Title: Dry
By: saras-girl
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nick doesn't much care for searching for evidence in the desert.
A/N: Written after realizing that there is a hell of a lot of rain in my stories…on balance I felt inspired to write something in which Nick and Greg are too dry, instead. If you like, it's a counterpart for 'Wet' because like that it's inexcusable first-time smut on work time, but the weather conditions and POV are reversed…

The whole 'bit of fabric caught in a tree' was lifted shamelessly from 'Inside the Box' of course. This story takes place in season six because...man, I love the floppy hair :)

Reviews make my sad little day. Please let me know your thoughts! I didn't realize how LONG this was til I uploaded it here. Sorry about that.

XXXXX

"Remind me again, what we're looking for."

"Evidence, Greg. We're looking for evidence," Nick replied distractedly, eyes sweeping the interior of the Denali as he struggled to locate his bottle of water.

He registered Greg's impatient sigh and the dull thud as he flopped back against the closed passenger side door, but he did not respond. He was focused.

It was in here somewhere, he knew it. And there was absolutely no way he was going to walk out into the middle of the desert without water. The sun was beating down relentlessly already, and it was only…he flicked eyes to the dashboard clock…10 am. Damn. Bad enough that he was, once again, pulling a double, the third this week. Bad enough that Grissom had decided that the seven hours he had already spent at this scene were not enough, that he should go back and look at it again in the light, and perhaps then he would find the missing piece of the puzzle. Bad enough that Nick was not even at this point sure what form that missing piece was going to take.

Bad enough that Warrick had lost his cool with a gang member during an interrogation and had gotten sent home by Ecklie, suspended for two days. And of course, Nick thought irritably, opening and shutting the glove box with no luck, of course Greg had been the one to replace him on the case.

The last thing he needed right now was to spend time with Greg, especially time alone with Greg. He managed to keep a tight rein on his feelings for the ex-labrat most of the time, but just recently he had the uncomfortable suspicion that those feelings were starting to control him, rather than the other way around. It made Nick feel uneasy, the sheer depth of his need. Never in his life had he wanted someone so much it actually hurt to be around them. He did not know what it was that had precipitated the shift, but he did not like the feeling of being completely in Greg's thrall one bit. It was unnerving. Nick knew that avoidance was exactly that, and denial was pointless, but still he had told himself firmly that the best thing to do was to keep as large a distance between himself and the younger man until the feeling subsided.

Which it would. He hoped. It had been a worryingly long time now, and anyway Nick was never really one for passing flights of fancy. He liked things real, and that was partly what frightened him. Ignoring every sensible voice in his head telling him not to, Nick gave in and turned his head slightly, stealing a glance at his co-worker.

Greg had his eyes closed against the sun and his head tipped back against the car door. A small smile was playing on his lips now, all traces of irritation seemingly gone. His usually pale skin was flushed in the heat and a slight sheen of sweat glistened above his upper lip. Nick watched, unable to look away now, and sucked a breath in harshly as Greg's tongue slid out and licked it away, swiping the moisture into his mouth. Nick gulped, somehow tasting salt in his own mouth and trying desperately not to think about licking that same spot, tracing Greg's dry lips with his tongue and urging them open, tasting and – Nick shook himself and dragged his eyes away before Greg noticed the lack of car-searching sounds and opened his eyes. The last thing Nick needed was the demand for an explanation of his hungry staring that he was sure would come if Greg caught him out. And where was that damn water bottle?

Leaning down and stretching out one arm under the driver's seat, Nick rested his chin uncomfortably against the rough, sun-warmed upholstery and patted aimlessly under the seat, unseeing, fingers brushing fruitlessly across dust and grit and something unidentifiably sticky before they closed around familiar ridged plastic. Sensing victory, Nick's grimace softened into a smile and he dragged the offending bottle out from under the seat.

"Found it!"

He straightened up and wiped the back of his hand against his already damp forehead, letting the now warm bottle of water dangle between the fingers of the hand at his side.

"Well done. Can we get started then?" Greg did not open his eyes to address Nick, and Nick stared past him into the distance, where the air shimmered ominously in the sun.

