Greg was explaining, in plain English, what the test he was running was going to do. Stokes broke it down to the old "red = good and yellow = bad" fallback position.
"Have a look," Greg encouraged as he rolled away from the microscope.
Nick looked. Red and therefore good. "Bingo," he declared.
"Exactly," Greg agreed. "I'll have the report finished before my break." He tapped Nick's wrist. "Is everything all right between you and Warrick?"
"Yes, why wouldn't it be?" Nick asked. Greg was pretty sharp and he was also a little too much competition should he decide to throw himself on his back for Warrick. It wasn't like Nick and Warrick had exchanged rings or even promises.
"I saw him giving Sara flowers," Greg reported. "She kissed him."
"We bought them for her," Nick explained. "I'm expecting a kiss too."
Of course Grissom had to come in at that very moment. He looked surprised. "No kissing in the lab," he declared. "You might contaminate the evidence."
"Warrick and I gave Sara flowers and I'm expecting a kiss," Nick explained. "Should I hold out for tongue?" He crossed his arms and smiled at the older man.
"I'd give you some tongue for flowers," Grissom teased, "but we're not talking about me." He looked at his notes. "How many crimes have the two Mach 10's been matched to so far?"
"Eight and counting," Nick reported. He didn't have to ask which case Grissom was talking about, it was the multiple homicide they'd called Warrick in on. The passengers had tried to toss their weapons during the chase but they'd been found. Apparently these miscreants had been shooting up the place from Los Angeles to Las Vegas. They'd had hits on drive-by shootings in four states from the eleven weapons they'd recovered. "Greg found a unique foreign substance on the marijuana." He stepped aside to let his boss use the microscope. The car's trunk had held more than a recreational amount of cannabis. About eleven kilos more. Some of it had a bluish dust on it, thus Greg's close scrutiny.
"It's an old pesticide that's been banned longer than I've been alive," Greg reported before reeling off the tongue-twister name.
"So not long ago," Grissom teased. Two jokes in a row. The man must be in a good mood.
"Practically yesterday," Sanders agreed. The lean tech snatched the report from his printer. "I wouldn't want to be near anyone smoking it."
"Damn, I smell 'diminished capacity' being pleaded," Stokes cursed.
"It's a slow poison," Greg reported. "Blurred vision, impotence, headaches, muscle aches, fatigue, yadda, yadda, and finally kidney failure and death."
"Ouch," Nick groaned as he read the summary of an otherwise lengthy report. It seemed their sample had also caused a flag at the CDC. Those Atlanta boys were no fun at all. "What kind of decontamination protocol are we looking at?"
"If no one touched it bare-handed, they should be all right," Grissom insisted. "Good work, Greg." He slipped away, neatly dodging a face to face with Ecklie.
"So," Greg began casually, "you and Warrick are fine?"
"I'm ruggedly handsome and Warrick is fine," Nick corrected before he left the lab. 'Chew on that one, Greg.'
Warrick was deep into his reports. The prosecutors had decided the Olivetti case was an accident, which didn't mean Benton's wife wasn't going to make his life a living hell and it also didn't mean they didn't have to finish the paperwork.
"Hey, Warrick, want to go for some food when we get out of here?" Nick asked. This was his code for 'want to have some sex?' and he hoped the other man was picking up on it.
Warrick looked up and smiled. "I'll cook," he offered. "I need to get some things at the store first."
"It's a plan," Nick agreed.
Sara clumped in, dramatically sprayed her mouth, then laid a hot wet one on Nick. "Thanks for the flowers."
Nick swooned and let Warrick catch him. It made Sara blush. "How's the foot?"
"Still not the right color," she reported. "They found out that freak had undercut the steps. What an asshole."
"I knew it had to be something like that," Brown declared as he playfully shoved Nick away. "There's no way your weight could have been the trigger."
"What do you mean by that?" Sara asked. She didn't seem angry, just curious.
"You walk with the weight of an angel," Warrick responded.
"Can I steal that line?" Nick asked seriously.
Grissom came into the lab and began checking the corners, underneath chairs, and finally got on his hands and knees.
"What did you lose?" Warrick demanded, pulling his feet up.
"God, not while I'm on crutches," Sara protested.
"Nothing to worry about," their boss insisted from underneath the desk. "Does anyone have a little piece of meat or a meal worm?"
"Sorry, Boss, I ate that already," Nick replied dryly. He got down on the floor. "What am I looking for?"
"It's a tarantula and perfectly harmless," Grissom insisted.
"Grissom!" Brass bellowed. "Are you missing something with way too many hairy legs?"
