Title: Static
By: Caroline Crane
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC17
Summary: There's nothing wrong with their relationship.
Author's note: Written for the onehundredone challenge.

Thunder cracks somewhere over the desert. The clouds have been hovering low over the city all day, threatening rain but never delivering, and the humidity makes the heat even more unbearable. And he knows what this weather means – it means people all over Vegas are itching with the need for some indefinable thing, holding their breath in anticipation and when the dam breaks it's going to be mayhem.

Which means a long, crazy night of call after call. But it's quiet in the house now, calm in a way that makes it easy to forget what's waiting for them tonight, and maybe that's why he let Greg talk him into this. It's the only explanation he can come up with, and he keeps telling himself it's the weather and not the sight of Greg walking into the bedroom with a towel slung low around his waist that's making Nick nervous.

He feels like a teenager, like some fumbling virgin and he hasn't been one of those for a long time. It's the middle of the day, but the storm that refuses to break makes the room darker than it should be, and he pushes himself up on his elbows to squint at Greg as he crosses the room. He feels like he should say…something, anything to break the tension that somehow settled over him while Greg was in the shower, but he has no idea what, so instead he watches as Greg lights a couple candles Nick didn't even know they owned.

The thought makes him laugh, high and nervous in the back of his throat and when Greg grins at him his stomach flutters. "Ready?"

No, Nick thinks, but instead of saying it he just shakes his head and sits up. "You really wanna do this?"

"Yeah. Don't you?" Greg asks, tugging at the knot in the front of his towel until it falls open and slides to the floor. He's hard already; Nick is too, has been since Greg suggested this, so there's at least part of him that wants to do it.

"I just don't see the point," he says anyway, and he knows they've already had this conversation, but that doesn't help him feel any less stupid. Because they don't need therapy, at least not as far as he's concerned. He likes their relationship just fine the way it is, and he thought Greg liked it too. So he's not sure why they're trying out some weird sex trick somebody's therapist suggested just because Greg overheard a couple girls in the lab talking about their marriage problems. "I thought our sex life was fine."

"It is," Greg answers as he climbs over Nick to stretch out on the other side of the bed. He rolls onto his side to face Nick, propped up on one elbow and reaching out to trace a fingertip up Nick's thigh. "It's great. I just thought this sounded kind of interesting. But if you don't want to…"

"No," Nick interrupts, blushing now and he's glad the candles Greg lit aren't that bright, "I mean if you want to we can try it."

And it's almost worth his embarrassment when Greg grins at him like that, rolling onto his back and pushing his knees apart. Totally unselfconscious, and that's one of the first things that attracted Nick to him. He loves Greg any way he can get him, but especially like this – splayed across white sheets, lazy half-smile firmly in place and just waiting. For Nick. Like this is exactly what he's always wanted.

That thought propels Nick forward, careful not to touch any part of Greg except his mouth as he leans in for a kiss. And he's stalling, but he knows if he stalls for long he won't be able to last long enough to give Greg what he wants, so he pulls back and takes one last look before he kneels between Greg's legs. "Ready?"

Greg's nod is enthusiastic, and Nick can't help grinning as he lines himself up and takes a deep breath. He hesitates before he slides inside – a beat, then another, hand gripping the base of his cock and when he slides into already slick heat he stops breathing. And there's no way he's going to be able to do this – he doesn't even get it, because there's a fucking kitchen timer in their bedroom and Greg's reaching for it as soon as Nick's buried inside him.

It hasn't even been a minute and already he's fighting the urge to move, tight heat pulsing around him and when Greg's legs slide around his waist he knows they're never going to make it to a half hour. He runs a hand up Greg's thigh anyway, fingers sliding along the fine hairs on his leg and when Greg catches his other hand and threads their fingers together Nick squeezes hard.

"Your legs are gonna cramp up in about five minutes," he says, grinning at Greg's laugh.

"Have a little faith. I surf, I've got great leg muscles."

"You used to surf, you mean. When's the last time you were on a board?"

"So it's been awhile," Greg answers, shrugging and even that movement is enough to make Nick catch his breath. "If you'd go home with me we could go surfing together."

"I keep telling you, G, there's no way we're getting time off together now that you're in the field full time."

It's the one drawback to their relationship; working together doesn't bother them, and living together has been…well, perfect, really. But they make up a third of the night shift now, and it's hard enough to keep a low profile without putting in for the same vacation time. And it's possible Grissom would give them a long weekend, but there's no way they'd get more than that.

"You just don't want to meet my parents."

"Can we not talk about your parents right now?" Nick asks, and when Greg laughs this time it vibrates through his whole body. Nick bites back a groan, fighting the urge to move and he knew this was going to be hard, but he had no idea how hard.

