Title: Random Acts
By: jettblack0110
Rating: NC-17 for boy lovin'
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Nick just needed some reassurance.
Spoilers: For Season 7's "Toe Tags" and Season 6's "Rashomama"

***

I hit the nail one last time before letting the hammer fall onto the carpet. Leaning over, I carefully grab the glass picture frame encasing Nick's diploma before hanging it neatly on the wall next to my own. I take a step backward and let a small smile drift across my face as I think about the symbolism of the gesture.

Nick had moved in about two weeks ago, finally deciding that sharing rent was easier than paying monthly rent alone, and since he was here most of the time, well-everything just fell into place. Today, since I had spare time on my hands, I decided to do a little spring cleaning and make my apartment livable after the winter hibernation. I chased dust bunnies from under the bed and couch and scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen until they sparkled; I knew Nick would appreciate the cleanliness. I then moved on to small repairs that needed to be made, including hanging some of Nick's framed things, because I wanted Nick to feel at home. I grin as I size up the A&M diploma next to the Stanford diploma, sharing the same wall, in the same home. Nick was finally here, we were finally truly together. I only wish Nick was here to see it.

However, Nick is finishing up his shift, whereas I got to go home early. Me and Warrick cracked our case wide open within hours, finding the victim's cell phone with a video of her husband pushing her off a cliff. I didn't hear anything about Nick's case, but I caught a glimpse of him in the glass hallway of the crime lab, and I could tell it was wearing on him. I decided, after watching my irritated man stalk through the lab, that I would treat Nick to dinner and dessert when he got home, and maybe a relaxing bath. I would do whatever it takes to smooth the agitated lines on Nick's forehead; the only lines I want to see are the laugh lines around his eyes when they're crinkled in his sunshine smile. I've always hated to see Nick bothered by the cases that we work; it was very rarely that the cases really got to him, but when they did, the repercussions could last for weeks. Nick could go days without talking to me or anyone for that matter, and I didn't want that to be the case this week, our week off. So I planned to do everything I could to ease Nick's pain.

I pick up the hammer and shuffle into the kitchen lethargically; work always makes me tired physically as well as mentally. Home from work I changed into my super comfy flannel pajama pants, but I opted out of a shirt, since it was a summer day in Las Vegas and my apartment was like an oven. I set the hammer down on the counter and open the cupboard that is home to all our cookbooks. I feel like making something old fashioned for my Nicky, like chicken fried steak or pot roast, so I set to work skimming the main course sections of each book. On the third book, I hear the front door open and close; hear keys thrown onto the dining room table and shoes kicked off; hear heavy footsteps and a low growl heralding Nick's arrival. This isn't a good sign for Nick's mood-usually he announces loudly that he's home and then gives me a little sugar. This trumping around and growling tells me that I have my work cut out for me. I'm intent on finding the perfect dinner for my baby, so I don't look up when Nick enters the kitchen.

Only when two brawny arms wrap themselves around my torso do I lift my head from my important work. Nick has one arm enclosing my shoulders while the other coils around my waist, a big, square hand resting on my stomach. He buries his face into the back of my neck and exhales heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose in my hair and sending tremors to my fingertips. I knew it was going to be like this; Nick will be dejected and needy until he gets relief. Smooth lips travel across my shoulder, not kissing, just rubbing the skin and leaving a slightly damp trail. I can feel the goosebumps left in the wake, and I get a secret thrill that my body still responds to his touch like it's the first time.

"Hi, Nicky," I say in a low, quiet voice; now is not the time for my energy. I turn in Nick's arms, and feel a palm settle on my ass. Instead of answering, Nick presses his lips against mine, engaging a slow, soft kiss, no tongue or teeth, just his lips tugging at my own. He cups my ass, pulling me closer until we're pressed from knee to shoulder; I wrap my arms loosely around his waist, settling my fingertips to trace nonsense designs on his lower back. My mind is just starting to drift when Nick pulls away from my mouth, only to return again, this time with much more ferocity. Our noses are crushed together from the force, my ribs are pressing for air as Nick squeezes me tighter, and I know my lips will be red, but I let Nick kiss me, because it's what he needs. He uses his teeth to scrape along my bottom lip, and I open my mouth just a little. His tongue is instantly sliding wetly against mine, I can feel his taste buds tickling my own, making my body respond just as I know he wants it to. I hear the hiss of breath through Nick's nose as he pulls away, only to surge right back again. Nick's free hand is wandering across my naked back while his other still grips my ass tightly; he's giving me the shivers as he runs his fingers in line with my burn scars; my nipples are peaking each time he changes direction. Nick's fingertips continue to skim along finally faded scars before finding purchase on my shoulders. He grips me impossibly tighter to him, and I let him, because I expected Nick to come to me tonight with that intense urgency that only he has.