Grissom banged his head on the desk as he came out. Rubbing it, he got to his feet. "Please tell me you didn't step on Bugsy."
"My suspect screamed police brutality and is now on top of the table squealing like a stuck pig." Brass sneered. "Go get it."
"Take it away, take it away," some man begged brokenly.
Grissom shot away like he'd been propelled from a cannon. "Put down that billy club, Officer Sikes!"
"Do I want to know?" Catherine asked as she entered the room.
"Grissom. Loose spider. Crying suspect," Warrick summarized.
"I want my mommy!" the man sobbed. "I'll be good. I'll be good!"
"Police brutality pure and simple," Brass complained. He headed back to Interrogation with steam coming off the top of his head and his fellow cops hugged the walls in fear.
"That won't look good at the trial," Catherine noted. "Let's recap our shooting case."
Nick focused in on the case so he wouldn't plaster himself against Warrick and hump the man. He couldn't wait for his next taste of Brown.
[][][]=============[][][]=============[][][]
Nick watched amused as Warrick thumped melons, gently pressed the surface of tomatoes, and scrutinized the lettuce with a steely eye. He also picked up steaks, wine, and some crusty bread. Nick was beginning to wonder who all of this was for.
"Rick, you know I'm going to agree to sex, right?" he asked as they made their way to the condom aisle.
"You treated me and I want to treat you," Brown explained. They both stopped as two exquisite ladies walked past and smiled at them. Both were tall, leggy, and very pretty. They were almost dressed alike, in matching biker shorts and midriff baring T's, but gloriously different in their cotton candy versus chocolate pudding coloring. "Ooh."
"P and Q," Nick finished. They both watched until the ladies were out of sight. "Do you think they would take us home and toy with our affections?"
"If there's a God," Warrick replied. He picked his favorite condoms and allowed Nick to see it before it went into the cart.
They made it to the checkout line and both engaged in some babe watching until it was their turn.
"I can't believe Grissom had that guy actually holding his spider after he'd practically had a heart attack over it earlier," Nick said as he tried to help pay for their purchases. It didn't work.
"It's his voice," Brown explained as he handed Nick two of the bags to carry. "He mesmerizes his prey with his voice and before you know it you're holding a spider or sitting in a rollercoaster and screaming like a little girl."
Nick had to laugh at that image as he followed Warrick out of the store. "He's keeping his mad scientist thing going."
"No doubt," Warrick agreed as he loaded the groceries into his truck.
Nick added his two bags then climbed into the passenger seat. "I wanted to tell you how impressed I am with you."
Warrick stared at him instead of starting the engine. "What?"
"I've seen guys go do something really stupid after their first night with a man," Nick explained. "You're doing fine."
Warrick leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His hands gripped the steering wheel. "Nick, I've put myself in your hands. If I can trust you to watch my back, then I've got to be able to trust you to watch my ass." He paused. "Okay, that didn't come out right."
Nick felt no urge to laugh. If he did, Warrick would be gone and they would never get this intimacy back. "Thank you for the confidence, Rick." He patted the larger man's thigh and made no move to make the touch more intimate. "Let's go."
They drove quietly to Warrick's place, a three-story townhouse he'd purchased when the money was good and managed to hang onto even as the value of the building soared to very tempting levels.
Nick decided not to push for contact with Warrick and let the man cook in peace. They talked about the things two men felt safe talking about when they didn't want to make the other guy uncomfortable. It was pretty inane if you examined it too closely.
Warrick put the food down and sat as far away as possible at the table. Nick didn't call him on it. Brown was working his way through something big and Stokes needed to give the other man his space to do it.
"This is really good," Nick declared after tasting the steak. "I would have never figured you for a Chipotle man."
"I thought a Texan would have grown up with Tex-Mex at every meal," Brown explained.
"You guessed right." Nick found himself watching Warrick's hands and imagining them on his body. And that mouth. That beautiful mouth. When Nick had the other man trained for cock, Warrick was going to leave Stokes climbing the fucking walls. Damn. If Nick didn't get it soon, he was going to take Greg up on his offer and nail the bastard to something steady and convenient. Something like Grissom's desk.
"What are you thinking about?" Warrick asked suspiciously.
"If I told you, you'd run for it," Nick admitted.
Warrick smiled at him. Nick had been told since sometime close to puberty that he had a "bad boy smile", but Warrick really had one. "Tell me," he insisted.
"I'm thinking about your mouth and how crazy it could make me," Nick confessed.
"What if I'm not any good?" Warrick asked. "What if I'm a fucking brick in bed with men?"