He distracts himself with hot kisses along Greg's collarbone, nipping at the thin skin there. He soothes each mark with a kiss, tongue sliding along Greg's neck until he reaches Greg's chin. Their fingers are still entwined, Greg's thumb tracing patterns on the back of his hand and it's nice in a way Nick never really noticed before. Soothing, his breathing evening out and the urge to move is still there, but it's not as hard to resist.

He nuzzles the warm skin at the base of Greg's neck, planting soft kisses along his shoulder until he reaches Greg's mouth. Lips parted slightly, kissing slowly and they really do have all the time in the world, he thinks, venturing a glance at the timer next to the bed and it's been a whole three minutes. That doesn't seem right, and he's tempted to stop and check to make sure the damn thing's working, but before he can Greg's hand slides into his hair to force Nick to look at him.

"Stop thinking about it."

Easier said than done, but instead of pointing that out Nick grunts noncommittally and refocuses his attention on Greg's mouth. And Greg's got a great mouth, when he's using it for something besides talking. Only Nick kind of likes the way he talks, too, and he knows he's in way over his head when he finds himself listening to Greg's long-winded explanations about evidence just for the sake of hearing his voice. But he's been doing that for years – long before they started sleeping together – so it doesn't really bother him as much as it should.

Greg's kissing him slowly, taking his time in a way they never do, and Nick's starting to see the point of this whole thing. He likes kissing Greg, anyway, likes the way Greg's skin feels under his hands and the way his chest feels pressed against Nick's. He likes the feeling of Greg's legs hooked around his waist, not even shaking a little and maybe he really does still have some of that surfer's strength.

Or maybe their runs have been paying off in more ways than one, because Greg doesn't show any signs of getting restless and it's been…five minutes. Nick resists the urge to sigh, his hand leaving Greg's hip to curve around his shoulder. Greg's tight and hot around him, cock trapped between them and he can feel the tension in Greg's body that tells him the other man's trying not to move just as much as he is.

And God, Nick wants to move. He flinches at the next clap of thunder, tension vibrating through him because he's not sure what they're supposed to do for the next twenty-three minutes. Sure, they live together and work together and they spend most of their time together, but they don't spend a lot of time just…looking. Studying the way Greg's shoulder slopes, the slight movement of his throat with each swallow and have his eyelashes always been that long?

Nick's heart is beating too fast, tapping out a rhythm against his chest that he's sure Greg can feel. He doesn't know where to look, what to do with his hands or if he's supposed to say something, and if there's an appropriate conversation for this situation he has no idea what it is. The thought makes him laugh, low in his chest and when Greg groans Nick knows he feels it vibrating through him. He wants to shift just a little, just until Greg's not staring right at him, but even that much movement is against the rules and he has a feeling that's the point.

"I didn't think you had it in you."

"What?" Greg asks, free hand moving restlessly on Nick's back like he wants to pull Nick closer.

"Holding still for more than two minutes."

"Funny," Greg says, but he's grinning and Nick can tell he's not insulted. "I can focus when I want to."

It's true – he's seen it out in the field, or in the lab when Greg's working on an important case. But even then there's always some little movement, an outlet for all that energy Nick knows is thrumming just under the surface. Fingers tapping on a table, head moving in time to whatever's playing on the stereo, knees bouncing to a beat only he hears. Even now his fingers are tracing a pattern on Nick's back, over and over and just when Nick thinks he recognizes it Greg changes it just a little.

The air in the room is thick, like the storm's bleeding through the walls in spite of the air conditioning. And he knows it's just the press of skin against skin, the tension of holding still for what feels like an eternity and the heavy weight of Greg's gaze. His eyes shine a little in the candlelight, bright and sharp and Nick knows it's crazy, but he can't help thinking Greg can see right through him. Into him, reading his mind and seeing all the things he can't bring himself to say.

And maybe that's the point of this whole thing, because the words are right there on the tip of his tongue and it's hard to hold them back when Greg's watching him like he already knows what Nick's thinking. Greg knows Nick loves him – he's said that much, at least – but there are other things, things he hasn't found the words for and he's not sure he could make Greg understand even if he did know how to say them.

Greg twitches under him, flexing just a little and Nick can't really count it as movement, but he moans and squeezes his eyes shut anyway. "Greg…"

The rest of his words are swallowed by a kiss, Greg's mouth hot against his and his hand in Nick's hair to pull him close. He gasps against Greg's mouth, trying to catch his breath and when Greg's tongue slides past his teeth he knows he's not going to be able to hold on much longer. For fifteen more minutes, and whoever thought up this idea in the first place was obviously some kind of sadist.

He kisses Greg hard, tongue thrusting in and out of his mouth and that's not doing much to distract him from the tight heat around his cock or the legs still hooked around his waist. Nick pulls away with a gasp, mouth moving restlessly along Greg's jaw to suck hard at the skin just behind his ear. And he knows it's a dirty trick, but he does it anyway and it hardly takes any time before Greg's squeezing his hand hard and digging his fingers into Nick's back.