"Sure thing, G," he replied absently, not looking at the way Greg's hair was curling around his ears. Not looking at the way Greg's jeans hung on his hips, and certainly not looking at the way his shirt was sticking flat to his skin in just a couple of places. Nick was not looking, he told himself, because looking would lead inevitably to staring, which he was worried could lead to touching. And if he touched Greg, he knew that self-control would be a thing of the past. He tried not to touch Greg at all these days, because it was too much. He used to, of course, way back when the whole thing was a harmless crush and he liked to touch Greg, to see if he could get a reaction out of him, and because touching him made Nick feel good.

Not now though. Nick wondered, not for the first time, if Greg ever noticed the change. If he did, he never said anything. Then again, why would he? Men did not have conversations about touching. Not straight men anyway. Though Nick could not say for sure, he had no good reason to believe that the unfortunate object of his affections was anything but straight. He was not going to make an ass of himself finding out, either.

"It would be nice if we knew what we were looking for," remarked Greg, opening his eyes and pushing off the car door to stand, breaking Nick out of his trance. "Man, it's hot out here."

"Suck it up, Greggo," Nick replied, slamming the door shut and locking it. Intending to sound strident and harshly professional, Nick realized, as the words left his parched mouth, that they sounded to his frazzled mind more like a poor-quality double entendre. Suck something, he thought to himself, sliding eyes over to the other man to check his reaction. Greg smiled ever so slightly and then turned away, shading his eyes from the sun. Nick attempted to ignore the involuntary contraction of his stomach brought on by Greg's half-smile and walked out ahead. Putting on his serious CSI head. His looking-for-evidence-head.

Hearing Greg's somewhat dramatic sigh as he too began to move away from the car, Nick suppressed his smile and swept the flat landscape ahead with analytical eyes. Nothing for miles but an endless stretch of arid sand, dust and grit. The expanse of bleak terrain unbroken but for the occasional black, cracked, gnarled twig poking out of the ground where something had, ill-advisedly, attempted to grow. In the distance, if he really squinted, Nick could just about make out a small rocky outcrop, just before the whole thing fell behind the horizon, and that was fuzzy as hell. He blinked stickily and resolved to wear his glasses more often, however he looked in them. He did not see Greg as he walked, was only vaguely aware of him somewhere to his right, which was fine, because Greg was a distraction anyway. Once he started looking at Greg it was almost impossible to stop.

The sun was oppressive now, and with no cloud cover to speak of and nothing to create a forgiving shadow, Nick was really feeling the full force of it, feeling the scorch on the back of his neck and the heat of his own hair as he reached back to pull his collar up over the sensitive skin. Sweat was beading on his forehead and trickling freely down his back. Every step was making his clothing stick to him a little more and Nick shifted uncomfortably. Still seeing nothing, his irritation with Grissom growing with each minute that passed.

...'Sure, just go back to the scene, Nicky, you'll find it,'...

Sure. With some effort, Nick unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and swallowed painfully. Suddenly grateful for the water he had insisted on finding, he untwisted the cap and lifted the warm plastic bottle to his lips, needing so much to feel liquid filling his mouth. Before a single drop passed his lips, however, he was startled by a loud cry from somewhere to his right and almost dropped the bottle, spilling its precious contents. Just in time, he fumbled to recover it and spun around to face Greg.

Greg, standing a lot closer to him than he had anticipated. Right behind him in fact. Shit.

"Can I have some of that, please?" The request was delivered in a light but slightly beseeching tone, and accompanied by a teeth-flashing, ingratiating Greg Sanders smile.

Nick was hit by the full force of that smile and cursed himself inwardly as he felt his knees go a little weak. He was a grown man, for god's sake, a professional, a survivor of crazed stalkers and gun wielding jealous wives and psychotic kidnappers. And yet one smile from his charming, untidy-haired co-worker could incapacitate him just like that. He gritted his teeth and with some effort, addressed Greg.

"You should have brought your own. I did tell you, before we set off."

Greg scowled then, eyebrows knitted, lips pursed and Nick rooted himself more firmly to the spot to prevent himself from taking two steps forward and kissing Greg until he smiled again. He knew he was being an ass, but his bigger concern was keeping the words 'God, I want you' in his mouth. He hated it, but if pissing Greg off was the only way to do it, then it was a sacrifice he was prepared to make. For self-preservation. If only Greg didn't look so damn sexy when he was pissed off. Nick sighed.

"Oh, come on," he wheedled, head on one side. All traces of the scowl dissolved, Greg was now looking at Nick with huge liquid eyes. "Don't be a jerk, Nick, my mouth's really dry."