Nick just shook his head. "Warrick, you're not stupid, your senses are working, you're not arrogant, and therefore, you can learn."
"I'll remember you said that when you're slipping off to meet Greg, when he can squeeze you into his busy schedule," Warrick grumped.
"If I were going after Greg, I'd just nail him on Grissom's desk. It's not like the boss would notice. Of course he might also take notes and study our aberrant behavior." Nick had to pat Warrick on the back as it looked like his OJ had just gone down the wrong way.
"Don't say things like that while I'm drinking," Warrick complained.
Nick wet a towel and cleaned his friend up. This led to them kissing. They ended up on the couch with Nick covered from head to toe in Warrick. He was much better than a comfy sweater.
"Strip me, Rick. Just grab my clothes and pull them off my hot-for-you body," Nick directed. "Don't give me time to protest. Take charge and get me naked. Put your hands where you know they belong."
It worked. Nick was nude and Warrick was touching him all over. Stokes spread his legs further and Warrick touched his hole.
"Are you thinking about putting your cock in me?" Nick asked softly. Warrick tried to pull his hand back but Stokes wouldn't let him. "It's okay to think about me that way. I promise."
"I... I..." Warrick tried.
"Say it. I won't take offense and I won't turn tail and run," Nick promised. He felt like he was trying to break a wild horse and he'd foolishly started with the herd stallion. One wrong move now and it was over for them.
Warrick's bright green eyes captured him and Nick felt his mouth drop open. Those eyes were going to be the death of him and any and all discipline he needed. "I want to try," Brown finally said.
Nick nodded, knowing what his friend was talking about. "I know you've been on the receiving end of lots of blowjobs, Rick. So remember what you like and do the same thing to me. Don't try to go down too far on it. Lick it slowly at first, cover your teeth, and remember there is no time limit on a blowjob." Stokes massaged the back of Warrick's neck, the closest he would allow himself to come to controlling the other man's head.
"Rick, you cheating bastard," Nick moaned as Brown sucked the head, licked the flesh, and softly rolled his balls. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed as he stupidly watched Warrick's fantastic mouth work him. He was cumming and cumming. He couldn't stop. "Sonofabitch!"
Warrick sat back and gazed expectantly at Nick while Stokes tried to pull some air back into his lungs. "Was it okay?"
Was this guy for real? Nick blinked. "Warrick, you must have been gay in another life. That was insane. Now get to the bed before I hurt myself carrying you there." After such a manful speech, Nick needed to bounce to his feet. All he could do was lie there and puff like a beached whale. "Maybe you should carry me," he teased.
Warrick picked Nick up in a fireman's carry and took him into the bedroom. He gently placed Nick on the bed. "Should I get naked?"
"If you don't I'll tell Greg you want to polish all of the examining tables with his ass," Nick threatened.
"Why do I get the feeling you're quoting Greg?" Warrick asked as he stripped.
"Because I am," Nick admitted.
"Who did he say that about?" Warrick asked as he stepped out of his boxers.
"You," Nick admitted. "He swears he could bottom for you."
Warrick chuckled. "I know we're not that much older than him, but Greg is too young for me."
"I hear you," Nick replied as he admired the other man's body. Warrick was long and muscled with a smooth chest and really defined abs. He hated that he'd missed seeing the man box for the police department.
It was time for Nick to regain some control. He tugged Warrick down and put him into position to be blown. Warrick gripped the headboard in a confident overhead grasp without protest.
Two could play at the "I'm going to pull your brains out through your cock" game. Nick had been doing this for twelve years and today was Warrick's first time. Stokes refused to believe the man had lied about that.
"So, so good," Warrick said slowly as Nick placed long licks against his cock. "Don't stop, Nick. Please don't stop."
Nick aimed to please. He alternated between his hand and his mouth until Warrick's hips were pumping up as he came down Nick's throat. "Sweet," he said softly.
"Yeah," Warrick agreed lazily. He pulled Nick closer and ground their bodies together while he all but mauled Nick's ass. "You've got a lot of booty for a white man."
Nick laughed. "Thanks." He was nearly undone when Warrick settled Nick on his chest so he could keep playing with Nick's ass. "You're really into my ass, aren't you?"
"I flip out over a nice ass," Warrick confessed, "and you've got a great ass." He massaged it to make his point. "Now I'm going to have to make myself not grab it when I see it."
Nick tried to imagine Mister Cool breaking discipline like that and moving on Nick's ass in public. Damn, what an image. Nick would be plastered against the lockers, Catherine would be sitting there and giving Warrick encouragement, and Warrick would be rubbing his cock against Nick's ass until Stokes's knees gave it up. Oh, yeah.
