Title: Threatening Notes and Their Inevitable Consequences
By: JustPlainChy
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Genres: PWP
Rating: NC17
Warnings: none
Summary: Had he thought at this time a few hours ago that this would be awful? Oh, awful didn't even begin to cover it. Awful was a kind word. A word he would reserve for triples, or doubles or a bad day at work. This, this was torture... Written for the Onebed Ficathon, Pure fluff.


Grissom looked down at the offending piece of paper clasped in his gloved hand and sighed. This complicated things rather nicely. Gently he returned the note to its envelope and slid the whole package into an evidence bag before placing the entire bundle on a desk littered with notes and pictures. He pinched the bridge of his nose in vexation and tried to find someway around what he knew was inevitable. He failed. And really, there was nothing else he could do, he owed it to his team to keep them from any more danger, certainly these two, who had seen more than their share of hardship. He sighed again and extended his hand, picking up his phone and dialing the number.

- - - -

Nick Stokes looked down at his cell phone in puzzlement. Grissom hadn't really been forthcoming with information and certainly had been more confusing than clarifying. He looked up and caught his partner's eyes, the younger CSI looking at him in puzzlement.

"Grissom," the older man began, "He needs us both back at the Lab. Something to do with the case that can't wait. He's sending Sara to take over here and we're to report back as soon as she shows," Greg's brow furrowed in confusion as well, most likely trying to understand what could be so important that they were both needed back in the lab. Perhaps they'd had a tip, and the boss needed them to go somewhere or something. Nick really couldn't think of any reason, but he wasn't one to dwell on marching orders once he had them and so he carefully began packing up the fingerprint powder and evidence slips and sorting them in his case. A quick glance assured him that Greg had started to do the same thing, and he felt a momentary swell of pride for the CSI, he'd done better than everyone had expected, and perhaps Sara ,who had taken him under her wing, was partially to blame, but Nick believed that Greg's never-ending passion for everything he set his mind too had played a much bigger part. And if his feelings went a hair to the other side of brotherly pride, well, he didn't dwell too heavily on it and did his best not to let the younger man know.

Just as he labeled the final evidence bag he heard the sound of one of the Tahoes outside and motioned to Greg that they should make their way out of the house. Careful of blood spatter and evidence they wove their way to the front door, meeting Sara on the stoop.

"Grissom told me what you've got so far, and I'll be in touch," she offered briskly before sliding past them and into the darkened scene. Greg looked after her, as if he was going to chase her down and demand answers but Nick touched his elbow, motioning to the Tahoe.

"Come'n G, let's just get back to the lab. Gris'll explain it to us," The younger man looked slightly miffed, and Nick could understand - he hated being left in the dark too , but nodded and followed. Kits made their way into the Tahoe and they both slid into the front, Nick the unspoken choice for driver. However, Greg argued that if Nick drove he got to pick the music. Grudgingly the Texan had agreed and so now, as he started the car he was rewarded with some sort of blaring something that reminded him vaguely of screeching monkeys. He was about to say as much to his friend when a glance showed him the younger man with an ear splitting grin, obviously trying to resist the urge to head bang. Nick smiled and Greg looked at him sheepishly.

"It's one of my favorites," he offered by way of explanation and Nick nodded, perhaps with just a touch, a mere hint, of sarcasm. Shifting into gear he exited the scene and pointed himself towards the lab.

- - - -

Greg didn't think his luck could have gotten any worse. One of his first high-profile cases, a murder that he had been so close to solving, working with Nick, Nick of all people, and now this. Dark eyes implored Grissom, but the man had nothing new to offer them.

"I'm sorry, but we've got to pull you off the case until we catch the murderer. I wont risk the two of you getting hurt over this. As much as I want to keep you out in the field, I have to take threats like these seriously and this one is obviously aimed at you."

Greg looked down at the letter Grissom had shown them after explaining why he had to take them off the case and sighed. It was threatening, and the perp did have an uncanny amount of information on them, and the blaring words that looked angrily up at him made his skin crawl with nerves.

If they stay, these two CSIs, Stokes and Sanders, I will kill them. Kill them like I killed him. You have been warned.

The final words on the sheet haunted him and he looked to Nick, who seemed to be taking this all rather calmly, for a sense of support. Grissom grimaced and pulled the letter and envelope back towards him.

