Title: Driven
Author: *bright
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Vaguely season 6
Pairing: Nick/Warrick
Category: Silly PWP
Summary: Warrick is looking and slowly boiling over.
Author's Note: I blame kristen999 and her armpr0n pics. She caused this; I swear my mind is never in the gutter. Un-beta'd and totally out there.
Disclaimer: Me own zip and nada, 'cept an overactive imagination

He did it on purpose, I'm sure of it. Probably stood there in front of the mirror and changed t-shirts until he found the one he knew would drive me bonkers. The one that is so tight I can see every play of tantalizing muscle under the skin as he moves. The one which color brings out the darkness of his eyes, making me associate to him all needy and writhing with lust. Then he must have pulled on his vest and adjusted his pants to lay low on his hips. That's right, that's what he did. 'Cept I know my Nicky and he probably just took the first thing in sight and pulled it on while he padded out to the kitchen and gripped a protein drink, all wet from the shower.

I shift in my seat to ease the tension. Nick's thumb is flicking at the steering wheel to the rhythm of some Latin pop playing low on the car stereo. I wonder what the words in the song mean and I want Nick to whisper them to me while I devour him. I want to suck said thumb into my mouth and play with my tongue around the knuckle before I let it slowly slide in and out, mimicking what other parts of the body can do.

Surely he bribed Griss into giving us this case that entails a long drive in a hot car; just so he would be able to flaunt his bare arms with the veins popping out from holding on to the steering wheel as we bump along this endless dirt road. He planned all this just to drive me insane. I know he did. There's no other explanation and I am sporting a woody that will be the end of me yet. Nick reaches over to adjust the air-conditioning and I see the soft skin on his underarm, the tendons playing as he turns the lever. It's still not working properly and I'm about to inform him that what I really need is some chipped ice to slip into my pants but I am not sure he'd appreciate the fact that I, Warrick Brown, still married is lusting over him like a teenager with too much time on my hands.

I don't think he's said a word since we left the city limits and I have been too occupied with stealing glances at the golden skin covering the hard mass of muscle. And it's not just the arms but also the neck; long and with skin damp from the heat even the air-conditioner can't combat is not helping me much either. Goddamn it, I want to lick and bite at it.

He looks at me from time to time, brow knitted, probably from my silence and my intense stare. I don't say a word because I want him to suffer too. I want him to feel what I am feeling - a need to assault him and have him pull over and just go down on him. Lick that neck and nibble at the joint of his neck and shoulder until he moans in that throaty way that has me almost coming. I want him to beg for more as I slip my hands under the tight t-shirt he's wearing and play with him until I get my way with him. Or the other way around, I don't really care as long as I get something.

I've developed a way of looking at him from the corner of my eye hidden behind the shades that should not give any indication that I am practically eye fucking him. But something tells me he knows 'cos once in a while a small smile is playing on his lips and he lets his fucking tongue emerge twice to swipe over the lower lip I have nibbled on before. It happens when he's concentrating hard and right now the dirt road is forcing him to zig-zag to avoid the deepest potholes and the tongue is out again, just a brief moment I see the tip and it leaves moisture in its wake. And I can't decide if I'm in heaven or hell when he shifts in his seat and the thigh comes closer to mine as he adjusts himself. Because I know the strength in said thighs as they wrap around you and pull you close, I know how they flex with the rhythm, steadfast and demanding. The mental picture forces me to go for the water bottle and I take a sip to calm myself down.

"You ok?" he asks. Voice low, barely audible over air-conditioner and the background music but the genuine concern comes across from the tone alone.

"Fine. How far is this joint anyhow?" I croak, "this heat is getting to me man."

"I can see that," he smiles at me, all coy he sends me that smile that would light up a fucking room, all joviality and warmth. All things Nick-goody-two-shoes-Stokes seasoned with lust and heat. I want to crawl over to his seat and kiss that smile off his face. I want to kiss bottomless need into his lips, craving hunger into his narrow hips and myself into his brain. I want to mark him as my property; my arms to ogle and be wrapped into, my smile to bask in, my neck to nip and suckle and I want that finely tuned body to be mine alone and take me where I need to be right now. And that would be bent over the hood of the car, ravaged by Nick Stokes.

