Grissom was going to climb up on the table and jump up and down until Nick stopped licking his lips at Warrick, Greg stopped pouting, and Warrick stopped smiling like he'd just been given the combinations to every vault in the city. How was he going to get any work done with all of that going on?
Catherine strolled in, winked at Warrick, pouted way too much to put on her lip gloss, and then smiled at Nick with a wiggle of eyebrows. Greg sank into some kind of funk at that point.
Sara hobbled in with the unneeded assistance of some young, buff cop. "Thank you, Derrick."
"Just seeing you to your door, Sara," Derrick explained as he helped her into her chair. "Can I call you?"
"Sure," Sara replied. She watched as the blond, blue-eyed, cop strolled away in his tight-fitting beige uniform. Sara sighed. "What?" Sidle asked when she realized most of the occupants of the table were staring at her. Greg was watching Warrick.
"Didn't I see him at the gallery opening?" Nick asked.
"Yeah. Derrick got me a wheelchair from the lobby and rolled me around," Sara answered. "He's so sweet."
"First assignment," Grissom announced, breaking up the 'I got laid' festival. "Nick, a double-homicide at the Stop and Shop." He passed the slip to the younger man. "Warrick, possible jumper at the Luxor."
"On it," Brown promised as he took the slip.
"Catherine, a possible murder-suicide in Henderson." He placed the slip in her hand. She winked at him.
'What is that about?' he asked himself.
She leaned toward him as she got to her feet. "Thanks for introducing me to Hank. He's quite a dynamo." Catherine made a low purring noise.
Unwanted images flooded his mind. Catherine was very, very limber and Hank was entering his heart attack years. There were worse ways to go. "You're welcome."
Catherine strolled away with her typical purposeful stride.
"Sara, since you're not quite back on your feet, I'd appreciate you doing the lab work on the following cases." Grissom handed over the folders. "Greg, you're with me."
Sanders popped to his feet. "What do you need, Boss?" the tech asked.
"I have a puzzle," Grissom announced. "One sample, three labs, two different results, and some seriously hysterical Feds. I need you to test the sample, compare your results to theirs, then explain to me how they could have gotten a different result."
"And God help me if I come up with a third result," Greg guessed.
"I would never..." Grissom realized he was lying. The truth was better, even if it came off as kind of emotional. "I always count on your expertise and good judgment in the lab, Greg."
The younger man smiled and Grissom felt himself forgiven for running for it when Sanders tried to fix him up with Tessa. She was just too... out there for Gil to be comfortable. That might have made her an excellent artist but definitely not girlfriend material for him.
"What's the sample?" Greg asked.
. . . .
Humidity. Simple humidity. Greg was able to recreate the results of the other labs by simply adjusting the humidity of the sample. They didn't pay the young man enough.
Warrick was the first back. He had a video camera, some kind of rope and harness, and two sobbing people were trailing behind in custody. This looked like an interesting story.
"Warrick?" Gil inquired. Over the years, he'd developed a sort of shorthand with his team members. He didn't have to say "tell me all about it and don't leave out the juicy part". It was understood.
"Bungee jumping, complete with videotape, booze, and witnesses," Brown explained. "Trace can tell us how much booze was in the guy's bloodstream but there is still no reliable postmortem test for stupidity."
"He said he could do it," the woman, well girl really, sobbed.
"There's a reason they do it over water," Brown informed the woman. He looked at Grissom. "Could you assist me in measuring out this rig? I'm thinking it's about four feet too long."
Grissom suddenly had an image of a man not springing back on his well-stretched ropes but hitting the sidewalk instead. Ouch. "Did someone need to pay more attention in math?"
"It looks that way," Brown answered sourly.
The body had already arrived and showed the expected impact injuries. Blood was withdrawn and sent off for alcohol and drug screening. Grissom helped Warrick stretch out the gear, test the fabric at various intervals, and measure it. With the height of the building known they could say positively that the rig was exactly 114.3 cm too long. Everything had to be fingerprinted and any and all substances tested.
"What have we got so far?" Gil asked.
Warrick's mouth moved, but the sound was so soft that Gil had to lean forward. It didn't help. Warrick frowned and then turned fully toward him. He spoke again. "I said we've isolated roof dust, cigarette ash, blood, urine, saliva, and alcohol." He paused. "Do you have ringing in the ears, a cold, or maybe a sinus infection?"
It was on the tip of his tongue to lie. "No. It's something else and I'd appreciate it if this went no further."
"Since I have absolutely no details, Gris, exactly what would I be passing on?" Brown asked. Gil noted that the younger man spoke a little slower than normal and kept his chin pointed in the perfect direction for lipreading.
Grissom was embarrassed. "I'm having trouble with my hearing. I know the cause and I'm looking into it." What he should have said was, "I'm avoiding doing something about it and hoping it will go away, despite the intelligence I'm normally so proud of", but he didn't.
"Okay," Brown responded but his eyes, those intense green eyes, watched him longer than was necessary. Gil was touched. The man was worried about him.
The videotape was the final nail in the coffin of the "sobbing friends" routine.
"Are you sure this is alright?" Calvin, the victim, asked.
"If you want to be on the video, then you'll have to jump," the woman, looking much less like a girl, explained.
The jumper took another swallow of Jack Daniels for courage and then prepared to jump.
"Are you sure we made it long enough?" the man asked.
"He should just touch the ground long enough to break a leg and then come back up," the woman answered. Calvin jumped and the camera followed the man all the way to the ground where he crumpled like a broken doll. "Shit!"
"Let's get out of here," the man insisted.
They rushed toward the doors, the camera still running, only to meet security coming up. The tape ended.
The man started to cry and the woman demanded a lawyer.
