Title: Back to Life and Reality
Author: Esynnaj
Email: Vebesahshalarc@sbcglobal.com
Disclaimers: no ownership rights and no money made
Pairing: Warrick/Nick
Rating: FRAO
Spoilers: Yes, for Grave Danger
Summary: You have to crawl before you walk and it's nice to have someone who's willing to make the journey with you.

BACK TO LIFE AND REALITY

Given his choice, Nick Stokes' preferred mental health management tool would have been to isolate himself from the world in an attempt to avoid reality. It was way too harsh. Due to that rapidly internalized conviction, he had not felt any zest for or joy in living for quite some time, resulting in him being thoroughly shocked upon noticing when that went away.

So when had the realization come to him that he was finally recovering from the underground ordeal he had undergone? The first time it hit him that he had spent the rest of the day following Warrick's sensual early morning locker room attack without once thinking about the insanity of what Walter Gordon had done to him. Until then, too many of his hours had been occupied with wishing either he'd had the guts or the ants had had the numbers to successfully take him out of his misery. Until that momentous occasion, he had been sure death was preferable to suffering as he had been.

It had been Warrick's face and Warrick's voice he had heard upon being uncovered from Gordon's well designed, makeshift prison. It had been Warrick's hand he had clung to during the ambulance ride to the hospital. It had been upon Warrick's strength he had depended to the point of seeking out his face in the background even as loving family and concerned friends had crowded about. The evening of the day his family had left for Texas would've been his first alone in his apartment if Warrick, on his afternoon off, had not shown up with two six packs and stayed late. The brave front he'd shown his parents upon their leave-taking had been just that, a front. He hadn't wanted anyone to know he was terrified at the notion of spending a single night by himself.

Just as he had after Nigel Crane's crushing invasion into Nick's life, Warrick had sensed that. Nick's relief had been so great when he had suggested staying through until daylight that first night and Nick's despair over the phone when he had called Warrick to ask him to come back the next night had been too heartbreaking for Warrick to refuse Nick's request. Consequently, on every following night, including those when he got off the swing shift, he had begun arriving at Nick's and remaining until morning. Eventually, without Nick having to break down and ask him to do it, he had boldly strolled in one day with a duffle bag of belongings over a broad shoulder to move into Nick's spare bedroom.

Nick had known from the start he'd be unable to stand being alone with his thoughts after his tormenting burial and known right from the start Warrick was the only one he'd be able to stand having about for any extended length of time. Grissom was too inscrutable and unreachable. Nick had never been secure around his too tightly wound supervisor, impressionably imagining, perhaps incorrectly, he'd never quite measured up to Grissom's expectations. Like a playful puppy, Nick had always sought Grissom's approval but had never seen any sign he had managed to acquire it. That uncertainty was nothing he wanted to experience as he shakily put back together the ripped up shreds of his private life.

Catherine would mother him too much at a time that he was already questioning his manhood while Sara would spend too much demanding that he buck up, get over his ordeal and on with life at a time when he had been still spending morbid hours speculating as to whether life was worth living. He could not yet see how bucking up and going on with anything was possible. Too many times a day did, at least once or twice every waking hour, the horrific memories of being entombed for what had seemed forever rush in on him. Each occasion brought on momentary paralysis and smashed a budding resurgence of his self-esteem. In that grave, he'd had nothing to look at but dirt, nothing to think about but the taped voice of a stranger asserting his forthcoming death and nothing to concentrate on but his own increasingly demented, distraught thoughts which he hadn't been able to stop from careening around in his head as he had moved toward that promised time of dying.

He had lost it time and time again while trapped there, periodically striking out at his tight confinement, sometimes as the methodical scientist Grissom had been training him to be, then forgetting himself in his fear and struggling furiously and convulsively against his imprisonment like a madman. Screaming out in claustrophobic terror upon each failure to win his freedom, the only thing that had helped him to maintain any attachment to sanity had been his rock solid confidence the CSI team, his friends, were doing everything possible to locate and rescue him.

However, even that certainty had deserted him as too much time had gone by. Over and over, he had stared down death by his own hand as preferable to death by suffocation, starvation or thirst. But when the intolerable agony of the fire ants had begun, despite all his efforts at continued survival, he'd become convinced he could no longer endure. On the edge of taking himself out, it had been Warrick's authoritative voice peremptorily ordering him to put the gun down, never allowing Nick any choice about compliance, which had saved him from himself. That wonderful, welcomed voice had been filled with such raw emotion, intermingled love, fear, worry and anger, then finally, hope and relief. It had been what Nick had first reached out to as his lifeline to renewed freedom.

Moments later, it had been with a quiet, comforting "Poncho," a father's beloved nickname from his childhood, that Grissom had calmed him when he might otherwise have panicked as his promise of freedom had been snatched away at the moment of its advent. Connecting to the love of his biological father in that single word had heightened and reinforced his and Grissom's previous father/son association.

However, as much as Nick respected, appreciated and was reassured by Grissom's paternal wisdom and advice, he did not need another father. He already had one.

He also did not need Catherine hovering over him or Sara doing the stern sisterly put-your-boots-on-and-get-back-in-the-saddle number. He had spent enough time trying to respond appropriately to that when it had come from his biological family before they had left to return to Texas and couldn't take any of more of it. What he wanted most was the equality of Warrick's close, nonjudgmental friendship and that was what he was getting.

Just had he had feared being alone after Crane had stalked and hurt him, Nick could not now and the fear was much worse this time, which shamed him. Warrick was not the only one who had recognized that but was the only one who didn't look upon him pityingly and mouth words at him how everything was going to be all right. Grissom tried to talk him through it. Catherine tried to baby him through it. Sara tried to rush him through it. Only Warrick, a temperamental, risk taking gambler by nature and at heart, a former street kid and would- be thug, seemed intrinsically to understand the similar machismo that was in the Texas farm boy that Nick was.