"Bastard," Greg gasps through clenched teeth, and when Nick laughs against his neck he feels the sound vibrating through both their bodies. Greg feels like a live wire under him, all that energy focused on keeping as still as possible from the waist down, and that just seems wrong. But he knows if he gives in first he'll never hear the end of it, so he ignores the urge to thrust and slides his free hand up Greg's thigh to the hollow of his hipbone.

When he presses down Greg tenses, twitching almost imperceptibly and Nick knows if he tries to call it movement Greg will argue. So he presses a little harder, but instead of arching his hips into the sensation Greg reaches down and clamps his hand over Nick's. He pulls their hands up over his head and Nick has no choice but to follow, stretching out so all his weight is settled on Greg's chest. And this is even weirder, because now they're practically nose to nose and there's no way to get away from that steady gaze.

"Cheater," Greg murmurs against his mouth, but when Nick parts his lips to answer Greg's kissing him again. And that's better than arguing about whether or not he really was cheating, so he slides his tongue past Greg's teeth to taste sweet and mint and Greg.

He wants to touch – wants to slide his hands under Greg's waist and pull him closer, wants to push his knees up toward his chest until he's stretched wide open. But his hands are still trapped in Greg's grip, fingers threaded together and everything in him is focused on the taste of Greg and the smell of his skin. All he can feel is tight heat pulsing around him and Greg's mouth against his own, blending together until he can't tell where he ends and Greg begins.

Thunder cracks outside, closer this time and it feels like it's in the room. Inside him, sending a jolt through his body and when Greg's legs tighten around him he lets out a low moan. He just catches the mumbled 'fuck it' against his mouth, barely manages to swallow an answering 'thank God' and presses one last kiss to Greg's lips before he pulls back and finally – finally – starts moving.

Greg's lips are parted, back arched and neck elongated and Nick leans forward to lick a hot stripe from his collarbone to his Adam's apple. He's moving slow, pushing as deep as he can with each thrust. Greg lets go of his hands to grip his forearms, fingers pressing hard enough to leave marks and Nick balances himself on one arm and uses the other to push Greg's knee up toward his chest.

That gets him a low groan, and he shifts his weight and thrusts a little harder. He loves Greg like this too, stretched open and murmuring encouragement, moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And sometimes Nick thinks that's the reason he asked Greg to move in with him, because at least in his house there's no one right on the other side of the wall.

It takes him a minute to register the sound of buzzing, louder than Greg's constant murmur and when Greg reaches above him Nick realizes it's the timer. A few fumbling seconds later and Greg manages to turn it off, dropping it on the mattress next to them without missing a beat. And later Nick will remember to be impressed with Greg's coordination, but for now Nick's more interested in the needy sounds he's making in the back of his throat.

He reaches between them, wrapping a hand around Greg's cock to stroke roughly in time with his thrusts. Greg arches up into his grip, rocking between his hand and his cock and mumbling words that aren't English, but Nick understands them anyway. He's talking too, murmuring 'come on' between clenched teeth and he's not sure if he's talking to Greg or himself.

A second later it doesn't matter, because Greg's tensing under him and coming, wet heat coating his fingers and Nick pulls his hand away and lifts it to his mouth. He sucks his fingers clean, rolling the salt-bitter taste on his tongue as he waits for Greg to shudder out the last of his orgasm. When he relaxes Nick's moving again, hand under Greg's knee and thrusting hard once, then again before he tenses and comes.

He buries his face in Greg's neck, breathing in the mingled scents of sweat and sex and Greg as he tries to catch his breath. It's still warm in the room and they're both slick with sweat, the air still crackling with a storm that won't break and he wonders if it'll rain by nightfall. He slides out of Greg, swallowing against the loss and shifting onto his side to watch the steady rise and fall of the other man's chest. And he knows if it does rain their jobs will be even harder tonight, but right now he doesn't really care.

His hand settles on Greg's chest, tracing random patterns on slick skin and Greg murmurs something incoherent and blinks his eyes open to look at Nick. "Still think it was pointless?"

"No." And he knows Greg's going to want to try again, because they didn't make it to half an hour and twenty-five minutes isn't going to be good enough for Greg. The thought makes his stomach flutter, because it was hard enough to keep himself from saying things he can't take back the first time, and there's no telling what he'll say if they make a habit of this. "G…"

"Yeah?"

Nick opens his mouth and then closes it again, pushing himself up on his elbow to watch Greg close his eyes. He leans in, brushing his lips across Greg's cheek before he stretches out next to the other man. "Nothing," he finally says, hand resting possessively on Greg's chest. There are still a thousand things he doesn't know how to say, but they'll wait until he finds the right words.