[][][]=============[][][]=============[][][]
Lady Heather. The woman was like Kryptonite to him and he couldn't get enough. Maybe that was why he'd sabotaged himself with her. Maybe he needed a clean break.
But if that was true, why was he sitting in his car outside her place? Because he wanted another taste. He was a Heather junkie and would end up her chubby little love slave with no will of his own. He needed help, but where would he get it at this time of night?
Gil drove and, with no conscious thought guiding him, ended up at Warrick's front door. The lights were still on and it was only as he was pressing the doorbell that Grissom had a clear thought. 'What if the man wasn't alone?'
"Hey, Gris, come on in," Warrick said warmly as he held the door open for the older man. "Is something wrong?"
Grissom stuck his hands in his pockets, relieved the anticipatory hardon for Heather had cooled, and tried to come up with a good line to explain knocking on the other man's door. "I went back to her," he said with no explanation. "I was ready to crawl in if she would have let me."
"Oh, I have been there," Warrick admitted. He guided Gil further in his home and the two men ended up at the kitchen table. "There isn't enough education in the world that will outweigh a man's dick when it decides to do the thinking."
"Amen," Gil agreed accepting a teacup from the taller man. "I thought you could give me some pointers on breaking an addiction."
Warrick put on the kettle. It was obviously well used, but Grissom had only ever seen the other man drink coffee. Brown opened a small wooden cask and carried it to the table. The Chinese lettering on the side said imported tea and some of the finest quality. "Sonya got me hooked on this."
Grissom sniffed the leaves. His hearing was sometimes hit or miss, but his nose worked fine.
"Do I get a name for this vixen?" Warrick asked as he sat down with his own cup.
"Heather," Grissom answered, knowing Brown would put it together.
"Nick told me she was about six feet of delicious," Warrick said without irony.
"More like five foot nine, but very, very unique, unforgettable, and --" Gil couldn't go on.
"You brought her in and left poor Brass to deal with her," Warrick finished.
"I could hardly sleep with the woman and then supposedly interrogate her the next day. A first year law student could have gotten that tossed." The kettle started to boil, startling Gil. He'd forgotten about it. He had too much on his mind.
Warrick leapt up to grab it before too much of the oxygen was taken out of the water. It ruined the taste of the tea if you let your heavily treated water get to a rolling boil. Brown poured and Gil served.
It was ironic that Grissom was just as comfortable here as he'd been in Heather's morning room. Gil sipped his tea.
"Do you want to break this habit, Gil?" Warrick asked. "All the good advice in the world is worthless until the junkie wants to quit the junk. Do you want to quit?"
Gil nodded vigorously. "She was starting to affect my work."
Warrick put down his cup. "How?" he asked. The man's mind was sharp, no matter how much he tried to play his intelligence off.
Grissom tracked the hot liquid as it passed his lips. He'd come here for help and that meant he was going to have to confess to what had him so twisted around the woman's finger.
"It started with a simple question..."
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
"What do you think his mouth tastes like?" Heather inquired as she stroked lazy circles in Gil's chest hair.
"Who?" Gil asked, surprised at the sudden change of subject. He'd been expecting to lick her lips not talk about some other's man's mouth.
"Your colleague. Do you think his mouth is sweet, spicy, shy, overpowering, or soft?" she asked.
"I never discuss my colleagues that way," Gil insisted. "It's inappropriate."
"If my bed is not the place to be inappropriate, such a place does not exist, Gilbert," Heather informed him. He was always addressed as Gilbert when she was displeased with him. "Let's not use names." She slid down Gil's body and brought his cockhead to her lush full lips. "Now, using only numbers, describe the men around you and what you would do to them if position, age, and body aches were of no concern." She dipped her mouth onto him and Gil shivered helplessly. Heather was so damn good at this.
She stopped. "I'll continue, but you must talk."
Gil broke. "Okay." He moaned. "Number 27 is striking. I was taken aback by his appearance the first time I saw him. His eyes are like gems. His mouth is so beautiful. His voice is like silk across my skin. I love hearing him talk. It will be one of the things I miss the most once my hearing is gone. His voice lets you know just how intelligent he is. If he were willing, I'd ask him to fuck me hard. So damn hard that I can't get out of bed."
"Go on," she prompted.
"Number 35 is classically handsome and so unaware of it that it makes you ache. If there is dirt to jump in, he's the first one down. If there is a young victim, you can see it tearing him up, but he keeps coming back because it's his duty and that duty is a big part of him. He's smarter than he thinks and I like that too. If I had him, I'd only want him to be tender with me. We'd trade off in bed, but most of the time I'd be on my back for him so I could watch that expressive face of his."
"Hmmm," Heather moaned. She straddled Gil and sank down on his cock. "More," she begged.
"Number 11 is a pretty boy and a jackrabbit. I'd make him take my cock in every hole. I'd have to break out the toys because he could kill me in bed."
Heather began to ride him like a madwoman. "Which one would you like to be watching us?" She squeezed his cock with her well-trained cunt.
"Number 27," Gil confessed. He could see the man now. Tall and lean, with his face in a casual smile. Number 27 would take Heather's ass while her pussy gripped Gil's cock like a handmade glove. Damn. Grissom came so hard he nearly passed out.
"I could train you so that you could break those men, even the straight one," Heather teased. "You could bring them here and bend them to your will, Gilbert. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
"No," he said even as his heart agreed with her.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
"That's a full out mind-fuck," Warrick said admiringly. "She's using your fantasies to make you come crawling back for more." He offered to refill Gil's cup but Grissom refused. "In other circumstances I'd be all over that, but she's messing with you and I won't have that."
Gil looked up, convinced he'd misheard, which was not an impossibility considering his health.
