Title: Happy Trails
By: Dr FooFoo
Email: dog.symbolism@gmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Shameless motel porn!

***

Nick stops in the doorway of the motel room and lets his gaze wander slowly over everything in sight. the carpet is a sickly orange colour and looks prickly, like those old shag rugs that've had one too many drinks spilled on them, and suddenly he's not sure why he let Greg convince him to come here. Greg's apartment isn't quite as bad as Nick accidentally let slip last week and in fact, it's looking a lot better right now, but he's committed and Greg is pulling suspicious-looking items out of his black bag on the floor and beckoning Nick towards the bed.

Nick follows and Greg flops over, only to complain loudly about the hard mattress, and Nick scowls playfully when Greg says the futon in his bedroom back home is much more comfortable. But then he's quiet because Nick's on him suddenly, kissing and pawing and nuzzling, and he smells like leather masked by chemicals from the lab but Greg doesn't care anymore because he's used to it.

Soon, what Nick smells like is the last thing on Greg's mind because his shirt's on the floor and his mind's miles away, and Nick is kissing his chest and holding his arms down -- pressing them in the hard mattress, and his circulation feels like it's being cut off. He whimpers Nick's name, and he's so glad Nick can read him like an open book because soon he hears the quiet buzz of zippers being undone, and Nick breaks away so he can pull his navy t-shirt over his head. The toys Greg brought seem so uninteresting all of a sudden, because all Greg wants is Nick licking him again and rolling him over and fucking him into the mattress.

But Nick is an evil tease and traces lightly down Greg's inner thigh with one finger instead of giving him what he wants. Greg opens his eyes and stares down at Nick, but before he can open his mouth to tell Nick how much of a bastard he is, Nick's licking him there and Greg's head falls back onto the uncomfortable pillow, mouth open and useless for anything besides murmuring nothingness, and he even finds the time to think about how maybe forcing Nick to come here wasn't such a bad idea, and maybe he'll even put off cleaning his apartment so they'll get to do it again sometime.

His thoughts rocket back to the present when Nick swallows him whole, and Greg arches into it, rocking his hips subconciously. Nick stretches an arm across Greg's hips and holds him down, though, but Greg doesn't mind because right now, Nick could do anything to him and he'd like it. He's so fargone and his mouth curves up into a smug little grin when he hears faint moaning and realises it's not coming from his own lips.

Greg arches again and again, colours flashing in front of his eyes and he can't think of anything except how incredibly heavenly Nick's tongue feels on his cock and how he wishes this moment could go on forever and ever and soon he's whimpering like a schoolboy and clutching at the sheets, but Nick pulls back and Greg collapses, mumbling obscenities and leaning down to try and bite Nick for being a bastard for the second time tonight.

Nick drops his pants, however, and Greg idly watches the sweet Dallas denim pool on the floor before he's distracted once again by Nick, who climbs onto him and kisses him hard. Greg grinds his crotch up into Nick's and Nick grabs onto Greg's hip, muttering for him to be patient. But how can Greg be patient when he's covered in a sexy Texan blanket who's smothering him in painfully light kisses? He voices that seemingly reasonable question with a pout, but Nick just smiles softly and reaches down into his pants for a condom and lube.

Greg's slipping off into that void of nonsensical thoughts again because he swears the clock says only fifteen minutes have passed since they got here and how can that be? Then Nick's pressing into him with a quiet sigh, and Greg forgets all about time as he murmurs Nick's name over and over in a string laced with cuss words and sweet forevers. Nick silences him with a kiss and rocks on him, gripping his hips and Greg knows there'll be Nick-shaped bruises all over his body tomorrow. Nick doesn't seem to care, though, because he's scratching and nipping and sucking just as much as Greg, and Greg thinks he must have died because there's no way he can be feeling this good and still be alive.

Nick rocks and thrusts and Greg runs his hands up and down Nick's strong arms, making a quiet, constant sound that could probably be mistaken for purring, and Nick smiles again, but this time it's a little forced because he's flushed and concentrating and breathing hard. Greg's head falls back when Nick shifts just ever-so-slightly and groans softly, and now Greg definitely thinks he's died because his legs feel like they're on fire and he can hardly breathe because he's moaning so much as he comes hard, arching a few more times and murmuring Nick's name.

Nick follows soon, after a couple extra thrusts, and he wordlessly melts over top of Greg, kissing a line up the pale expanse of Greg's neck. Smooth, sweat-damp chests press together and Greg sighs contentedly.

Nick pulls out of Greg after a few minutes and tosses the condom in the general direction of the motel's trash can before pressing against Greg again and kissing on is earlobe, but all of Greg's previous spunk has faded into the spent little puddle he is now, but he manages to mumble incoherently in response to the kissing.

"Love you, G," Nick says quietly in Greg's ear.

"I love you..." Greg responds sleepily, and closes his eyes.