Title: Driven
Authors: Carmen and elfin
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Disclaimers: characters belong to the CSI official crowd, but they're so much fun to play with and completely irresistable
Archive: only with permission

**

"Hey, Warrick?"

The CSI froze, hand half way into his locker, feeling like he'd just been caught gambling on Grissom's time rather than simply fetching out a new T-shirt to replace the icky one he'd torn off as soon as he'd returned from his most recent crime scene.

"Gil."

His boss leaned into the locker room, glancing around, gaze settling on Warrick. He absently wondered if Grissom could have managed to fake the complete disinterest in his eyes if Nick had been standing here half-naked too.

"Seen Nick?"

Warrick shook his head slowly. "Nope."

"He's not in yet?"

"No...."

Grissom frowned, and Warrick could almost see the concern creeping over the boyish features. "He was paragliding this afternoon...." The words were almost spoken to himself.

"Well, maybe he ended up in the wrong state."

Or maybe he ended up somewhere he never meant to. Gil had been in for only a couple of minutes. A freak storm had sent Vegas' usually tame drivers into outright panic, making him late to work again.

What if it had caught Nick too? Surprised him. Didn't clubs like the one Nick had joined have weather forecasts? He'd only been paragliding a matter of weeks, no way would he be able to land safely under the conditions currently wreaking havoc on the city.

Without another word, Gil pushed off the doorframe and ran through the corridors until he burst out into the rapidly flooding parking lot.

In the seconds it took to get into his Tahoe, his jacket, shirt and pants were drenched, he was soaked to the skin.

**

Gil drove like a madman, inciting every traffic violation, speeding away from traffic lights he'd barely stopped at, leaving the cacophony of angry drivers behind him.

No one who thought they knew him would have believed him capable of this. But his terror for Nick had overwhelmed him. In his mind's eye he could see the shattered body of the man who'd died and inadvertently introduced Nick to this insane sport. The image changed to Nick lying pale and inert on the metal slab under the harsh morgue lights and he swerved to avoid the car stopped at the side of the road. Dragging his attention back to the road, windscreen wipers on full during the rare rainstorm, Gil forced himself to concentrate of getting to the site.

**

The wheels spun then gripped on the slope and Gil let the vehicle do what it was built for, climb the rough terrain. He could see the near edges of the valleys spreading away to his right. The broad expanses he'd heard Nick raving to Warrick about had been swallowed up by the storm's maw.

Maybe Nick would be above this, soaring in blue skies. Faint hope burned for a second in his chest. He slammed on the brakes and the SUV shuddered to a halt next to Nick's. He flung open the door and got out to stare at the sky and realised the blue would be way above, too high for an inexperienced flier. He was out in this, at the mercy of nature at her worst and someone should have stopped him. Protected him. Rage tore at his chest and he shouted Nick's name but it was sucked out of his mouth by the wind.

He headed for the second Tahoe, hoping against hope that Nick had simply taken refuge inside. The hope was dead in his mind before it was even fully formed. Empty. No kit on the back seat. No Nick. Panic licked at him. Gil didn't panic, there was nothing that couldn't be managed, categorised, assessed. This fear was something he had believed he'd conquered and subjugated.

Was there no one around up here? No one to wait for Nick to come back? What did they do? Just hope that some new flier would be fine out there? Weren't these places regulated? Inspected?

"Nick!" He stumbled across the grit, felt his pants cling to his legs. "Nick!" Why shout hopefully when it was obvious there was nothing here. A movement up the hill. He saw a tent of some kind, saw someone stepping from the opening. Something that might have been a roar of rage burst from his lungs.

"Hey," the voice reached across the distance, "you ok?" The calm there incensed Gil. How could someone just be here, doing nothing, not calling for help when Nick was out there, God alone knew where.

He crossed the wet ground in a matter of strides. "Are you in charge here?"

The guy nodded. "Sure."

"So you know there's a man out in this? One of your club's members? You let him go out in this despite his inexperience, despite that he trusted you to advise him?"

"Hey...." But he didn't stand a chance.

The force of Gil's anger, his fear for the man who held his heart, was unstoppable. His voice rose, reason overruled by the consuming terror that Nick was no long up in the storm but down somewhere, hurt, bleeding and alone.

"What the hell were you thinking? You're supposed to be a professional! Supposed to be in charge! Someone could die in this weather! Nick could die! You're not responsible! But you are accountable, I'll make damn sure you're accountable! If anything happens to Nick.... Anything!"

