Title: Cinnamon Soundings
Author: Esynnaj
Email: Esynnaj@sbcglobal.net
Permission to Archive: WWOMB, CSI Slash, all others please ask first
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Gil/Warrick
Rating: FRAO
Summary: Grissom compensates for the loss of one sense by an increase in the usage of others.
Disclaimer: CSI and all characters from it belong to CBS Productions, Touchstone Television, Alliance Atlantis Communications and Jerry Bruckheimer Films.

CINNAMON SOUNDINGS

Exquisite green eyes had taught Grissom the soul of the lesson he had eventually taken to heart. The time had come for him to finally share himself. But his final acceptance that life had been given to be fully lived had truly begun with his study of lush lips and had ended with an erotic, hands-on exploration of a long, lean, cinnamon colored body.

Due to his mother's deafness, lip reading had always been as much a first language for Grissom as had the English language. It had also been a childhood kindness, because his mother had wanted to talk to him and him to talk to her as others did although she could not hear the words they had been speaking to one another. Even so, before his own increasing deafness had forced him into a closer scrutiny of the movements of others' mouths than he was comfortable with, he had already been long and reluctantly familiar with that particular sort of personal observation.

The reluctance was due to his being a man who had never been at ease inside his own skin. Because his childhood had involved silence and turmoil, his adulthood had evolved into self imposed isolation and the resultant loneliness. There was an internal barrenness Grissom believed he had not the wherewithal to fill. Therefore, for many years he had been capping gaping emotional wounds with his career and the less demanding but still rewarding companionship of his co-workers, preferring his favorites report to him, had less seniority than he, so consequently, were less of a psychological threat.

When Catherine had been promoted to swing shift supervisor and taken from him on nights, the new arrangement had disturbed him. Grissom craved stability and change unsettled him. What had really upset him more than he had thought possible had been the loss of Warrick’s presence during an entire eight-hour shift. It was intensely painful just to see him during the time between shifts when Warrick was leaving as he arrived for midnights. Although Grissom made halfhearted efforts to think of reasons to logically and unobtrusively hang about as Catherine's crew departed, he frequently missed Warrick altogether and it soon became a discomfiting fact which he had to acknowledge - that was worse. At least catching a glimpse of Warrick for a few moments meant he did get to see him.

All of this was particularly upsetting, especially after he began to notice an increasing intimacy between Catherine and Warrick, which was worrisome. They'd always had a closer bond than any of the other CSI workers, sharing a hardcore streetwise wisdom and acceptance of others' foibles none of the rest of them had and which Grissom did not understand. But, he had never felt it was romantic. Now, with more of a distance between him and them, he could see signs that it might be turning into just that and the notion caused an ache in the region of his heart Grissom was not sure he could handle. He was sure he did not care for it.

Therefore, when he came to Warrick as he was standing with Sara to ask him to work a double, he was tamping down a mental reminder that he had ulterior motives for doing so. Sara turned, her inquisitive antennae rising at Grissom specifically requesting Warrick to remain to work over on the midnight shift, as she said, "Grissom, I can do whatever it is you want. That follow-up you assigned me to do on the Waller case can wait until after we..."

"No. You go ahead and do what I scheduled you to do," Grissom said, gazing calmly into her eyes. "It's Warrick that I'm asking for and him that I want." Then he looked at Warrick. "If he's able to stay over, that is."

Smiling in that bemused way he had, Warrick answered, "Sure, Gris. All I was gonna do was go home and sleep. Guess I can do that any time, right?" He took Sara's elbow to gently squeeze it and add in kind dismissal, "Catch ya later, Sara."

Sending Grissom a suspicious glance, she said, "Yeah. See ya." Then she left them, long, loping, jean-clad legs taking her to her on-the-job tasks and away from the personal life she tried hard to keep very private and separate from what she did at CSI.

Walking with Grissom back towards his office, Warrick laughed and commented, "Grissom, man, you really need to work on your people skills. You do know Sara's got a thing for you and has had it for a helluva long time, don't you?"

"Of course, but to allow such behavior between fellow employees isn't appropriate. So, it's best to just ignore any improper representations of it in the hopes that it'll go away."

