Title: Behind the Smoke
By: michigangirl30
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Response to the Smoke challenge posted at ngchallenge. Greg smokes, Nick watches. Nick's POV.

The sharp 'thwick' of a struck match. An almost inaudible pop of pressed lips being pulled away from the filter after the first impossibly long drag. Exhaled breath and smoke rushing past those same full lips making a tiny 'whooshing' sound.

The sounds by themselves were nothing. Put together with the image of Greg, back pressed against the wall, one hand in his jeans pocket and the other hovering close to the fresh cigarette dangling from his lips, they were fodder for another night of sweet and lonely dreams.

He doesn't know I'm watching, thinks he's alone, just him and his thoughts. Thoughts I wish he'd share with me because even though he's considered open and talkative, I'm fairly certain there's a lot more going on inside than pop culture icons and sand n' surf. Whatever it is that's causing the downward cast of his eyes is what I want to know. Maybe if I revealed myself and asked, he'd tell me. But more likely he'd just smile and crack a joke as if nothing was bothering him. The raw moment would dissipate like the smoke from his cigarette.

I watch as he rolls it between his fingers unconsciously and then brings it to his mouth for another pull. I know it's only a cigarette, but it's almost like watching him caress a lover, hands and mouth working in concert to elicit the reaction he's looking for. The ember flares and I ache in sympathy.

He looks skyward and blows smoke out in a rush, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows and I realize he's crying. Or about to. The ache grasps my heart this time and I can no longer just watch. I take a few quick steps in his direction before the reality of what I'm about to do sets in.

He startles at my approach and I can see he knows he's been caught, that he can't just laugh his way out of this one. And when I don't stop until my arms are wrapped around him, he gives in. His head drops to my shoulder and begins to shake a little as the tears come. I have no words, I don't even know what it is that's gotten him here, but I hope that the touch of my hands will say what I want him to know, softly stroking his back, then sliding up to his hair.

He pulls back and looks into my eyes, his own shimmering with unshed tears. The sight takes my breath away. His arms are hanging by his sides, cigarette still clutched between two fingers of his right hand. Reflexively he brings both hands up, but then seems to remember what he's holding. He gives it a look, then his eyes come back to mine. I'm filled with awe when he flicks it away without hesitation and leans into me. With his face turned into my neck, he whispers, "Nick?"

I try to see his face as I answer, chin nearly on my chest. "Yeah?"

When his breath warms my ear, I smell the smoke that had so recently been mingled with it. I feel guilty wondering how his mouth would taste after a cigarette. But then he's moving again and I'm certain I've done something wrong, except that he's not moving away, he's gotten so close that I can't breathe.

Or maybe the reason is that his mouth is pressed to mine. It takes me a second or two to realize he's kissing me, because I guess I can't believe it's actually happening. Luckily for me, the right synapses fire and I begin to kiss him back.

Greg makes a quiet keening noise and I stop. His eyes flutter open, wet eyelashes weighting them. Something like terror swims over his face and he stiffens, but doesn't pull out of my grasp. My voice cracks as I try to reassure him, the words meaningless sounds.

Once again he melts into me, falling back on his unspoken trust in me. My need to comfort him struggles against the wicked need to taste and explore him while I've got the chance. It's selfish and unfair to Greg, but I can't make it stop. Guiding him with my hands and the weight of my body, I press him back against the wall. All at once, I feel him surrender to it. His mouth opens under mine, teasing my tongue with his own, tasting not as much like smoke as I expected, but the hint of it was tantalizing and heady.

I press a little harder and find the moans I thought were coming from Greg are actually coming from me. I still think I'm dreaming when he grinds against me, driving the air in my lungs out with one single slide of his cock against mine. He breaks the kiss to mouth a path to the open collar of my shirt, trailing his tongue over my skin making me shudder. Panting and straining against him, I'm moments from coming and when he nips at the juncture of my neck and shoulder, I do just that.

Clutching his hips I thrush against him, thrilling at the breathless 'yesyesyesohgodNick' he mutters in my ear as he thrusts back. When it's over, I feel loose like a rag doll and guilty that I'm most likely crushing him against the brick. Pressing my hands flat against the wall on either side of Greg, I happen to see his discarded cigarette. There's a small tendril of smoke rising from the undying ember at the end. My heart flutters in my chest and I notice the ache has gone. Taking Greg's hand I tug him close and place a gentle kiss on his mouth.

"Come home with me?"

He nods and a gentle but sad smile curves his lips. And despite the fire hazard it was, I couldn't bring myself to crush out that lingering ember.