What actually surprises me is when Nick pulls abruptly away from our kiss. Instead of surging back into a new kiss, Nick's body ducks down, tucking my hip onto his shoulder before straightening up and sweeping me off my feet. Literally. Nick has me in a fireman's carry and is currently heading toward the bedroom as I get an eyeful of his strong back covered in the fabric of his button down. I pretend to struggle, feebly landing my fists on the solid torso and even adding a slap or two to his gorgeous ass. But I don't really want to be freed, because Nick likes to take control, and I like to give Nick control. It's another reason why we work so well together. We're in the bedroom now, because the floor has changed from hardwood to carpet. It doesn't surprise me that Nicky can carry me around like a ragdoll. In fact, I'm pretty turned on by the fact that he can do whatever he wants to me. Such as toss me on the bed hard enough so that I bounce into the air.

Now I'm lying on my back, panting, while he's bracketed by my legs and staring down at me with an interesting expression in his eyes. I can see the lust and the want and the need, but there's something else there. I think I've seen it a couple times; it looks pretty similar to the look in his eyes after I wake him from nightmares. It's the same look he gave me after the explosion. I think it is fear.

I take a deep breath and squeeze his thighs with my knees, calling him to action. He snaps out of whatever reverie he's lost in and crawls onto the bed. He balances on his hands and knees right above me, I can feel the heat emanating off his body as his knees now press my thighs. He kisses me again, hard this time. I slide my hands up his forearms, the strong sinews flexing under my fingertips. I reach his enviable biceps and grasp them with force, trying to pull him down onto me. I can feel my fingers biting into the luscious muscle, and finally Nick concedes, bending his arms so the buttons of his shirt leave little circular indents on my chest.

I can feel his arousal against my abdomen as he gives little minute thrusts to ease his need. I know he'll want to take this agonizingly slow-the release will be stronger, exorcising if you will. He slides a hand up my body, pausing to curl softly around my neck. As dark as it is, I become more aroused with his hand one contraction away from cutting off my breath. We never got into the breath control play, knowing from having to take pictures of the bodies that one wrong move could end in suffocation. Nevertheless, Nick's hand resting on my throat sends dizzying tingles to the pleasure center of my brain-I can almost feel my pupils dilating with lust.

His hand slides up my face and into my hair, gripping it with just the right amount of force to make my scalp prickle. He continues to kiss me senseless, and I lay compliantly beneath him as he rubs his body on mine. His other hand comes into play now, the fingers brushing lightly over my right nipple. He pinches it lightly, followed by a harder one that makes me press into his hand. His fingertips circle around it and I buck into his hips. He pulls away from my mouth a fraction of an inch and I know he is smirking, enjoying the fact that he can play me like a violin.

Before I can register the chill, I realize he's left me, and is walking into our closet. I lay for a second, trying to catch my breath, which is raging out of me in ragged pants. He returns with the sash from his silk robe, running it through his tantalizing fingers. While Nick is the whole package to me, if I had to pick my favorite part of him, I think it would be his hands. The flat, square palms rough with calluses and the long, perfect fingers have brought me more pleasure than I have ever felt. The sight of him stroking the silky rope has my senses reeling. I know what is next.

I shimmy up the bed until my head is resting against the head board, and Nick is looking at me with feral eyes and a faint glimmer of a smile. I can see his eyes roaming up and down my body, even though we haven't gotten anywhere near undressing. Nick places one knee on the bed as I submissively offer him my wrist; he loops the silk around it, pausing to kiss the skin under the snug knot before looping the material through one of the bars in the head board and securing my other wrist.

For some reason Nicky really gets off on bondage. We don't do anything hardcore, like with leather and steel, but he does enjoy stringing me up and having his way with me. I think it goes back to the control thing, and whatever my baby wants, my baby gets. I test his knots by pulling my hands experimentally, but they are sturdy. I have enough slack in the tie to get my hands about level to my head, but that's it. He's back to looking at me, and I can tell tonight's going to be a torturous one. He's got that look, the one that says he's not going to let me come until I'm begging. Fucking tease.

He's kneeling on the bed next to me, just devouring me with his eyes. He places two fingertips at my Adam's apple before sliding them all the way down to my waistband, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Before Nick, I never met anyone that could get me hard just by touching me. It was always a rough handjob or blowjob before the real show; sometimes Nick just has to look at me right and I'm stiff for hours. He's like a drug-I'm always aching for my next fix, and Nick is only too happy to supply.