"Yeah, right, and knowing how tenacious and persistent Sara is, that'll happen when hell freezes over. So, what's up, man? Whatdaya need me for?"

"I've got a case just outside of town and no one available to go with me. Everybody else already has an assignment and this just came up. It's the scene of an unsolved triple homicide that happened a week ago and the scene's been broken into. Evidence may have been taken or compromised. I need to go out to take a look at it and may need some help."

"No problem. You driving or want me to?"

"I'll drive. I know you've had a long night and you can rest on the way."

"Works for me. I'll get my gear and meet ya outside."

"By the way, I'm not driving my own car. We'll be using one of the agency vans. I'll pull it around and pick you up out front."

It was about a twenty-mile drive and they talked casually during the ride, Grissom enjoying it as his first opportunity to have an extended conversation with Warrick since the shift changes. Yellow tape was still around the crime scene, which had become a new crime scene. The street cops were long gone and robbery had left several hours before, so Grissom and Warrick had the location to themselves. After setting Warrick to another task, Grissom began carefully checking for evidence that might have shown up or been altered during the commission of the burglary after the homicide

Engrossed in that and previously having been responding to Warrick's comments by rote, it was only by chance that he happened to glance up and notice Warrick was holding up an object in his gloved hand, looking at him curiously and saying something to him which he had not heard. It was only then that he became conscious of the unfortunately recurring auditory vacuum that was an indication of his decaying hearing. Besides being a solitary person by nature, he was becoming accustomed to the silences, so had sadly familiarized himself to them. He knew they were, thus far, temporary, so was learning to wait them out.

Although he suspected Catherine was aware of them, others were not and were often unnerved by what they perceived as another one his oddities that increasing deafness was bringing about. Aside from the unusual behaviors his loss of hearing sometimes created, people in general had always been discomfited by his detachment and lack of social skills while those more familiar with him or who cared about him were concerned about the obvious growth in the same.

Warrick, seeing Grissom stare at him as if he did not recognize him, questioned, "Hey, Gris, you all right?" When Grissom failed to respond, just continued to stare, Warrick walked closer to him, asking, "Are you all right, man?"

With the breakdown in his sense of sound, Grissom had been trying to adjust his method of communication from hearing the words to seeing the words and narrowed the focus of his eyes on the motions of Warrick's mouth. But, Warrick was already coming toward him and he had gotten lost in a contemplation of Warrick's lips, not to read them, but to know every indentation and curvature of them. They were full and appetizing lips, soft and warm, looked like they would give like tiny satin pillows to the touch. Lips that would close tightly about Grissom's fingers to gently on suck them as Warrick's teeth nibbled on the ends of them, if Grissom were to slip them into Warrick’s mouth.

That imagery had come from a vague, longstanding, nearly unacknowledged fantasy. But even that was overlaid by the sudden memory of Warrick recently cocking his head as he had delivered his patented crackling grin during a conversation Grissom had seen him having with Catherine. The nibbling and sucking were fantasies, but the grin was reality and Grissom suddenly wanted both to come together.

He had a sudden compulsion to tell a joke just to make Warrick laugh so he could see those teeth flash along with the accompanying dimples. This was out of the ordinary for Grissom because he was not a person who told jokes unless he had a gentle point to make. A streak of jealousy coursed through him as he recalled the times he had seen Warrick standing face to face and laughing with Catherine, of the times he had seen them sitting pressed shoulder to shoulder while sharing the serious and humorous times of their lives as neither ever had with him. He suddenly wanted Warrick to do that with him. Grissom wanted Warrick to relax and talk with him like he always did with Catherine or as frequently as he did with Nick and even sometimes with Sara. Grissom had never made Warrick just crack up and laugh full out as the other three had on various occasions and he suddenly, desperately, privately wished he could.

But, Warrick was not even smiling at the moment. He was solemn, speaking when Grissom still could not quite understand what he was saying, putting a hand on Grissom's shoulder in an attempt to help the other man reconnect to reality. However, that was not what Grissom wanted. He was still too taken by the lush fullness of Warrick's lips. So taken, in fact, he could not resist the impulse to reach out and make contact with them. Wordlessly, he stripped off his glove, put all four fingertips of his right hand to them and gently pressed, inquisitively seeking to find out if they would feel as they had in his imagination.