The guy rocked back on his heels at the blast of Gil's fury and stepped away. The adrenaline pulsing in his system demanded that Gil follow him and he tightened his muscles against the impulse. The young man, why were they always so young, so fucking irresponsible, tugged at the canvas of the small marquee and opened it to reveal a warm glow and three figures seated on the floor surrounded by heap of silky fabric. Three. Gil knew there were three, just as his other senses registered the rain, the cold and the screaming ache of tense muscles. But he saw only one. Nick. Nicky watching him, surprise on his face and something more.

Gil couldn't acknowledge the young man who still stood in the pouring rain, couldn't apologise for his anger. Nick rose in a single sinewy movement and grabbed a jacket. He stepped out into the rain, not even attempting to put it on, approaching Gil in rapid strides. There was movement in his peripheral vision and somewhere Gil realised that the young man had vanished back into the protection of the tent and left the two of them standing alone on the hillside.

Nick stared at him, unaware of the rain running rivers down his back, soaking everything he wore.

Gil was mute with distress and half unleashed emotion, wanting to turn and walk away, not sure his legs would hold him. He was unwilling to make a further fool of himself in front of this man. What was Nick thinking? What was going on behind those eyes? He'd seem them tear- filled, hurt, angry, laughing. He'd never seen this. Absolute certainty burning. Burning. Definitely burning. Enough to torch his soul. He waiting for the mockery and the disdain, tried to prepare himself for the double blows. When Nick's lips moved to speak, he drew in a breath as protection against the blast.

"Gil?" Wondering, amazed and completely sure. Nick's hand half lifted, fell back to his side and then suddenly was cupping Gil's cheek. Not tentative or unsure, but warm, heating the chill damp skin.

Still Gil waited for the destruction, shut his eyes against it, only for them to open when Nick's lips brushed his so lightly it might have been the rain. Nick's face was inches from his own and all he could see was dark eyes level with his, smiling, lit from the inside, coal burning. He was catching fire, wanted to run, fling himself away into the cold damp puddles on this dark hillside. But Nick's fingers held him, not through any tight grip, but merely through their touch which he was unable to drag himself away from. He leaned into the heat of the kiss.

Cold rain iced down his spine but Gil didn't notice, focussed as he was on the softness of Nick's mouth that was touching his own. When a hot tongue flicked across his lips he groaned and opened to the invasion, allowing Nick to taste him. Hands pressed damp clothing hard against his skin, pulling the m together so at last he was close to Nick's body, alive, hard. Gil clung to him, kissing wildly, tasting, desperately, unwilling to let this man go, ever.

It was Nick who broke the kiss. Gil, eyes closed, sought his mouth blindly, fingers twisting in soaked hair to bring him back.

"Gil." Warm breath heated the delicate skin of his ear and he dragged himself back, bunching his muscles to step away.

He was unable to speak, barely able to tear his eyes from Nick's throat to meet his gaze.

Nick took Gil's hand and half dragged him to the Tahoe. He allowed himself to be tugged along, his brain barely functioning except to register the curl of Nick's fingers round his own. When Nick stopped by the vehicle and turned to speak to him, Gil stepped forward and kissed him again, capturing the half-opened lips, shocking himself with his lack of restraint. Shocking Nick more if that were possible.

The door catch pressed into his spine as Nick pushed him up against the SUV, returning the kiss with a ferocity that both terrified and liberated Gil. A hand cupped the side of his face and they both gasped for air, mouths barely separated, sharing the oxygen and the damp air.

"Nicky...."

He could almost see pain in the blue eyes, as dark as the stormy sky above them, and he tried to grasp why Gil had reacted like this. He wanted to reassure, to say it was okay, they were okay. But somehow he couldn't get the words out. Instead he went with the insistent pull of the hands on his neck, the fingers clawing in his dripping hair.

The mouth that claimed his was unreasoning, more thirsty for him, it seemed, than for oxygen.

Nick fumbled with the handle and somehow got them both inside, still kissing.

The clammy press of his clothes on his legs and back made Gil suck in a breath and then Nick was straddling him and his whole body turned into a furnace. The light was dim; he could see nothing clearly except Nick's black eyes that seemed to be burning so he couldn't look away. Fingers twisted in his hair and he lifted his face to the kiss that was raw and desperate and took away what little breath he had left.

Gil's tongue lapped at the raindrops on Nick's neck as the younger man straddled him, opening his mouth on the firm throat. He nudged the square jaw with his head, pushing Nick's chin up. Nick obliged, hands plastered to Gil's scalp, fingers twisted in the soaked, grey hair. The man's hands were everywhere, stroking, clinging. Gil was out of control and Nick didn't want this any other way. Whatever was driving his boss, his lover, embarrassment at his outburst, the adrenaline of the chase that had obviously brought him to this place, he was finding that he loved Gil like this.