He bends and kisses me again, cupping my chin with one hand while the other works its way under my pajama pants. I groan deep in my throat as his fingers tease the curls around the base of my cock, which since Nick picked me up and carried me has been at full attention for him. His lips leave mine and he works on my bottoms. Within seconds, my pants are on the floor and I am bound and naked, hot and hard for my man.

The way he looks at me now puts his other looks to shame. I can read from his eyes that if he doesn't have me right here and right now, he'll die. The thought alone makes me quiver with anticipation as I watch him work open the buttons of his shirt. I can tell he wants to go fast, but his fingers are slipping on the little discs as he fumbles with the fabric.

"Slow down, baby," I say in a low voice. He looks up with me, his pupils blown so that his gaze is black with lust. I can see the corners of his mouth quirk into a naughty smirk, and he begins his show. Taking a deep breath, Nick slips the top button through the hole, allowing the top of his pecs to show. The next button falls open and my tongue is practically hanging out of my head. His eyes haven't left my face as he continues with the third button, showing the start of his abdomen and the delicious muscles there. He stops unbuttoning and slips a hand into his shirt; under the fabric I can see him playing with his nipple, and I struggle fiercely to touch him.

I hear a sudden outrush of breath and realize that Nick is laughing at me. I can't help but smile in return, because you can't not smile when Nick is smiling. He's got that perfect grin, one that is like a beacon of light that sucks you into a state of happiness. As the years go on, it gets even better because his eyes crinkle and the lines just add to the effect. I loved how young Nick looked when I met him, but I love him more now, the lines on his face tell stories of the things we've been through. Right now, though, his face is strained a little as he tries to maintain control over his body.

He is finally through unbuttoning his shirt, and we're both a little worse for wear. I can feel the skin on my wrists starting to burn, and Nick is standing stock still, I can only assume fighting some primal urge to just take me and get it over with.

His shirt is hanging open, revealing his statuesque chest. It's heaving slightly, the abdominals contracting and relaxing at enticing intervals. My eyes travel from his pebbled nipples to the shadow of his bellybutton, the beginning of the trail of hair leading to his waistband. Nick lets the shirt drop from his shoulders, and he stands with one hand resting on the button of his slacks. My relationship with Nick taught me that I had several fetishes I was previously unaware of. One being for a guy in a suit. Granted Nick wasn't in a suit today, he still had chosen to wear suit pants. And Nick with a suit is hot, but Nick with just suit pants on-smoking hot.

By this time I am almost delirious from Nick's teasing. "Nick, please," I groan. He grins again, his white, even teeth glinting in the dim light. He quickly unbuttons and unzips his trousers, pushing both them and his boxers to the ground in one swoop. And there you have it.

We're both naked. We're both panting. We're both excruciatingly hard. Only I'm tied to the bed and Nick's descending on me like I'm a t-bone steak and he hasn't eaten in weeks.

I feel him everywhere as he drapes his body over me. His lips are on my lips, on my jaw, my neck, collarbone, chest. Nipple. I try to place my hands on his head, but am rudely reminded that I'm bound. His teeth graze my sensitive skin and I cry out. He's making a deep noise in the back of his throat-I think he's purring, if that was possible in humans.

He's back to kissing me again, but now one of his hands is wrapped firmly around my shaft. Not moving, just squeezing, but it feels oh so good. Involuntarily my hips are pushing into him, setting a needy pace and trying to give him a hint. But he just continues kissing me, and I groan with frustration because he really is focused tonight. It's very rarely that he can hold out on teasing this long, but he must have some dark demon to be exorcised, because now he's sliding his thumb through the wetness at the tip of my cock. Still not moving his entire hand, but it's enough that I'm tossing my head wantonly and bucking harder into his hand.

He gets the hint this time and begins to move his hand up and down my shaft. I can hear myself moaning obscenely, but Nick has always had this effect on me. I'm a talker in bed, obviously, but I really opened up with Nick. Like I've said before, no one makes me feel as good as he does, and I like to make sure he knows that. I can't exactly talk right now, as Nick is kissing the living daylights out of me, but I don't think I could string together anything coherent anyway.

I can feel the building pressure in my pelvis and the heat cascading through my body. I draw in a breath to yell my appreciation when Nick suddenly stops all movement, drawing his hand away from my dick.

"Nick," I nearly sob, but it turns into a low grumble as slick fingers find their way to the most pleasurable part of my body. He prepares me with the utmost of care, and I can tell that this coupling is getting further and further from the tender, loving scenario I had in my head.