"Do you trust me?" Warrick asked as he pulled Grissom to his feet.
Gil nodded, thinking his sexual fantasy might just see the light of day.
Warrick kissed him. It wasn't soft, it wasn't innocent, but it also didn't last very long. "Come to bed with me, Gil. We don't have to fuck. I'll just be a warm body to hold when you feel like the table is calling you back inside the casino."
"We don't?" Gil asked, bitterly disappointed.
Warrick checked the stove and the door and then led Gil to the bedroom. The two men stripped down to shorts and climbed in bed. Normally Gil would be up for an hour or two to get his mind to wind down, but this time he just looked at Warrick, his number 27, and relaxed into sleep fairly quickly.
Maybe an hour or so into his rest, Gil woke up with the mother of all boners. His cock was leaking on Warrick's thigh and he leaned forward and licked it clean.
Warrick's hand came down on the back of his head and Gil was gently guided up until he was facing the younger man's large cock. Brown said something but Gil didn't hear it. He took the lax dick into his mouth and began to suck it.
This was heaven. Warrick's cock immediately responded to him and filled his mouth. Gil worked more and more of it, all he could handle, into his mouth. His boxers were pulled down and Brown's big hand massaged his ass.
Gil took the biggest chance of his life. He turned away from Warrick and presented the larger man his ass. He could win or lose everything in this moment. There was no in between.
Grissom shuddered as he felt the lube being applied to him. He gritted his teeth and pushed out as the large cock he was getting to know slid into him. Gil nearly fainted. Dizzy and disoriented, he lowered his head in supplication.
For all his size, Warrick was gentle with Grissom as he worked more and more of himself inside Gil until their bodies were slapping together.
"Do it hard, Warrick," Gil begged. "Just do me."
The air was driven from him with the first thrust and Gil was unable to draw in another full one for some time. It was intense. So intense that Gil didn't think his heart could take it.
"Let it go, Gil," Warrick growled. "Let it all go, man."
He was composed. He was always composed. Warrick gripped Gil's nipples and gently rolled them. It cracked his outer shell, which shattered with Brown's next words.
"Damn, Gil, I need to hear you," he pleaded.
"Fuck me, Warrick. Fuck me so damn hard that you can't tell if they're tears of joy or pain. Crush me. Make me feel... everything." The words weren't loud, but they were true. Gil lost himself in Warrick's bed as he came on the sheets.
Warrick eased out of him and placed Gil on his back. He leaned down so that Gil could see his eyes. "I see you, Gil, do you see me?" he asked.
Gil nodded and stole kiss after kiss as Warrick returned to Gil's body and gently rocked inside. It was sweet and it was terrible because Grissom knew he'd never have it again, but he'd enjoy it and remember every detail. He arched up and felt Warrick drive even deeper into him.
"Oh, Gil," Warrick moaned as he came. He held himself inside Grissom until nature demanded he ease out. Even that was done with the utmost care. "I'm here, Gil. I'm here." The larger man gently petted Grissom
Gil utterly relaxed in Brown's arms and, for once, didn't mind sleeping in the wet spot.
[][][]=============[][][]=============[][][]
Gil had a definite bounce in his step, which put him in sync with his crew. Hank had called early in the shift and grilled Grissom on Catherine's likes and dislikes and when Gil had failed to provide the species of flowers that Catherine had declared her favorite, the good doctor had fallen back on red roses. Two dozen red roses. Catherine had insisted on placing one in a bud vase on his desk since he'd introduced the couple.
They had a relatively quiet night, with most of his people catching up on earlier cases and him able to work on his own reports. And if his ass was a little sore, the good sore that said you'd been well-fucked, it was fine with him.
Gil's good mood continued until he noticed Nick waiting for him by his truck. "Hello, Nick. Is something wrong?"
"I saw you leaving Warrick's place before shift," Nick informed him.
Gil was a little confused. If Stokes had seen Gil hours ago, why was he just now confronting him and why had he been so relaxed and... Nick all night? "And?"
"Do you want him all for yourself?" Stokes inquired. He looked a little scary to Grissom. Dangerous. "I need to know."
"You and he...?" Gil prompted.
"I was first," Nick responded icily.
Grissom sighed. Nicholas "More Beautiful Than A Man Should Be" Stokes had staked his claim to Warrick Brown. What chance did Gilbert Grissom stand against that? "Nick, look at us. You're his age, you're gorgeous, and you two have much more in common than Warrick and myself. He was only being kind to the old man. Nothing more." Gil tried to get into his truck, but Nick stopped him.
"Gil, I know you have more confidence in yourself than that," Nick insisted. The angry lover had been converted into the concerned friend at lightning speed.
"Nicky, let's not rub my nose in this. I went to Warrick's place with a problem and he kept me from making a very bad mistake. I'll always be grateful for that but I also know I'll never get a repeat performance."
Stokes took Gil by the arm and marched him to his truck. If Nick was taking him off to dump his boyfriend-meddling body in the desert, he was going the wrong way. They eased into the drive-through at the In And Out Burger. The line was long but moving fairly well.
"What would you like?" Nick asked as they came to the first of three menu signs.
"The Mean and Lean, no onions," Grissom answered. Gil always suspected they used the same meat no matter what style you ordered but never tested it. If the sign said this burger had 1/3 less calories than the regular one, who was he to shatter the myth?
"Okay." Nick turned in his seat as far as his seatbelt would allow. "I can't believe I've been worrying about Greg Sanders when it's you who has come bird-dogging my man. Damn, what an idiot I was to ignore the bigger gun."
"Weight-wise?" Gil asked.
"Don't even try it," Nick growled dangerously.
"Nicky, he was just being nice. It was a pity fuck!" Grissom insisted.