Only Warrick understood why Nick found suffering from overwhelming fear horribly humiliating and unacceptable. Warrick had missed being the one who would've been on the crime scene and in Nick's shoes only by happenstance, which had him eating his guts out from a strong case of guilt. Every fantasy Warrick had of himself in that tomb always ending with him blowing his head off long before any rescue could have been affected. Therefore, he had great respect for Nick's having endured to survive it. He could not imagine a scenario where he would have. Warrick figured shame was simply a proper and natural reaction to the untenable situation Nick had been placed, not by his own choice, but by the hands of another. It was justifiable and it was private, nothing Nick had to share with anyone else and something Warrick was sure Nick was going to work out in his own good time. He hadn't by the time he went back to work, which supposedly meant he was healthy again, so Warrick had still been there for him even then.

He had only been back on the job only a couple of weeks after nearly a month of medical leave, coming back onto midnights rather than swing shift because Grissom's unruffled but obstinate and insistent campaign to get Ecklie to put his original CSI team back together had proven victorious. Despite his attempts at pretending to have regained his former cheerfulness, the others knew Nick was still emotionally fragile and had been, for a long while, overly solicitous about saying anything that might bring unwanted memories rushing back on him. Only Warrick had kept treating him as he always had.

In most ways, that is.

The shift before the great day had not been a good one for Nick. Grissom had yet to give him any assignments to work alone, for which he was truly thankful. But the assignments he received still couldn't always be with his new roommate, so Nick had to deal with the resultant tremors of dread each time he had to watch Warrick taking off with someone else. He simply could not get used to be being away from Warrick for any length of time, even on the job. On that shift, he hadn't seen Warrick for almost the whole night. Due to that, his mood was not good.

At the end of the shift, he'd been sitting alone in the locker room glumly changing clothes and getting ready to go home alone when Warrick had loomed over him, coming out of nowhere. He had swarmed Nick to effortlessly pick him up by his armpits, lifting him from a dejected and slumped seated position. Then he had backpedaled Nick against the lockers, banging him hard, and rifled a hand inside his shorts to lustfully beat him off as he had kissed Nick's face, neck and ears. During that, he had conversationally explained, step by explicit step, exactly what he was doing to him as he had done it.

Within mere seconds, Nick, breathlessly panting and unable to stand still, moaning aloud, uncaring of who heard him, had helplessly, explosively and deliciously fired off right where he stood. It had ended with both giggling as Nick had nearly collapsed, his seed dribbling down his legs and over Warrick's hand. Then as he had calmed down and regrouped, his head resting on Warrick's shoulder, Warrick had leaned strongly into him, supporting him with his body, holding Nick's wrists above their heads with his free hand as he had continued to gently massage him below with the other. He had been tenderly kissing him, smiling as he'd lightheartedly and lazily repeated a single, solitary word in a low, sexy, growling drawl.

"Nicky."

That word had been loaded with admiration and reciprocated love. It was a playful diminutive of his own name, but it had become in Nick's mind; and only how Warrick said it; a life saving mantra. All he had to do was think it, draw a mental picture of Warrick in the manner that he said it and all those troubling memories retreated for Nick, all that negativity floating around in his head dissipated. The whole day after Warrick's unanticipated and highly desirable locker room attack, Nick had gone about his daily business without conscious awareness that he was using the single worded catch phase of Warrick's "Nicky" to banish every tainted thought.

It had not been until the following morning after that, as he lay half asleep in Warrick's arms, when Nick had finally realized he had spent the entire previous day without shuddering through chronic, debilitating, corrosive memories of the worst hours of his life. He had grinned, the first he hadn't had to force in weeks, while drawing closer to the sleeping man he loved so much and who was literally assisting in saving his sanity.

He needed the kind of lighthearted humor, strength and stability Warrick represented, not Grissom's cool rationality or Catherine's perky, loving protectiveness. Warrick was enabling Nick to begin to laugh at his fears, find the funny side of the horror he had undergone, help him to get back up on his feet without forcing him onto them, as Sara would insist he do. Warrick was exactly what he needed.

"Wake up, Nicky. You've gone underground on me again, man, and I ain't havin' it."

That had been what Warrick had said to him just before their first occasion of becoming more than just friends. Not even fully conscious yet, Nick had lunged toward the voice that had been the first thing he had heard upon being liberated from his makeshift grave, burying his head into the muscular heat of a dark, hard torso. Not once had Warrick ever said anything mildly indicative of his feeling sorry for Nick about how often he'd had to come in to awaken Nick from the terrifying nightmares he'd been still having. On the first few occasions, he had just stood over the bed, shaken Nick until his eyes opened and stayed with him until he could calm down, casually brushing off Nick's apologies for disturbing his sleep. Then he'd go lie down on the couch in the living room, rather than in the spare room, because it was closer to Nick. He could hear him there better from there if he cried out.

Then, he had always left Nick's bedroom as soon as Nick said he was all right. But Warrick had wondered about the validity of reassurance he suspected was being given just to set his mind at ease. However, after hearing Nick restlessly prowl the apartment too many nights in order not to suffer through recurrence nightmares of his subterranean torment or listening to him lying in bed trying to muffle sobs, Warrick had taken it upon himself to ignore those false guarantees. The next time he had heard those sobs, he had firmly taken Nick in hand, impatiently deflected his embarrassed objections and held him until the tears had dried, the trembling had ceased and Nick had faded into his first peaceful slumber in weeks, kept safe in Warrick's arms the entire time.