I cry out as the fingers find my prostate, sending molten white pleasure to every nerve ending of my body. I want to touch Nick, need to touch him, but the silk tie is durable and I just have to lie there and take Nick's torture. He nibbles on my collarbone and neck and ears as his fingers ready me. I can feel the sweat dripping down my temples with the strain of withstanding such assault.

Nick's fingers leave me, only to clutch my hip and flip me to my stomach, twisting the silk and impairing my hands further. He places a wet kiss on the back of my neck.

"Love you, G," he says, his voice rough with an onslaught of emotion. It's the first words he's spoken since he came home, but they're comforting. It's nice to know he's not dwelling completely on whatever bad thing happened today.

He lifts my body so that I'm on my knees, but my forehead rests on the pillow next to my elbows. Before I can even adjust to the extremely submissive position, I can feel Nick lining himself up with my body.

A few seconds of uncomfortable pressure are followed by an explosion of nerve synapses until Nick is completely buried. I can't see him, but I know his eyes are screwed shut and he is biting his lip in an effort to not blow it too early. I bet you he's even reciting CSI protocol in his head to keep from losing control. In fact, I have to take a few deep breaths myself, or it won't be nearly as good. With my hands bound, there's no way I can reach my cock, so I just contract my muscles to feel something, anything, that will relieve the aching hardness.

Finally Nick begins to move. He starts slow, pulling back shallowly before pushing forward again. His hips piston faster as he penetrates deeper and I'm lost. I can feel myself still tied to the bed, can still feel his hand grating on the bones of my hips, but my mind is blown. I'm floating, far away from our bed, from Vegas. I'm in space, each supernova becoming brighter as Nick pounds into me. It's like being high-meth, coke, heroin, weed, fucking Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds is what I'm saying. If I said that Nick has brought me pleasure before-is it bad to be thanking whatever horrible thing he witnessed today for inevitably granting such dizzyingly hot sex?

Nick's pumping harder and harder, his fingers biting into the muscle of my waist. He hasn't yet moved one to help me along, but I'm thinking, with every flex of his hips, that that won't be a problem. I hear banging and mentally note that we'll have to spackle over the dents in the wall.

My orgasm suddenly sneaks up on me, and I don't have a chance to do anything before I spurt on the sheets. I can feel my entire body convulse as the orgasm quakes through my body, can feel myself clenching around Nick as he chases his own finish.

It takes three more pumps of his pelvis for Nick to freeze and come with a harsh groan. He stays still for a few moments before he gingerly pulls away from me, leaving my body cold from the loss of contact. He rolls me back over before freeing me from my bonds and cradling his head on my chest. We're both out of breath, so for nearly fifteen minutes we just pant into the stuffy air of the bedroom.

I speak first. "What's the matter?"

He's quiet, so that I think he's asleep already. But he answers. "Just the case I worked, scared me a little bit."

"How so?" I ask, drawing my fingers along his nearly bare scalp.

"Our vic died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was just a random attack."

"So you're dissatisfied with the lack of motive or connection?" I am a little lost at how he is feeling.

"More like-losing my faith in humanity. I was a random victim too," he grumbles, nuzzling into my chest.

"Hey," I say quietly. "I thought we were going to leave that for a while." I pause and kiss the top of his head. "Nick, you can't let this be the deciding factor for you view of humanity. In our line of work, we're just unfortunate enough to come in contact more often with the deranged portion of people. You can't base your opinion of humanity on the psychos we deal with. It's just not logical."

"But, G, they're getting more like us-the case where my car got stolen-those girls didn't even feel bad that they had killed Mrs. Chase. They were normal people."

I sigh. "Yeah, there are bad people out there. Yeah, we have to see them more often than everyone else. But you know, I feel like we neutralize them. We serve justice to the bad people."

Nick is quiet for a few moments. I feel him place a kiss on my sternum and he sighs. "I guess."

I cup the back of his neck. "Are you alright?"

He turns and faces me, his eyes still sad, but not holding the fear that I saw there earlier. "I'm better," he says before rolling us so that I'm on top of him. "Thanks, G. Thanks for not being a bad person."

"You're welcome, Nick." He closes his eyes and I rest my head against his shoulder. "Did you see I hung your diploma?"

"You did it wrong," he mumbles tiredly.

"How could that have happened? You put the nail in the wall, you hang the frame. That's what I did."

"Yeah, but A&M diplomas deserve a higher place on the wall."

I rip the pillow from under his head and smack him with it. "Smartass."

***