"That's not all," he began and the younger man looked back into those piercing blue eyes. Not all? What else could there be? "We're going to have to put you both in protective custody until we catch him," Oh. That. Well, damn. Nick looked like he was going to protest, his mouth open and eyes angry when a single look from Grissom quelled him. "I'm not taking any chances on this Nick. Not after what happened. You're both going to be put up in a hotel and guarded by two officers at all times," He raised a hand to forestall anymore complaints, "They'll be outside. But if this perp could figure out your last names, he can figure out where you live and with the media, even what cases we put you on," Nick grimaced but held his tongue and Greg simply shrugged. He didn't have anything planned, he basically lived the job and if he couldn't even do that, well being put up by the department in a hotel wouldn't be too awful.

- - - -

Had he thought at this time a few hours ago that this would be awful? Oh, awful didn't even begin to cover it. Awful was a kind word. A word he would reserve for triples, or doubles or a bad day at work. This, this was torture. Brass had dropped them off at the hotel just off the strip just an hour or so after Grissom had called them off, giving them enough time to go to their respective houses (with an escort) and retrieve enough clothing for a week. Apparently no one was taking any chances.

And all of that had been fine, he hadn't been that concerned - granted, watching pay-per-view movies and bad cable was going to get old if they had to stay here for a week, but he was going to get over that. He'd brought some books, his iPod and he could entertain himself while Nick did…well, whatever it was that Nick did. They were friends, and wouldn't be bad roommates. But both of them stood awkwardly now, looking at the source of their furthered troubles. One bed. A single bed. Only one. In the middle of the room like some sort of evil, very squat monolith of torture.

Brass had staved off their startled complaints with "Boys, when you have 4 conferences in town at once, you're glad to get a room. No matter where and what it is," Nick had shrugged at that, and Greg had to agree, he'd run into that problem before a valentines a few years back. The motel he and Mark had ended up using hadn't been his plan, but, now that he thought about it, they hadn't really spent much time looking at the decorations. Ah, well, enough of that. So, here they were. He and Nick, the not-so-subtle object of quite a few late-night sessions of his, and they were going to be sharing a bed. For up to a week. Like he'd said, torture.

Nick looked just about as nervous as him and cleared his throat carefully.

"I could ask for a cot if you want?" Of course he would, Greg nearly laughed, the man was nothing if not absolutely predictable.

"Nah, no rule against us sharing a bed, and no sense about one of us being uncomfortable for most of the time. Close confines call for us to be comfortable. I don't want to deal with a Nick who's irritable about spending the night on an old, and probably smelly, cot," Sure thing, Greg. That's defiantly your reason. he reprimanded himself, but simply offered a smile to Nick. The older man hesitated for a moment longer and then nodded.

"You have a side?"

"The middle," Nick laughed, some of the tension leaving him and he set his bag down, walking to what he considered as 'his' side of the bed.

"Left it is then," Greg grinned and went to the other side of the bed, at least it's a King and dropping his stuff and piling the pillows so he could sit up comfortably. Nick adjusted as well, moving one of the pillows to the middle for a moment while he adjusted the other one against the headboard. Greg quickly acquired the discarded item and added it to his pile, raising an eyebrow and challenging Nick to take it back from him.

"Oh, you just think you'll get away with it Greggo. I'll get you when you least expect it," Nick warned before sitting against his pillow, legs stretched out in front of him, whereas Greg had opted for Indian-style. They sat awkwardly for a moment before Nick announced, "Wanna rent a movie on the department before we crash?" Greg grinned wolfishly and just missed the older man's gulp.

"You read my mind," a moment of searching later and the younger man had located the remote in the top dresser drawer (why it was there, he'd never know) and was busily scrolling through movie choices.

"Aha!" Nick exclaimed, "Bond!" Greg grinned, of course Nick would be a James Bond fan. Well, what guy wasn't? Including himself, so with a shrug he clicked on the button, accepted the payment with relish and snuggled down onto his three hard-won pillows as the opening song began.

- - - -

Halfway through the movie and Nick thought he was doing rather well. He had managed to stay on his side of the bed, hadn't touched Greg since they'd laid down and he hadn't managed to completely embarrass himself yet. However, he looked over at the young man who was quite absorbed in "Die Another Day", even after he'd claimed it was the worst Bond in forever during the opening credits, and got an idea. A grin split his features momentarily and then sneakily he moved closer to Greg, reaching a hand up as if he was stretching before suddenly darting forward and snatching the stolen pillow back.