Awakening with the coming of late morning light, Nick had discovered Warrick was still there, sitting up asleep with a pillow behind his shoulders with Nick curled up beside him, head resting on his lap. Nick's first thought had been, "I never want to move from here." So he hadn't; not for several hours; just had laid and taken his ease while Warrick had continued to sleep. From that point forward, Nick's protestations of Warrick's midnight soothing sessions had devolved to nil. Afterward Warrick always stayed awhile, sitting or laying next to him on the bed after waking Nick up to let him take comfort from his warmth and nearness.

Not with anybody else, male or female, could Nick have lain there quietly while his racing heart stilled itself and nightmarish visions of the torturous hours faded. Not for ten million dollars and not in ten million years had Nick thought he'd ever be able to tell anyone about another man sitting with him and cradling and stroking his head. But now, not for ten million dollars and not in ten million years did he ever want to give that up. He wanted it to last forever.

The still forthcoming night when they had shifted from friendship to a more personal relationship, after another nightmare, Nick had wrapped his arms around Warrick and desperately driven his head into his belly as if he wanted to become part of the other man, moaning, "Make it go away, Warrick. You've got to help me make it go away. It's got to go away."

"It's already begun to do that, Nicky, the shit's in the past. What you've got to do now is deal with the aftermath of what that sonafabitch did to you. I got faith you can and will do that. It's just gonna take some time is all."

"But, I haven't got what it takes to hold out that long."

"Fuck that. Sure you do." Warrick held on tight temporarily to help Nick hold on permanently, giving as much of himself to Nick as he could, trying to drive the other man's fears away with his own courage that hadn't been tested by Nick's trial by fire. "You got all it takes to hold on 'til the demons that sonafabitch laid on you are driven out. All we've got to do is dig down and find it."

"Uh-uh, there's nothing there, Rick. I'm empty inside. I got nothing left." As soon as he said that, working in a panic mode too close to what he had experienced while entombed, Nick had flipped onto his back, hooked his thumbs in his pajama bottoms to slide them over his hips, down his legs then kick them off. Then, while Warrick was giving him a skeptical stare, Nick had, in a feverish rush, turned to him on his knees and said, gripping his arms tight, "Please don't move, stay right there. I'll be right back."

Nick was as good as his word. Less than a minute later, he returned and, without a word, climbed back on the bed to straddle Warrick's outstretched legs, much to the other man's confusion. Looking down, never meeting Warrick's eyes, he immediately grappled to push Warrick's shorts down and pull his cock out, at which time Warrick had caught his hands, yelping in surprise, "Nick, what the fuck are you doin'?!!"

Calmly holding what he'd discovered in both hands, Nick's dark eyes had gazed into Warrick's flashing green eyes and he'd said evenly, "I've just had a blinding revelation, Rick. I figured out what can fill this emptiness. You can."

Totally disbelieving in what he had just heard and in what Nick was doing, Warrick began to shake his head. "Uh-uh, man. What's going on here is you're runnin' scared and reaching for the first thing you think can."

"Later for that." Nick had noticed, despite the hesitancy he'd shown, Warrick had already begun to harden and thicken just from being tightly held in Nick's hands. With him being a man whose green eyes, lean attractiveness and high sex drive was a much talked about hot topic of conversation around the water cooler, Nick had correctly guessed it wouldn't take much to get him going. "Right now, I don't have time to hear anything you've got to say." Unwilling to allow any further discussion, he had straddled and crawled close to Warrick on his knees until he'd been pressed tight against him. Then he reached behind himself to position the head of Warrick's penis against his prepared anus and slid down Warrick's body, thrusting down and backward with a gasp and a groan to impale himself on the growing pole of heated flesh he held in his hand.

Warrick had hissed and reared up beneath Nick, his head snapping back as Nick completed the initial penetration by directly settling down onto Warrick's lap as he lifted his knees to tuck them under Warrick's arms and behind his shoulders while wrapping his arms around Warrick's neck. Crying out in relief at the fulfillment of having that sense of emptiness relived, Nick had wriggled about until he'd gotten comfortable then dropped his head into the groove between Warrick's left shoulder and neck before quietly giving an almost inaudible serene sigh and becoming still.

They had been silent for quite some time after that, Nick too content to have anything to say, Warrick still in too much shock to think of anything to say. After a moment, unsure of what to do with his hands, Warrick had tentatively curved them around Nick's back to gently caress him in the exact same way he had frequently been doing before upon awakening him from a nightmare. When Nick had just smiled without opening his eyes and melted even more into him, Warrick had let his uncertainty fade, just grinned and decided to go with the flow.

Being surrounded by Nick's flesh had indeed got him going. He wanted to move inside that heat, thrust until so much of his fluids flowed into Nick that they poured out of him. But this was about what Nick needed, not him, so he had to deliver only what Nick had to have. Still, it had been one helluva turn on to imagine Nick going into the bathroom to grease himself up then coming back to mount Warrick, taking what he wanted without asking. Hopefully, this meant Nick was getting better, not that he was finding a way to avoid or minimize his problems.

After he'd asked carefully, "Hey, uh, Nicky, is this doin' for ya?" and Nick had drowsily nodded, Warrick had let him alone. A few minutes afterward, he realized, most remarkably, Nick had fallen asleep with Warrick balls to the wall deep inside his ass and had nearly laughed aloud at the very idea of that. Awhile later, having sat there awhile pulsing inside a sleeping man whom he could not possibly take advantage of and being unable to bear anymore of that, he had gently disengaged them. Smiling at how easily he slipped out of Nick, which meant Nick had thoroughly lubricated himself, Warrick had tenderly laid Nick to rest and covered him. Then he had gone into the bathroom to hurriedly get himself off, because otherwise, he'd never have been able to go back to sleep.