"Lost in thought?" Warrick asked.
"More like lustful thoughts," Nick admitted.
"Care to share?" Warrick inquired as his hands became even more possessive on Nick's ass.
"Always," Nick responded as he cuddled against the larger man. "We're in the locker room..."
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Nick accepted the fancy envelope from Greg and carefully opened it. An art gallery. Okay, that could be fun. "Is the artist one of your many conquests?" he asked.
"I'm a featured model," Greg admitted, "and the artist is a friend." With Greg, friend could mean anything from "nodding acquaintance" to "about to bear my child".
Nick checked the day. It was two nights away and the start of their shift's seven days off. "I'll be there."
"Great," Greg said. He shuffled the envelopes in his hand, extracted the one with "Doctor Gilbert Grissom and Guest" on it and chased after their boss. "Grissom," Greg called as he chased after the older man.
Nick looked around for Warrick. He hadn't seen the man since they'd arrived from their scene. He tracked his friend down to lab four where he was reconstructing a mirrored glass panel. A truck carrying the panels had been the trigger of an eight-car pile up that had resulted in two deaths. The driver insisted that something had struck the side of his truck, causing the panel to shatter, which had made the car behind him slam on the brakes and skid out of control. If the panel had simply fallen off because it wasn't properly secured, then the company was liable.
"I was going to do that," he informed his friend.
"Oh, you're not getting out of this," Warrick insisted. "I just remember reading something about a similar accident and they found out that the panel had been shot."
They were lucky in that the cars had piled into the second car and not run over the glass. It was also not the kind of glass that turned into pebbles when broken and had been destined for a downtown hotel lobby.
The two men worked silently to reassemble the broken panel. The smoking gun or in this case the bullet hole made itself apparent in about an hour.
"Not an impact but a shot," Warrick declared. "We need to crawl that truck and look for a bullet."
It couldn't have been more innocent. They were working, they were under a truck, the floor was cold, the object of their pursuit was small, and Warrick's shirt had pulled out of the top of his pants, revealing the moist skin of his belly.
"I think I've got it," Warrick declared, reaching hard for a tiny metal fragment. "It's not a bullet but some kind of pellet." He bagged it and passed it to Nick to label. He adjusted the headset which provided his light.
"Don't stop working." Nick moved under the truck with his friend, finished pulling the other man's shirt out of his pants and licked Warrick's navel. "That's just a taste, Rick. Come to my place tonight and you'll get more."
Warrick looked at Nick as if he were something dangerous. "That was evil," he declared. Brown went back to searching.
"I had to do it," Nick confessed. "It was instinctual."
"You'd be covered in bruises if I ever started giving into my instincts," Brown said as he extracted a single flattened bullet. "Bingo," he declared. Warrick bagged the bullet and passed the envelope to Nick, who had to roll from under the truck to label it.
"What would you do?" Nick asked as he gave Warrick a hand to get to his feet. Those little rollaways were not meant for someone as tall as Warrick. He tended to hang off the end and strain his back. Nick should have looked for the bullet by himself.
With Nick still holding his hand, Warrick pulled Nick forward then slammed his back against the wall. Brown ground his groin against Nick's. "I would get in your face, smash you against walls, and tongue-fuck your mouth while my hand was pumping your dick or grabbing your ass. Maybe both. I'd catch you at the urinal and play with your ass while you tried to pee with your dick hard." Brown released him and walked away without a backwards glance.
Nick was so hard he hurt. "Bitch," he groaned. Stokes was going to have to find some privacy for a little "personal time".
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Nick's conquest of Warrick with some payback had to be put on hold as a second panel truck, which was carrying the replacement mirror for the one lost earlier, was also shot. This time the driver had also been hit.
Joyce Eddings, a ten-year trucking veteran, managed to get her truck off the road without hitting anyone before passing out from blood loss. It was touch and go for the mother of three.
"We're looking for a late-model dark blue or black American-made four-door sedan," Brass reported. "The truck driver said there were two white men in the front and someone in the back. She didn't see the license plate."
Nick looked at the cars being extracted from the pileup. No fatalities this time, as long as Eddings pulled through. "What are they playing at?"
Brass looked at the damage. One of the vehicles involved had been a twenty-foot long RV and it was on its side. "It's a deadly game, whatever they want."
The bullet they'd taken from the first truck had been too misshapen to match to a weapon but the ER doctors had pulled a pristine one from the truck driver. Sara had hobbled that way to take charge of it.
