Title: Opportunistic Lover
By: flipflopadd1ct
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nick has a new appreciation for Greg's spontaneity (Inspired by the Jason Mraz song "O. Lover"; title taken from that song).

***

Glass and silverware clink against china; the voices of hotel guests and waiters buzz like a distant wind; notes from a classy piano tinkle in the air. It's all background noise.

Nick is too focused on the man in front of him to notice much else.

Greg looks a bit dressy, crisp shirt and slacks. They're the nicest clothes he brought to the conference; he'd probably been planning this night on the town for weeks. He reaches for his glass and takes a sip of wine, swirls the red liquid around in the cup. He's being subtly seductive, tonight.

"Nice place, huh?" Greg comments. Their food hasn't arrived yet.

Nick doesn't know if he can last that long.

He nods in agreement to Greg's earlier statement, concentrating on anything but the open neck of Greg's gray shirt.

"You're quiet tonight, Nicky. What's up?" Greg's lips are pursed and he's feigning naivete. He knows exactly what is going on, knows exactly why Nick isn't saying much.

Greg is testing him.

"Not ready to go home, I guess," Nick fibs. True, it's the last day of the weekend conference, and they're leaving Chicago tomorrow, but Nick could really care less.

Greg smirks.

"I'm going to miss the bed. Softer than ours." Greg leans forward and winks.

Then the waitress is at their table, carrying two stakes on two plates.

"Can I get you two anything else?" the pretty redhead asks.

"No, thanks. I think we're fine." As Greg speaks, he smoothly slides his foot across the floor under the table, lightly nudging Nick's leg. Nick jumps and he's hard.

The waitress doesn't seem to notice. She smiles politely and walks away.

The toe of Greg's shoe presses against Nick's ankle again, and then is gone as quickly as it appeared. Greg's acting innocent as he calmly cuts his steak.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Nick hisses, leaning close to Greg, fork and knife firmly in each hand.

Greg shrugs as he chews a piece of steak. "'Til we're naked."

"Can't you wait? I'd rather not be hard in public."

Greg grins with delight. "You're hard already?" he says gleefully. "And I just used my foot. I wonder-"

Nick shoots him a glance dripping with venom.

But Greg doesn't stop. "I could slip under the table and suck you off."

"You're kidding..."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Nick thinks about what that would be like and it's almost too much to bear.

"Is that a yes, then?" Greg pushes his chair back and –

"Don't!" Nick shouts, more loudly than he intended. Some of the nearby tables stare.

Greg rearranges his position in the chair, arm slung across the back and expression on his face smug. He takes another sip of wine. He's satisfied with himself.

"I hate you right now," Nick growls as he bites off a piece of bread.

"You're going to love me in, oh ..." Greg looks at his watch "...five minutes or so."

That does it. Nick's still hard, and he's not hungry anymore.

He drops his fork.

Greg has won. Nick needs to get off, and fast.

Nick reaches into his wallet, drops money on the table and stands – using his coat to hide his noticeable need. Greg is right behind him. As they briskly walk out of the restaurant, Nick feels Greg's hand snake downwards to rest lightly on his ass, and he moans out loud once they're on the street.

Their hotel is in sight, but Greg's hand has traveled to his hip, where his fingers are beginning to dig under the waistband of his slacks. Nick doesn't think he can make it to the hotel.

A city park looms out of the darkness, sparse lamps lighting the way along an empty path, presenting an opportunity that can't be avoided. Greg's firm grip steers Nick down the walkway.

As soon as they're far enough from the street, Greg pulls Nick to the nearest park bench and drags him down, both slipping on cold, dewy grass. Nick utters one broken "God" when Greg's hand finally pulls open his slacks and wraps around his cock. No one else is around as Nick returns the favor, stroking Greg's own erection with a warm, familiar grip. Their lips meet, fumbling like their trembling, hurried hands. Their breathing is heavy, the only noise breaking the city night's solitude. Both men know they can't last long, and Nick is the first to come, erratically and suddenly into Greg's hand. Greg follows immediately afterwards, moaning into their kiss as he stains his shirt.

Eventually they make it back to the hotel to finish what they started, and Nick has a new appreciation for Greg's spontaneity.

***