Title: Constellation of the Heart
Author: Mortifyd
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Fandom: CSI
Rating: NC-17
Archive: sure, just let me know
Feedback: PLEASE!! Even if you hate it, let me know...
Warnings: unsafe sex, bondage, laughter, hot m/m sex and coffee
AN: Thanks to Sabrin for her amazing beta skills...
Summary: Beware of lab techs bearing gifts...

***

“Steer your life by these stars...on the unconditional chance...to see where hell and heaven dance...this is the constellation of the heart...” - Kate Bush

Gil was tired. Not end of shift tired or working a case tired, but bone deep tired; gritty eyed, head pounding too exhausted to sleep tired. He picked up something resembling food to not eat on the way home, fed his little friends and paced his townhouse, steps echoing the emptiness of his heart. It had been a week since the night at Greg’s apartment and he still hadn’t decided how he felt about what had happened between them.

Part of him was exhilarated, thrilled by the conquest and the way Greg had embraced his dark side. Another part was equally appalled at the lack of control he had demonstrated; Greg hadn’t sat down without wincing all week. What bothered Gil most was the shiver of pleasure he felt every time he had witnessed Greg’s discomfort, knowing how much he had enjoyed creating it and longing to do it again.

Not that Greg had complained; he was his usual exuberant self except for the sitting part, explaining it away as road rash from a roller blading incident when Katherine had asked. She had walked away shaking her head, mumbling to herself about liquid latex and straws with a smirk on her face. Gil was working himself into a funk over it all when he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Gil called as he peered through the peephole. He almost never had visitors, and certainly not at this hour of the day.

“Grissom. It’s Greg.” He held up a stainless carafe to the peephole. “I have coffee, can I come in?”

Gil opened the door slowly; dread, curiosity and excitement mixed in equal proportion in his gut. He supposed they would have to talk about it sometime, but this wasn’t the time he would have picked. He wanted the luxury of thinking everything through first, but he swung the door and gestured Greg into the house, locking the door behind him.

“Beware of lab techs bearing gifts,” he quipped with a worn smile on his face, unsure of how to proceed.  “You want to sit...or maybe not...” He felt the blood rush to his face, his hand hanging in the air for a second before it returned to his side. He blinked slowly, trying to regain his equilibrium. “I’ll get us some mugs.” He turned and nearly fled to the kitchen, leaving Greg in the living room  grinning.

Greg dropped a backpack beside the couch, eased down with a wince and waited. The bruises had developed their technicolor glory and itched like hell, but he didn’t regret it for a second. The bite on his shoulder was healing nicely, Gil had cleaned and dressed it very carefully while apologizing again and again. It was another itch that had driven him to face his mentor in his lair; he wanted more.

Gil pulled a pair of mugs from the kitchen cabinet, hesitated near some spoons in the drain rack and headed back to the living room. He sat on the couch and placed the mugs on coasters, took the carafe and filled them. There was a moment of awkward silence as they savored the Hawaiian blue, each wondering what the other was thinking.

“Why are you here, Greg?” Grissom finally asked, unable to bear the silence he had earlier craved.

“I thought we should talk, since you’ve been a little freaky-deaky all week.” Greg finally answered, looking Grissom in the eye. Suddenly this didn’t seem like such a good idea.

“Freaky-deaky?” Gil repeated slowly, trying the phrase as though it were some exotic delicacy. He sighed and shook his head in a bemused sort of way, examining his behavior mentally to see if he could figure out exactly what Greg was getting at, dreading the possibilities.

“I mean, you’ve just been sort of...I don’t know, not yourself.” Greg could feel a blush climbing toward his hairline, but he was committed. He squirmed a little in his seat, both from the intense scrutiny of Gil’s eyes and the bruises on his ass, and took another sip.

“Since I don’t normally get drunk, much less seduce, beat and bite my employees, you could say that I haven’t exactly felt like myself this week,” Gil answered dryly. He wanted to take the words back as soon as they came out of his mouth, but Greg just grinned.

“Enough of this, Grissom,” Greg said as he slithered across the space between them. “You’re supposed to have less guilt after a night like that, not more.”  He took Gil’s mug and placed them both on the table, then straddled his lap and put his arms around the older man’s shoulders. “I liked it. I liked it and I want more.” He cocked his head and looked at Grissom with a sly smile. “Your report cards said ‘Doesn’t play well with others’ didn’t they?”

“Yes.” He kissed Greg slowly, savoring the taste of him; coffee and sweet greedy chaos. “Use the coasters, Greg, that’s why I have them.”

