TITLE: Breathing Space
references made to Corroborating Lies
AUTHOR: Macx and Lara Bee
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Taylor/Flack
ARCHIVE: yes
DISCLAIMER: CSI belongs to CBS, Alliance Atlantic, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony E. Zuiker and whoever else claims rights. We don't. Nu-uh! We just play with 'em.
The Denuo universe was created by Lara Bee and myself
Macx’s Voice of Warning (aka Authors’ Note): English is not our first language; it’s German. This is the best we can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are....
 
 

Mac had planned this weekend for a while now. With his job and his lover's equally demanding work, it wasn't easy to get parallel days off, let alone a whole weekend. It had taken a lot of juggling on his part, help from Stella, and some unexpected voluntary pitching in from Lindsay to free a whole weekend for himself. It was a weekend where he knew Don didn't have to be anywhere, where he wasn't on call or had to go in for something or other. Mac himself had swapped a day with Stella and Lindsay had come forth to ask if she could swap one, too. She would be on call on Saturday and Sunday.

Taylor was still puzzling over that, but only until he got home Friday evening and found his lover wasn't already there. So it was probably overtime.

No problem.

Mac started to pack a few things, stuffing it all into his travel bag, and he got out a second one for Flack.

It was an hour after his own arrival that Don came home and the raised eyebrows had Mac grin.

"You going somewhere?" Flack asked.

"We are."

"We?"

"Yes, we."

"But... you're on call," Don argued.

"No, Lindsay is. Don't ask me why. She needed to switch. I'm on call in two weeks."

"Uh, okay." Flack walked over to where his own bag was already filled with a few things. "Where are we going?"

"Away."

"Mac..."

Taylor grinned. "Just humor me. Pack a few things. No ties, no suits."

Flack looked mystified, but he did what Mac had told him. He threw in a few clothes, some toiletries, several towels, and whatever else was needed for a day or two away. He also changed out of his work clothes, secured his weapon in the small home safe, and left his shield there, too.

"Ready?" Mac asked, smiling.

"Sure, Mr. Secret. Let's go." Don flashed him a grin.

Mac grabbed his car keys and they went down to the garage. A few minutes later they were on their way. Taylor had to smile as his lover started to drift off an hour later, dozing with his head against the car window.

It really had been a bad few weeks and he would make sure that the next two days would not only clear their heads, but also some air.

* * *

It had been dark when they had arrived and all Don had been able to see was... lots of darkness. Well, trees, sure. Trees and bushes and reflections on a body of water close by. Mac had parked the car in front of a cabin and led him inside. The inside was surprisingly big. Only now, in the light of day did Don see that the cabin was a lot larger than it appeared on the outside at night. He had thought it would be a small affair, but it was easily big enough to house four adults.
As it was, there were only two adults and they shared the bigger of the two bedrooms. There was a bathroom, a huge living room with an open-faced kitchen, and a fire place.

The outside was no less spectacular. Large willow trees were bending over a deep blue lake, huge pines and birch trees stretched out into the sky. Copses and undergrowth prevented any curious peeks. There was a boat landing that led into the lake, perfect for fishing or a lazy afternoon in the sun. With no sounds except for mother nature’s own it was the embodiment of perfection.

* * *

The sun was already beginning to set but the heat of the day was still lingering in the ground. Both men were sitting in pleasant silence, enjoying a beer and each others company while watching the play of sunlight on the water of the lake. The day had been spent fishing on the lake, taking a hike into the forest and just exploring their current home.

Mac Taylor glanced over to where his lover was sitting, staring into space, and his eyebrows dipped a bit. Don had been very silent the entire day they had already spent out here – heck, he hadn’t been very talkative the entire past week. The last case had taken a toll on both men, and Mac knew it only too well. It had brought things to the surface he had better liked sealed away, memories he wasn’t too keen on looking at again. 9/11 only being one of it. Having his own hand buried wrist-deep in the intestines of another man, especially the man he had fallen for, tying a shoelace around a major artery to stop said man from bleeding out definitely was the other.