"You're still doing better than me," the voice from the menu sign replied. It sounded like a guy in his late teens.
Gil buried his face in his hands.
"One Mean and Lean, no onions, and a Meat Master, no onions, no jalapeno," Nick ordered.
"Anything to drink?" the voice inquired.
"No, we're good," Stokes responded. He waited until they were past the sign before he spoke. "Gil Grissom is no one's pity fuck."
Gil refused to look up. "Can we not do this, Nicky?" he asked. "In other circumstances, a man as gorgeous as yourself saying he was jealous of me would be good for my ego. Now it's only telling me that my one and only night with Warrick has hurt someone I happen to respect a great deal."
Nick said nothing as he snagged their burgers and paid. He pulled back onto the road and again did not head to the desert and the dumping grounds. "Gil, you're a very handsome man and I am jealous." He stroked Grissom's cheek. "I know exactly why Warrick would push me away for you."
Gil looked up and found Nick smiling at him. "Nicky?"
"Ssshhhh," Nick said softly. He stroked Gil's face again. "It's going to be alright," Stokes promised. He drove quickly through the light traffic until they were in front of some unfamiliar apartments. "Come on in."
Gil knew Nick was too honest for this to be some kind of setup. If he'd planned Grissom any harm, it would have happened in the parking lot and not in his home. He followed the younger man inside.
Grissom had barely gotten through the door before Nick pushed him against the wall.
"Did he kiss you?" Nick demanded. "Did he put that mouth of his on yours?"
"Yes," Gil confessed as he mentally commanded his nipples to flatten back out. 'This is not playtime, guys. Go back to sleep.'
Nick kissed him hard. "Did he suck your neck?"
"No, but he did lick it," Gil replied, wondering how to respond to this unique interrogation.
Nick licked Gil's neck and then sucked it for good measure. "Our burgers are getting cold," he said, letting Gil go.
They could have killed every cow in the world at that very moment and Grissom wouldn't have cared. How could he ask Nick to get back to the interrogation?
Nick tore open his bag and bit into his hamburger with the kind of gusto that seemed to temper his entire life. Gil ate more carefully and was still eating when Nick had finished and decided to keep Gil's lips pristine by licking them clean after every nibble.
Gil crumbled up his sandwich wrapper and stuffed it back into his bag. "Thanks for the meal." Okay, what was he supposed to say?
"Gil, say stop right now and I'll take you back to your vehicle. Otherwise, I'm going to drag you to my bed and fuck you. For every stroke Warrick gave you, I'm going to give you two," he promised.
"If this is some kind of payback, Nick, then you can just take me to my truck. I know that compared to you I may be old, fat, and --" Gil had never been thrown over anyone's shoulder before. It was very disconcerting.
Nick dumped him on the bed and appeared not to be winded at all. He stripped down and let Gil see the body he'd imagined for years. Hot damn. Stokes pointed his fully erect cock at Gil's mouth. "Does this look like I think you're old, fat, or whatever?"
Gil shook his head and dived down on the younger man's cock. Nick wasn't as big as Warrick but he was definitely more than a mouthful.
"I hope you're still stretched from yesterday because I don't have enough patience to wait for your ass, Gil," Nick warned. He buried his fingers into Grissom's hair. "Are you ready for me or are you ready to run?" he asked.
Gil released the younger man's cock. "I need you to be gentle. Warrick left me... tenderized."
Nick smiled. "It's the only way I would do it with you," he promised before capturing Gil's mouth in a long, sweet kiss. He moved Gil onto his back and stripped him while humming a song Grissom did not know.
"You seem to get an unnatural pleasure from undressing me," Gil noted. "Tell me the name of that little tune you're humming."
"One, it's 'Secret Wish' by Josh Dillon and two, don't analyze me when I'm about to put my cock in your ass," Nick insisted. "Gil, you're in a situation where you don't have to be smart. You don't have to be clever, charming, or witty. You only have to be willing and able." Stokes kissed Grissom's wrists. "Are you willing and able, Mister Charming, Witty, Smart, and Clever?"
Grissom processed the received input and came up with a startling conclusion. Nick had found Gil attractive before this night. "Yes," he agreed, "I'm willing and able."
Nick tortured Gil with a series of soft kisses. "You may intimidate me in the field, but I think we're just about even in bed." He licked his way down to Grissom's cock.
"No," Gil corrected, "I think you're definitely on top here."
"I like the sound of that," Nick said before mouthing Gil's balls.
Grissom was tantalizingly close to an orgasm fairly quickly, but Nick had good instincts and lots of experience. He knew how to keep Gil from cumming. Gil rode his pleasure as he rode the younger man's fingers. The feeling of the head of Nick's cock in his ass was almost a surprise. A wonderful surprise.
Nick moaned Gil's name again and again as he sweetly drove himself into Grissom's willing and able body. More than the sex itself, it was the contact, the living human contact, that was driving him wild.
"Nicky," he moaned, letting himself be totally overwhelmed by the other man.
Gil had been burned and consumed by the fire of Warrick, now he was smoking from the warmth of Nick. Both events had brought Gil to life. He released his control and fractured into orgasm.
Grissom was aware of the younger man's soft and concerned voice and it helped him pull himself back together. "I'm okay," he promised. It was true. Inadequate to cover the situation, but true nonetheless.
Stokes licked Gil from nipples to cock, cleaning him like a big cat would. The image of Nick with whiskers like a cast member from Cats almost made him laugh. "You have a beautiful smile," Nick declared before kissing him again.
Gil snuggled in as his answer; his voice was worn out from his last sentence. Nick stroked his head and Gil drifted off to sleep, once again in the wet spot.
[][][]=============[][][]=============[][][]
Grissom was dying to know what or who Warrick and Nick were discussing with such passion in the locker room. When he got close enough to hear, all conversation ended.