Greg tried to ignore it, closing in for another kiss when Gil pinched his calf, hard. “Greg? Coasters.”

“What are you going to do, Grissom, spank me?” The smirk left his face as Gil gave the pinch a good twist.

“No, I’m going to send you home and keep your coffee, Greg,” he answered. He smiled as Greg turned to put the mugs on coasters. The smile became less certain as Greg turned back to him with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Gil, do you trust me?” he asked quietly, playing with the edge of the older man’s shirt. Gil considered the question carefully, dread and curiosity struggling for supremacy inside as he sat very still, Greg still perched in his lap. This was not the morning he had planned at all.

“Yes, Greg. I trust you.” He committed himself as Greg had done for him. He closed his eyes and breathe deeply, wondering what he had done, but unwilling to back out. He owed Greg that much, even if it terrified him.

Greg’s smile was pure joy, Gil basked in it’s warmth as he fought to keep himself under control. Greg leaned in and kissed him slowly, tantalizingly, tasting his fear and promising sweetness. Gil shuddered as Greg slowly lifted the front of his shirt, stretching the fabric over his head, urging him forward as he pinned his arms behind his back, exposing and binding him in a lazy sweep of fabric.

Greg grinned, then began his devious work, nipping and biting at Gil’s exposed flesh; his neck, collar bones, working his way to one nipple then the other, teasing, tormenting, ceaseless. Gil was lost in the sensations, the smooth give of the fabric that held his arms in place, the cool wetness Greg left behind as he explored his chest, the feel of stubble against his flesh. He rocked his head back and closed his eyes, drifting.

“Do you trust me, Gil?” Greg asked again. Form was as important as action in Gil’s eyes. He nodded slowly, but his eyes stayed closed. “Yes. I trust you, Greg.” He trusted, but he was afraid as well. He had never been able to submit himself to the will of another.

Greg slipped the chain from his pocket and ran the warm metal over Gil’s chest, then clamped both nipples simultaneously. Gil came alive underneath him; eyes snapped open in shock, a strangled whimper-moan freed itself from somewhere deep inside.

“Holymotherofgod, Greg!” His body heaved, he struggled against the fabric that bound him and the weight that held him down, breath coming in ragged gasps as Greg tugged gently on the chain across his chest, the silver links glinting softly in graying hair.

Gil pulled back, his eyes watering furiously, panic surging along the waves of pain. He rolled his head against the back of the couch, gasping, choking on the panic, struggling against Greg, the pain and his fear. He had never let go, never allowed himself the luxury of ruthless sensation that he was drowning in now.

“Gil.” Greg fought to control the situation, he had to bring Grissom back outside before it all fell apart. He threw his weight forward and reached out, taking Gil’s face in both hands, forcing his head forward until they were eye to eye. “Gil! Out here.”  He placed feather light kisses over the frantic face, taking a deep breath himself as he felt Gil regaining his self control.

Grissom focused on Greg; his weight pressing him into the couch, the scent of his excitement, the sound of his breath, the gentle kisses. The clamps initial bite had dulled to a throbbing ache that was echoed in his groin; he was surprised at the ferocity of his erection.  

Greg settled deeper into his lap, rubbing against him, teasing him; kissing his neck, then an ear, under his jaw, finally licking the cleft in his chin before thoroughly exploring his mouth. He kissed back roughly, seeking to control something, anything until Greg pulled away from him and began to toy with the chain.

“Gil, I don’t think you trust me.” Greg said softly, running a hand through Grissom’s hair.

“I do, Greg. I...” he answered slowly, taking a hitching breath as Greg’s other hand tugged on the chain again. “I’m just not sure I trust myself.”

“It’s okay, Gil. I have enough trust in you for both of us.” Greg slid back off of Gil’s lap and stood up. He grabbed the front of the older man’s pants and hauled him to his feet, holding on until Grissom had his balance. “Let’s go.” He grabbed his backpack and pushed with a hand in the small of Grissom’s back as they moved to his bedroom.

Greg stopped Gil at the foot of the bed and turned him around. Gil kicked off his shoes and waited, though not patiently. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shivers running up and down his spine with each beat of his heart, wondering what Greg would do next.

Greg was tempted to just let him suffer for a few minutes, but he didn’t think he could wait that long.  As slow as he could manage he unfastened the older man’s trousers and slipped them down, then tugged at the nipple chain to make him step out of the fabric pooled at his feet. Gil hissed but moved, his cock throbbing in time with his pulse, his boxers twisted around from squirming on the couch under Greg.