Grissom and Catherine were sweeping for other bullets. Because Eddings had been aware that something had happened to the previous truck, she had been more wary than the first driver, going so far as to leave her mike open for the entire trip. She had dodged the car at first and had mostly pulled away from traffic when the truck began taking hits. She lost the panel, one tire, and nearly her life.
Warrick was heading to the trucking company to get a copy of Eddings's tape to be analyzed, leaving Nick to work with the other drivers and the police.
"Captain," Officer Sikes, would-be slayer of spiders, called. Sikes was an ex-Marine and about twice Nick's size. He had short-cropped black hair, dark blue eyes, light skin, and was forever sucking on sugar-free candy to help him get past his need for cigarettes. "We've got a picture."
Nick rushed over to where the firemen were cutting a young woman out of her Miata. Sikes was holding a pristine digital camera. "Ma'am, we need to take your camera," he said calmly.
Her vehicle had done what it was supposed to do. It had sacrificed itself and crumpled all around her when she had rolled it, leaving the inner cage intact. But her doors were sunken in and the roof crushed. She had to be cut out.
She looked at him with pain-filled eyes. "Don't lose it," she insisted.
"No, Ma'am," Nick promised. "We'll get the camera back to you."
"No," she almost spat. Blood marred what otherwise would have been a beautiful cocoa complexion. "Don't lose it. I want to see that camera at their trial when you nail them."
"Count on it." Nick took the camera and clicked through the photos. He held it a little to the side so Brass could also see the pictures on the tiny screen. The lady had been documenting her trip and all the photos were pretty mundane until the last three. The dodging truck, the pursuing sedan, and the license plate all were perfectly clear. "Thank you, Ma'am."
Stokes stepped out of the way as the roof of her little car was torn off, which triggered her car alarm. She pressed the little box hanging from her keychain.
"We've got them," Brass said excitedly looking at a clear shot of the car, the gun, and the plate.
"No," Nick corrected, "she got them."
Stokes uploaded the pictures to his laptop and sent a copy to Archie back at the lab. The A/V tech would have close-ups of the shooter's wrist hairs by the time Stokes made it back to HQ.
Brass sent out an APB on the car and its occupants. They were picked up before the CSI team finished processing the scene.
Nick caught up with Warrick and Grissom as the two other men stood outside Interview Room 1. The three young men seemed to think their youth was a shield. "We weren't that stupid when we were their age, were we?"
"I was only slightly dumb at that age," Warrick admitted, "and Gris was never that young."
"I matured quickly," Grissom explained. He paused to watch the three idiots demand lawyers. It was the end of the interview. "Are the two of you going to the gallery opening?"
"I promised Greg," Warrick answered. "He's really anxious for Tessa to have a good crowd."
"Have you met Tessa?" Nick asked. He was hoping for a feel of what was coming.
"I've talked to her on the phone. She seems a bit mature to be in Greg's crowd," Warrick answered.
"Greg is a man of many layers," Grissom declared. He checked his watch. "End of shift, gentlemen. I've had my nose rubbed in our overtime hours.
Nick looked anxiously at Warrick, but he already knew he wasn't getting any tonight. Warrick was having dinner with his grandmother and their weekly dinner superseded everything else. "Say hi to your Grams for me."
"Why don't you come with me and prove to her that not all of my friends are the temporary female kind?" Warrick asked.
Nick nodded. He was being taken home to meet the parent and he hadn't even fully parted his thighs. "When will you pick me up?"
"Six," Warrick answered. "See you later."
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Nick was in a very good mood. His meeting with Warrick's Grams had gone well. She called him a "sweet boy" at least four times and where he came from that was high praise.
They entertained her with their funnier cases and assured her that the "highway killers" or whatever the press was going to call them had been caught.
The tourist who had calmly snapped the pictures had been given a new car by the Casino Owners Association and she was staying free at the Mirage as soon as she was released from the hospital. Their three nutjobs were citing everything from road rage to childhood abuse and the plain ugliness of large mirrors in hotel lobbies as the reason behind their spree. There was still a lot of lab work to be done on the case.
Nick was now on his first public "date" with Warrick. They had decided to go to the gallery showing together. It wasn't obvious but it certainly felt like a date.
"Greg is wearing a tux," Warrick reported as they walked in together. "Greg, look at you."
Sanders turned slowly so they could admire the fit of his tux. "Thank you. Now that they're looking for a new Bond, do you think they'd consider an American?"
"I'd throw my name in the hat if I were you," Brown encouraged.
"Thanks," Greg replied, giving Warrick hopeful eyes.
Nick stepped in to defend his new territory. "Come on, Rick, we have some art to see." He led Warrick away while staring daggers at Greg. The tart.