"Gris," Warrick said as he moved closer. He placed his hand on the locker just above Gil's head and leaned in to emphasize his height, closeness, sexual power, and pretty much all that added up to Warrick Brown when Grissom allowed himself to think about those things -- which he really shouldn't at work. No. Not at all. No matter how much he wanted to lick the taller man's armpit.
"Gris," Warrick repeated, "I'm cooking when I get home. Would you like to come over for a bite?"
Nick closed in from the other side. "The only thing he's going to allow you to bite is the pillow," he casually warned Grissom.
"Nick, Grissom is a big boy," Warrick said defensively.
"So am I," Nick reminded his friend.
"Fine," Warrick replied. He sighed. "You know I have an addictive personality. You dangle this in front of me, give me a taste, and then --" he stopped and looked back and forth between Gil and Nick. Gil was just about to cede the field to Stokes when Brown touched Grissom's chest as if Gil might shatter from the pressure. "I want both of you to come over." He paused. "If you're up to it."
"I'm up," Nick promised. He turned toward his locker and nearly jumped through the ceiling when Warrick's hands grasped his ass.
"Hands and knees, Nicky. That's all there is for you at my place." Warrick chuckled and went to his locker.
Gil had to adjust himself in his pants as he watched Nick watch Warrick who was watching Gil. There was a definite power struggle going on and he was in the thick of it without compass, map, or a clue. "What time?" he heard himself ask.
"As soon as you can get there," Warrick answered as he pulled out a jumpsuit. "I know you wouldn't mind watching me work a bit before getting to the main meal."
Okay, subtext. Gil could do subtext. At least on paper. Speaking with subtext was harder if you couldn't go back and edit what you'd said, add italics where necessary, or capitalize. "Okay." On paper that one word could have been loaded with subtext.
"Should I bring anything?" Nick asked.
"I'll make you a little list," Warrick promised as he gave the smaller a very saucy smile.
Damn, they were excellent at subtext. Warrick had demonstrated dominance and Nick had expressed himself in a submissive manner without giving up any of his strength. This obviously took more practice than Gil could possibly gain in the next few hours.
The rest of the night shift crew strolled in and Gil made himself go to his office. His seat still hadn't even warmed up before he had a case to hand out.
"Warrick, Nick, I have a domestic with a DB in Henderson," Grissom explained as he handed off the slip. "Lockwood has the scene."
"On it," Warrick said as he headed out.
"Always," Nick added, giving Gil a wink. He strode away and Grissom could have sworn the man was wiggling his ass on purpose.
Grissom would have kept watching, but he had calls to take, paperwork that was breeding, and Hodges to avoid. He'd been at it for a while when Brown and Stokes returned with Lockwood and a suspect. Gil drifted toward the interview rooms.
The guy was tall, older but really fit, with perfect teeth, blue eyes, a square TV announcer jaw, black hair that had to have been touched up, and a deep tan. He had cuts on his arms and hands and a real beaut of a swollen eye. It looked like the wife had fought back hard before she died.
Grissom stood beside Lockwood in front of the two-way glass. "What's the story?"
"911 got a domestic disturbance at the townhouse. Third one this month. The guy never follows through on the charges. This time, things got a little uglier. The wife is dead, the husband hanging on by a thread --"
"Then who is this?" Grissom asked, nodding toward the
suspect, who was obviously doing better than "hanging by a thread".
"The neighbor, Jordan Briar," Lockwood answered.
"Mister Briar," Stokes began, his voice calm and even. "Why don't you tell us exactly what happened?"
Briar looked very tired, as if he hadn't slept for days. "I heard Darlene yelling at Freddy again. Then --" He ran his hands through his thick hair. "It sounded like she was beating him. I could hear him begging for her to stop. I had to go help him before she killed him this time."
The man had seemed so calm at first, but as he remembered the event his control wavered. His cheeks were wet with tears. "Why didn't you people take that monster away?"
"They needed Mister Capriotti to not drop the charges," Brown explained. "Could you go on with your story?"
Briar nodded. "I went to their door and banged on it, hoping the noise would make her stop." He paused and seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating. "Freddy started screaming." He hesitated, his mouth slightly open as if the pictures in his mind were too horrible to put to words. "No one could live long if they were making that sound." He began to rock himself.
"How did you get through the door?" Nick asked. "It was a bolted, good solid door."
"It looked like you'd used a battering ram," Brown added.
"I... kicked it in." He looked at Nick, his dark blue eyes swimming with tears. "I had to save him."
Warrick nodded. "What did you see once you were inside?"
"The bloody knife." Briar held his hands almost 36 cm apart. That was one serious weapon. "She was about to drive it into him again when I jumped her." He dropped his head down and supported his forehead with his hands. "I don't know what I thought I was going to do against her."
"You're about five inches taller than her and a man," Nick observed. "You had a chance."
Briar made a dismissive noise. "Darlene was Army Special Forces before they dismissed her on a sexual harassment charge. She's a professional body builder." He looked down at himself. "I'm an architect who specializes in kitchen design. I haven't been in a fight since high school and, buddy, that was a long damn time ago." He winced as he moved his shoulder too quickly.
"Can you go on?" Nick asked very sympathetically.
"I was trying to use my weight to keep her down and her arms from swinging so she couldn't stab me," Briar reported. "That strategy stopped working pretty quickly. She made it to her feet and was kicking my ass." He ceased talking and tears flooded down his face.
"Mister Briar?" Brown whispered, trying to urge the man on.
"Freddy called for me." Jordan looked back and forth between Brown and Stokes. "It was such a weak sound that I knew he was dying and that... bitch had killed him. I think I lost my mind."