Arousal burned between them, drenched cloth separating hard cocks. Nick drove forward, desperate to feel his lover's need for him, groaning, grinding his denim-clad erection into Gil's.

Something between a growl and a moan escaped the older man's throat. He linked his hands at the small of Nick's back, holding him in place, fingers clawing into the chilled skin under the rain soaked shirt.

"Nick... I gotta have you." The words, so unlike Gil's usual gentle pleas, shunted Nick's need up a notch. He leaned down, bit savagely into his lover's shoulder before scrambling sideways into the driver's seat. Wild eyes watched him for a moment, but when he started to undress Gil got the idea and stripped off his own clothes.

All elbows, shoulders and legs, the two men finally got naked, throwing their wet clothes into the back seat. Nick clambered back onto Gil's lap, straddling his legs, sliding down until their cocks were together and their mouths were locked in an open kiss. The sensation of wet skin against wet skin was incredible, a slick, silken heat. They leaned into one another, Gil crushing Nick to him.

Nick gasped for air before Gil kissed him again, tongue hungrily stroking over Nick's. Sliding his hands down his lover's sides to his ass, he lifted Nick bodily, helped by Nick rising up awkwardly on to his knees in the cramped space. Gil grasped himself and positioned the head of his cock.

Their commingled cries were kept inside the car as the weight of Nick's body sank down onto Gil's erection. Nick's hands clawed over Gil's shoulders, across his back.

"Move! Dammit Nick, please!" Gil ground out, words loaded with desire, need, love.

Nick reached back, arms stretched along the dash and the door, raising himself on his knees before sinking back down. His hands spread over the leather and the plastic, nails scraping over it. But it wasn't enough and he reached again for the other man, gripping Gil's arms, feeling the play of the muscles as his lover held his hips with an iron grasp.

Gil raked his heated gaze over Nick's taut stomach, hard chest, face contorted with the erotic cocktail of the pain of the dry penetration and the pleasure of the desperate fuck.

He tried to move, to thrust up as Nick pressed down and eventually they found a rhythm, grinding against one another. Water and sweat mixed on their bodies. The windows of the SUV steamed up, blocking the darkness outside.

Gil's fingers wrapped around Nick's aching cock, squeezing, stroking until Nick closed his eyes. The spasms of the body surrounding him wrenched his orgasm from him as Nick yelled out his own completion hard.

Gil dropped his head back to the headrest, feeling the exquisite raking of Nick's fingernails down his arms, the pulsing of his cock inside the tight heat of Nick's body, the warm sticky wetness on his hand, stomach and thighs.

"Nicky...." Sliding his arms around the panting man, Gil gathered his lover to him, Nick's head rested against his own as he pressed his face against the firm shoulder. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, could hear Nick's in his chest. "Jesus, Nick...."

"Gil...." Lifting his head, Nick grinned ear to ear. "Oh, man.... You are something else."

Unsure how to respond, Gil smiled weakly. "Sorry."

**

Gil headed straight for the locker room in quick time, hoping that it would be empty. He was late, unbelievably, unacceptably, intolerably late. But he had to shower, not because he wanted to wash Nick away but because he knew that he smelt of sex; hot, wild and raw. He thanked a god of luck he didn't believe in that there was no-one there.

Hot water on tender flesh made him wince and he was reminded again when he roughly towelled his shoulders of nails scraping on flesh and in an instant he was back in the Tahoe with Nick, buried deep inside him, lost. The memory took his breath away and he came back to earth to find his clean shirt crumpled in his fingers and his body responding to the images of Nick abandoned, breathless, beautiful and his. Finally his.

Gil sighed and headed for the locker room, towel round his neck. Only this time he wasn't so lucky. Warrick was dragging boots out.

"Gris, you find the sky boy?"

There was a ghost of a smile and something that might have been a flick of his eyebrows. But the smile stopped halfway to fruition when Warrick caught sight of the long scrape that ran from top to bottom of Gil's shoulder blade. Not deep enough to break the skin, but hard enough to leave a raised red welt. Gil could watch the process. Marks that don't last long, received in the last four to six hours, intensified by the heat of the shower. Emerald eyes widened; Warrick the heroically cool was surprised for just one moment. He half-opened his mouth to speak and Gil held his gaze, unflinching and ungiving. The dark man nodded once.

"Guess you did," he murmured, a touch of humour sparking his words. With a smile, he left the locker room.