The bombing had been over eight months ago, the wounds had healed – and scarred – and they both were dealing with it. Flack had been seeing a pro after getting a near-panic-attack in an elevator that only Mac had witnessed, but it had honestly scared the hell out of him. His lover wouldn’t remember the entire incident, only bits an pieces and disconnect images, but every now and then it kept him from sleeping. Nothing as dramatic as waking up screaming from a nightmare, but Mac noticed anyway when Don had spent another night in front of the TV or computer when restlessness would push him again.

Having to work another bombing case didn’t help much.

And Don was reverting to wearing t-shirts all the time again. Even here, even now, with only the two of them present. Even in this heat that would have been stifling in the city but was almost refreshing out here in the country.

Mac sighed inwardly.

Not that Don Flack in worn jeans and t-shirt with his hair a little mussed wasn’t a spectacular sight, one he didn’t get to enjoy much. The moment Mac had seen his lover in those washed-out, just tight enough in the right places jeans, he had wanted to grab that delicious butt. And the t-shirt that hugged his lover's lean form was illegal all on its own. Together, seeing Don Flack like this, Mac wanted nothing more than to get his hands on him. They had slipped in a few kissing sessions, but so far he hadn't let it go to downright simple sex. It wasn't the sole reason they were here.

So he watched the other man.

Today was definitely not the day for jeans. Or the night for shirts.

But it wouldn’t do any good to tell his stubborn lover that.

It was a trait they complimented each other in – stubbornness. He knew he was just as bad, but currently he was also a little worried about the younger man. The bomb weighed on his mind.

It was time to deal with it.

Mac sighed to himself again and got out of his comfortable chair, grabbing the bucket they had kept the fish in and slowly walked toward the lake. Don was probably watching him, wondering, but the former Marine knew he had the element of surprise on his side, even if Flack saw him coming back with a bucket full of water. He dunked the bucket into the lake to fill it.

If the prophet doesn’t come to the mountain...

And he walked back.
 

Don sputtered and shot to his feet, hissing like a cat that had just been shoved into a cold lake –which wasn’t too far from the truth. Mac grinned, waving the empty bucket.

“Mac! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“You looked – hot.”

“For chrissake, Mac! I’m dripping wet!“

Mac grinned more, clearly enjoying it, and it also clearly infuriated Don even more. “Yes. You are, aren’t you?”

He shot his irate lover a challenging glance over his shoulder and strolled toward the cabin. He wouldn’t have to wait long. Don was many things but stupid wasn’t one of them.

*

Stretching out on the comfortable mattress Mac waited for the telltale sound of the door clicking shut.

“You’re so full of yourself,” Don said from the doorframe. "Is this what they teach you in the army?"

There was no anger in his voice. He was still dripping and hadn’t shed his clothes yet. The shirt and jeans were clinging to his wet frame and Mac had to swallow. His eyes ran up the long legs to the slender waist, up the flat stomach and nicely shaped chest.

There was a flicker in those blue eyes as his lover looked down on his naked body – why waste time? – and walked toward the bed slowly.

“What was that, seduction Mac-Taylor-style?” he asked lowly.

"It worked, didn't it?" Mac replied, wetting his lips.

Damn, his lover looked downright edible. Those clinging clothes... hot damn!

And then Flack started to literally peel himself out of his jeans. Mac felt his breath catch and tried to stay still, but it was hard. He wanted nothing more than to help, but Don was out of reach and that smile on his lover's face told him that help wasn't wanted. Finally he pulled off the t-shirt and dumped it with the rest of the soggy clothes. Mac was already running a light tugging caress over his semi-hard arousal.

Don smiled faintly and kneeled on the bed, pushing his legs apart and slowly slid between them. Mac gasped when the clammy naked body minutely descended onto his, the skin-to-skin contact making him shiver.

“I’ll have you know, Detective Taylor, that I’m not an exclusive bottom,” Don whispered before he captured his lips, brushing them against each other.

