Title: Waiting
By: quettaser
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairings: Nick/Greg
Summary: Done for geekwriter143 who asked for a sub!Nick, dom!Greg porny drabble, although it ended up being longer than that.

***

Hands, pressing him down, deeper into the bed, scorching across already burning skin. Sweet moans, ghosting across his neck, pouring into his ears, his own breath quivering in response. He's melting, he knows it, and soon he's going be nothing more than a pile of shivering nerves, blown apart by the sheer force of his release.

And he wants it, wants to let go, let himself be shattered. All he needs is another touch, another tug and he's gone, but as much as he pushes, arches, twists he can't get what he wants, needs.

But then Greg's pulling out so slowly, turning him inside out, only to slam back in and maybe he's wrong about what he thinks he needs. Because this feels better than anything he's ever had, his hot cock deep in his ass, his presence hovering above his body so close, but never quite making contact, and it's a small sacrifice to make if he can't touch, can't choose when to let go.

And he's still moving so slowly and for a second he wonders where Greg finds the control, because normally he's the one who can't help himself, can't stop, pulling Nick with him until they're drowning in ecstasy. But then Greg brushes against that spot deep inside, white light flashes behind Nick's eyes and he clenches tight and Greg's steady rhythm falters so maybe he's not that in control.

And he's still desperate, sitting on the edge, waiting, waiting for Greg to touch, to push him over, to allow him to let go, but no matter how much he moans, how much he writhes, he can't find release. But he must have made some difference, because now Greg's lifting his one of his legs, throwing it over his shoulder and he doesn't remember ever being that flexible, not that it matters, because Greg's moving faster and pushing in deeper and he may not need to be touched before he comes, it feels so good.

Greg leans lower over him, stretching his leg more, letting lips graze his ears and his hands trail up his arms, brushing over bound wrists, caressing them. "Do you like it when I fuck you?" he breathes, pushing harder, faster.

"Love it, so good, baby, so good when you fuck me," he pants in return, raising his head as far as he can, turning it, letting his tongue taste neck and sweat and Greg.

Greg shudders at the touch and pulls back, a smile on his face and lets his hand trace down Nick's chest and finally wrap around Nick's cock, so hard and hot and ready for release. He lets his thumb graze the head and that's all Nick needs to push him over, into oblivion.

He's straining again, but he feels his leg slide off Greg's shoulder and arms wrap around his back, hold him tight, while he rides out the last of his orgasm, until he stops quaking and he's left limp on the bed.

Greg's still inside of him, hot and sizzling, and he takes a moment, raising a hand to his mouth to taste Nick before starting again, moving faster than before. He leans down again, arms stretched out over Nick's, weight coming to rest on his chest and he wants so badly to wrap his arms around Greg's back, feel the scars under his fingers, press him tighter, but he's so spent he can't bring himself to pull against his bonds.

And there are those lips at his ear again, gently suckling, hot breath rushing over already boiling skin. Greg's hands graze the ties once more. "I could keep you here forever, fuck you slow, fuck you fast, make you come so hard you pass out, make you mine."

He lets out a long groan, and even though he's too tired and raw he can't stop his hips from rising up to meet Greg's erratic thrusts. And then he's trembling, shuddering above him as he comes and Nick can feel it, feel the hot spurts filling the condom in his ass, and watching Greg's face makes him twitch and clench again, he's never seen anything sexier, more beautiful.

But then there's emptiness and cold, Greg leaving the bed to throw out the condom and the air cooling his heated skin. He feels the pull of sleep, but his arms are still above his head and he knows he's pulled at least one muscle and he's going to hurt tomorrow. But when Greg comes back to bed, unties him and lies down next to him, placing soft kisses along his jaw, he realizes he'll take all the sore muscles in the world if it means he can sleep next to his lover.

When he goes into work the next day, he'll blush every time he reaches for something, the red bands around his wrists flashing bright for all the world to see. But then he'll come home and Greg will kiss them, lavish them with his tongue, and he won't be able to stop himself from thinking about doing it again, because he likes it, likes the waiting, likes the way the seconds stretch into infinity, because he wants what they have to last as long as possible.

***