Nevertheless, Warrick spent the rest of the night with fantasies of having the most far-fetched, athletic sex with one black haired, brown-eyed Texan running through his nighttime fantasylands. He had awakened with the sodden results of his first wet dream in decades caked on his belly and the bed in Nick's spare room, much to his amusement. Sighing, he had risen to clean himself and the bed, muttering, "Nick's got to get a move on and get better, cause I've got to get the hell outa here. No way will I be able to just sit there and do nothing, if he does that shit to me again."

The very next night after his discovery of such a unique method of satisfactorily filling his emptiness, as soon as the nightmares had started, Nick had forced himself awake and been unable to wait for Warrick to do the same. He'd taken it upon himself to sit up and demand, heart hammering, "Warrick!!! Warrick!!! Are you coming?!!! I need you!! I need you now!!"

Moving fast, rubbing sleep from his eyes, Warrick had come stumbling into Nick's bedroom in answer to the frantic summons, cursing as he stubbed a toe but still drowsily calling out to Nick, "Yeah, babe, I'm here, I'm coming, calm down, everything's cool, everything's all right."

Nearly hysterical, Nick had grabbed at him as soon as he was close, pulling him off balance and onto the bed. Crawling to curl around Warrick in a fetal position, he had babbled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I can't see through this, I can't get through it all by myself. I keep trying but I just can't. I go to sleep and the nightmares come and they're too real, they get so real, too real. I can't make 'em go away even when I wake up. I don't have anything in me to make 'em go away. They hollow me out and leave me with nothing to hold on to except you. I can't do this, Rick. I can't do this. I haven't got what it takes..."

"The hell you don't. I wouldn't be here if you didn't. I didn't come here plannin' to stay forever, ya know, only to stay long enough for you to be ready for me to go."

"That won't be," Nick had said promptly, voice muffled because his face had been pressed so hard into Warrick's stomach, "for years and years."

This had made Warrick laugh. "Then I've got to move in, man, cause I can't afford to keep paying rent on my place when the only time I go there lately is to pick up shit to bring back over here. My landlady must think I don't even live there anymore."

"Fine by me," Nick had told him and meant it. "Stop paying. Come stay with me. Share this place with me. Mine's bigger anyway. You've got to do it, cause I'm not lettin' you go this time. I'll be damned if I plan to be without somebody the next time some fuckin' big bad comes after me."

Warrick had laughed and they had laid together in a companionable silence. Warrick had familiarly ran a hand up and down Nick's arm until he, much more tranquil now, had leaned over to glance at the clock on the nightstand by his bed and said, "Well. I must be getting better. At least this time we made it to three am before I woke you up with my tossing and turning."

"Wasn't the tossing and turning that woke me up, Nicky, it was the hollering and bellowing. Man, all that hog callin' you did down in Texas has given you some amazing lung power."

"I've never called a hog in my life."

"Callin' the cattle in then. How the hell should I know what it is you country boys call way down there in Texas? I'm a city boy."

Nick had grinned as he laid his head back on Warrick's bare leg. "Go to hell, Warrick."

"Been there, done that. Didn't like it. Not going back anytime soon." None-too-gently, Warrick had pulled on Nick's soft hair. "Neither are you."

"Oh yeah?" Nick had asked playfully, finally starting to totally relax, "You plan on keepin' me safe from the crazies in this world?"

There had been a silence. Then Warrick had said with unexpected gravity, his hand slipping tenderly into Nick's hair to massage his scalp, "Yeah man, I do."

There had been another, longer silence as Nick had closed his eyes, to better enjoy Warrick's caress. Before, that had been all about the pacification of fears and the prevention of them becoming deeply rooted. But as Nick's emotional and physical injuries had healed, he'd found Warrick's presence was beginning to have a positive affect on more than just his bruised spirit. His body had begun to react to Warrick's touch as well and he had discovered that was exceedingly pleasant.

What was more, while lying with his head in Warrick's lap, he had noticed Warrick starting to have quite the reaction of his own to Nick reclining on him. Nick had come to enjoy and look for the growth of Warrick's erection and move about until he could lay the side of his head on it, feel the pulse of his heartbeat in it, love how it twitched against his face. That had become an expected and erotic portion of the encouragement he was being given.

He had yet to mention any of this, not even with the event of the previous night. That had only about Warrick offering him comfort. Warrick had never shown any sign of his hardons being more than a biological response to friction being applied to certain areas of the male physique. But the current turn in the conversation had finally delivered an opportunity where Nick could mention it. So had he asked in response to Warrick's offer to keep him safe, trying to keep his tone light, "Oh, you do, do you? With so many coming at me, it'd be a 24/7, 365, 366 during leap year type of deal, Warrick. Think you're up for that?"

"Wouldn't've said it if I didn't. See, I've kinda decided that's a job in life I'd like to do. Wouldn't mind doin' it long term."

"Uh-huh, I see. Is this outa friendship or are you saying there's more to it than just that?"

"It can be about more than friendship. I'd like that, but only if you're up for it."

"Oh, no doubt, I'm up for it. I've been up for it. Part of me has been afraid of gettin' well cause I figured you'd think I didn't need you anymore and leave. Now that I know you won't, that's one more thing I won't be having any more nightmares about."

"You've been having nightmares about me leaving?"

"Hell yeah. You don't know how lonely this place was when you left after the shit that went down with Crane. It'll be worse this time."

"Well, that's shit you don't have to worry about anymore. I'm not going any place."

"Good. Then I've just got to get just one more thing straight and I'm set. If this is more than some friendship thing, is it just about getting tight emotionally or can it get physical, too?"

