the neighbors are close enough to see."

Nick thought that over for a moment, then decided it was enough to qualm his fears. "So. What do you want me to do?"

"Take it all off and lay down on the couch." Greg pulled a sketchpad and pencil out from under the chair, tapping the pencil impatiently as he watched Nick peel off his clothes.

He started with his shirt, a tight, black tee that he dropped by the left arm of the couch. Greg smiled appreciatively; if another man had better muscular lines, he'd like to meet him. Greg couldn't wait to draw Nick's chest, his abs, his arms.

Next, Nick toed off his shoes, his socks following suit. He turned towards Greg, winking a bit as he undid the button-fly on his jeans. They fell quickly, leaving Nick in a pair of gray boxer-briefs. He was reaching for the waistband when Greg told him to stop.

"You still look a little tense," Greg said, standing up. He pulled Nick down onto the couch, settling behind Nick's back. "I know you're not always into this kind of thing, but I want you loose and ready. It's no fun to draw someone who looks terrified."

"Do I really look that freaked-out?"

"Yeah, Nick, you do." Greg's hands landed on Nick's shoulders, massaging in sensual circles.

"We've been together for seven months," Nick said. "How come I just found out that you're an artist?"

"A lot of people don't know that about me. They think I'm all nerd."

"I wouldn't have guessed."

"Nope. Guess not," Greg laughed.

Nick moaned softly; Greg's hands were like magic on his skin. He could feel the tension and his insecurities disappearing, dissolving like erased marks on an artist's pad. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He could recall countless times when Greg would trace meaningless patterns on Nick's bare skin after sex, shapes that maybe weren't so meaningless after all.

"You have an amazing figure, Nick," Greg continued. Nick hummed a satisfied reply as Greg kneaded the muscles on his back.

Maybe it was only five minutes, or maybe an hour passed. Nick wasn't keeping track. He felt Greg's ministrations slow down.

"Better?" Greg asked, leaning over Nick's shoulder and speaking into his ear.

"Much better."

"Alright. As much as I love you in boxer-briefs, I like you better naked. They've got to come off."

Nick felt Greg get up from behind him, felt Greg's warm fingers leave. He sat up and reached for the waistband of his Calvin Kleins, dropped them on the floor. So absorbed with Greg's massage, Nick hadn't realize his cock had grown half-hard and was now resting against his inner thigh.

"Greg, I'm-"

"I know." Greg was looking down at his lap, gaze focused on his sketchpad.

"Do you want me, uh, that way?"

"Well, that was my goal."

Nick chuckled to himself. He couldn't resist reaching down and giving his cock a soft tug.

"What position do you want me in?" He licked his lips as he spoke the intentionally dirty line.

Greg finally looked up from his paper and broke into a grin. "Oh, Nick, I love it when you say that."

Nick laughed; Greg stood up, holding his hands out as if he was framing the man before him. After several long moments of deliberation, Greg nodded. "Lie down, and kind of splay your legs a bit."

Nick did so, resting his head on the arm of the couch. "How's this?"

"Perfect." A pause. Greg seemed to be whispering himself, then he held up one finger in an "A-ha!" gesture. He had figured out what was wrong.

"You're not hard enough yet."

Without hesitation, Nick stroked himself a few times, his cock responding by growing longer and thicker and taking more of a curve towards his stomach.

"Now that is perfect," Greg said.

"Anything else?"

"Keep your hand on your cock, rest your other hand on your chest. Play with your nipples or something. I need you to look like you're having the best orgasm of your life."

Nick felt the blush on his cheeks intensify – Greg could say the dirtiest things like he was ticking off a grocery list. And that was just one more part of Greg he loved.

Nick thought about how he would arrange his body to better fit Greg's needs, but quickly came to a conclusion. He readjusted his position, arching his neck a bit farther back, and opening his mouth as if he were shouting Greg's name to the sky.

"You sure you're fine with this, right?" Greg asked.

"I'll be a lot finer once you're done!" Nick snapped. It came out more harsh than he had intended; then again, straining not to move was far harder than it sounded.

"Remember - whatever you do, try not to move. And don't lose that boner."

"Okay, okay."

Soon the only sounds in the room became the sound of Greg's pencil and each man's breathing. Nick used all his might to hold his pose. The urge to change position even the slightest – a twitch of a finger, a shift of his leg, or, especially, a jerk of his cock – was almost overwhelming but Nick willed himself to hold still. The worst torture was the throbbing heat in his groin and the added effect of his waiting hand. He wanted so badly to start stroking, to bring himself off right then and there, but he knew this meant a lot to Greg. Nick wouldn't mess it up.

~

Greg's skill with a pencil was deft; he worked quickly, sketching the outer lines of Nick's body before zooming in on the details. He shaded a light blush on Nick's cheeks. He paid special attention to the contours of the head and veins of Nick's cock before adding more marks to Nick's legs and arms. Greg swallowed, his throat dry; he didn't think sketching Nick would be this hot.

And he knew he shouldn't have worn jeans today.

Making a decision for the sake of his sanity, Greg set the pad and pencil aside and unzipped his jeans, pulling his boxers-covered cock into view. But the metallic sound, so loud in the room and so unexpected, startled Nick, who jumped.

"No! Don't move!" Greg said when he saw Nick flinch. "I just needed some air."

"Almost done?" Nick asked, his voice cracking slightly. He regained his original position as best he could, tightened his grip on his now-wet cock.

"Getting there."

Greg added more streaks to Nick's hair, erased his lips and redrew them. The picture was coming together nicely, much nicer than he had expected.

All he needed now were the finishing touches to the couch on which Nick was lying.

"Perfect," Greg muttered under his breath.

Greg dropped the pad and the pencil. He discarded his clothes quickly; he was too hard and the room had gotten too hot for him to wear them anymore.

"I'm done," he started, stepping towards the couch.

Nick gasped, "Finally!" and shook his body, loosening his arms and legs. He was reaching for his cock when Greg said:

"But I still don't want you to move."

Nick opened his mouth to respond, or maybe to whine, but then he saw Greg above him. Greg climbed on top, dropping his hips until their cocks touched. Both men groaned on contact – the anticipation had been building and neither could have waited much longer to get their hands on each other.

"Best model I've ever drawn," Greg whispered into Nick's neck, thrusting his hips slowly.

"That was torture, Greg. I should make you pay." Nick winked, moving his hands to cup Greg's ass and pull him down, even closer, even more intimate. "But not right now."

The heat in the room grew intense, edging towards unbearable as they rocked together in a frenzy of lust. Precum leaking from one of their cocks made the experience slicker and faster and altogether better. Both Nick and Greg were too aroused to let the experience drag on too long.

They kissed furiously, with mostly tongues and teeth, but neither cared. One of Greg's hands wrapped around their cocks, pushing them together and increasing the friction. There was barely a warning – besides a strangled gasp from Nick – before both Nick and Greg climaxed at the same time, warmth spurting onto their stomachs and over their fingers.

One last kiss was shared before Greg wiped them clean and reached for his sketchpad. He rested the page on Nick's chest.

"You've got talent, Greg," Nick said. He was in awe.

"It's just a little hobby." Greg was blushing, but not from the sex.

Nick flipped through the rest of the pages, commenting on and fully approving of each one as he went. "You should display these or something."

"I've thought about it, but I kinda like hiding it. It's like my secret identity."

"Then let's share your secret another time, huh?"

"Sounds like a plan, Nick."

***