Greg yanked down the boxers and pulled Gil forward by his lead again, bringing a growl from the older man’s throat. He guided him onto the bed gently, urging him down on his back, the shirt giving just enough to allow him to put his arms at his sides.

Greg removed Gil’s socks and arranged him on the center of the bed; head and chest propped on pillows, feet and knees apart, exposed, helpless and aroused.  He rummaged around in his bag, pulling out several candles and some massage oil, which he placed on  the bedside table. He lit the candles and began to undress himself slowly, putting on a show for Gil as he removed his shirt and khakis, kicked off his shoes and stripped his socks, leaving only the boxer briefs, which did nothing to disguise his erection.

He crawled up the bed and began to rub oil into Grissom’s skin in long steady strokes, working it into his sparse chest hair, down his thighs, tracing the curve of his calves with strong, oily hands as Gil shuddered with the contact. He was careful to avoid Grissom’s turgid cock as he worked the oil into his skin, paying special attention to his inner thighs, the sensitive skin where thigh meets torso twitched under his touch.

Gil groaned under Greg’s studied touch; not light, not rough, just...confidant. His eyes narrowed as the truth hit him: this was a set up, just like the last time. How did Greg know where to find him that night, much less that he was going to get drunk? He didn’t go out all that often, and never discussed his personal life at work.

“You set me up, Greg. You followed me and you planned it all out that night, didn’t you?” Gil asked, incredulous and a little breathless. “You little...aaaaagh!” he hissed as Greg gave the chain a good tug.

“What was that?” Greg asked, then pulled on the chain again, bringing tears to Gil’s eyes. “You’re complaining because you got LAID?” He pulled on it again, causing Grissom to try and lift his body, to follow the chain. “I told you that you should have less guilt after a night like that.” He gave another pull, bringing a strangled sounding whimper from the older man’s throat. “I ought to just leave your sorry ass here like this and go home.”

“Please...I w-want you to stay.” Gil struggled to sit up, Greg pushed him prone again, his hands slippery against oiled skin. He straddled Grissom’s waist and slid back, rubbing against Gil’s hardness, pinning his hands with his knees. He gave a little shimmy to get comfortable, feeling Gil strain against the soft fabric over his ass.

“I still ought to just leave you high and dry,” Greg said as he traced his hands over his own torso. His hands wandered slowly, tantalizingly lower, Gil’s eyes tracing every move as he lay there helpless, feverish with the desire to touch. They both moaned as Greg began to rub himself through his briefs, one hand  sliding in the waistband, stroking himself as he slowly ground his hips.

Gil braced his feet, allowing the young man to lean back and himself a better view. Greg freed himself from the shorts one handed, stroking his balls as the fabric pushed his package forward, enjoying the lust that burned in Gil’s eyes. Grissom thrust against Greg’s ass, trying to force him closer, catching his lower lip between his teeth, growling as Greg shifted his weight, staying just out of reach as he continued to stroke himself.

“What do you want, Gil?” Greg asked, rising up on his knees. “You want a taste?” He leaned forward as Gil licked his lips and nodded, eyes focused on the drops of precum that glistened in the flickering candlelight. Greg leaned closer, smearing the liquid across Gil’s lower lip, pulling back when he tried to take the velvet skin into his mouth.

Grissom shivered, then slowly ran his tongue over his lip again, savoring the salty sweet taste of his lover. He could smell the musk scent of Greg’s arousal, mingled sweat and the burning wax of the candles that cast a golden light on the young man’s form.

“Please, Greg,” he whispered hoarsely, “please.” His eyes were dark with need, his hunger palpable. Greg rocked forward again, groaning as Gil’s mouth closed around him; wet, perfect, insatiable. He thrust slowly, savoring the feel of Gil’s tongue, the ridges of his palate against his cock, the look of utter concentration on his face; eyes closed, brow furrowed, nostrils flared.

Greg was close, almost too close. He pulled back slowly, shivering as Gil sucked harder, pleading with his eyes for everything. A thin line of saliva was suspended between Gil’s lip and the head of his dick, shining in the candlelight before it broke.

“Don’t....Greg....I...I...need....I want....” he begged. He needed to taste, to savor, to regain what he had lost. He shifted on the bed, trying to sit up, to take control and take what he needed. Greg shoved him back down, swung his leg over the prone man and grabbed his testicles, which gave him Gil’s immediate, undivided attention.