They felt much better.

Warrick did nothing except stand very still, gazing down at him as his former direct supervisor's fingers drifted over his mouth. Warrick could see by the distance in Grissom's eyes the reconnection with reality he had been attempting to prompt had not yet occurred. Knowing his own action was going to severely embarrass Grissom once he became aware of it, Warrick was not about to indignantly jump back, pretending to be shocked when he was not.

Like Catherine, he'd had a wide range of street experience. He had handled and been handled by others, men included, some of whom had been much like Grissom, particularly in his gambling days when his debts had piled up. As a wiry and wily, very attractive young man, he had done whatever it had taken to pay them off. So, while this was not anything he had expected, Grissom's move wasn't shocking to him, nothing he hadn't deal with before. Anyway, Grissom's touch was very pleasant. Warrick concluded he would let Grissom decide how the wind was going to blow with this.

At last Grissom seemed to become aware of what he was doing. Losing his motivation, he solemnly withdrew, staring all the while at Warrick's mouth. Then he simply turned and left the crime scene. Without saying anything, walking steadily and leaving all of his CSI equipment behind, he went directly to the van and climbed in without once pausing or looking back.

He was sitting in the driver's seat with his burning face on the steering wheel when Warrick appeared next to his door and he jerked upright to stare dead ahead, wishing his hearing had not kicked back in. That way he could have both refused to see or hear Warrick until he was prepared to do so.

He had assumed Warrick would arrive embarrassed because of the incident inside. Grissom was thinking he should be feeling some sense of shame himself but was not, was actually reveling in what he had done, the heat on his face more the result of passion than humiliation. But he could admit that only to himself, certainly not to Warrick, believing the other man would either blatantly ignore what had just occurred or try to excuse it in order to save Grissom's feelings. It was what he would've done if the situation had been reversed. However, what Warrick did do was totally unexpected.

Warrick simply stood there expressionless and motionless, looking in on Grissom without saying anything for the longest time. Finally, not knowing what else to do, Grissom turned his head by slow degrees to look back at him and got lost in Warrick's eyes, instead of his lips this time. The greenery of those wonderful, changeable speaking eyes delivered volumes of heretofore unknown and priceless information to him, a wordless and precious discovery that now became his alone.

They said trust me, Gil. I'll never hurt you and I'll never ask anything of you that you can't or won't give. That's why Catherine and I trust and really know each other. She is what she is and I am what I am and we're often not quite what the other one wants. Nevertheless, she's there for me and I'm there for her and that's all we ask of each other, nothing more.

She isn't demanding and needy, like Sara, as forceful and focused as Sara otherwise is. She isn't helpless and needy, like Nick, as sexy, charismatic and likeable as he otherwise is. We're equals and respect each other as such. Catherine's powerful and so are you and so am I. If you want what we have with each other, if you want that with me too, all you've got to do is show it. You don't even have to ask for it. All you have to do is open yourself up for it.

Without the verbalization of a single word, Grissom got all that from Warrick's steady gaze and rolled his window down. This earned Grissom that grin he so had wanted to see before as Warrick opened the vehicle's door and said playfully, "Hey, Boss man If what you wanna know is what a brother's lips really feel like, here's the right way to find out."

Then, he gripped Grissom’s head, turned it toward himself and settled in for a kiss that seared Grissom’s entire body. It sent a flush of heat through him that set him on an edge of internal combustion, caused him to shudder from head to toe.

Sitting became a thing he abruptly did not want to, so Grissom slid from the van, gasping, "I want to touch you. I need to touch you."

Warrick grinned all the more, spreading his arms out wide and said, "Like my Grandma says, ain't nobody here but us chickens. Go for it."