For some time, Warrick had said nothing. Then, he had laughed, softly and sensually. "You want that, you got that, but only once you're sure you're ready for it. Me, I've been ready for months, going on centuries. You don't have any idea how hard it was for me to act right while I was staying here after what that bastard Crane did to you."

Shivering at even having that recalled, Nick had curled up all the more about Warrick and turned his head to nuzzle against his lap, sliding his lips over the shorts covering Warrick's cock as he murmured, "Oh, I'm ready for it. I've wanted to get at this for days, but didn't know how that'd go over with you. Now that I do." Nick had slid four fingers into Warrick's boxers to tug out the turgid length of him, grip it in his fist, rise up a little and bring it close to his waiting mouth.

Only for a moment, Warrick had held him back to say, "Nick, don't do anything you're not really ready to do. Don't be showing your appreciation like this. I'm hoping you think more of me than to do that to me."

"Man, will you shut the hell up? I'm busy here."

Nick had turned onto his belly and gotten to his knees to better insert in his mouth what he had in his hand. After running his tongue around the already leaking head, Nick had pushed Warrick's foreskin back to lap at the muscular knob within awhile before wrapping his tongue about it then closing his mouth tightly around it. That done, Nick had relaxed his throat muscles and sank down on Warrick until his nose had made contact with the short, curly hairs on his groin, all quick, successive movements that had rapidly changed the configuration of Warrick's breathing, quickening it into an irregular pattern. With a contended sigh, Nick's eyes had fluttered shut and, after taking a deep breath, very slowly and luxuriously, he had begun to ride up and down on that hot and muscular rod until he soon had Warrick panting and pushing himself off the bed on his palms to arch his whole body up into Nick's mouth.

One of his hands had locked in Nick's hair, tugged it hard enough to send prickling pains streaking across Nick's scalp that had excited him since they were a signal of Warrick's spiraling passion. He had sped up what he was doing, beginning to be anxious to feel Warrick's wet heat filling his mouth, so had been shocked when Warrick had pushed him back, tumbled him over and sat on him, locking his hands above his head on the bed.

"What?" Nick had demanded in confused bewilderment. "What? Didn't you like it?"

"Oh yeah. Oh hell yeah, did I ever. Just that." Warrick had leaned down to very thoroughly and lovingly kiss Nick, holding it for a long time and doing it well. He had done it so well that, by the time Warrick released him, Nick had been moaning and thrashing beneath him, so anxious for whatever was to come, he had no longer cared why Warrick had put a stop to what he had been doing. But, he had gotten an answer that explained everything.

When Warrick, after nibbling and tonguing his ears as he gently squeezed and released his nipples until Nick was a lusty, quivering mass of anticipation, had whispered in one of those ears, "I wanna cum in you, but your mouth's not where I plan to do that. So I can't let you make me go there until I'm where I wanna be. That's inside you and not just sitting there this time. I want more'n that. You catch my drift, Nicky?"

"Yeah," Nick had gasped, beginning to frantically rotate under Warrick as he had been attempting to get some friction going between them. "I got that and want it, too."

"Good. I'm guessing you're no stranger to this. I'm right about that, ain't I, Nicky? I mean, damn. Nobody could slam themselves down on a piece of meat big as mine like you did last night or give head like you just did and not have done it before."

"Aw, no, no worries about that. I've done it plenty of times before."

"Just to be clear about this, you've let a man really and truly fuck you before?"

"Yeah, yeah, I have." Laughing, Nick had swallowed hard, trying to organize thoughts that had been severely disrupted by Warrick's activities. "Why the hell do you think I left home and came to Vegas, man? It's difficult, getting away with being gay down where I come from. I got tired of the hassles." Breathlessly and earnestly completing the answer to Warrick's question by saying, "I've been with a lot of guys and learned so much about myself since I've been here and I, and I wanna share all of that with you, Warrick," he had explained as he had impatiently freed both hands to get them back onto Warrick's cock.

Rising above him on the palms of his hands to let Nick grip him, Warrick had laughed back at him, a soft, low, dark and dangerous sound. "Oh, for sure you're gonna do that. We're gonna share a helluva lot of each other with each other, Nicky."

Warrick had begun to move Nick about at will with his hands and mouth all over him doing the most amazing things. He'd touched him in places Nick hadn't known he had, in ways he hadn't thought possible, creating erogenous zones from the strangest areas of Nick's body, the inner and outer sides of his elbows, armpits, behind his knees, even his ankles and the middle of his back. He had been bundled tight, kissed hard and held close by one of Warrick's arms being thrown over his shoulder as he had been strongly jerked off at the same time.

Nick's volatile climax had been shattering and he would've screamed during it like he had while buried alive if Warrick's mouth had not caught and swallowed the sound, took it in and made it part of himself, just as he intended to do with much more of Nick. Afterward, Warrick had quietly cuddled him until he'd recovered a bit before asking, "We need stuff, Nicky, stuff to make us safe and stuff to make you comfortable. You got some, don't you?"

Nick had nodded, too exhausted to lift his head off Warrick's shoulder, and mumbled, "I've been waiting for this, so you know I do. It's all in the nightstand."

Without letting go of Nick, Warrick had reached over to get what he needed. He had prepared his fingers then moved to sit cross-legged with Nick's legs on his thighs. His arm had gone between Nick's legs to massage his buttocks awhile before slipping between them to insert a finger. Resting peacefully with his eyes closed, Nick's head had shot up as he had reared against the unexpected invasion, as gentle as it was. Warrick had murmured, "Relax, man. You know I'd never hurt you. You're used to this, right?"

"It'd been awhile until last night, but yeah, I am. I just didn't feel up to it 'til now. Go ahead. I want you to do it."