Briar leaned back in his chair. "I stopped trying to hit her and just rushed her and drove her body against the wall. I thought if her head hit hard enough, she would drop."
"But you impaled her on the wall sconce instead," Nick finished.
"I didn't see it. They lived there most of a year but I'd only been in their place twice." He leaned forward. "I can't say that I would have done it differently if I had known it was there." He took a deep breath, winced and gingerly touched his ribs, and let the air slowly out. "Am I under arrest?"
"No," Nick assured him. "We'll get you an escort to the hospital so they can patch you up, Mister Briar."
Briar nodded gratefully. He tried to stand up and promptly fell down in agony. Grissom rushed into the room with Lockwood.
"God, make it stop," Briar begged. He held his leg up, which to Gil's eye seemed to be broken. Gil lifted the hem of his pants leg up and viewed the mottled flesh beneath it. The bone had not protruded from the skin.
Medical personnel rushed in to help and Gil moved back. Briar had broken his right foot and right tibia, had a deep muscle bruise on his left shoulder, and was covered in cuts. How had the man been able to hold a conversation and go from the scene to the police station in that kind of pain?
Briar was transported to the hospital and Grissom had a quick word with his men. "Didn't the paramedics have a look at that man?"
"He was only concerned about Capriotti and refused on-site treatment," Stokes reported.
"He did have his cell phone open to 911 the entire time," Warrick added. "So we need to pull the tape."
"Capriotti was headed right to surgery and the paramedics weren't too hopeful for his survival," Stokes reported. "It's a damn shame. Warrick found pieces of a check for fifty thousand dollars from the Faro di Conoscenza made out to the man."
"It's Italian for Beacon of Knowledge," Grissom translated.
"It's the foundation that supports modern interpretations of ancient European myths," Warrick explained. "He'd won first prize, which included the check, a trip for two to New York for an awards ceremony, and they publish your book. She tore up his check to keep him from 'paying her off and finding another woman'." He quoted the last part with his fingers.
"That's the last thing he told us before they loaded him in the ambulance," Stokes added. "She must have been a crazy woman."
"Even so," Grissom interrupted. "Crazy women get processed too."
. . . .
Gil had never seen such a defined woman before. There was no way she could have gotten that way naturally. "Steroids?" he asked Robbins.
The ME looked back at Gil. "Undoubtedly. Cause of death was the penetration to the back, which punctured the lungs and ruptured the aorta. Exsanguination occurred almost immediately. Paramedics attempted to revive her but she was basically dead the moment she struck."
Gil examined the woman's hands. She had "beater's knuckles" where the knuckles are repeatedly bruised by coming in contact with their spouse's facial bones. "She laid into him quite often."
"I drew some blood, urine, nasal mucus, and a vaginal swab," Robbins reported, his voice flatter than usual. "Outwardly she looked like a Greek statue come to life, but you should see the damage her lifestyle was doing to her insides. Her organs were oversized or shrunken, multiple cysts on her ovaries, and there was a hardening of the uterus that shouldn't have occurred for decades."
Gil frowned at the woman's hands. "It's nothing compared to the damage she was laying on her husband."
"Is it me or are we seeing more and more women beating their partners?" Al inquired.
"I'm sure there is some theory or two out there to explain it, but it just looks like the one-half of the sex we were counting on as a stabilizing influence on our society is losing their grip too." Grissom looked down at the dead woman's misshapened knuckles one last time. "We're descending into madness."
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"So we're finally allowed in to see Fred Capriotti," Nick explained as he peeked into one of Warrick's pots and got his hand swatted with a spoon for his trouble. "Ow," he complained.
"We're processing his nails and documenting his injuries when he woke up," Nick continued. "Poor man."
"Yes," Gil agreed just before being squashed quite nicely against Warrick. The larger man was holding him very tightly. "Warrick?" he inquired when he realized the younger man was shaking.
"He reminded me of you," Warrick explained to the top of Gil's head. "It was enough to break your heart."
"He was almost twenty years older than his wife, flattered by her attention, and stupidly loyal even when she started to beat him," Nick reported.
"He couldn't win," Warrick continued while he kept Gil against him. "She thought he was fat and when he tried to workout and diet then he was trying to appeal to his students."
Gil had some insightful comments but they were lost in a swirl of other emotions as Warrick continued to cuddle him. The man could do this for a living. He could hand out cards that read "Cuddles by Warrick. By appointment only". It was so good to touch his hot living flesh without restriction.
"Your pot is boiling over," Nick announced.
"Yes, it is," Gil agreed. Warrick released him and planted a soft kiss on his lips when Grissom wanted to be pinned to something and his mouth pillaged.
Warrick gave him a naughty twist of the left nipple before going back to the stove to rescue his pasta. "Cute men can be so distracting," he grumbled.
"Cute?" Gil asked. "I haven't been called cute since I was seven."
"It's one of his favorite words," Nick warned. "I had to put my foot down. Now he calls me 'ruggedly handsome'."
"Which you are," Gil agreed. "You have very classic features."
"Which is a polite way to say average, expected, and ordinary," Nick announced. "Warrick is exotic."
"Is this payback for me calling you cute?" Warrick drained the spaghetti and dumped it in the bowl. "I was always a little distrustful of that word."
"How about PHAT or bodacious?" Nick inquired.
Warrick answered the man by kissing him. Gil's excitement inched up again. They looked so incredible together. So incredible that he thought he would either have to leave or play voyeur for the rest of the night. Grissom was sick of watching. His two nights of sharing the other men's bodies had shown him, even more than his time with Lady Heather, what he had let slip past him in life.
Gil turned to go, hoping to ease out quietly. He was grabbed from behind and turned around.