It was cold against warm, and Mac ran his hands up the cool sides, feeling muscles quiver. His own body was still adjusting to the cool dampness. He buried one hand in the wet hair, enjoying the slickness.

They barely touched at first and Don teased him open, the tip of his tongue dancing over his lips, then he captured Mac's mouth once more. Mac felt his blood - among other things - begin to stir under the sensual onslaught, the words still ringing in his ears, and he carded his fingers more firmly through the dark strands of his lover, his body developing a mind of its own as it bucked against the one holding it down.

Don ended the kiss tentatively, hands roaming over his arms until he caught his wrists, pinning them down on the mattress. Blue eyes burned with a fire Mac had seen there often before, but never so intense, so singularly directed at him. Their encounters before had never been tame, but this was... beyond untamed.

“And since you asked so nicely I intend to make you mine tonight,” Flack whispered roughly.
Mac moaned when Don went down on him.

*

Mac couldn’t quite suppress the hiss of discomfort as Don pushed into him steadily. He bore down, trying to relax, and a gasp escaped him as his lover was suddenly fully settled inside him.

"Mac?"

Don's voice was strained and he was supporting himself with shaking arms.

"Move," Mac whispered urgently.

And Don did. Slowly, carefully, pulling back and sliding inside once more. Mac groaned at the sensation racing through him. Flack angled his hips a little and suddenly he hit something that had Mac cry out a little.

Don smiled. "Found it," he murmured into his lover's ear, his pace getting faster.

Mac shuddered with the sensation of molten lava shooting up his spine, his world turning into total pleasure, into bliss, and he started to slowly push into each stroke.

Don took his time, changing paces, drawing whimpers of protest from the normally so controlled criminalist, and Mac bit down on a curse when he was again not allowed to ride all the way to the top.

"Don!"

"Patience, lover."

From Flack's voice, he wasn't all too far from losing it either. Nimble fingers found his nipples and Taylor groaned. He was so close. He so badly wanted to come, and finally – finally! – Don picked up the pace again. This time there was no teasing, no stopping, and when Mac felt himself pass the point of no return, his hands clenched into the sheets. He came with a deep groan, soon followed by Don who harshly panted out Mac's name.

The slender form almost collapsed on him, only just managing to roll to the side.

It was how they lay for a minute or two, catching their breaths. Mac thought he was seeing stars for a moment.

“You haven’t done this very often,” Don stated drowsily as he wrapped himself around Mac.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Suddenly Don was very much awake, bright blue eyes boring into him as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

“You haven’t done it... at all?” His voice contained shock and surprise and... worry.

“Not this way, no.”

“You... damnit, Mac!" Flack exclaimed. "You should’ve told me! I could have hurt you...! I mean, I didn’t really think...!“

Taylor met the expressive eyes with a calming smile. “No, you didn’t. And that was exactly what I wanted you to do.”

“Not think?!”

“Not think,” Mac agreed. “Sometimes it’s better just to feel.”

“Mac,” Don muttered helplessly, and he pulled the other man close, held him, stroked the muscular back until he felt the minute shivers subside. "Damn. You're an idiot."

“Let’s sleep for a while, hm?”

The younger man gave a weak smile. "Sounds good. And after I've got more strength, I'm gonna kick your ass for that stunt."

Mac wordlessly smiled back.

* * *

Mac woke to the warm presence of his lover next to him, sprawled out over the bed, and the distinct stab of pain from his rear side that told him he had been rather stupid last night. He had never slept with a man before, though he had had experience in the male sex department. There had been handjobs and blowjobs and fingers exploring, but never penetrating. He had been a virgin, in a sense, but they had needed this. He had wanted this.

And it had been incredible to see Don let go.

Mac had always ever been the top in relationships, and Don had been so readily the bottom, he had never given this more than a fleeting thought. He had looked into the handsome face as he slid in and out the tight heat, had seen the need and hunger and ecstasy, and he had always been very willing to plunge in again and again.

He moved a little and grimaced. Don had assumed he had done this before, so he hadn't used the preparation usually taken with a novice. The stretching had been minimal and the lubrication, while plenty, hadn't really cushioned the first time penetration.