It was almost an assault, what Grissom then did to Warrick, but an assault of the most tender and calculating type. He deliberately walked to Warrick and rifled his shirt up to get at the man himself, caressing wherever part of the light chocolate flesh he could reach while heatedly kissing Warrick all over his face. Warrick began trying to return the favor, but quickly realized Grissom wanted no interference in what he was attempting to do because he impatiently brushed off every move Warrick made to participate. It became clear he wished for Warrick to do nothing while his body was explored, so Warrick let him have his way.

His from-the-waist-up investigation was not enough to satisfy Grissom's desires. It was as if he was compensating for the reduction in his auditory senses by a greater dependency on and requirement for input from his tactile and visual senses. After a scrupulous detailing of Warrick's upper body and face with both hands and eyes, Grissom started awkwardly and unsuccessfully fumbling with Warrick's belt and zipper to loosen them, could barely stand stationary while waiting for Warrick to helpfully do that for him.

Instantly, Grissom slid both hands inside Warrick's trousers. Leaning forward on him for leverage, Grissom went silent as he stood with his head pressed against Warrick's chest, eyes closed as he listened to a steady heartbeat while taking in a warm, gritty scent layered by cologne and musky perspiration. He curiously manipulated everything his hands touched, concentrating on the physical sensations involved in stroking Warrick's genitalia and rolling his cock and balls around in his palms of his hands, adjusting the pressure he put on them with perceptive fingers according to the shivers he felt coursing through Warrick's body.

After a few minutes of that, Grissom felt and heard the rumble of Warrick's deep voice telling him with a certain kind of anticipatory, gasping tightness running through it, "Gris, you'd better stop that. You're about to make me create a mess here."

"Go ahead and do it. Indulge yourself because of me. I want to experience that."

"Then, man, you'll haveta drop me by my place so I can change before we go back to pick up my car from work, cause I'll be damned if I'm gonna walk around in front of folks with cum all over my clothes."

"Yes, yes, whatever. Just go ahead and do it."

Warrick did. A few moments later, his arms resting on Grissom's shoulders and his head lowered protectively over and just touching the older man's silvery hair, he sighed softly, quivered and ejaculated inside his slacks, also all over Grissom's hands as they continued to voluptuously masturbate him.

Then he stood quietly for a time, gazing up at the stars in the sky, gulping air and riding out the ensuing waves of his orgasm before drawing in a reluctant, ill at ease breath because of his budding sensitivity. He began tugging at Grissom's wrists to get his resisting hands out of his trousers, finally murmuring apologetically, "Gris, you've gotta stop, man. I appreciate how much you're into this, but that isn't doin' it for me anymore."

"Oh. Oh, right. Sorry. Please forgive me. Sometimes, I concentrate too much on what I’m doing and become lost in that activity."

"Yeah, man, I know that about you," said Warrick, chuckling. "Believe me, if there's anything I know about you, it's that."

Although it was only a few hours after midnight, darkness still reigned and the crime scene was in a fairly deserted area. Now that his head had cleared and the strident compulsion to lay hands on Warrick had been eased, Grissom simply did not care to be doing what they were doing out in the open, particularly in consideration of the partially unclothed state he had brought about upon Warrick. He needed additional privacy and space to see, smell, taste and touch more.

Therefore, he propelled Warrick toward the back of the van, hurriedly urging him into it with a minimum of words, now too focused on what he had committed himself to doing to be distracted from it.

Once they were in the van, Grissom almost impatiently pushed Warrick onto his back to finish undressing him and it was only after Warrick had taken a cursory glance around that he noticed the walls and floor of the van were thickly carpeted, which was unusual, and that it was empty. There was no CSI equipment, no paraphernalia from any of the other LVPD departments, nothing whatsoever in the rear of it.

Curious, he started to say, a question in his voice, "Hey, Grissom...?"

But, Grissom was busily massaging one of his legs, now lifted it by the heel to slide his other hand underneath and over Warrick's calf, was watching what his hand was doing as he said in a stern hoarse whisper, "Hush. Just lay back and be quiet. Please."