As if to illustrate his point, the pointed pink tongue slid from between cracked lips and licked quickly along them, first the top, then the bottom before retreating back into Greg's mouth, not completely from sight; Nick could still see it, a flash of pink between slightly parted lips. He gulped hard, felt his tongue urge to trace his own lips in response. Greg's lips. His tongue, tracing the inside walls of Greg's hot mouth.

"Nick."

Greg's voice startled him, and he felt his face heat beyond that that the desert sun could create. Suddenly so painfully aware that he had been staring hungrily at Greg's mouth in absolute silence for god knows how long. Nick closed his eyes for a moment, grasping for control. Ignoring the soft tone of Greg's voice, the way he had almost sighed his name...'Nick,'...and the way Nick had been instantly transported to one of his better fantasies about his co-worker. The one where Greg was naked and desperate beneath him, twisting and pleading, all breathless moans and desperate kisses and 'please, Nick'. Nick groaned inwardly, knowing that he had done a very poor job of ignoring anything, because now he had a painful, insistent hard-on. At a crime scene. With Greg. Fucking marvellous.

Choosing not to look Greg in the eye, wondering if he ever would be able to again, he turned away and shook his head.

"No way, G, this is mine," he threw over his shoulder as he pressed on in the search for mystery evidence.

Wondering, not for the first time, how he had got into this mess in the first place. How Greg Sanders, of all people, had gotten under his skin and stayed there. What was it about him? He's just a guy, Nick told himself as Greg walked out in front of him, hands shoved in jeans pockets. The set of his shoulders told Nick more about his current mood than any amount of words could, and guilt flared in Nick's chest.

He's not just a guy, and you should have shared your water, you colossal ass-wipe.

Nick rubbed his eyes and finally took a shameful swig of the warm, plasticky water, feeling liquid relief coating his dry throat, just for a moment, before he replaced the cap and followed Greg across the rough ground.

XXXXX

Twenty minutes later, the search for new evidence had turned up a less than impressive nothing. Nick was thoroughly fed up, and he knew he had his petulant child expression firmly fixed to his face, but he no longer cared. His eyes were gritty and dust coated his nostrils, causing him to snort unattractively. The water hadn't helped much, and the inside of his mouth was like sandpaper. He wished he had left his heavy black vest in the car, even though he knew he would never really ignore crime scene procedure like that. It weighed him down and the dark fabric seemed to be directing the heat straight into his body.

In between spells of searching the scene with tired eyes, Nick allowed himself to study Greg. Now his younger co-worker had his back to Nick, he could observe with less chance of being caught in the act. There was something about the way the artfully faded jeans hung on the slender hips that made Nick want reach out and just grip them, pull Greg hard to him and make him gasp. To bury his face in those unruly waves and lick behind ears that stuck out just a shade too much. He wanted those eyes, those sharp, clever, lush-framed eyes, fixed on him, darkened with desire for him. Nick's eyes were drawn by the slender fingers as they were pulled out of Greg's pockets and stretched above his head as he walked, pulling his shirt above his waistband and exposing a stripe of pale, slightly glistening skin. Nick moistened his lips feverishly and shifted uncomfortably as his flooded cock pressed insistently against the confines of his tight black jeans. This was torture.

He was wondering how long they really had to look for before admitting defeat and turning back to the car, when he saw Greg stumble. It was not a proper fall; the younger man recovered himself with surprising agility, but there was nothing for him to fall over, and it was not like Greg to lose his balance for no reason. Nick fought down the urge to run over and fuss around Greg, but when the younger man did not move from the spot, he could not keep it in. Concern flooding his veins, Nick moved slowly toward Greg until he was standing beside him.

"Everything ok, G?" Hoping it sounded casual, the normal amount of friendly concern, one co-worker to another.

"Fine," Greg replied instantly, snapping his eyes open and attempting to smile. Nick knew when Greg was really smiling and when he was faking it, he had spent enough time watching him. "I'm fine, Nick, just went a little dizzy for a second, it's nothing."

Oh god. It was his fault. He was probably fucking dehydrated and it was Nick's fault for not just giving him some damn water. What had he been thinking? That was it, Nick officially hated himself. He pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets, hard, trying to stem the tide of guilt that was washing around in the pit of his stomach. Shaking himself out of it, he took Greg gently by the arm, not quite managing to avoid the sparks that shot down his own arm with the skin contact. Pulled him, walking backwards, toward the small group of rocks they had finally, fortunately reached. Forced him to sit, using his superior strength to push Greg down onto a smooth orange-tinted rock when he tried to protest.