“This is not about what you want, Gil, and I decide what you need.” He increased the pressure until Gil stopped struggling, just laid there breathing and hard, trying to remain very still. Then he reached for a candle and Gil stopped breathing all together for a second, his eyes wide as he realized what Greg was going to do to him.

The first drops spattered across his chest like a rain of fire. A thin line of agony cut across his belly next, another spray of wax danced down the center of his chest. He arched his back, howling, then whimpering as every movement increased the pressure of Greg’s hand.

“Ohgodohgod...Gregohgod...ithurtssobad...Greg...ohgod...” Gil’s breath rasped in his throat as he started to hyperventilate, eyes wild and blinking furiously; cooling wax cracking as his chest heaved. Greg eased the pressure, his touch firm, even gentle as he  rolled Gil’s heavy sack in his palm, then released him. He returned the candle to the bedside and ran his fingers over the waxy trails, then removed the clamps.

As the blood returned to his nipples, Gil jerked forward again, feeling the wax pull as he twisted against the sharp new pain. Greg pushed back and wrapped a hand around Gil’s cock, using slow, easy strokes to balance the agony into a dark throb of pleasure. He took him to the edge but not over, leaving Gil panting and moaning but ultimately unsatisfied as he slipped off the bed and removed his shorts.

Greg rearranged the items on the table, rummaged in his bag and crawled up the bed, kneeling between Gil’s thighs. He flashed a wicked grin at Grissom, rearranging his legs for maximum exposure and his own viewing pleasure. Gil was perfect; needy, desperate and surrendered, no longer struggling for control of the situation. His breath hitched a little as Greg’s nails brushed his scrotum, blue eyes darkened with lust and longing.

“Oh....yesssss...” Gil hissed as Greg’s slick-cool fingers entered him; the slow, steady progression nearly driving him insane. Greg was taking entirely too long, but he didn’t dare complain; patience was one of many lessons he was learning today. He just wanted to learn it faster, it had been far too long since he had been fucked senseless.

Greg rose to his knees, pushed Gil’s thighs forward with his hands and took him with an agonizingly slow, but steady thrust; Grissom making throaty encouraging noises as his cock impaled him. He steadied himself looking into deep blue eyes; that was the end of any self control Greg had left. He surged forward kissing Gil feverishly, hips thrusting, tongues dancing; bodies locked in pleasure mirrored in flickering shadows on the walls.

Gil was adrift in sensations; Greg’s tongue, tasting and teasing, the rough friction of his body against the cracked, cold wax and sore nipples, the steady rhythm of the cock thoroughly fucking his ass. He wanted to touch Greg so badly, to pull him closer, but his confinement made every second of contact somehow sweeter. He closed his eyes, lost and found in the same moment.

Greg knew he wasn’t going to last much longer; he slowed, wanting to savor the sight of Gil splayed out beneath him as long as possible. He was so beautiful like this; eyes half closed, flushed with greed and need, back arching to meet his thrusts, it was almost too much to bear. He could feel Gil getting closer, urgent little noises became moans, which became a chant of desire.

“Yesohyes....more...Gregmore...yesohyesohyes.....I’mgonna....GodGregyesssss......” he was almost there, almost over the edge when the rain of fire began again. The wax spattered over his chest; his eyes snapped fully open as Greg thrust again, hitting that perfect place as another line of agony washed over him.  “Ohyessss.....ohohohGreg ....GREG!” he shouted, the  burning trails blending with his orgasm; his cum mixing with the rivers of pain.

Hearing his name echo pushed Greg beyond any hope of redemption; he rocked forward and fell onto Gil crying out his name, cooling wax and cum pressed between heaving bodies. They lay there together, just being, catching their breath until Greg started to laugh.

“What’s so funny, Greg?” Gil asked, fingertips grazing Greg’s sides. He felt amazing, but he wanted Greg in his arms, which were still pinned in the sweat soaked shirt.

“I forgot...and now we’re stuck.” Greg laughed again, occasionally punctuated with ouches as he peeled himself from Gil. Bright red trails covered the older man’s body as the wax peeled from his oily skin, a Rorschach of lust clung to Greg. They separated wistfully, Greg easing Gil up and freeing him from his confinement, only to be captured by him and pulled close.

“Greg....I...” he said softly, tracing tingling fingertips along the curve of the younger man’s neck.

“Think too much, Grissom.” Greg finished, then kissed him soundly. “But we can work on that.”


END