Warrick obeyed, again chuckling to himself. So inappropriate behavior between fellow employees should not be allowed, huh? Right, Grissom. Warrick's grandmother hadn't raised a fool and Warrick knew too much of the world not to see the framework of a previously planned seduction when it slapped him in the face. It might have been a subconscious move on his part, with Grissom refusing to admit to himself what he was really about, but he must have had clandestine intentions in mind when he had requested an empty, carpeted van and purposely selected a particular CSI to work overtime without giving consideration to any other.

But still laughing quietly, Warrick laid back, let it go, let it ride. He did not care. He was having too much fun watching Grissom lose control of himself, which he had never seen the other man do in all the years he had known him. He was doing it with class, of course, because Gil Grissom was nothing if not classy. He had a look of absolute concentration on his face and his probing of Warrick's lanky form was just as methodical as that which he exhibited when he was gathering, analyzing and researching the evidence found at a crime scene.

Warrick simply could not picture him slobbering and panting during intercourse, although he was now becoming curious as Grissom examined his body with the same impassive thoroughness he showed in his study of bugs and bodies, to find out exactly how Grissom would behave if they were to have sex.

Warrick's relaxation was total as Grissom looked and touched him all over, even growing sleepy as Grissom kissed, stroked and moved him about to examine every single part of him. He only sat up to protest when Grissom, as he was lying on his belly, parted the cheeks of his buttocks and attempted to insert a finger into him, shaking his head and saying, "Gris, I won't go that route. I can't. I’ve tried it before and it doesn't do anything for me. Never has and never will. Don't have it in me. It's just not my style."

Sitting up on his knees, Grissom calmly gazed at him. "Are you trying to tell me having sex with another man is something you're not willing to do?"

"Aw, no, hell no, by no means is that what I'm saying. It's been years since I have, but I've been there plenty of times before. It was mainly during a period of my life when I was living a different way and I’ve already told you about most of that. It was sometimes the only way I could pay my bills. But, I did them, Gil. I never let 'em do me. Right or wrong, it's the way I'm built. I’ve always topped or I didn't do it at all."

Grissom blinked a couple of times. Then he said, "I don't have a problem with that. I wasn't born a control freak and don't think I'm one by nature. Circumstances made me one and I've remained one out of habit and necessity. I should add, it hasn't been terribly long for me since I had sex with another man who wasn't well known to me. So, for both our safety, we'd better use a condom."

Laughing a little, Warrick shook his head. "Can hardly picture you having sex with anybody, Gil. You seem too white and uptight to indulge in something that might turn hot and nasty, no insult meant."

"And none taken, but you're mistaken in that assumption. Finding ways to practice my sexuality has never been a problem for me. As you well know, establishing personal relationships are a problem. It's been a long time since I was with anyone I wanted to continue being with, a number of years since there's been a man I wanted around for more than one night. That's why I'll admit I usually pay them, Warrick. It's much easier to get rid of them that way."

"Yeah, I've been there and done that too, but I was on the getting paid end rather than the paying out end. More women than men, but plenty of men along the way." Warrick reached over to playfully nuzzle Grissom as he grinned and added softly, "Glad neither of us is new to doin' it on the spur of the moment, man. Makes getting into it easier."

Beginning to smile because of that remark, Grissom said, "I was hoping you'd see it that way." Then, he pointed to the front of the van. "Please hand me that bag between the seats."

As Warrick stretched to get the indicated bag, Grissom laid a hand on his torso to feel the lithe muscles as they moved under the warm skin, shifting it to Warrick's ribcage as he sat back up to hand him the overnight bag.

Grissom unzipped it to take out and lay in a neat line the condoms, lubricant, baby oil, folded washcloths and a container of baby wipes he had bought with him.

He looked over at Warrick, who had leaned back to lazily smile at the objects Grissom was carefully spreading on the van floor and now looked up at him, and quietly said with his own sweet little smile and a little familiar bob of his head, "I've come prepared."

Laughing, Warrick replied, "Grissom, you are always prepared and I think it's time you stop that for a minute." He got onto his hands and knees to sensuously crawl toward Grissom, looking for all the world like a predatory, green eyed black panther on the prowl, hungering for fresh meat as he whispered, "Come on over here and let's see if we can wild you up a little."