"Going somewhere?" Stokes inquired, sounding just a touch dangerous.
"I thought the two of you would want to be alone," Gil answered.
"Are you some kind of cockteaser?" Warrick asked, sounding serious. "You come here, stand around exuding 'cuddle me' signals, you let me get a taste, and then you try to leave before coming across. They have names for men like you."
Gil opened his mouth to say something but the words fled his brain. "What?" he finally managed.
"Cockteaser," Warrick repeated. "You stand around flaunting it and then try to slip off with a 'just kidding'."
"He's an Old School heartbreaker, Rick," Nick consoled. "He's been playing the 'clueless sexy bastard' card for a very long time."
"Ah," Gil tried. His brain just couldn't seem to grip the situation. "I didn't want to leave, I was being a gentleman about the situation."
"What situation would that be?" Warrick asked, as he stirred his sauce.
"You and Nick were kissing and I thought the two of you would rather be alone than have me here," Grissom explained.
"You think I invited you here just to let you stir me up for Nick?" Warrick asked, putting down his spoon with such force that a glob of thick, rich tomato sauce clung to his cheek. "If that's what you think of me, then you can get your ass out of my house." He started to wipe away the errant sauce, but Gil beat him to it by licking it away.
It was delicious and so was Warrick's mouth, which Gil devoured. Hesitantly, Brown began to respond until their kiss had to have been as passionate as the one Gil had just witnessed. "I was... insecure," Grissom explained once they'd parted.
"Then say that," Warrick insisted. "Don't make it sound as if you think I'm some sort of fiend."
"I'm sorry," Gil apologized. "Can you forgive me?"
"Try that again, but look up at him through your lashes," Nick coached. "Trust me, he can't resist that. I know I can't." Stokes pressed himself against Gil's back and Grissom was comfortably squeezed between the two younger men.
"You don't need those thick lashes to capture my attention," Warrick assured him. "I forgive you."
"I'm bad with living people, Warrick," Gil admitted. "I make a lot of social mistakes, Nick," he continued. The name Nick came out almost as a groan as Stokes ground his cock into Gil's ass.
"Let's eat... the food," Warrick suggested. "We need the strength."
Gil didn't want to move from his position of filling in their sandwich, but food was a very good idea. He hadn't eaten since the shift began and he didn't want to run out of steam at a critical moment.
They ate with Nick and Warrick battling it out for the title of "sexiest eater". Nick won by snatching the only banana and going down on it.
Warrick stared unblinking until Stokes finished off that lucky piece of fruit. "Damn," Brown hissed. "I don't know if I could learn to do that."
"It's okay, Rick, I did get quite a jump on you experience-wise," Nick soothed. He looked toward Grissom. "How about you, Gris? When did you start?"
"Just after the end of the dark ages," Gil quipped. "Not even the arrival of the electric light slowed me down."
Nick looked toward Warrick. "He really wants to be pinned to the ground and tickled until he begs for mercy."
Warrick smiled. "If he's going to beg, mercy should be low on the list."
Grissom looked down at his plate and was surprised to find it empty, which meant he had no excuse to continue to look at it. He tried looking into Nick's dark eyes, but the intensity of the other man's scrutiny had him turning away fairly quickly.
"Gil, do you want to come to bed with us?" Warrick asked. His smoky voice was compelling. "I'd like you there."
Grissom nodded, thought about how that might look, i.e. bobble head doll, and spoke. "Yes, I would, Warrick."
There were many permutations to the puzzle of how to get three men down one narrow hall to a 'big enough for two and not quite big enough for three' bed. Gil's calculations were wasted by Nick rushing ahead and Warrick wrapping his arm around Gil's waist and guiding him along.
"You know I'm scared to death, don't you?" Warrick asked. "My knees are almost knocking."
Gil thought he was a good judge of these kinds of things, but he'd completely missed this. "You're scared? You don't look scared."
Warrick stopped and gently pushed Gil up against the wall. "Just a few days ago I thought I was a dyed in the wool, fully heterosexual, but relaxed about it, man. Then I see a Nicky look-alike shaking his ass in a club and I couldn't put it out of my mind."
Gil wanted to know the name of this club, but that could wait. He had a mystery to solve. "So you fixated on Nick's ass," he prompted.
Warrick threw his head back and exposed his throat. "Oh, yeah. I kept seeing my Nick doing what the fake one had done. He was everywhere and that ass was always in motion."
Gil nodded. Nick's ass in motion. It was enough to rob your mouth of all moisture.
"Nick put it to me, Gil. He threw down. The man caught me and gave me more than a taste," Warrick reported. "Are you feeling me?"
Gil knew that statement actually meant -- "Nick gave me great sex. He performed in a manner beyond what I thought was possible. He's given me expectations of man-sex I didn't think I'd care for. Do you understand what I'm saying and what I'm feeling?"
Yes, Gil understood what the other man was saying and what emotions were behind those words, but what he was feeling was Warrick's cock hard against his lower belly and he was smelling that scent. Smell is one of the strongest senses for memory and Gil was remembering the scent of Warrick's body as his arousal rose. "I feel you," he confessed.
"You don't know what I'm like when I've fixated on someone. When the sex is good and tight, I will work it hard." Warrick ground himself into Gil. "You came back, Gil. That was a mistake if you're not ready to be with me." Brown kissed Gil very, very hard and forced their bodies closer. "I can be a freak when I'm wrapped up." He licked Gil's ear. "Run, Gil, run fast if you don't want this."
Grissom couldn't believe the other man was even a tiny bit sincere. If he really wanted to give Gil a chance to think, he wouldn't be pressing his young firm body against him. He wouldn't be smelling like sex incarnate. He wouldn't be right where Gil could get at him.
