Title: Breeze
Author: cassie_jamie
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Despite repeated suings.
Pairing: Eric/Tim
Rating: NC-17...definitely, NC-17.
Warnings: Spanking, light bloodplay, dom/sub behaviors.
Summary: He couldn't stop and he couldn't keep going.
Notes: This is all for Yana, who's the greatest friend and a beta extraordinaire. This was almost completely from her ideas and influences, because she wouldn't do it herself. I wouldn't have written this otherwise, so consider yourself lucky, Yana! Again - fair warning: This is a little...dark and angsty.

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Tim had never been one to submit to his partner. Especially when he was the elder in the relationship, but when he walked into his apartment and was greeted by being bent over a desk, he had to be truthful.

He liked it.

Liked it when Eric literally ripped the black button-down from his warming skin. Liked it when the white teeth nipped and bit at the thin flesh over the spinal bumps. Liked it when a hand reached around, removed his belt, slipped it easily from the loops.

And struck him once with it.

"Oh!" He grunted, knew enough not to say anything further when his partner was in a dominating mood. Silence was mandatory.

"You will be punished for your flirting." Was hissed into his ear, "Did you think I wasn't going to find out about you and John?"

The blood in Speed boiled - Hagen?! The Hispanic was angry about the sting set up by homicide, which required the cover of two male lovers?

Then the searching hand popped the button, lowered the zipper, as another flicker of teeth bore down on his shoulder blade. Undoubtedly, there would be a nice sized bruise there after a few hours had passed.

He felt the fingers danced around beneath the jean fabric, landing near the break of his two lower cheeks. One probing finger darter out and slipped into the heat where the honey-colored skin melted together; found its place. The second appendage reached up to keep his mate pressed against the harsh, wooden surface, while he dug a digit into the mock-resistance smoothly.

It burned. It burned so bad, he grimaced and groaned and nearly shouted out.

Yet he didn't, allowing himself the time to adjust to the sensation. Delko had stilled for that express reason, his previous anger subsiding when he realized what he was doing.

Normally, even through the haze covering his thought processes, be the haze anger or lust, he remembered to prepare himself with something. The rage that had coursed through his veins, however, studiously caught him off-guard and his mind didn't catch up until he noticed the look on his boyfriend's face.

He couldn't stop and he couldn't keep going.

"Timothy. Take off the clothes. And don't lift your chest off that table or so help me..." He warned, retracting himself from the token protests. The younger man stalked off in search of the needed supplies.

Returning to the living room, he found the second CSI in the same position, minus the tight pants and the constricting boxer briefs, and resisted the urge to simply invade.

Instead he pulled his top off and flung it at the bookshelf, watching as it landed with the collar snagging a first edition of James Joyce's Ulysses. His pants followed with a ruffle, while his arousal slipped through the opening of his boxers.

Once more he molded himself to the prone stature, the hard flesh glazing across the sweat-slicked epidermis. It was the only warning Tim got before he was penetrated with fingers once more, though slicked with gel. Two and he adamantly avoided the pleasure spot he so wanted to stroke until the rug was tinged white.

The writhing was unavoidable as the New Yorker's body attempted to pleasure himself on the fingers.

"Stop!" He growled, and when it didn't, he stepped back reluctantly.

His hand came within a centimeter of the two oval mounds, then reared back...and came down with a deafening crack. The space began to pinken from the action; a thumb smoothed and soothed. It was a brief reprieve, as the squeal of his digits and palm collided a second time.

"No bitch of mine is going to disobey." He cried, red coloring his speech. The once-childish act commenced anew, ending with the words, "Do you understand, Timmy?"

"Yes, Master!" Speedle spat out, bark eyes dazing out, "I'm yours, Master, and I will obey."

Satisfied that his captive would do as ordered, he whispered, "Remember that." before lifting the straight handled razor from the place behind his lover's head. He licked the patch of skin hovering below the right shoulder blade, worried it gently. Pulled away and settled the tip of the sharp implement against the tautness, traced E-.-C-.-D-. lightly.

Then he pressed hard, intently gazing against the dribbles of crimson which came forth.

"Er...Eric..." Tim bit his lip after the name tumbled out.

