My foot is Shakabuku! (geekwriter143) wrote in geekfiction,
My foot is Shakabuku!

Smut-a-Thon fic: Autre Ne Vueil -- Nick/Greg -- NC-17

Yes, it's late, but I haven't gone to sleep, yet, so it's still Valentine's Day to me. So there.

Title: Autre Ne Vueil
Author: geekwriter143
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: up through season 6
Prompt: "I, I punched a window. Actually, I punched through the window."
A/N: Much love to pinn2480, fullygoldy, and quiddich_fan, who beta'd the first 3000 words or so. They probably would have helped make the rest just as good, but I sort of ran out of time.

Nick sighed and shook his head as he walked into the darkened bar parking lot, Greg trailing behind him and chattering incessantly. Nick and Warrick had gone out for beers after a particularly long shift and had ended up being joined by Archie, Greg, and Wendy. Wendy had claimed exhaustion and left after half an hour, Archie had claimed to have a date to get ready for and left a little after that. Warrick had gotten a call on his phone from Tina after about an hour and headed home, leaving Nick and Greg there where they pretty much closed the bar down. Nick had been reminded of Greg's most endearing and most annoying characteristic--sometimes, it seemed impossible for him to stop talking.

"Will you just let it go?" Nick asked.

"I don't know if I can do that," Greg said as he caught up to Nick with his easy, long stride. "It's just not the kind of thing I'm ever going to forget. Fuck. Where did I park?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Because I parked next to you."

"And how was I supposed to know that? I got here before you, genius."

"I am a genius."

"And you've got the Phi Beta Kappa key to prove it, I know."

Greg laughed to himself, and then pointed to the far end of the parking lot. "There it is."

"I know. Unlike you, genius, I remembered where I parked."

"Why didn't you say so?"

"I figured it was only fair to annoy you as much as you're annoying me."

Greg laughed again and patted his pockets, looking for his cigarettes and lighter as they started walking towards their cars.

"Didn't you have enough of those in the bar tonight?"

"Nicotine is a drug, Nick. I'm addicted. There's no such thing as enough."

"I'm gonna make Doc Robbins call you down next time he autopsies a smoker so you can see exactly what that shit's doing to your lungs. For a genius, you're not very smart."

"Like you've never smoked."

"Not once."

"Not once? Not one time? Not even a puff?"

Nick smiled smugly and shook his head.


"Honest to God."

"Hmph." Greg lit his cigarette. "So, was it, like, a life affirming thing? Did you grow it as a way to celebrate surviving?"

"I thought you were letting that go."

"I can't. I can't let anything go until I understand it, and I think that's something that I will never, ever understand."

"It wasn't that bad."

"That's where you're wrong. It was maybe the ugliest thing in the history of the world."

"Will you shut up about my mustache?"

"I can't, man. I'm psychologically scarred. You looked like Ned Flanders."

"I have never looked like Ned Flanders."

Greg laughed and bumped Nick's shoulder with his own. "Oh, I beg to differ. You looked exactly like Ned Flanders. Well, like Ned Flanders crossed with a bad 70's porn star. Hey, you should have gotten some gold chains with big medallions and worn them with your shirt open so everybody could see all your groovy chest hair."

Nick rolled his eyes.

"It would have been bitchin'. You could have gotten one of those avocado green leisure suits."

"You are so not funny." Nick dug his hands in his pockets trying to find his keys.

"Did growing that mustache make you want to dance the Hustle?"

"It wasn't that bad."

"It was awful."

"Blow me."

Greg grinned and stepped forward, cornering Nick against the side of his Denali. "Right here? In public? Kinky."

Nick laughed nervously and looked around. "That...that was a joke."

"Was it?"

He swallowed hard and nodded. "Greg...I don't...I mean, I don't know what you think we're doing here, but I'm not...we're not..."

Greg laughed then and stepped back. "You are so tense."

Nick laughed, too, and rubbed his hands over his face. "Christ, man, don't scare me like that. I thought you were serious."