"Oh, I will," had said Warrick, humorous laughter filling his eyes. "You've got me too far gone to stop now. I'd have to throw you down and hogtied your silly ass to get it if you tried to stop me now, especially since you've got yours. It'd be unfair as hell for you to not let me get mine."

"Hey, I wouldn't do that to ya, man," trying to join in with Warrick's light amusement despite his growing inability to form a coherent thought. "I'm not the type of guy who. oh, Jesus!! Oh, God!!" Nick had clutched at Warrick's arms with both hands as two long fingers had entered him and found his pleasure zone. This time as Nick rose, distress had been forgotten and only ecstasy had reigned. Eyes stunned and wide as he had stared straight into Warrick's, he had bent his knees and spread his legs to allow Warrick greater access, gasping intently, "Don't stop that. Whatever you're doing, please don't stop doing it."

Warrick had obeyed a moment or so before pulling his fingers out, drawing a litany of fussy, dizzily muttered complaints from Nick. He had ignored that as he'd paused to arrange several pillows on the bed, push Nick back onto them so he was curved onto his spine and hook Nick's knees over his shoulders before taking hold of his own condom covered and lubricated cock. Then he had leaned over Nick, smiling and quietly talking all the while, to line himself up with Nick's ass and ease just into him, whereupon Nick had understood his withdrawal and no longer had anything to complain about.

It was an easy ride all the way, Warrick had never quickened his rhythmic pace, never thrust hard enough to cause Nick any discomfort or pain. Being careful to maintain a visual connection with Nick the entire time to be sure of that, it had been with extreme difficulty, that Warrick had kept to a slow tempo, for every fiber of his being wanted to pound Nick through the mattress. But then, Nick had needed a masculine style of gentleness and tenderness, nothing feverish, nothing out of control, nothing that might bring up any smothering sensations that might promote objectionable recollections or denigrate the growing renewal of Nick's confidence in himself.

He had talked to Nick the entire time, telling him such things as, "Take it easy, man, we're gonna do this slow and easy, no pressure. Whenever you want me to stop, whatever you don't like me doing, just say so, that's all you've gotta do. You don't haveta do anything you don't wanna do. Nobody's gonna put that kinda weight on you ever again. I mean to see to that."

Warrick's effortless, comforting lovemaking and encouragement had handled matters just right, because it had been Nick who had soon hastened the process by beginning to pump up so strongly that all Warrick had had to do was hold on. He'd been masturbating Nick as leisurely as he'd been moving in and out of him, but when Nick reached that point of no return, he had put his hands over Warrick's to speed up their motion. Before long, giving out a joyful, high pitched whine, eyes dazed and distant, Nick had ejaculated once more and several times this time, spraying a wash of semen over himself and Warrick.

Being inside Nick had become so pleasurable for him that, more than anything, even after Nick's completion, Warrick wanted to continue stroking that sweet ass. But Nick, during his orgasm, had tightened around him so he could not prevent himself from following Nick down that same road. He had slid his arms under Nick's and pulled him up tight to himself, wanting to hold as much of the smaller man possible against his body while he poured himself into Nick.

Warrick was a verbal lover who had ordered Nick to, "Give it to me, man, give it up to me," while Nick had been expending himself and now moaned aloud, his open mouth against Nick's shoulder, "I'm there, Christ, fuck, I'm there and it's so goddamned good." His hands ruffling Nick's hair, he had panted, "You feel me loading you up, Nicky? Huh? Can you feel me?" His last words had been a low growling, "This makes you mine, man. You're all mine now."

Warrick's final thrust had been the only one that he couldn't help but send slamming as deep into the Nick as he possibly could go, a charging, churning movement that drew a startled, clutching gasp of wide-eyed pain from Nick that he had complacently accepted. Although Nick had made no later complaint, Warrick had regretted that. However, at the same time, he had bitten down on Nick's throat, territorially marking him as private property. That, he had never regretted and still did not, had marked Nick several times since.

That had become graphic proof Nick belonged to him and Warrick got a thrill every time he looked at any bruising. A thrill now so powerful that, if the bruising looked like it was fading, Warrick gnawed on Nick to until they regained their brightness, always being sure Nick was too involved in whatever else he was doing to him to know he was also doing that.

On that night of the penetration done by his will, after helping a limp Nick lie down and stretch out, Warrick had asked, "Are you okay, man? I wasn't too rough on ya, was I?"

"Stupid question. You know you weren't." Nick had heaved at Warrick until he was also lying down so Nick could pillow his head on his shoulder as he had slung an arm and leg over him. "You could've been a lot rougher than that and next time, we'll try it that way. I mean to get to fuck you too, by the way. I'm not gonna be the only one playing bottom."

Warrick laughed and hugged Nick, kissing his ear as he said, "Guess you're one of those bossy bottoms I read about, not the easy-going country boy I thought you were, huh? That's all right. I can deal with that."

"Glad as hell to hear that, but, man, you know I've got demons you'll have to deal with, too."

"Yeah, but you're confronting your demons, Nicky. You're not shoving all of 'em down so deep that you blind yourself to 'em. We'll fight yours and we will win. We'll bury 'em and forget about `em. Don't do that, then the demons gotcha for life. They win the war instead of just a battle. No way in hell we don't win your war, man. It ain't gonna happen. Nobody gets to win your war, Nicky. You and me, we're gonna see to that."

That had been their first three nights of future, frequent and fervent couplings, which had grown increasingly adventurous. Afterward, he and Warrick had jumped each other's bones in so many various ways and places, the locker room, deserted labs, even Grissom's office one day when he had been away from his desk and in an actual broom closet another time. The locker room incident had led up to that wonderful day of divine revitalization, but every single one of the others had assisted in solidifying Nick's trip to emotional health and well being, had helped Nick rediscover himself and his self-confidence.

