Title: A Depressing Spank Me Daddy One More Time

Author: Lil Jei

Fandom: CSI: Vegas

Pairing: Gil/Nick

Rating: PG 13 maybe

Word Ct: 900+

Prompt: “Sometimes I need it”

Prompter: fanficme

Kink: Daddy kink

Summary: Nick faces change in the mirror. His life and sexuality is on the brink of change and possible disaster….

A/N: This is the pre slash of things but it is an AU future fic---if Gris never left CSI like planned….the fantasy of sorts. Ask me next time for perverted kinkiness b/c, my muse lies dying on the floor and this was all I could wring from her.

PS: I love daddy kink…despite how this may read. And it is Un-Beta'd.

Disclaimer: The rights to CSI etc and all related characters etc belong to their respective owners, and I'm not one of them unfortunately. And if you don’t like the material don’t read it.

 

Staring into his mirror Nick shuddered. He was full of something tonight and it sure as hell wasn’t shit, piss, or vinegar. He also had a bad taste in his mouth and mouthwash just wasn’t cutting it. The night shift had finally ended if he was honest with himself; he couldn’t have been more thrilled or happy about that fact. It had been a tough year; it had been an even tougher decade. Leaving Texas, meeting new and very interesting people, making a new set of friends, and a completely new life had taken its toll.

 

 

 

 If he wanted to face the truth, he’d admit to himself that he was getting old and with each new day crankier and more exhausted by the minute. His longing for love and family was getting harder to deny. Texas had been calling for a while now. But he couldn’t leave Vegas; he’d be leaving everything that mattered behind. Though now all that mattered was in question. It had been a year since Warrick’s death and 6 months since Gris had returned from solo sojourn into the forensics abyss. Black was hardly the word to describe Nick’s mood this last year. 

 

 

No the better word was “Dead.” It was the word best suited for him and everyone and victims like Warrick. Nick used it to describe himself as well. Dead was all he felt for so long. Two of his closest friends had left him. That had been the killer straw that broke him and his walls. He had always been fragile and soft on the inside but tough and stubborn as the Texas heat. Ever since,…well ever since birth and the death of his innocence. But when he had moved from Texas to Vegas he’d felt it, that instant connection with himself and others. He felt something first with Warrick, Cath, and Jim. Then came Gris, his mentor, his friend, his everything. Then Poof Warrick was dead, Gris gone, and Nick left standing with his heart in his hands.

 

 

He’d remembers the day clearly. He’d gone into to work determined to finally confront Gris over these out of control feelings he had. But no, he hadn’t been able to. Cath had broken the news as gently as she could to the still grieving and broken team. That night was the one of the worst, if not the worst one he’d ever faced. Alone on a scene he’d had to confront his demons and grief. It had torn him apart every day for the last 6 months not seeing Grissom. But today when the man had walked in as if he still owned the place Nick had felt only a brief rush of love and grief when rage had taken him over.

 

 

And now here he was still staring in the mirror hating the life he had chosen even more. He had gotten into law enforcement to help others and to maybe help himself along the way. That all flew out the window today. He took one look at the infamous Dr. Gilbert Grissom and walked out of the lab as soon as possible. Gris, in the long run had turned out to be as much of a disappointment as everyone else in his life .But after confronting the emotions and pain in his heart Nick still knew that Gris was the man he had loved and wanted security from for almost a decade.

 

 

Unrequited love was a bitch at times. And Nick had a serious case of it. When he had first met Grissom, it was all about learning, success, and maybe a promotion or two. Now it was lust, love, and kinky perversions galore. The number of times Nick woke drenched in an erotic sweat had served as an early warning symptom. And now the dreams were here again. They’d been missing for 6 months only to come back with a vengeance sine Grissom’s return. And that was how Nick found himself glaring into his mirror at 5am wishing desperately that these feelings had stayed buried alongside Warrick’s body. But at 5am, he really wanted honesty. But when looking into his bathroom mirror he didn’t want to face up to anything. Not this deep seeded need for security. Not this longing within him to belong. And definitely not this desperate need for hugs and assurances. He didn’t want to need anything a man or woman could ever offer him. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

 

 

Yet still this passion haunted him. He imagined that the perversions within his psyche were enough to scare even Lady Heather. Well that was a joke because even Lady Heather had diagnosed this need he had. Having suitably freaked him out when she had confronted him about it years ago. He never told her or anyone else who he needed but still she and Catherine had figured it out. Never one to trounce words Cath had discouraged him from contemplating sex let alone a relationship with his boss. And now he’d never been more grateful. He would need his mask back if he was ever to see and talk with Gris as he once had. And this horrible need that brought him down every night would never see utterance past his lips. Never.