Mac sat up, suppressing a groan, and checked the sheets. Thankfully there was no blood, but he would feel this for more than a day.

"You're an idiot."

Mac smiled at his lover. There was a frown on Don's forehead and the blue eyes were narrowed in silent criticism.

"You should have told me."

"And then what?" Mac asked.

"I would have been more careful!"

"You were careful, Don."

Flack sat up, anger on his features. "It was your first time! And I didn't know, Mac! I thought you had bottomed before! I could have hurt you badly!" Don argued heatedly.

Mac pushed the taller man onto his back. He lay over him, looking into the upset eyes.

"You were gentle, Don. I enjoyed it. You didn't hurt me. I wanted this and I wouldn't have stopped it for the world. I could have if it had been too much, but it wasn't. There was pain, but I've been told it's normal."

Flack exhaled sharply. Of course he had hurt him, but not in a way that wouldn't pass. And there was no blood, so no ripping.

"Idiot," the detective muttered again.

"Why now?" Mac asked.

"Huh?"

"Why only now? Why didn't you ever take the chance sooner?"

Don shrugged a little. "I enjoy it too much, actually. I'm not exclusively bottom, Mac, but I enjoyed it."

Mac leaned down and kissed him, just brushing their lips together. "So did I."

Don chuckled. "Good."

"And I think I could get used to being a lot more... versatile."

That had the other man laugh.

Taylor snuggled back into the embrace, one arm around the narrow waist. He felt the scar brush against the underside of his forearm. Don's hand caress almost apologetically over his naked butt, but he didn't come close to the currently very sensitive area. Repeating the experience would be out of the question for now, but Mac planned to feel his lover inside him again..

"You wanna get up?" Don asked after a while.

"Not really, no."

"Uh, but I do."

Mac glanced at him.

"Call of nature."

He chuckled. "Mood breaker."

"Hey, it's coming out of your pocket if they want a new mattress..."

"Yeah, yeah..." He let his lover wriggle out of bed and enjoyed the sight of the lean, naked form disappearing into the bathroom.

When he heard the toilet flush and the shower turn on not much later, Mac Taylor decided it was time for him to join in the fun. It was only fair to save water and shower together, now wouldn't it?

* * *

Mac felt the soreness throughout the day and sometimes, when he sat down wrong or shifted too much, it reminded him quite loudly that this was nothing he was used to. He also wasn't used to his lover watching him with hidden guilt, those blue eyes drawn between anger at Mac's ploy and the other anger, the one directed at himself.

"I'm fine, Don," Mac repeated for the umpteenth time and wrapped an arm around the slender form, kissing the warm skin of the neck. "You didn't hurt me."

"I did. Don't lie to me."

"It's sore, and you know sore. Sore isn't pain. Sore is... a reminder."

"I could have torn something!"

"You didn't."

"Mac... why didn't you tell me?" Don twisted out of the embrace, accusation flaring in those bright eyes.

"Because I wanted you, and I didn't think, and I didn't want to lose the passion." Taylor smiled briefly. "Don't freak on me, okay?"

"Freak? I'm not freaking, damnit! You should be!"

"Because you slept with me? Don, I wanted it. I'm well aware of what it implies, and I want to do it again."

Don stuttered to a halt.

Mac smiled deviously and pulled him into a kiss, their bodies flush against each other.

"Before we go home, I want to repeat the experience, Don. With you in me," he murmured seductively.

"Mac..."

"And if you treat me like some girlish virgin the next time, I'll show you what they teach us Marines."

Don met his eyes, then suddenly chuckled. He wrapped his arms around Mac and pulled him into a kiss, humming softly.

"All right, Lieutenant Taylor. You're in charge," he muttered against flushed lips.

"Good."

They stood together at the lake, trading kisses, enjoying each other's presence, and Mac was really looking forward to his second time. He wanted Don, he loved the man, and it had been a revealing experience. He wouldn't want to miss out on it.