Greg made a rather undignified squeak as he fell backwards, hitting his head against the wooden headboard and he turned to glare at the older man, who simply sat back smirking holding the pillow up like it was some sort of prize. The younger man's glare changed into something slightly different, a dark glint that matched the wolfish grin that spread across those too-pink lips and Nick gulped, oh this might have been a bad idea after all.

Greg pounced. And it wouldn't have been a contest except that in his surprise Nick flung the pillow across the room where it hit the wall with a thud.

And suddenly there they were, Greg pressed from shoulder to knee over Nick, his arm pinning the older man's arm where he'd tried to grab the pillow, breath mixing and both pairs of dark eyes suddenly darker. A pink tongue darted out to lick dry lips and Greg wasn't moving and Nick wasn't asking him too and neither of them seemed to care about the pillow any more and the tension could have been cut by a knife but neither of them were moving at all and neither one seemed to want to make the first move. So instead, they moved at the same time, lips meeting lips for the first time in an electric shock that rippled over both bodies, heat multiplying in the room. And suddenly it wasn't just lips anymore, but it was teeth and tongues and spit and heat, tongues swirling over each other like black velvet and Greg tasted like smoke and chocolate and spice and Nick tasted of mint and citrus and something completely Nick and they both knew kissing wasn't going to be enough, not nearly enough.

Hands roamed over clothed bodies, twined in hair and suddenly Greg had moved from his mouth and he couldn't suppress a whimper, but then there was teeth and tongue on his jaw, moving down his neck as dexterous hands made short work of his buttons and he hissed as that talented mouth made short work of his neck and found the place just under his earlobe that made him go crazy. A soft chuckle sounded somewhere above him and he decided this was all too one sided, pushing the younger man up so he could pull off the offending t-shirt.

And suddenly it was skin on skin for the first time and both of them couldn't resist a moan. Every place they touched felt like it was on fire and their heartbeats were matched in ferocity. Nick groaned and flipped Greg over, pushing him down on the bed and making short work of his neck, tracing tendons and skin with his tongue, nipping gently, randomly, tasting every bit of the man beneath him, who looked divine with panting breath and dark lidded eyes and he'd never thought he'd get this, but now that he had and he never wanted it to end but he wanted it so badly and he was murmuring nonsensical things against Greg's skin and Greg was hissing and moaning and making the most delightful noises and Nick couldn't have stopped if Grissom had walked in the door.

His hand made its way down to Greg's too-tight jeans and popped the button, gaining a rewarding hiss from the man below him and a "fuck, please Nick!" for his efforts. He grinned and palmed the evident bulge, his breath catching as the other man pressed up against him, mewling and looking for the world like sin on earth. And really, he should have known Greg would be this wanton and needy, but, fuck he hadn't known that every move the man made would travel strait to his groin. Quickly, but not soon enough Greg's pants were on the floor and his soon followed, but suddenly he was on his back and the young man was straddling his hips, the wolfish grin marking his features as he peered down at the Texan, eyes dark with lust and need.

"You don't know how fucking long I've wanted this," he hissed and Nick groaned, his eyes pulling back into his head as Greg ground down into him, the sweet friction of their trapped members brushing against each other and making the older man see stars, "You don't know how fucking long I've wanted you here, wanting me," he growled and a hand found its way to Nick's pants, undoing the button and zipper and pulling them down without foreplay and a great deal of desperate force. "Fuck," the younger man hissed, looking down at the man below him that managed to fulfill and surpass every one of his fantasies. The rippling muscles beaded with sweat, golden skin without an inch to spare. "Fucking beautiful," he groaned, and reached down to pull off those blasted black boxer-briefs he'd spent one too many times staring at in the locker room.

His hands roamed over the exposed skin, and Nick mewled something about him still wearing boxers, but he quickly distracted him with a tongue that traced the patterns he'd just drawn with his fingertips. He lapped his way down Nick's body, nipping gently as he worked over the older man's navel, skipping what he knew the Texan wanted him to pay attention too and nipping at that sensitive juncture between thigh and pelvis.