Greg leaned back against his little Jetta and exhaled a long stream of smoke. "I was."

"That's not funny."

"I'm not kidding."

Nick blinked. He didn't know what to say. Greg wasn't smiling anymore, he just looked thoughtful and way too calm for a guy who'd just offered to blow one of his friends.

"I figured I'd just throw it out there," Greg said, "since all of our flirting hasn't gotten me anywhere."

"I..." Nick shook his head. He wondered, suddenly, if he was on one of those hidden camera shows. "Flirting?" he asked, hating how pinched his voice sounded.

Greg took another drag on his cigarette. Nick wasn't used to seeing him smoke, had known he did it but had never really watched him before. It seemed like it didn't belong, like it was an alternative universe Greg standing there in front of him.

"We...there wasn't every any flirting, Greg."

Greg dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the toe of his shoe. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, OK, whatever. Fuck it. Just forget this ever happened, OK?"


"I said forget it."

Nick was silent for a moment. "I, uh, I don't know if I can do that." He tried not to smile. "It's not the kind of thing a guy can forget. I might be psychologically scarred."

Greg shook his head and pointed at Nick. "Right there. That right there. You're flirting with me again."

"I wasn't--"

"You were. You were teasing me, throwing my own words back at me."

"I was just trying to lighten the moment."

"It doesn't feel like that. It feels like, fuck, you know what? It doesn't matter. We'll just pretend that this never happened and I'll remind myself that the signals I keep getting from you are misfires."

"Signals? I don't...what kind of signals?"

"The kind of signals that have been making me fucking throw myself at you for seven years." He rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm tired. I've been awake over 24 hours, otherwise I never would have..."

"I thought you liked girls."

"I do. Usually. Just sometimes I like guys, too."

"Oh." Nick didn't know what else to say to that. He was supposed to be supportive, right? He didn't have anything against gays, knew the thing to do when a friend came out to you was to be supportive. He tried to think of something supportive to say, but what came out instead was, "And you'd want to do that? With me?"

"Do what?" Greg stepped close to him again, got in his face, made his words sound like a challenge. "Suck your cock? Is that what you mean?"

Nick couldn't answer him. He swallowed hard. He closed his eyes when he felt Greg's hand between his legs, squeezing him.

"You're rock hard, Nick," Greg whispered. "I'll suck you off if you want me to, but you have to say it. You have to tell me you want it. I'm not doing this and letting you pretend that it's all on me. So tell me if you want it, otherwise I'm going home and we'll never mention this again."

"Do it," Nick whispered as he opened his eyes. He didn't even know he was going to speak until the words were out of his mouth. "I want you to."

Greg nodded and leaned forward and Nick tensed, afraid Greg was about to kiss him. Instead, Greg's hand found the handle on the back passenger side door and pulled it up. Nick moved aside to let him open the door.

"Get in," Greg said.

" the car?"

"We could do it out here, but gravel hurts my knees."

Nick got into the back of the Denali and scooted across to the far side.

"You look terrified," Greg whispered after he'd climbed in and shut the door. "You sure you want to do this?"

Nick nodded. He couldn't catch his breath. "I've just...I've never..."

Greg frowned. "Never?"

"Not with a guy."

"Not once? Man, that's disappointing. I always thought frat boys were constantly doing each other in secret."

"Not in my frat. Not that I know of."

"Too bad."

Nick startled as he heard loud, female laughter coming from the other side of the parking lot.

"It's dark, Nick. We're not even near the streetlight. No one can see in."

"What'll somebody think if they do?"

"They'll think you're getting a blowjob in the backseat of your car. Relax," he whispered as he slid his hand up Nick's leg. "Just close your eyes. If you want to stop, just say it and I'll stop."

Nick closed his eyes. He shuddered as Greg began to stroke him through his jeans. He felt the heat of Greg's body as he leaned close, leaned over, fingers deftly undoing his fly, pulling his underwear out of the way, and then the hot, wet heat of Greg's mouth around him.