With Warrick more often sharing his bed, everything else had fallen into place, steadily become easier to handle. Now, he generally slept well. Even if he awakened and Warrick did not, so long as he could open his eyes to find Warrick lying by him, the nightmares, which were occurring less and less if they occurred at all, faded so quickly, he remembered almost nothing about them. The very sight of that long, lean, dark length asleep next to him and taking up most of the bed had become the consoling distraction he needed.

Nick soon came to love the evenings when they left work and came home together, especially if Warrick had been the one pursuing a difficult case. Because Warrick had always been there to smooth his rocky road, Nick was gratified if he had any opportunity to return the favor. Warrick's nerves stretched tight whenever he had to deal with a young victim's violent death. The steps involved in resolving the evidence so it led to the confirmation of what or who had caused the unjustifiable taking of a child's life wound him up past his endurance. It was especially on those occasions that he turned to Nick quite as needy as Nick as when Nick had turned to him.

Seeking any means to soothe the ache in his heart and rid himself of the anger or melancholy brought on by a tough assignment, he'd lose himself in Nick. He would take from Nick whatever he required for comfort, just as he had allowed Nick to take from him. After intercourse, they would often lie in each other's arms discussing how they felt about life in general and hard cases in particular, something Warrick had only gradually began to do with him.

Although saddened by the fact of another's injury or dying, Nick treasured those times. He loved how Warrick entered him bubbling with tension, the muscles of his shoulders and back bunched and tight, then exited him so relieved and released, he could thankfully sink into Nick's arms to find solace there. Weary of being the strong, confident one, he wanted someone else to take the load from him for a change and Nick was happy to fill those shoes. Sex with Warrick, at such times, contained a simmering rage so he used Nick with an edge of barely controlled roughness bordering on violence. But Nick welcomed that. It meant Warrick had ceased to regard him as the more fragile partner in their relationship. It meant Warrick was finally convinced of Nick's recovery and could address his own desires rather than always being intent on seeing to Nick's. He was beginning to believe Nick was strong enough to take whatever he dished out and stop him when and if he could not.

It had taken them some time to reach that point. Warrick had waited until he felt Nick was healthy in body and mind and was able to offer unrestricted physical and emotional consolation to another. He wanted to be able to give all of himself to Nick and had been so intrinsically certain of the advent of a time when he could, he had unconsciously done so. Honored to be the recipient of such trust, Nick had begun to feel the same sense of ownership of Warrick. And Nick was macho enough to take pride in that.

The first time he had bitten down to gnaw at Warrick's neck until breaking enough blood vessels to leave giant contusions, he had laughed like crazy as Warrick had grumbled and stalked around throwing pillows at him for nearly an hour. With Warrick complaining loud and long about the literal pain in his neck and the pain in his ass Nick was becoming, Nick had only grinned hugely, seeming more like his old self than he had in months. Nick had also shown so much gleeful satisfaction whenever he had looked at or touched the discolorations, Warrick hadn't been able to refuse him the right of putting more and keeping them on him. He had just sighed and insisted if Nick had to do what he was doing, move the bruises around to make sure they didn't cause any worse discomfort by always being located in the same place.

The late mornings or early afternoon hours after work when he awakened before Warrick and could get his visual fill of his slumbering lover became Nick's favorites. He'd ease into Warrick's arms to be instinctively and lovingly, if drowsily, enfolded. Held loosely, Nick had become confident enough to slip deeper into a warm embrace that automatically tightened without Warrick ever completely waking up. Then Nick could peacefully return to sleep to dependably wake up raring, as his grandmother used to put it, to face another day. He was coming to a place where, only a few weeks before, he had been sure he'd never be again. He was becoming alive.

The rejuvenation of Nick's former bright-eyed self seemed to happen so fast, everyone except Warrick was surprised by it. While they had still been tiptoeing about him, making considerate and concerned inquiries about his health, Warrick had been screwing him into oblivion as often as possible. While others were being careful of his feelings, Warrick had taken to calling him a gutless coward whenever he expressed distaste about doing something that reminded him of Gordon or Crane. Warrick stunned the others when he got so he'd shake his head sadly, heave a heavy sigh, stare off into the distance and making bets Nick wouldn't be able to get through an assignment if it involved insects or dark, closed in places right in Nick's hearing. The laying down of the bet between them on those occasions was the renewal of an old, longstanding competition. This rapidly became too much of a challenge that always promptly drove a raging and indignant Nick into taking and doubling, sometimes tripling, the odds. Then, with supreme self-reliance, he'd promptly, confidently and competently perform whatever assigned task he had been leery about doing.

Because of Warrick's faith in him and strong assurance Nick could do anything, soon very little harkened him back to either of those two hurtful, fanatical men. He ceased to worry there were more of them out there. Naturally, he knew there were, but he had lost any fear of them. Nick had come to the bold conclusion he was stronger than they were and that they could not get away with isolating him from life or force onto him any avoidance of reality. With a little help from Warrick Brown, Nick Stokes developed the sturdy wherewithal to handle anything they and the devil threw at him.

It had been his idea to go to the women's prison and talk to Gordon's daughter. So many people misunderstood that. Some actually thought he'd gone to convince her not to take her anger from the prison walls with her solely to keep her from doing to him what her father had done. Others had thought it a lightweight, fluffy, unnecessary thing for him to do and tried to talk him out of it, thinking it might endanger his mental stability. Nothing could have been further from the truth. He had honestly wanted to save her from herself, tell her what he was learning. That had been, if you keep on weighing yourself down with past events you could not eradicate, you'd never walk free and upright again. Warrick had done much to teach him that.