Nick passed him the water bottle and dropped down beside him, unable to take his eyes from Greg's face as he raised the bottle to his lips.

"That'll help," he whispered thickly. "I'm sorry, Greg."

Watching Greg drink deeply from the battered bottle, Nick could not help being entranced by his lips wrapped around the neck, his eyes closed, dark eyelashes fanned against the pale but slightly flushed cheek, head tipped back and the gentle movement of his adam's apple as he swallowed. Nick suspected that had he not already been dry mouthed and overheated, the sight of Greg drinking water would have made him that way.

Greg set the bottle down at last, still more than half full, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He opened his eyes, but did not look at Nick, instead choosing to stare out across the gritty wasteland, breathing steadily, elbows resting on his knees. The voice of reason was telling Nick that now would be a very good time to stop staring, but the mixture of desire and concern swirling in his belly was intoxicating, and it prevented him from looking away.

"Nick, um...your hand."

What? Nick tore his eyes from Greg's face and realized, with a sickening rush, that not only was his hand still on Greg's shoulder from when he had pushed him into a sitting position, but that it had started to move without his knowledge, stroking the heated, soft skin where Greg's shoulder met his neck. Shit. Nick inhaled sharply and pulled the hand away as though he'd been burned. Looked down at the ground, blushing furiously. There was no way, really, that Greg could interpret that touch as a friendly gesture of concern, was there? It was...a caress. A lover's touch. Oh god.

"I didn't say stop," Greg continued, making Nick's head snap up in surprise. "I was just thinking it was kind of weird, because, well...you never touch me any more."

Nick was really staring now, he knew he was, and he didn't care. Attempting to twist and fit Greg's words into something that made sense. Had he detected a note of disappointment in Greg's voice when he said it? And not only that, but the earth-shatteringly significant fact that Greg had noticed the lack of touching in the first place.

Greg twisted on the rock so that he was facing Nick. His mouth was ever so slightly open and he was not smiling, but his eyes were. There was a depth, a challenge, a spark in those dark pools that made Nick's breath catch and his head spin. His gaze flickered rapidly between Greg's eyes and his mouth, once..twice...he could not stop it. Licking grit from his lips, Nick felt the stretch inside his jeans once more as he caught the unmistakeable meaning radiating from Greg's unwavering gaze.

"Sorry," he mumbled at last, for some reason needing to respond to Greg's statement. "It's complicated, and I..." he trailed off, the words dissolving from his brain as he shifted inches closer to Greg, suddenly unable to rationalize anything other than the thought of the connection of Greg's lips and his. They were so close, and Greg was holding his gaze, steady, not moving away. Nick shivered, despite the heat and prepared to close those last few inches and take what he had wanted for far too long.

"What the hell is that?" Greg's eyes, suddenly, were not fixed on Nick's but narrowed against the sun, staring out somewhere over Nick's shoulder.

"What?"

Nick jumped back, startled out of his lustful reverie back into rational thought. Sat back abruptly, flooded with horror as he allowed it to sink in that yes, he had been seconds away from kissing Greg. Damn. And somehow he had convinced himself that Greg wanted him to. Nick exhaled hard and rubbed his eyes. Heat and dehydration were clearly a dangerous combination. People could lose their minds.

Gaze unwavering, Greg pointed past Nick. "That."

Greg got to his feet and strode out purposefully across the dusty ground, throwing up clouds behind him. Nick watched him, confusion and acute frustration prickling at his skin. Eyes dragging up and down the lean frame, the graceful walk, the tight ass in well-fitting jeans. Nick squinted and tried to focus on what Greg was doing, what had distracted him from their moment of painful, heated tension. Not that he blamed Greg for wanting a distraction, what was he thinking of? Nick sighed and licked his burning lips fitfully.

Watched as Greg crouched, pulled on gloves from his pocket and ever so carefully caught and extracted a piece of silver fabric, just a sliver, from the cracked branches of one of the sparsely scattered dead plants.

Watched him pull an evidence bag from his vest pocket and shake it out with a flourish that made Nick smile slightly, despite the fear and confusion and frustration winding around him.

Watched him bag the fabric and seal it, then turn and return back to Nick holding the bag aloft victoriously.