Later, Grissom simply was unable to go back to work. He just could not and did not want to. He carried Warrick home so he could change clothes then went home, letting Warrick take the van back, leaving his SUV at the office and calling in sick for the reminder of the day because Warrick had, in fact, ended up very much "wilding" him up and tuckering him out.

He had moaned and wheezed breathlessly and passionately after being mounted while crouched on all fours, Warrick first thrusting slow and easy then even slower but surging deeper and more powerfully as he had whispered sweet nothings into Grissom's ear and demanded his former boss relax and enjoy himself, which Grissom infinitely had.

Then the ride had intensified and roughened as Grissom had begun humping up and down like a crazed madman under Warrick, keening loudly from behind clenched teeth and Warrick had been forced to hunch over him and grip his hips hard in order not to be thrown off. When Grissom's level of ecstasy had finally spiraled beyond all belief, he had reared upright, which had allowed Warrick to more easily reach around to get a grip on his erection to gently squeeze it, meaning to do more.

But his first touch had resulted in Grissom instantly and explosively firing all over the floor of the van. He had continued to spurt as one of Warrick's arms had convulsively tightened about his waist to hold him in place while the younger man had sought his own climax, soon hotly pouring himself out inside Grissom, both groaning and laughing while each rolled through his own individual completion.

Very likely, there would have been considerable discomfiture afterward if Grissom had been left to his own devices. But as they had cleaned up the van, themselves and dressed, any potential awkwardness had been the exact subject Warrick had chosen to talk about. He had done it with such carefree good humor and straightforward common sense that Grissom was unable to create his usual state of agitation that happened whenever he let himself become personally involved with anyone.

"Grissom, man, this is what it is. You are not gonna start that shit with me about how we shouldn't've done it, it was wrong, it was inappropriate and the department's got regulations against it. What we just did is nobody's business but ours. Don't go makin' a big deal outa it. It was good. We both wanted to do it so we did it. We don't haveta go around endlessly dissecting it or thinking about it until we drive ourselves nuts. We don’t have to talk it to death and we don't have to let it change our working or personal relationship unless we decide to go down that road. We like each other and we wanted to fuck each other. We did and that's it, that's all. It's done. It's finished. I'm cool with it and you are too. Let it ride, man."

"And, Gris." Warrick had grinned wickedly as he had added, "Same thing goes next time you want me to work over."

Once Grissom was home, he honestly tried to lie down and rest the wearied, middle-aged bones Warrick had worked much harder than they were used to. But, he had been too revved up and had lay there sleepless, looking at the telephone on his nightstand and wondering if Warrick had gone to bed yet.

Impulsively, he reached for the phone and snatched it up to dial Warrick's home number before he could change his mind, smiling as a drowsy voice slurred, Warrick obviously thinking he was being called into work, "Brown here."

"How tired are you?"

There was a surprised pause during which Grissom patiently waited. Then he heard Warrick's low, sexy laughter and envisioned him falling back on his pillow in amusement at the situation, which made Grissom smile.

Sitting up on the side of his bed, he said, "Do you feel like having any company? I'd like to... come over and discuss the ramifications of what happened at the crime scene tonight. I need to obtain additional clarification on how what occurred isn't anybody's business. I also want to know why I shouldn't make a big deal out of it, because I'm beginning to be fairly certain I want to. It seems, much to my own amazement, I want what we did to carry over for more than the one time. Therefore, if you don't mind, I'd like to privately schedule the next date of your availability to work overtime for the night shift."

Warrick never said anything. He'd heard everything Grissom had said, but just kept right on laughing, as if laughter had filled him up and left no room for words. Still smiling, Grissom gently hung the phone up with that wonderful, cleansing, earthy laughter ringing in his ears then got up to take a shower and get dressed.

As he did that, he began seriously thinking despite Warrick's warning not to do too much of that. But he was giving consideration to what might make a continuation of this new experimentation in interpersonal exploration better. What might do that would be having Warrick back working the same shift as he was. It would give them at least eight hours of togetherness several days a week, which could lead to more time with each other off the job. Grissom meant to set about making this happen as soon as possible. Sometimes, there were things worth repeated examination other than insects, evidence and crime scenes.