Title: Let the Rain Come Down
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Mike Keppler
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: NC-17
Author's Note: Continuation of Raining in Las Vegas.
rrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Greg leaned back on the counter, eyes closed, waiting to feel Mike thrust hard into him, his body tensing. But the thrust didn't come; he let out the breath he'd been holding, opening his eyes slowly, cautiously, wondering if Mike had suddenly changed his mind.

Mike had reached for the bottle of olive oil that was on the far end of the counter; Greg watched as he coated his fingers with it, then his cock. He arched his back, pushing his hips up; he had no doubt of what Mike intended to do with those fingers, and patience wasn't one of his best qualities.

"Are you always this horny?" Mike whispered as he moved to stand between Greg's spread thighs, raising an eyebrow and looking amused. "I'd have thought that being fucked like this wasn't a new thing for you." His tone was wry, almost cynical.

Those words struck Greg like a physical blow; if he could have rolled to the side and gotten off the counter, he would have. But the cabinets were in his way on one side, the sink on the other. He was trapped here, with Mike standing between his legs.

"Let me up. Get off me!" he growled, his voice sharp. He pushed ineffectually at Mike's chest, his eyes widening as he realized that he didn't have the strength to push the other man away. "Do you always go around raping CSIs in their own homes?"

"Rape?" It was Mike's turn to look surprised. "This isn't rape, Greg. Ten seconds ago, you wanted me as much as I want you. What made that change?" One arm slid around his waist, pulling him against Mike's body; that warm mouth was against his chest, warm tongue lapping at one taut nipple.

"You more or less just called me a slut," Greg told him, his voice tight with anger. "Do you really think I'm going to just happily let you fuck me after that? If I thought you had the least bit of respect for me, I would, but I'm not some whore for you to use and throw away."

"That's not what I meant," Mike protested, placing his arms on the counter on either side of Greg so that the young man couldn't move in either direction. "What I was trying to say is that you're too damn irresistible for this to be a new experience for you."

Greg's mouth opened, but no words came out. Him? Irresistible? He almost wanted to tell Mike that he'd been a virgin until he was twenty-two years old, that every man who was with him just wanted a one-night fuck, and that he'd never once felt loved by anyone he'd slept with.

But he couldn't speak, not when Mike's tongue was laving his nipple, slick fingers pushing his thighs apart and sliding deep inside him to stroke against his prostate again, sending waves of pleasure through his thin body. All he could do was moan, his body trembling in Mike's arms.

All too soon, Mike's fingers were sliding out of him, leaving him empty and bereft. Greg moaned again, his hips bucking up, seeking some kind of friction, anything to relieve the empty ache. He needed Mike, needed the other man inside him, filling him, fucking him.

"Shhh, baby, I'll give you what you want." Mike's words were whispered, but they sounded loud in the quiet of the room. As though to punctuate what he'd just said, thunder boomed outside, the rain coming down harder against the kitchen window.

He was pulled down onto Mike's cock, the penetration swift and deep; Greg cried out as that thick shaft entered him, filling him slowly and fully. Mike pulled back, then thrust into him again, more deeply this time; Greg leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows, gasping for breath.

He'd been well and thoroughly fucked by other men, but never with this kind of intensity; never so hard and deep that he felt as though his body was melting, disconnecting, becoming nothing more than a shower of sparks and synapses firing in the air.

Mike fit into him perfectly; there was no awkwardness, no searching for his "hot spots," no fumbling or uncertainty. Mike fucked him with the assurance of someone who knew what he wanted, knew exactly how to get it, and had no doubt of what Greg wanted, as well.

He'd never been so completely filled before, never felt as though any man had taken over his body in the way that Mike did. It was as though his ass had been made to fit Mike's cock; he wanted this feeling to go on forever, to never have to spiral back down to earth.

His legs wrapped around Mike's waist, drawing him in even deeper; Mike seemed encouraged by Greg's obvious enjoyment of what was being done to him, his hands gripping the young man's hips and holding him in place as he thrust hard into Greg's willing body.

Each thrust was deeper than the last, filling Greg until he cried out, not sure whether the cry was one of pain or pleasure. He'd never felt like this before; he'd never been fucked like this before. This wasn't just fucking; it was more than physical.

There was an understanding between their bodies that he'd never had with anyone else. Without a word, Mike had somehow managed to make Greg his in a way that no one else ever had. He knew that he could never refuse this man anything, no matter what Mike might demand of him.

Mike's brand was on him, as completely as if the other man's name had been burned into his skin, etched onto his body in indelible ink. He belonged to Mike, more thoroughly than he could have possibly imagined. Mike's possession of his body only sealed the deal.

Greg cried out again as Mike thrust into him more deeply than ever; his muscles contracted, then relaxed, his senses surrendering to the combined punishment and pleasure that was being inflicted on him. He went limp in Mike's arms as he came, slumping into the other man's embrace.

Dimly, he felt Mike's release, a warm rush inside him that only further marked his body as the other man's property. His legs tightened around Mike's waist; he didn't want to let his lover slip out of him just yet, to break the intimate contact between them.

He'd never been fucked like that before, Greg thought dazedly, his body still contracting even after Mike had stopped thrusting into him. He had never really believed that even the best sex could make a person see stars -- but he'd not only seen stars, he had touched them and held on for dear life.

The rain was beating a tattoo against the kitchen window; the sound almost seemed to match the pounding of his own heart. Every other sexual experience he'd ever had was swept away, pushed to the back of his mind, seeming like nothing compared to what Mike had just done to him.

Greg let out a little mewl of protest when Mike slipped out of him; he slumped bonelessly against the counter, knowing that if he tried to slide to the floor, he'd end up sitting there helplessly, unable to pick himself up even to walk to his bedroom.

"Did I wear you out, gorgeous?" Mike asked softly, leaning over him to whisper into his ear. "It's not over yet, Greg. We have the whole day -- and night -- ahead of us. I made sure that I'd have the same time off that you do. I hope you're prepared for a long day."

Greg blinked, trying to lift himself out of the daze he'd fallen into. He was far too tired to make sense of the other man's words; Mike's voice sounded as though it was coming from far away, down a long tunnel that tried to block out any sound from the outside world.

All he could hear was the rain pounding on the window, coming down even harder now. Let the rain come down, Greg thought hazily, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He and Mike were safe inside, warm and dry. And it didn't matter to him that Mike hadn't brought an umbrella.

"I hope you're ready for more," Mike said softly, his breath warm against Greg's bare skin. "But this is a little uncomfortable for you, isn't it? I think you'd enjoy what's coming a lot more if we're in a nice soft bed. Just point the way, and I'll carry you there."

"Carry me?" Greg still felt disoriented; his mind wasn't quite making connections between what Mike was saying and what they'd just done. He had a hard time adding up just what Mike intended to do -- but it sounded as though he wanted to get physical again.

"You hardly weigh anything," Mike said softly, sliding his arms around Greg's waist. "Wrap your legs around me," he instructed, waiting for Greg to do so. When the young man obeyed, Mike slid his hands under Greg's bottom, lifting him from the counter.

Greg barely had time to glance at the kitchen window before he was being carried down the hallway to his bedroom; the rain was still spattering on the glass, coming down harder than ever, creating a counterpoint to the steady pounding of his own heart.

***

Next story in series - Morning Rain.