The first painting almost smacked you in the face with its impact. A lone lean figure, hands stuffed deep into pockets, is standing in the desert with the sun boiling the ground all around him. He was facing slightly away from the viewer and it seemed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. You almost expect him to walk on out into the desert and die or to come back and live. Either choice seems possible. It was titled "The Last Walk".
"Just looking at it makes you thirsty," Warrick quipped. He moved to the next painting while Nick noted the price. Fifteen hundred dollars. Ouch.
There was a large and humorous painting that had Brown chuckling out loud. It was a racetrack scene but the horses were in the grandstands and people were on the track. You could recognize the usual suspects of Las Vegas from the casino owner to the would-be showgirl on the track. It was titled "At the Races" and cost six thousand dollars. Nick could only afford that as a print.
"Damn," Warrick moaned at the next painting.
Nick moved up to have a look. Okay, this was bad. Greg was putting the moves on Warrick and now there was this painting of the man to contend with.
Greg was on his back with a gorgeous black woman straddling him and obviously impaled on his cock. Greg's right hand was clutching her left while the woman's right hand was reaching toward the sky. Both of their backs were arched and the totally inward concentration of their expressions said JOY in capital letters. You could almost smell the sex. It was titled "Harmony" and was marked as SOLD. Nick couldn't tell what the original price had been.
"It's gorgeous," Nick had to admit. He watched Warrick out of the corner of his eye. He smiled when he realized it was the lady and not Greg who held his attention.
"She looks so real," Brown said. "It's almost like you could touch her."
Nick had a comment, but then Grissom arrived with his male date and Stokes's jaw more or less hit the floor. "It's Gris," he reported.
Warrick turned and blinked a few times but the person by Grissom's side remained male. "O. K.," he finally said.
Their supervisor walked up and introduced them. "Nicholas Stokes and Warrick Brown, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine, Doctor Henry Dayton."
Dayton was a handsome man, with salt and pepper hair, a beautifully shaped beard, dark brown eyes, very dark skin, and a muscled, tall body. Nothing about him dinged the old Gaydar, but he was here as Grissom's date.
"It's nice to be able to put some faces to the names," Dayton noted. "Gil has talked on and on about his team."
"Hank just moved here and needs to network," Grissom explained. He looked around. "Have you seen Catherine?"
"She hasn't arrived yet," Warrick answered. "I saw Sara rolling around in a wheelchair a minute ago."
"I knew she'd get one," Nick grumped.
"Let it go, Nicky," Warrick hissed.
"I told you she'd get a chair," Nick reminded his friend. Dayton looked puzzled. "Long story."
"Are you also an entomologist?" Warrick inquired of the doctor, deftly changing the subject.
"No, I'll be teaching Emergency Medicine at the University Hospital," Dayton explained. "I tried to retire, but they waved too much money under my nose."
Warrick smiled. "Welcome to Las Vegas."
Nick could see the two men becoming buds, then lovers, which would require Nick to kill the man. It would be a big sin to kill an emergency room doctor, especially in this crazy city. He had to hope Grissom could keep the man entertained.
"Oh there she is," Grissom declared as Catherine strolled in, not with Mark but Lindsey. Uh-oh.
"Mark has bitten the dust," Warrick said darkly. "I told that pretty boy I'd push his face in if he hurt Catherine."
Dayton straightened himself up and elbowed Grissom. "Introduce me," he insisted. "Cover all my high points, hide my flaws, and never, ever mention Philadelphia."
Grissom looked sheepish. "That was entirely my fault," he insisted. "But you have to admit the data gained was worth the temporary embarrassment."
Dayton raised an eyebrow. "On what plane of existence?"
That nearly did it for Nick. He had to turn away to keep from laughing as Grissom struggled for an answer.
"Catherine, you look wonderful," Warrick declared. He took Lindsey's hand and kissed it. "As do you, my dear."
Lindsey giggled, then stared at the painting beside them. "Greg is naked!"
"Nude," Catherine corrected, "and it's a beautiful painting."
"Catherine and Lindsey Willows, this is my friend, Doctor Henry Dayton," Grissom introduced after a nudge from his friend.
"Are you a people doctor or bug doctor?" Lindsey asked.
"I'm a people doctor and I hope I never see any of you professionally because I specialize in emergency medicine," Dayton answered. You could tell by the way he modulated his voice and bent down that he was used to dealing with children. "May I escort you ladies around the exhibits?" he offered his arms to the Willows women. The three walked away.
Grissom didn't seem put out, so that shot down Nick's "handsome date" theory. Too bad. Gil needed someone in his life who wasn't already dead.
