Title: Times Like These
Author: sandersyager
Characters: Greg/Warrick
Category: PWP
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Time's a luxury they don't have.
Author's Note: First solo attempt, and only because she made me believe I could.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to CBS, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Cross-posted: CSI slash, Warrick Fic, warrickgreg

Sometimes it's not about seduction. It's not even about sex. Sometimes it's just about having a hard cock in your mouth, your own in your hand and forgetting about the rest of the world for a few minutes.

This is one of those times. Warrick knows he's supposed to be in Trace checking on the mystery substance from his vic's hand. Greg was on his way to the drying room to check in with Nick. They've been on for days, or at least it feels that way. Warrick can't remember the last time either of them slept for more than a couple of hours between being on call and on cases and on edge.

This is what he needs to take the edge off. So he when he passes Greg on the way into the lab, he grabs his arm, drags him back out to the parking lot and unlocks his truck.

"What are you doing?" Greg finally asks, sliding into the back seat.

"Officially, asking your opinion on evidence," Warrick pulls the door closed behind him. "Unofficially, giving my boy a blow job in the middle of a shift and taking the risk that we could both be unemployed by morning."

"Oh. Okay." Greg's always amazed that Warrick can fold himself between the seats. Damage to the environment from SUVs, high insurance costs, accident roll over rates, all of that diminishes in importance when it comes down to this: a six foot two inch boyfriend who can crawl between the seats comfortably and tug Greg's jeans down over his hips to palm his cock through his shorts.

"If it's a problem, I can always stop," Warrick looks up at Greg, remembering why exactly he doesn't do this more often. It's uncomfortable as hell, and he's pretty sure his right foot is stuck under the passenger seat. However, Greg's looking back him, biting his lower lip as Warrick's fingers slip past the waistband of his boxer briefs.

"You wouldn't," Greg sighs as Warrick begins stroking him just a bit roughly. It doesn't take much for Greg to get hard, not with Warrick watching him with those green eyes, lips just parted.

Warrick knows Greg's right. He wouldn't stop, not now, when Greg's hard and arching into his hand. He lowers his head, taking Greg into his mouth, reaching down to unzip his jeans. It's better when Greg does this, but there just isn't time for that, and Warrick's pulling out every trick he knows to get them both off efficiently, neatly, if not romantically.

Sometimes it's just not about romance, or being gentle, or taking time. Not when time's a luxury they don't have. Kinda like space and a bed, Greg thinks, trying not to just fuck Warrick's mouth. He wants to, god, he wants to, but this is good, too. Warrick knows just where to flick his tongue, how hard to scrape his teeth against Greg's skin, and it's not long before Greg's gasping for breath, one hand tangled in Warrick's hair, the other clutching the edge of the seat.

Warrick swallows around him, well aware that's it's one thing to sneak off to do this, and another to get caught by the ALS later. Just wouldn't do to have to explain to Sara why his face was bluer than Papa Smurf's. So, he's careful, swallowing as Greg comes, reaching for stash of tissues between the front seats to clean himself up as he follows.

There's one last thing to do after cocks are tucked away, jeans adjusted, and Warrick crawls up to the seat next to Greg and cups his face. The kiss is slower than anything else they've done, the pressure is off, and it's hard to pull away from Greg's mouth as both of their pagers go off.

"See you at home?" Warrick says as they walk back toward the lab.

"Yep. I owe you one," Greg winks, squeezing Warrick's hand quickly as the doors hiss open.