He reaches for the water bottle and our fingers touch as I hand it over. Tongue comes out again to lick at the bottom lip before he tilts the bottle and takes a sip. Never letting his eyes leave the road. I watch him swallow and his Adam's apple is mocking me. I watch him finger the bottle, driving with one hand only and his thigh tenses as he brakes and zags, his eyes narrowing as a beam of sunshine plays across his face.

It's right then and there I realize I've gotten myself a new addiction.

"Stop the car," I say, because I just can't take this any more.

"Huh?" He huffs, looking at me puzzled.

"Pull over," I prompt.

"What, why?" he pouts, the damned man pouts and that is my undoing. "It's just another three miles."

If words won't get through maybe I need to take action? I lay my hand on his thigh, close to his groin and let my thumb draw a circle on the jeans while my palm presses down on him.

"Nicky, I need you to stop this car right now," I rumble from somewhere deep in my throat, dropping my shades and looking at him. I want him to see what I want.

And he does; manoeuvring the Denali with one hand he drives until a large Douglas Fur shelters us from the merciless sun risen above the mountain before he pulls up to the shoulder of the road. The other hand has come to rest on my own thigh and I can't fucking breathe any longer. I make pitiful groans as said hand moves to touch the now clearly visible bulge.

My hand is cupping his neck the moment he turns the ignition off and I pull him into my lap, his ribs rubbing against my erection as I groan and kiss him.

"I-Interesting c-condition," he pants as I finally let him come up for air. His eyes are all black now, pupils dilated and breath running uneven.

"Mmmm," I reply when I get the vest opened and finally my hands can slide in under the offending t-shirt while my lips are closed over the earlobe. Goddammit he's fine. I feel the pecs flexing under my hand and he tries to suppress a moan as my tongue slips into his ear. I grin at his response and scoot him back to the driver's seat and my free hand reaches the lever to let the seat fall back. He's now laid up for me to take and I position myself with my knees bent and alongside his thighs. I'm half-sitting above him, ready to dive down and take all of him. His hand is already tugging my pants down and I nip at his neck and let my hand wander all over him. It doesn't take much before his pants are sagging around his knees. Nick's always been a gentleman and he obediently lifts his butt so I can pull them down.

"That's my Nicky," I purr into his ear, my fingers finally around the burgeoning arousal that salutes me. His hands are busy lowering my boxers and his lips, those soft devilish weapons are plastered to my collarbone. The man has the audacity to lick me, he licks a trail right along my collarbone, dips his tongue into the hollow where they meet and laughs deep in his throat at my helpless moan.

"So needy," he grunts.

He's got that right. My hand is sliding along his erection, feeling it grow and thicken and hungrily I go for his lips again. To kiss Nick is dangerous, he has the capacity to suck every rational thought right outta you and leave you a shivering heap asking for more.

I want him in me, I need him in me right now. I want those arms wrapped around me, that neck resting up against the seat ready for me to lick and the pulsating vein giving me rhythm. Right now all I can see is him, his breath hitching and his taut skin glowing. I kiss every inch at my reach, lick and bite at it as I push his t-shirt up and expose his chest for me to enjoy. I know I'm moaning helplessly as I let my lips trail over the nipple, making it pebble as I nibble at it. The sensation of the pebbled skin on the tip of my tongue is sending melted lead into my groin, the weight increasing and needing to be let free. I close my eyes and lick the tensed tendon on his neck, the salty taste makes me even hungrier for him.

But he breaks my concentration by going for something in his vest pocket. I pull my lips from his throat and look at him.

"I have lip balm," he clarifies, "not the best but I'm not in the habit of carrying lube around for every time you feel the need to jump me."

I grin. Lip balm and Nick Stokes - why does that not surprise me? "Good," I get out before the lips call on me again. They're slightly parted now, tongue coming out from the concentration as he dips his fingers in the tiny jar and I get that tongue deep inside my greedy mouth.