He stretched one arm along the back of the seat and held on tight, closed his eyes, tried to breathe. Greg's lips were tight around him, the inside of his mouth so soft and warm, his tongue swirling around like he knew each secret, sensitive spot and how to hit it just right. Nick whimpered when Greg pulled away, was about to protest when he felt Greg's hand wrap around his cock and jack it slowly and Greg's tongue touch his balls.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered. He opened his eyes and he had to look, had to see what Greg was doing. It was dark so he couldn't see much, just the light reflecting of his wet cock and the bob and turn of Greg's head. He reached one hand down and slid it gently through Greg's hair. Greg looked up at him and oh, God, they were making eye contact. He could see Greg's dark eyes looking up at him, right at him. Greg made a satisfied sort of hum and smiled a bit before moving up to take Nick's cock in his mouth.

Nick couldn't look away. He couldn't stop the desperate thrust of his hips or the whimpers coming out of his mouth. He couldn't look away from Greg's face, from his deep eyes crinkled at the corners like they did when he smiled, from his lips stretched tight around Nick's cock. He jerked the bottom of Nick's shaft with his hand, keeping rhythm with his mouth. He pulled off and licked around the head, concentrating the touch of his tongue on the sensitive underside just below the crown.

"Jesus Christ," Nick choked out. He couldn't ever remember someone as enthusiastic as Greg was, and the fact that he seemed to enjoy it was so amazingly hot.

Then Greg smiled again and hummed contentedly and flicked his tongue out for a quick tease against Nick's slit before he wrapped his lips around Nick's shaft again and slid deep and that was it, Nick was gone, coming while looking down into Greg's eyes and digging his fingers into the back of the seat with one hand, gripping Greg's hair tight with the other and Jesus, fuck, Greg was swallowing, was looking right at Nick and swallowing it all.

Nick shuddered and dropped his head back and stayed that way for a moment, catching his breath. Finally he let Greg's hair go and lifted his head back up. He didn't know what to say.

Greg smiled and wiped at his lower lip with the back of his hand. "Good?" he asked.

Nick nodded as the reality of what had just happened started to settle around him.

"Then my work here is done."

"What about...I mean, did you...?"

"Don't worry about it."

"You sure?"

Greg nodded and pressed one hand to the small of his back as he stretched. "Yeah. I'm fine, but what about you? You gonna be OK to drive home? You look a little freaked out, there."

"Yeah," Nick said quickly as he realized that his fly was still wide open. He hurriedly tucked everything back in and zipped up. "Yeah, I'm this going to be weird?"

Greg shrugged. "It doesn't have to be."

"Yeah, but, it's not like we're...I mean this isn't..."

"I'm not expecting you to be my boyfriend if that's what you're worried about."

"So what are we, then?"

"Guys who work together and fooled around once. Or, you know, if you want to do it again we could be fuck buddies."

"Fuck buddies?"

"Do not pull that innocent Southern boy shit with me. There is no way you haven't heard that term before."

"No. I mean I have. Of course I have, I just...I've would that work, exactly?"

"Like this," Greg said. "We're buddies, sometimes we fuck around. I mean, sometimes you just need to get off and with another guy it's easier."

"No strings? Just sex."

Greg nodded. "And occasional Super Bowl parties."

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Gay Super Bowl parties?"

Greg's laugh was loud and it broke any remaining tension Nick had been feeling. "Jesus Christ. No. Just, you know, regular guy stuff. Hanging out. I just meant that we'd still be friends like before, we'd just help each other out sometimes."

"Oh. So, um, you sure you don't want me to...? I mean, fair's fair and all. But I don't...I can't, with my mouth, I don't think I..."

"You could touch me," Greg's voice was suddenly low and soft.

"That would be OK? Just touching?"


Nick nodded but didn't move.

