Title: Fantasy
By: Read300300
Rating: NC-17, practically pure smut. No plot whatsoever.
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Nick fulfills one of Greg's hottest fantasies.
Response to: Telephone challenge at ngchallenge and a bit of the voyuerism challenge

Greg shivered, not because the lab was kept at near freezing temperatures to help keep the samples pure but because Nick was using that oh so sexy voice that was normally reserved only for those times when the younger lab tech really blew his mind. That voice, the one that practically screamed ‘do me now.' He shivered again.

"This'll be a few moments," he mouthed to Sara and Warrick, grateful for once that he was sitting in a chair where the table could cover anything that could prove to be potentially embarrassing.

And geez, Nick had known, hadn't he? He'd only just left the lab a few minutes ago, and he'd passed by this way, so he had to know that his lover wasn't alone.

"Uh, this really isn't a good time for me; I'm kind of in the middle of something," Greg tried to convey with his voice what he couldn't express in words while the two were in the room with him.

"Not a good time, Greg? But I thought you said that you wanted to be watched," came the lust roughened voice. "Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," he tried to keep his voice steady, not liking the way that it cracked near the end. Of course he remembered! It wasn't just like people went around forgetting their hottest fantasies every few moments. "I just didn't think that you would..."

They'd been drunk a few weeks ago and, if Greg remembered correctly, it had been he who started the game. He'd practically egged Nick on into admitting all sorts of things, things that anyone else in the lab would just love to get their hands on for blackmail material later. Things such as Nick wanting to be handcuffed to the headboard with his own government issued handcuffs and that he had once fantasized about his police academy instructor. And then, Greg had reciprocated and had mentioned his little exhibition fantasy. Okay, so maybe ‘little' wasn't the word for it; ‘huge and unbelievably consuming' was more along the lines of how Greg felt about it. He'd only been jerking off to those mental images for three years so far.

And then, they'd gone home, where Greg had gotten the idea that it really would be interesting to try out the handcuff thing, and then fulfilling one of Nick's fantasies had led to one thing and then another... Now, apparently, it was Nick's turn to make one of Greg's dreams come true.

Yet, somehow, now that it was really happening, Greg wasn't all that sure that it was what he really wanted to do; having it as a hot mental image to jerk off to when Nick was out of town on one of those idiotic, godforsaken conferences that seemed as though they were created only to separate the two was perfectly fine, but this was... dangerous.

Aw, fuck it! He'd spent his whole life courting danger, hadn't he? Surfing waves that he by all rights should never have gone near, that one time when he'd broken up a fight in a bar when one of the men had drawn a gun on his friend, coming out in high school while still surrounded by those stupid homophobic jocks... And it had been fun! It had been worth it! Wasn't that what this whole fantasy was about, anyway? There was the danger of being caught, of being seen, or of not being quiet enough... Pure chance dictated what happened. That's what made this so exciting; it was so far removed from the logic of their jobs where two plus two always equaled four!

And he was supposed to be on break anyway, so Sara and Warrick had no right to complain about his not paying attention to them.

"Didn't think I'd do it?"

"Not really, no," Greg had to admit, and, oh yes, he really liked the husky quality in the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Well, there's obviously a lot you don't know about me, say, like what I'm wearing right now. Do you want to learn more about me? We could have one very intensive lesson, if you want."

"Y-yes," Greg looked up to see that Warrick and Sara were carrying on a rather animated conversation at the other end of the room; he was safe, for now. Slowly, he scooted his chair up so that the table hid everything below his stomach.

"Well, right now I'm not wearing anything. Except for that deep red shirt you keep telling me is so sexy; you know, the one with the black buttons? You were right; it does look good against these black sheets."

Greg definitely knew, and if he hadn't been hard yet he most certainly would have become so at that mental image; he had to suppress a groan when he heard the gasp come from the other end of the line.

"Oh, god, Greg... I'm touching myself, imagining that it's you and your gorgeous mouth on me. You like to suck me, don't you? You like it when I ram my cock down your throat..."

"Mhmm," he carefully schooled his voice so that it would sound like he was agreeing with whoever he was speaking with when in reality he only made the noise so that he wouldn't give himself away by moaning. Still, Nick apparently understood what he meant, for he continued without pause.

"Shit, I wish you could feel what I'm feeling right now, babe, wish you could feel how good you are at blowing me one day. You'd come so hard, so hard that you felt like you were never gonna come down... God, Greg, touch yourself for me," the last was whispered, accompanied by moaning a few seconds later.

"I can't," he muttered, trying to keep his voice low in case he really sounded as needy as he felt. Nick's voice was such a turn-on, and accompanied by the realization that if anyone just happened to walk around the table, they could see how hard he was, it was nearly enough to set him off right then and there.

"Please, Greg, I want you to come when I do; just reach down and touch yourself like I'm doing. It'll feel so good, baby, so good. Nobody will see; come on, you know you want to. Oh, ahhh...."

Nick sounded positively hoarse by now, and his lover knew that it could only mean one thing: he was close to the edge and only holding on by the barest of threads.

The lab tech swallowed hard, knowing that it wouldn't take much to make him come as turned on as he was now. Sneaking a look at the two who were now discussing some thing about the particular spatter pattern found at blah-blah-blah, Greg confirmed that they weren't looking his way before he switched the cell phone to his other ear so that he could move his right hand down to cup his erection through his pants.

He suppressed a gasp as he ran his hand down his shaft, feeling the coarse fabric move slightly over the sensitive flesh. He figured that if he angled it correctly and just moved his wrist, then no one could tell that he was even moving his arm from across the room.

And oh, god, he felt like he was about to die when he reached even further down and cupped his balls, lightly touching them in time with Nick's moans. Even with the layers of clothing between his hand and his balls, he could still feel bright, white-hot sparks flowing through his body at every slight touch.

And now Nick was gasping his name, calling it out in vaguely pained way, as if the pleasure were so intense that he could no longer stand it, and Greg knew that it was now or never. Once, twice, three times he ran his hand over shaft, tensing his thighs so that he resisted the urge to thrust upwards, before he toppled off the edge of that steep cliff, biting on his lip to stop from crying out as he normally did. How he managed not to alert anyone else in the room to his activities was beyond him, but somehow....

He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to reign in his body once more so that he could at least control his movements. It took him a few seconds, but he was able to do it, only now realizing how much trouble he really could have been in. That thought sobered him a bit, but he still couldn't help the happy, post-orgasm sigh that escaped from beneath his lips, the lower one nearly bleeding from the amount of force that he had placed on it earlier.

"Baby, you there?" This time the tone was slightly worried; it was a drastic change from the lust driven voice that the Texan had used earlier.

"Yeah, yeah, I am," Greg murmured. "Look, I have to go; I'm nearly off break and Sara looks like she wants to kill me as it is for taking the call instead of explaining her results."

"Sure, Greg. See you tonight?"

"You bet," Greg replied happily, certain that he could think of some kind of reward for his lover. "Bye."

"Bye, Greggo."

The lab tech took another deep breath as he closed his cell phone and buttoned up his lab coat so that nobody could see any stains he may have left on his clothing. With a huge grin, he picked up the file he had set down on the desk and interrupted the conversation between the two who were now arguing about a polymerase tag.

"Uh, guys, actually, the spatter that you recovered contained trace amounts of a polycarbonate material..."

And if either of the two noticed Greg's flushed cheeks or the small beads of sweat running down his neck, nobody mentioned it.

One thing was for sure, though: peak hours had certainly taken on a whole new meaning.