To Nick's astonishment, Greg set the bag on the floor next to the water bottle, removed his gloves and sat back down next to him, if anything, a little closer than before. Nick shifted backwards, hands grasping at the rough, sand-covered surface, heart racing.

"Where are you going?" Greg's voice was low and soft.

"I thought we, er…" Great, Nick. Very articulate. This was beyond confusing, his thoughts a tangle of regret and wanting to touch Greg so much it was hurting him.

"I just didn't want that thing distracting me," he paused. Smiled. Nick's heart leapt painfully. "Yeah…I think maybe, you were just about to kiss me."

Nick panicked. Had not expected to hear the words out loud. Had hoped, on some desperate level, that his intentions had not been so transparent. "What, I, no Greg, no. Why would I do that?"

Greg, it seemed, did not find that response acceptable. He shifted still closer. Dropped a casual hand onto Nick's thigh, making him jump. "Kiss me."

"Shouldn't we...?" Nick struggled, remembering at last to breathe, dragging air into his lungs in a noisy gulp, swallowing and tasting bitter dust on his lips. Salt. He was sweating, burning. Greg's eyes held him mercilessly. Black and bottomless, and a whisper.

"Please."

Then he was leaning forward, as if drawn by a magnet, and the distance he had to close was surprisingly small, perhaps because Greg was leaning in too. Lips pressed together, dry but warm, yielding. Greg's opening almost immediately against his, allowing access and demanding it, his tongue colliding with Nick's, sending a shiver through both of them, despite the heat. The heat, Nick thought idly, that was nothing compared to the heat of Greg's mouth, the gut-wrenching softness and the taste that he had waited years to experience. It was something warm, sweet, intoxicating, almost alcoholic.

Nick kissed him hungrily, not wanting to let go of this feeling for a second, not daring to question, just feeling, touching. Letting go of the rock behind him and pulling Greg against his body, sliding his hands over the rough vest, over the soft skin of Greg's neck, twisting into the warm, sweat-damp curls, cradling his head and deepening the kiss. Making Greg moan softly, the sound travelling like an electric current to Nick's cock. Anything to make him make that sound again. Anything.

He shuddered, feeling Greg catch his lip between his teeth briefly before covering his mouth once more, and registering the hands sliding under his shirt and slipping below his waistband, inching closer to where his erection was crushed against his hip. Oh, fuck. He knew if Greg touched him there he would be gone, there would be no self-control left to speak of. Nick broke the kiss reluctantly, professionalism ringing the faintest bell somewhere in that back of his mind. Breathing hard, looking helplessly at the shining eyes and swollen lips of the man in his arms.

"Greg, we're at a crime scene."

"I know," Greg panted, pushing him backwards with surprising strength into a half sitting, half lying position against a not altogether comfortable sloping rock. Greg sitting casually astride him. "But I found...that thing now...so it's ok."

Nick looked up at him for a moment before giving in to the pure need throbbing through his body and surging upwards to claim Greg's mouth in a demanding kiss full of tongues and teeth and breath-stealing touches. Greg gasped and grabbed Nick's hips, pulling them against his as he jerked forward and ground against Nick, hardness rubbing and glancing off equal hardness. Nick could not suppress a groan now, however much he tried. The feeling of Greg's cock grinding against his, even through several layers of denim and cotton, was just too delicious. He kissed Greg harder, trying to disguise the sounds of need and pleasure spilling from his throat.

"There's no one here but us, man, make as much noise as you want…I'd always hoped you'd be loud," Greg whispered harshly, pulling away from the kiss and reaching to undo Nick's belt.

"What?" He was not sure he could have heard what he thought he heard. No.

Greg repeated his words, slowly, pulling back to look into Nick's eyes.

"You thought about this?"

"Hell yes."

"God," Nick managed, clinging somehow to reality but losing himself in the sensation of Greg's hot mouth on his neck and Greg's hands guiding his to the button fly of his jeans. "Me too, Greg, wanted this...always wanted you."

Finally forcing his hands to get with the program, he unbuttoned Greg's jeans hurriedly and pushed them down around his knees with some effort as Greg was reluctant to relinquish his position straddling Nick's lap for more time than was necessary. Nick stared, trailing fingers over smooth, pale skin, following the light trail of light brown hair from Greg's navel to...and god, nothing but skin and...Greg was wearing nothing under those jeans. Fuck. Nick moaned softly, stroking wiry curly hair and wrapping his hand around Greg's cock, listening to him whimper and feeling the open kisses against his neck intensify.