My hands are on his chest, teasing the nipples and I curse when his finger dips inside me, playing with me until I am open and ready and when they leave me I'm just about to come. Our erections slide up against each other and that alone has me leaking precum all over him. He is hot under me, trapped and hard and all mine as I help him rub the lip balm over his hard erection. It will hurt, I know but I don't care. I kiss him when I slide down on him, groaning into his mouth at the burn and feeling him tense and hold my hips to ease me slowly over him. The burn turns to a tingle as he hits my bundle of nerves and my needy growl makes him buck up against me, lodging himself deep inside of me. My erection is trapped between us and his arms finally wrap around me to hold me close. My own hands grip the seat for leverage, fingers curling around the edge. I don't need much friction. I am already overheated and I rub against him and his cock deep inside me rubs at my prostate and that's when I howl and thrust down on him. His hands grip my ass and I am gone, I take all of him as deep as I can, wriggling and thrusting with my lips sealed to the sweaty skin below his ear.

"Jesus," I breathe when he drives into me with force and wriggles his hips, squeezing my erection to his abdomen hard enough to send me hovering on the edge with a desperate pleading groan of his name. I'm approaching the point of no return fast, jolted by his orgasm as it hits him and he tenses and arches under me, sending his warmth into me with hands clasping hard at my ass and pulling me along with him. He shivers and moans as he empties himself into me and I come hard as I ride his orgasm as well as my own. I can hear strange suffocated sounds leave me as I send my seed over his abdomen. Spasm after spasm covers him with the sticky and hot release that he pulls out of me with every thrust of his hips and I black out momentarily as my vision gets fuzzy around the edges when I let out a troathy holler.

I come back to his hand stroking my back as I lay panting over him, my hands still gripping the seat.

He's all sweaty and hot, his exhales a tad laboured from my weight on him, his legs trembling under me. But I don't want to move, I want to stay here and feel every breath he takes. I want to lick the sweat droplets, slowly running down his temple, off his skin. I want to bury my nose in the crook of his neck and breathe him in.

But I have to move and I kiss him deeply as I pull off him and more or less fall down into the passenger seat. My hand still resting on his bare thigh, trying to steady the tremble I still feel in it.

"You okay man?" I ask, my breath still raspy.

He coughs what sounds like a snort of laughter. "Am I all right?"

I massage the trembling thigh. "Yeah, you're all shivering bro."

"I wonder why?" he retorts dryly.

"Shut up," I shoot back, not able to hide the large grin. "I think we need to get going, we still have a crime scene y'know. Want me to drive?"

Nick is chuckling. "What was that 'Rick?"

"That's what you get for drivin' me outta my mind."

"Oh."

"That's right," I say and close my eyes and sink into the boneless state of complete relaxation. "Gimme a minute and I'll clean you up."

"And how am I gonna explain the hickey you gave me?"

I crane my head to look at him all sprawled out over the driver's seat. Sweaty and flushed. Fuck, he is beautiful. He looks at me with dark eyes and a smile is playing around his lips. "You bit me."

"Sorry," I say, resting my hand on his heaving abdomen.

"I'll have you explain to Brass why I turn up with a hickey all of a sudden. And looking like hell all crumpled up."

"Nah," I say, reaching to tilt his head to the side and examine the red mark I've left. "It was the jack that nipped you when you changed the flat."

"Very believable."

"Only thing I got to offer."

I sink back and relax, drifting away on clouds of endorphins, sensing Nick's breathing even out.

The scent of strawberry is lingering through the heavy scent of consumption and I smile. "Lip balm, Nicky?"

"So?"

"Cute, very cute. I'll get you new lip balm when we get back. But this time I get to pick the flavour."

"Som'thin' wrong with strawberry?" comes the lazy drawl.

"Not if you wanna get jumped on a regular basis," I tell him.

He chuckles. "In that case I demand strawberry."

"You've got it man." I reply and watch him in the rear-view mirror. His lips are swollen, his chest flushed and his right hand is splayed over the bare skin that emerges under the pushed up t-shirt. One pebbled nipple is still showing. He's smiling, a content little smile and I, Warrick Brown, have never loved Nick more than right now in this instance.