Nick's anxieties lessened until he could unconcernedly go about his daily, on-the-job tasks. When Grissom had finally decided it was time to assign him an individual case, Nick hadn't batted an eye. He had gone to the scene, done a thorough investigation, got all possible information about the cause and manner of the victim's death, gathered the evidence, bagged and tagged everything and come bouncing back into the break room at the lab as happily as he had left.

Seated in there with Sara in the chair next to him near the end of their shift that night, posture ramrod straight and a serious frown of disapproval on her face, Warrick had sensuously drawled, "Nicky." as a lazy greeting, which, of course, had sent pressurized heat clear down to Nick's balls. The gorgeous green eyes had followed him as he entered, making hot visual promises Nick knew soon were to be kept. Warrick had been comfortably stretched out while flirting with Catherine, but that didn't bother Nick. Warrick was that kind of guy and Catherine was that kind of girl. Both were highly sexed and that sexuality unfailingly revved up several notches whenever they were in each other's presence.

Although Sara tended to be extremely bugged by Warrick and Catherine's coy bantering, Nick got a voyeuristic kick out of watching them together. It got him just as hot as it got Warrick and he always knew they'd go at it heavy once their shift was over. Sometimes they didn't even make it home and that was fine by him. More than once, one of them had gone down on the other during the ride back to Nick's apartment and it had been so hot several times, they'd had to stop and he had ended up kneeling on the seat with Warrick so deliciously and determinedly pounding into his backside that he had almost passed out upon reaching a shattering climax.

So, at first, he had figured the flirting was a good thing as long as Catherine kept every single one of those dainty digits of hers strictly to herself. Then other ideas had begun to cross his mind. What if Catherine was as good at making love as Warrick was? It sure appeared that she'd be. What would it be like to be atop her with those slim legs wrapped around his waist, buried to the hilt inside her, while Warrick was above them both, buried to the hilt inside him? Visions of a spectacular trio began to dance in his head. He had even dared to tell Warrick about his fantasy. When he had received a sidelong, grinning glance from Warrick that insinuated anything and everything was possible, Nick had grinned back in silent agreement.

Nick hadn't fooled himself into thinking there was any exclusivity to what he and Warrick had, even suspected that Catherine and Warrick, from certain lustful looks he had seen them share, were periodically getting it on as well. Even if they were, there honestly wasn't much that he could say or do about it. Not since Warrick had caught him making out with a 911 operator at one of Ecklie's office parties to which he had invited the sheriff and other VIPs so he could kiss their ass. Warrick had discreetly retreated and Nick had instantly deserted his very attractive paramour to run after him, assuming this was it. He had lost his best friend and best lover. But amazingly enough, when he had caught up to Warrick in the parking lot, fully expecting there to be an argument, he had found him leaning on his Tahoe, nearly falling down with laughter. All Warrick had thought had been lusty Nick was getting healthy, therefore had acquired the urge to expand his horizons. That had been all right with Warrick. Jealousy was a characteristic that simply was not part of his personality.

After that, he and Nick had established their don't ask, don't tell policy. If you don't want to hear the answer, don't ask the question and nobody has to tell any lies. That had, so far, worked very well for them. Nick had concluded outside relationships could only become a problem if either got emotionally involved with another and he wasn't going to worry about that beforehand. They could cross that bridge when they came to it. For now, he was having too much fun being partnered with Warrick and didn't want it to stop.

"So, Nick," Catherine drawled as he sat down with them, "what's up with you?"

Sara said before Nick could say anything, "I'll tell you one thing that's up with him. It looks to me like somebody's been sucking the skin off you, Nick." She reached out to tap the brilliant bruising just above the top of his shirt. "Who've you been going out with, a vampire? Seems to me, every time I see you, you've got a bigger hickey on your neck."

Staring straight into Warrick's face, Catherine smiled prettily and said to Nick, "Maybe it's the same vampire that we've both been seeing, Nicky, my boy." Delicately stroking a smiliar mark on her own smooth throat, she purred, "Because I've got some suck marks that look just like yours." Leaning over to ghost a hand just inside Warrick's collar, she added, "And, it appears to me that Warrick's had a dynamic duo working on him as well. This is highly unusual. The evidence says. we'd better do some DNA comparisons. Don't you think so, Nick?"

That was too much. Believing Catherine's audacity was about to get him in serious trouble, Warrick stared at her for a short moment with his mouth dropped open, then looked over at Nick, prepared to covertly protest, so Sara wouldn't get it, against what Catherine was implying. But, Catherine knew her men. She had been convinced, in the face of Warrick's opposition, that Nick's reaction to the notion of a threesome would be positive. She had been watching him come along and was sure he was ready and waiting for it. She was proven right when Nick crossed his arms on the table and slowly said to her with an irresistible grin and a completely captivating cock of his head, "Well, Catherine, maybe, with Warrick's kind participation, you and me should get together after work sometime and compare notes. It really behooves us collect some data so we can come to some definitive conclusion about all of this, don'tcha think?"

"How's tonight sound to you?" Catherine suggestively queried.

Nick sat back with an expansive sigh and an even wider grin. "Sounds good to me," he drawled. "Me and Warrick aren't doing anything special. Why don't you c'mon over?"

Although it was with a stunned expression on his face, Warrick slowly but surely smiled at them as Nick and Catherine gazed at him. This made Catherine toss back her head, laughing gaily, while Sara merely looked confused and suspicious, certain she had just been left out of something important. Nick just sat there, contentedly grinning. Yeah, this getting back to life was going real good, especially since getting back to the reality of it certainly did seem like it was going to be one helluva of big improvement over anything that had come along before.