He did not get much chance to think about why Greg would be going commando at a crime scene, because the shockwave of pleasure that was sweeping through his body told him that Greg had now successfully freed his straining erection from his jeans and boxers and was stroking it, slowly, lazily almost, only the iron grip and hot, short breath against his neck belying his apparent calm. Nick couldn't help pushing up into the touch, Greg's hand wrapped around him feeling like the relief of a good six years' worth of tension in one touch. Thank god. He didn't know if he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible or just give in and stroke each other into a frenzy right there.

He shifted in slight discomfort against the jagged rock pushing into his back, not caring much, neither for the heat of the sun or the grittiness of his skin, all he could think about was Greg. His smell, sharp citrus sweet, the warmth of his skin, the taste of fresh sweat as Nick dragged him closer and licked up the side of his neck, behind his ear as he had always wanted to. Thrilled at the soft cry the touch of his tongue elicited from Greg, the tightening of the grip on his cock as Nick flicked his tongue across Greg's earlobe. Salt, sweet, bitter skin, smooth under parched lips and so warm. So much better than Nick could ever have imagined.

He rubbed his thumb slowly over the head of Greg's cock and felt him shudder. Smiling against his neck, did it again, wanting to memorise every little thing he could do to get a reaction out of the other man, just in case he ever got the chance to do this again. Felt a wrench as Greg pulled away, out of his touch and sat back for a moment, leaning down somewhere over his side. Nick stared, breathing hard, unable to prevent the sound of protest escaping his lips at the loss of contact.

"Sorry," Greg said breathlessly, reappearing, holding up the plastic bottle. "Need water."

Nick could only stare, mind blanked by arousal and Greg. He watched him, sitting back astride his thighs, jeans pulled down, one leg in and one leg out, sprawling open, unashamed in the middle of this expansive space, knees apart and bare cock hard and brushing against the bottom of his shirt. Nick smiled, realizing that Greg's top half was untouched, he was still wearing his CSI vest and his shirt was still buttoned and sleeves carefully rolled to the elbows. His hair dishevelled, messy dirty-blond curls...sexy, Nick thought. Eyes wide and pupils huge, staring down at Nick as he raised the bottle to his lips.

"Want some?" Greg arched an inquiring eyebrow as he poured water into his mouth. Nick was not sure if he was talking about water or something else, but he knew that whatever Greg was offering him, he wanted it.

Feeling emboldened by Greg's half nakedness while he was almost fully dressed, save for the almost obscene protrusion of his hard cock from his unbuttoned fly, Nick grinned.

"Oh yeah, I want some."

Greg leaned forward then, setting the bottle down once more and urging Nick's mouth open with dusty, sticky fingers. Nick took the fingers into his mouth, not caring, but they were withdrawn almost instantly as Greg gripped his shoulders and connected their lips, opening his and allowing slightly warm water to flood Nick's mouth. Nick opened his eyes, having closed them anticipating a kiss, and looked at Greg, licking his lips with satisfaction. Nick swallowed the mouthful of water, his heart pounding, feeling himself harden again and wondering why Greg sharing a mouthful of water with him was possibly the most erotic thing he had ever experienced.

"Better?"

"Yes. Now come here."

Nick gripped Greg's ass and hauled him closer, closer, so that finally he could feel the hard, silky skin of Greg's bare cock graze his own. Hearing the sounds slipping out of Greg's mouth at the contact, the way he threw his head back and pushed into him, Nick knew that neither of them could stand to prolong this any further. It was turning into a desperate race for the finish line and he did not care.

Taking a deep breath, Nick wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and gripped hard, loving that he could feel Greg's pulse jump under his fingers, life under smooth skin. Greg hissed low in his throat and leaned forward, still kneeling, covered Nick's hand with his own, increasing the contact and the pressure. They moved together, one rhythm, hard, fast, sure strokes. Greg's free hand found the back of Nick's neck and forced him to look up and into his eyes. Nick was caught in the intense gaze, losing his breath, feeling every stroke with the warmth of Greg's palm and his own, the sliding, aching friction of Greg's cock against his. He wasn't going to last and he didn't care, as long as he could hold onto this moment. Greg's smile, and his words...Nick could not make out most of them, but it didn't matter. He knew they were about him, and that just pushed him closer to the edge.