"Fucking tease!" Nick groaned from below him and suddenly he was on his back again and Nick was looming over him, eyes almost black with need, snapping in lust and Greg suddenly thought that all that teasing may have not been the best idea. Nick reached down and pulled off the boxers he'd in turn been staring at too many times and a soft moan was wrenched unwillingly from his throat as Greg's cock sprung free, red and hard, curving up towards his stomach. "Fuck," he whispered, teasing the younger man the way he'd been teased, running strong hands over ribs and shoulders, down thighs and over a taught stomach. Greg echoed his earlier noises, strangled gasps and moans, choked off breaths and hitched exclamations. Carefully he made his way down, tracing a path with his tongue and teeth, pausing to mark Greg just above his hip - causing the younger man to groan and writhe under him, his tongue lapping and teeth worrying the skin until a bruise formed. He pulled back to admire his handiwork , then tongued over the red mark gently, feeling the shiver that rippled across his new lover.

And then, without warning, Nick's mouth surrounded him and Greg nearly screamed. Strong hands kept him from thrusting upwards, but he did his best to fight them, that tongue doing those ungodly but oh so splendid things to him, teasing and torturing as a warm mouth slid over him, sucking just enough, with a gentle scrape of teeth that made him nearly faint. And he was moaning unabashedly now, writhing on the bed and whispering all sorts of nonsense, that he was sure Nick would tease him about later, but now it didn't matter as long as he kept licking and sucking and Oh God, whatever the fuck that was. And he was getting close, and Nick must have realized it because just as suddenly as he'd begun he stopped and pulled off, Greg's member falling from his mouth with an undignified 'pop' that would have been funny if it hadn’t been so frustrating.

"I want to be inside you when you come," that Texan voice drawled in his ear, just above a whisper and husky with want and Greg suddenly forgot how frustrated he was and simply stammered something in reply, pupils dilated and breathing shallow. Nick stood then, sliding off the bed despite Greg's wordless pleas, but he was back just as quickly and kissing Greg with all the passion of a dying man being given water. How could he resist, he arched into the older man, until suddenly Nick's finger was cool and wet at his entrance and then slowly pushing inside, and all he could gasp out was 'more', 'please' and 'now' and Nick chuckled slightly, before pushing the finger all the way in, searching until the found the spot that caused Greg to arch into him, a scream muffled by a hasty kiss.

He eased a second lubed finger inside, scissoring, working Greg apart and listening to those base noises and broken pleas as if they were the sweetest thing he'd ever hear. And then, before it all became too much and he couldn't take it anymore, Nick slicked his own cock up and pushed into Greg, inch by precious inch, reveling in the feel of the silken passage that held him so tightly he thought he might die simply from the sensation. His lips found Greg's and the young man moaned into him, arching against his touch as he began to rock slowly into him, the head of his member brushing over the bundle of nerves with every stroke. It was gentle and splendid but Greg pulled out of the kiss long enough to hiss,

"Fuck me!" and Nick could do nothing but oblige, forgetting gentle and instead pulling back and slamming into Greg with a choked 'God Yes!'. They moved together in mounting frenzy, eyes dark, but locked, sweat pooling off them both and mating together, muscles tensed and when Nick's hand found his painfully hard cock Greg knew he wouldn't last more than a few strokes and he didn't, once, twice and then the world was focused on an explosion of white and Nick inside him and Nick's hand on him and God he never wanted to come down, but with a groan Nick slammed deep inside him again and he fell back into his body as he felt the heat of Nick's seed fill him and a cry was ripped from the Texan's throat, all animal and basic and God Greg hoped he'd hear that again. And then the older man collapsed on him and they both lay there, spent and sated, blinking sleepily and kissing lazily as the end credits began to roll somewhere in the background.

- - - -

Nick strolled back into the room sleepily, a warm, wet rag clasped in his hand. He crawled back over to Greg, who was barely awake and cleaned him off gently. He lay back down then, pulling Greg on top of him, content to be with the man he'd dreamed about so many times. Sleepily Greg moved beneath him, speaking softly.

"See, told you m'side was th' middle," Nick smiled, and Greg continued, "You can have m'pillow, I've got a good one right here," and with that admission he succumbed to sleep while Nick spent a moment stroking his hair.

Suddenly, Nick's cell rang, and he reached out a hand to pluck it off the side table.

"Stokes" Grissom's voice was really the last thing he wanted to hear right now.

"Nick, we got him. You two are free to head on home," Nick nearly laughed, but instead, raising an eyebrow his boss couldn't see replied.

"We're staying the night," and before the man could reply he shut the phone, turned it on silent and adjusting so Greg was properly in his arms, fell asleep.

-Fin.

A/N: CSI is property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer productions. Thanks go to my wonderful beta Westbrook, for she is a doll. Leave feedback on your way out!