Nick and Warrick moved through the rest of the paintings until they'd seen them all. When they'd completed the circuit, Greg was holding court to a small crowd and he had a firm grip on Grissom so the older man couldn't make a dash for it.
"Do you think he's going after Grissom?" Warrick asked in full conspiracy mode.
"Either they'd balance each other out or we'd end up processing the scene and trying to work out the 'who shot who first' scenario," Nick answered. "There would be no middle ground for those two."
"Let's say goodbye to Greg, congratulate the artist, and hit the bricks," Warrick suggested.
"It's a plan," Nick agreed. They said their goodbyes and headed to the front. "Did you mean what you said in the garage?" he asked while they waited for the valet.
"Every syllable," Warrick assured him. "Greg would be taking notes while you made the agony/ecstasy face."
"Promises, promises," Nick teased. It worked. Warrick was giving him the "I'm going to wear it out" expression. They drove to Brown's place where Nick's truck sat waiting for him.
"Are you brave enough to come in after teasing me most of the night?" Warrick asked.
"Are you brave enough to invite me in after I've spent most of the night promising?" Nick countered.
Warrick said nothing as he opened the door and allowed Nick to precede him. He followed with his hands plastered onto Nick's ass. "I swear you wiggled this thing every chance you got."
Nick didn't think he'd been doing that. Was he a subliminal rump shaker? Surely not. Someone would have told him about it long before now. Wouldn't they? Okay, one little clue to this mystery was how often men came up to him from behind to chat. "Great, now I'm going to be self-conscious about my ass. Am I shaking it? Is it wiggling? I'll never be able to turn away from anyone again. Just great."
Stokes's exaggerated distress must have pushed at least two of Warrick's buttons. He pulled Nick back against him and began humping Nick's ass.
"Don't clamp down on it, Nick. Your ass is like sunshine on legs." Warrick sucked at Nick's neck and it made Stokes weak at the knees. "Please don't take that away."
It was very unfair that such a short time together would give Warrick such a hold over Nick's mind. "Okay," he agreed. The way Warrick hugged him, you would have thought Nick had agreed to do something arduous instead of having agreed to keep it real and natural.
"Nick, teach me to play with your ass," Warrick begged as he kept assaulting Nick's neck. "Show me how to make you want me inside you. Instruct me in the one hundred secret places of Nick Stokes."
"Damn, you must get laid every night," Nick said admiringly. "Your rap is excellent."
"I was being sincere," Warrick insisted, sounding a little hurt. His hips stilled, making Nick hungry for it.
"That's why it works so well." Nick turned in the larger man's arms. "You're bringing out the hungry cock slut in me."
Warrick sputtered. "Cock slut?"
"It's time to instruct you in some of the lingo. I can't take you into the underground without imparting some of the passwords," Nick insisted as he led the larger man to the bedroom. "We're heading for the boards, as in headboard and footboard."
"Okay, the bed is called the boards. What else?" Warrick asked.
"You know Top and Bottom, right?" Nick inquired.
"Yes," Warrick agreed.
"Okay, I'm a Top and somewhat aggressive that way," Nick explained as he pulled the larger man down onto the bed. "That doesn't mean I haven't or can't bottom. Especially for you."
"You don't have to be my bitch, Nick," Warrick insisted. "I want to play, not pound my chest and drag you around by the hair."
Nick fingered his short hair. "You can't," he explained. He kissed Warrick hard. "We're going to have to trade off. I'll go first and when you're ready, I'll part your thighs like the Red Sea and not come out until you're exhausted."
Warrick chuckled. "I like your confidence."
"It shows up in the strangest places," Nick mused. He gripped Warrick's lapels and gave him a hungry kiss. "You just have no idea how much you make me want you. I could forget to be a gentleman with you, Warrick. Watch yourself around me. I'm a hungry man at the All You Can Eat buffet."
"What are you trying to say?" Warrick asked. His grin told Nick he already knew the score, but the larger man had said he wanted to play.
Nick flipped Warrick over and divested him of his clothing as quickly as he could. He started at the taller man's mouth and hungrily licked and kissed his way down the man's body, leaving only Warrick's cock untouched. "Say it, Rick."
"Lick me," Warrick tried.
"Try again," Nick insisted as he let the heat of his breath brush across the head of the larger man's cock. "Say it."
"Suck me, Nick. Gawd, suck me, please," Warrick begged.
"Almost," Nick responded before he placed a kiss just under the cockhead. "Say it."
"Please, Nicky, I need you," Warrick said softly, his green eyes large.