Gil grabbed the other man's face and took back some of his own power. He kissed the younger man with the fire he liked to deny existed in his soul. "I'm not running but neither can you, Warrick. You're captured. Do you understand me? You're caught." He kissed him again. "You thought gambling had a grip on you, but it is nothing compared to Nick Stokes. That man will break you. He will bring you to your knees and you'll thank him for it." He slammed Warrick against the opposite wall and pushed himself into Brown's sexy body. "Then I will arrive, pick up the pieces, and calmly and coolly take your mind."
Grissom sucked on Warrick's neck. "I'd closed myself off. I'd forgotten what it was like to have so much power directed at me." He stared into the younger man's eyes. "You're not the only one who can become obsessed." They kissed again. "Are you going to run?"
"Run?" Warrick asked, sounding incredulous. "Not from my own place."
"Good." Gil stepped back. "I believe you issued an invitation." He walked ahead of the other man and didn't bother to look over his shoulder because he knew Warrick was following.
"Don't make me start without you," Nick called in warning.
[][][]=============[][][]=============[][][]
Gil was going to have to stand up all damn day. He'd been pounded nearly flat by two men, sucked raw, worked his jaws into tenderness trying for two cocks at once, and had been woken up three times to give it up again. One younger man was enough for mere mortals but two were going to kill him.
Greg was showing off some recently acquired equipment with the enthusiasm of a new father. Warrick and Nick were making encouraging noises though it was obvious they were barely following the younger man's explanation of what it was supposed to do.
Sara and Catherine were conspiring as only women can do when they have new lovers. They looked at Grissom and snickered. Maybe it wasn't directed at him, but he remained suspicious.
Brass strolled in shoulders back, chest out, and swagger in place. Somebody had gotten laid and well. "Grissom, the DA considers the Capriotti case closed, the Bungee Killers will be arraigned tomorrow, and California is gnashing its teeth to get our Mach 10 shooters." He sighed. "Another day in the trenches."
"True," Gil agreed. "Why are you smiling?"
"Can't a man smile? Can't a man simply be happy to be alive?" Brass demanded. Even his scowl was off and the man was known in six states for his scowl.
Grissom gave the other man the "I know, so confess" look and it broke him.
Jim sighed. "I stopped by the hospital to tell Briar in person that the case was closed. He and Capriotti were sharing a room. They were so cute together. Capriotti hasn't a clue that Briar loves him and Briar is convinced Capriotti will never love a man." He chuckled. "I thought Briar's sister, Sonya, was going to beat them both with pillows."
"So, where did you take her?" Gil asked knowingly.
Brass's face fell. "Andre's Place. How did you know?"
Gil lifted the tiny bit of lipstick off the corner of Jim's mouth with his pinkie. "Red lipstick, the scent of expensive ladies' perfume lingering near you suggesting skin-to-skin contact, a surprising looseness to your walk that suggests strenuous and enjoyable exercise, and that unmistakable shit-eating grin on your face."
Brass adjusted his tie. "Life and death and gratitude that your loved one is not in the morgue can bring out the animal in some women. I was an innocent and cooperative bystander."
Gil snorted.
Officer Sikes peeked through the door. "Captain, there are flowers and chocolates in reception for you."
Brass's eyebrows nearly rose into his hairline. "Excuse me." He walked away, still swaggering.
Gil watched his friend and colleague leave. Grissom hoped he wasn't that obvious.
Greg wiggled his eyebrows at Gil as he approached. "I see that Tessa totally missed out on your affections."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Grissom declared defensively.
"Of course not," Greg agreed sarcastically. He leaned closer. "Whoever she is, she's a lucky woman."
"Thanks," Gil responded.
"Of course this means I can't use you for my nefarious schemes," Greg complained.
"Sorry?" Grissom inquired, tilting his head to the right. He was convinced he'd misheard that last bit.
"I was going to use you to drive a wedge between Warrick and Nick and then swoop in to heal Warrick's broken heart while Nick worshiped at your feet." He sighed. "As far as plans go, it had all the elements of success." He glared at Gil as if the older man had set fire to his home. "All you had to do was play your part."
"Get to work," Gil ordered the younger man. His clipboard was starting to feel like a good blunt object and he needed to get the guy out of swinging range.
"Spoilsport," Greg muttered before walking back into his lab. He tried to put his hand on Warrick's shoulder, but Nick was there to run interference. Brown didn't seem to notice, or more likely, he just didn't care.
Nick gave Gil a wink as he and Warrick left the DNA lab. "More gizmos for the scientific elite," he quipped. "What do we get?"
"New batteries for our flashlights and all the fingerprint powder we can carry," Warrick answered. "We are the pack mules of the place."
"You are important instruments of justice," Grissom corrected. "The Capriotti case has been closed, but we still need your final reports. Henderson East High School wants a CSI representative to speak during career day." He eyed the two men. "Catherine and Sara have done the last six, so guess who is doing it this time?" Gil asked.
Warrick pushed Nick forward in the classic "he volunteers" move. Grissom tapped the taller man. "Thanks for volunteering, Warrick. Judy has the particulars."
Stokes laughed. "That was poetry, Gris."
Warrick scowled at Nick.
"I have my moments," Gil admitted.
Warrick scowled at Grissom.
"I wouldn't treat you like that, Warrick," Greg threw in.
Warrick smiled at Greg. "Thanks, Greg. It's nice to see that someone loves me."
"Desperately," Greg assured him just before Nick gripped him by the ear. "Ow, ow, ow."
Stokes deposited Greg back in his lab. "Sit, stay," he ordered as if Greg were a puppy. Which he was.
Gil snickered. So much for their "casual at work" rules Nick and Warrick had about their relationship. Nick had just gone territorial.
The End
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