Long, drawn out sentences spilling from that beautiful mouth.

"So...fucking...hot...Nick...don't stop...can't believe you...fucking water...oh god...not...oh, that feels good. God Nick," Greg leaned down and kissed him hard, not letting up the pressure for one moment.

Nick, only more turned on by the idea that he could reduce this man to an incoherent frenzy, could only groan and murmur brokenly from beneath him, gripping their cocks harder and feeling the familiar pull low down in his body, the heat spreading out uncontrollably, balls pulling close to his body and the skin on skin friction, Greg's lips and Greg's ass tightening under his other hand, just too much and he could not hold on.

"Oh shit, yes...I can't...I'm gonna...Greg, come for me...please."

Nick was loud, he knew he was, moaning into Greg's mouth as he shot hot white ribbons over both their hands, the feeling ripping through him like it was tearing his body from the inside.

Feeling Greg stiffen against and push harder, Nick kissed him again, urgently, his tongue stroking Greg's, sliding the hand around Greg's ass and circling carefully around his opening. Greg gasped and shuddered and whispered his name, just once, before spilling warm come over their already sticky joined hands.

Nick slumped against the rock, finally feeling the sharp edges digging into his back. He had, for some reason, not noticed them for a good few minutes. Unable to stop the lazy smile spreading across his face or the warm, fuzzy glow trailing outwards from his centre to his fingertips, he ran his hand up Greg's now damp back, under his shirt. Greg pulled back a little, at last, making eye contact. The dark brown eyes, once burning with intensity were now soft and warm. He smiled, slowly, a small genuine smile that somehow conveyed more to Nick than any of Greg's usual grins.

"Wow."

"You're amazing," said Nick, then immediately regretted it, realizing he was giving himself away more than he had intended.

Greg just smiled and kissed him, soft and slow, neither of them moving their joined hands just yet.

"We were amazing," Greg muttered under his breath as he drew away, pulling his leg out of his jeans and using them to wipe carefully at the sticky mess between them, carefully extricating his hand from Nick's. Nick watched him and felt the warm lick of hope in his chest, watching Greg's gentle, tender movements, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Don't you have to put those back on?"

"Yep," Greg replied, flashing him a dirty grin as he slithered down from the rock and struggled back into the stained jeans, shoes still on. He buttoned them and winced slightly, turning around, trying to look over his shoulder like a dog attempting to chase its tail.

Nick laughed warmly, appreciatively, adjusting his own clothes and picking up the water bottle. Moving gratefully away from the rock and rubbing his back.

"What's the matter, Greg?"

A pout of disbelief. "I think...I may have burned my ass."

Nick stared at him for just a moment before dissolving into helpless laughter. As he laughed, he shivered to feel aftershocks still tingling through his veins. It was not an unpleasant sensation.

"It is damn hot out here, what can I say?" Nick got unsteadily to his feet and brushed dust from his back carefully, still watching Greg, who now had a thoughtful expression on his face and was biting his lip in a frighteningly sexy manner. He bent to retrieve the evidence bag that Nick had, to his shame, completely forgotten about.

"We should be getting back."

"Yeah, this is a real break in the case," Nick offered, feeling he should at least try to add something professional to the moment. "I'm fairly sure the suspect had a t-shirt made out of that fabric. It connects the suspect to the scene. Good job."

"That too."

"And?"

"And the quicker we get done with the case, the quicker we can finish what we started…" said Greg, grinning, sliding sparkling eyes to Nick's. "And then start it all over again."

He turned away, and did not see Nick's expression of pleasure and disbelief.

There was a long, comfortable silence as they walked back to the car. Nick walked quickly and Greg kept his pace, shoulders brushing occasionally, Nick looking up every minute or so to see Greg looking at him, grinning and looking away.

Climbing into the passenger seat, Greg shut his eyes and smiled as Nick turned the key in the ignition and prayed for the air conditioning to work quickly.

"And again, and again, and again," whispered Greg, out of the corner of his mouth.

Nick looked over at him and grinned uncontrollably, thinking he could learn to love the heart-racing and the electricity and the stomach churning. He reached out and rested his free hand on Greg's thigh, feeling the heat of him through sticky, dusty denim.

"…and again."

Nick put his foot down and prayed for green lights all the way back to the lab.

FIN