That was it. Nick went down on Warrick. He used all the skills he'd acquired and he used his strength full out on the larger man. Warrick couldn't resist him nor could he shake him off. Nick indulged himself in a fantasy he had held for years. Warrick was naked, hard, and begging for his touch.
"Damn, Nicky!" Warrick protested as once again Nick had gotten him close only to stop all movement. "What do you want, man? What do you want?"
"Just to hear that sound coming from you and directed at me," Nick confessed. He dropped his clothes and moved onto the bed. Stokes rolled onto his stomach and Warrick immediately covered him. "Are you crazy yet?"
"I was crazy at the gallery," Warrick confessed in Nick's ear. "No jury would convict me now and no psychiatrist would declare me responsible for any action I might take."
Nick sighed. "Good," he responded. "We're going to fuck, Warrick. Does that frighten you?"
"No," Warrick answered. "Does it frighten you?"
"Not at all," Nick promised. Stokes rested his head on his crossed arms. "Take the lube off the table and open it. Apply a dime-sized portion just around my hole. Rub it gently around but do not enter it."
Warrick did as instructed, moving his finger around and around until Nick was the one who almost asked him to slip that finger into him. "Is this good?" he asked.
"Very," Nick assured his lover. "Add more lube and press against me. Do it softly."
Warrick was an excellent student and soon he had Nick accepting his pinkie, thumb, and finally three intertwined fingers. Nick moved up onto his knees for the final part.
Nick looked over his shoulder and smiled encouragement at the other man. "It's you and it's me, Rick. I'm alright with that. Are you?"
Warrick slowly pumped his cock as he added more lube to himself. "Nick, if I hurt you, I want to apologize now. If you need me to stop, don't let pride keep you from saying so." Then he nearly broke Nick's heart by placing a soft kiss on Nick's hole.
Nick forced himself to relax as Warrick slowly pushed inside. It had been months since he'd allowed a lover to do this, but his body remembered and wanted it to happen. "I need you to pause, Rick. Just let me breathe through it."
"Nick, I want this so bad it scares me, but I can't stand the thought of me hurting you." Warrick started to ease out but Nick gripped the other man's hip.
"Stay put, Rick," Stokes insisted. "You're a big boy. Let me adjust." He dropped his head and luxuriated in the wonderful sense of fullness he was experiencing.
"Don't do this for me, Nicky." Warrick sounded desperate. "I can jackoff."
Nick pushed back onto Warrick and his body accepted the larger man's full length. "Damn, Rick."
"Jesus." Warrick's arms wrapped around Nick and he could have sworn he'd heard the name "baby" being applied to him. He was going to have to break the larger man of that habit. Right after he rode the big man's cock.
"Start very, very slowly, Warrick. It's flesh and it's friction, the same as it's been with women, but it is also about weight, power, and two animals released. Slow," Nick insisted, "and we'll build up until you won't have to hold back."
Warrick caused Nick to sigh by kissing and licking his shoulder blade. "Nick, you feel like... I don't have the words."
Nick had never been a witness to Warrick Brown not having the words. It was a day full of firsts. First date, first mind freeze, and first fuck. "Move back and forth, just a few inches, and then stretch it out. Come on, big man, I'm not fragile."
Warrick may have never fucked a man, but he'd definitely fucked many times before. Nick lost himself to the pleasure fairly quickly and only swam to the surface of his mind when Warrick pulled out and placed him on his back. "I need to see your face," Brown explained as he carefully guided himself back in. "I need to see you, Nicky."
Nick met Warrick thrust for thrust, calling out total nonsense as he came. Warrick slowed down, held Nick tight against him, and deeply fucked him.
"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky," Warrick chanted until the final thrust that seemed to suggest Warrick had been holding back on about three more inches of dick. He shivered. "I don't want to pull out and I'm afraid to go to sleep."
"Why?" Nick asked as he rubbed the larger man's face.
Warrick moved his head until they were nose-to-nose. "It feels too good to move and if I go to sleep and wake up and you're gone, I don't know if I could handle that."
Nick smiled. It was good to see he wasn't the only one being caught up here. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised, "and you don't have to pull out until you go soft."
He was hoping for another kiss. Soft or hungry would have been fine. Warrick laid a series of kisses on him, each one at a slightly different angle and building up in intensity until Nick thought his heart would beat out of his chest.
Warrick's cock slipped from Nick's body, but Warrick stayed tight against him. "Thank you, Nicky," he said sleepily. His voice sounded wonderfully sated. Nick Stokes had done that for him.
"You're welcome, Rick," he responded. Stokes held Warrick a little more tightly and knew he'd still be holding the larger man in the morning.
The End
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