He'd known for a long time that his partner would mark him at some point. It was an inevitability after the raised scar `T.J.S.' appeared in the small of the Russian-Cuban's back. It was a surprise, and an unpleasant one in the face of his past. Faces of past lovers flashed in succession as he thought of how hard it would be to remove the mar when Eric left him.

"I know exactly what you're thinking, Timothy." He hissed, positioning himself and lapping at the line of the D, "And you're mine. Forever." A fluid thrust then, bringing them together in the closest of contact.

Hitched breathing filled the space, the desk jerked forward and back as though it were a bull trying to buck them off. Relentlessly, the twenty-seven-year old impressed himself into the willing man, knowing there would be repercussions later for the treatment but was too wound up in the rapid lust coursing through his every molecule.

"Er..Mast..Damnit, Eric!" Speedle cried out, as he wilted to the surface and dug long, tanned fingers into the maple. He held tight against it, eyes battened fixedly, and stubbornly refused to allow himself to say the word that would end his torture. Except Delko knew, his lips finding the hairline as he took himself away, "I'm sorry, baby." He drug a hand through the hair, "Sorry." He kissed the temple.

"It was a sting. I didn't want Hagen with me... I wanted you. But he was already involved with the damn case..." Whispered, refusing to even stifle the glazed look in his eyes.

He hauled the elder up from his position, cuddling him close as the former-possessor settled onto the cushioning of the overstuffed couch. He rocked gently, speechless.

"Don't want to do that ever again. No more desks." He lisps, curling his face into the neck and resting fingers against dark skin.

"No. Don't like it anymore either." He didn't like anything the left his partner aching, hurting, crying, begging, "Wanna go to bed? I'll make you something to eat and bring it to you. And I got that movie you wanted."

"I want you to kiss me. I want you to kiss me like you love me, Eric."

And he was rewarded, full padded lips seeking and resting against the second pair. Gently, the tip of his tongue soothed the puncture site that had appeared almost on its own just minutes before, where the two front teeth had cut sharply into the yielding flesh.

"Don't have to kiss you *like* I love you. Love you so much already." The man whimpered against the cheek when he managed to retire himself.

Speed hustled a weak smile from the confines of his belly, as it growled softly, "I guess I want that dinner in bed."

"Kay." Nodded, though the hold on the object of his affections did not relinquish nor loosen in any way, "I'll grab the Neosporin, too." He stroked the pad of his thumb around the slick cuts.

"No. Wanna keep it." He coached his tongue over his chapped rosebuds, "I marked you..."

"Yeah. You did. But your skin's more..." He searched for a word to describe the silken tan as he kissed the shoulder, forehead, and cheekbones, "...beautiful."

Softly, he reached up to grasp the chin within strong fingers and locked his mouth over his mate's, "I want it." He intoned, before shifting and shimming until he was astride the naked lap.

The sight of his own blood, droplets and short smears standing out like Oreos on white carpeting, caused him to moan nearly silent, as he tilted his head in to lap away the copper-tasting liquid. He could feel the awakening of his lower body.

Could see the reaction taking place across the equal sight-pools.

Two hands snuck to the side and held the New Yorker's hips, bruisingly, to close the distance between their broad chests and grind hard against the tight flesh. Then the idea slinked through the older's mind, and he dipped lower to nibble at the maroon circle. Deeper he journeyed. Heralding his path, his devious mouth bit at the sensitive epidermis.

His eyes came level with the hardness, the salivating cavern closed over the length with easy joy.

"Timmy." Moaning. Knees shifting impossibly further from each other, while hands worked themselves into the spiked locks to hold the vagabond head motionless. He pawned forward, checking to see that it was an accepted action, before letting himself steadily repeat. Speedle greedily suckled at his partner each time the entire length was enclosed.

He wanted to accept the tangible evidence of his partner's pleasure, memorize the taste and texture. He did, but he knew he would choke on the bitterness, as he always did.

So he rose a hand to grip at Delko's side, automatically causing him to be released, then nuzzled the warm inner thigh. His tongue trailed along the underside, and leapt back into the lap nimbly.

Epitome of grace at the most inordinate of times.

Eric arched up. Met a lithe body, as he gasped against the collarbone protruding. His lips closed around the jutting bone, moist breath dewing the skin.

And suddenly, the entire earlier experience was nothing more than a faint, unpleasant memory.

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