"Give me your hand. Here. Like this." Greg took Nick's hand in his and pressed it between his legs. Nick could feel the hard ridge of his erection, could feel Greg's pulse against his palm. It didn't feel weird, touching another man like that. It didn't even feel weird when Greg unzipped his pants and licked a stripe across Nick's palm before wrapping it around his bare cock.

Nick held Greg's cock, Greg's hand wrapped around his own. He didn't do much, really, just squeezed as Greg thrust into his fist. He didn't look down, knew that even in the darkness it would be too much. He thought he should close his eyes again, look away. He felt like a voyeur. He couldn't look away from Greg's face, from his swollen mouth and dark eyelashes casting shadows across his cheek. He couldn't help but hear every breath Greg took, every soft, needy sound he made in the back of his throat. It didn't take long before Greg's hips were bucking faster and his hand was squeezing Nick's hand tighter around his cock, and he whimpered and let his head drop back and said, "Nick, fuck, God, Nick," and came. Nick felt it drop hot onto his hand, felt it slide between his fingers. The seawater tang of it filled his nostrils.

After a moment he pulled his hand away, stared at it, tried to make it feel real. He had another man's semen on his skin, on his hand. He thought maybe the darkness and shadows were what made it feel like a dream, like it wasn't real

"Sorry about that," Greg said after catching his breath. He took Nick's hand again and wiped it with the hem of his t-shirt. "I need to do laundry anyway."

"You, uh, you good?" Nick asked because he felt like he should.

"Hell, yeah. What about you? You weirded out?"

Nick shook his head. "No. No, I'm good." It was true, too. He was strangely OK with it.

"Cool. All right." He fastened his pants, pulled his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and placed one between his lips. Nick was about to tell him that he couldn't smoke in the Denali when Greg reached over and opened the door. "See you at work."

"Yeah," Nick said, still slightly dazed when Greg climbed out of the back seat and shut the door behind him. Through the tinted windows, Nick could see the sudden flash from Greg's lighter, then the orange glow of embers as Greg inhaled.

Nick was still driving--halfway home--when he started to laugh. Fuck buddies. Greg really was a genius.


Nick wasn't quite as sure of Greg's genius the next night as he walked into work, stomach twisting with nerves. He had to consciously relax his hands from fists several times, and that was just on the way in from the parking lot.

He'd never done it before--had sex with a coworker, let alone a male coworker. If it really was sex. He'd always counted blow jobs as sex, but Greg had seemed so casual about it maybe it wasn't really sex, maybe it was just...

No. It was sex. The reason Greg had seemed so casual about it was exactly because it was casual sex. Nick had never done that before, either. Not really. There was one time in college when he was pretty drunk and slept with a girl whose name he'd never learned. And there had been Kristy, but even with Kristy he'd intended to pursue a relationship with her, he'd have no doubt seen her again if she hadn't been killed.

Greg, though, Greg wasn't some nameless sorority girl visiting from Houston. Greg wasn't someone he could take out to the movies or a romantic dinner. Greg was just...Greg. He was a friend. He was a coworker. He was...he was sitting right there in the break room drinking coffee and laughing at something Sara was saying. Greg glanced at Nick for a moment as he froze in the doorway. "'Sup?" he asked, then turned back towards Sara, not waiting for an answer.

It felt wrong somehow. Nick felt like they should talk or something, that Greg should...that Greg should what? Look at him with moony eyes? Smile and blush when he walked into the room? Give Nick a wink? Of course Greg wouldn't do any of those things because there wasn't anything between them. They were friends. They were...fuck buddies. Nick didn't really like that term, though, didn't like how cheap it sounded, wrong somehow. He searched his mind for another term for it and came up with friends with benefits, something he'd heard Warrick say more than once.

So that was it. They were friends with benefits. Greg wasn't going to act weird because there was nothing to act weird about. Nothing had changed, except maybe they'd sometimes help each other get off. That wasn't weird, was it? No. There were even words for it, so it couldn't be weird. Everything was just fine.

"Uh, Nick?" Warrick asked from behind him. "You gonna block the door all night?"

"Oh," Nick said, taking a sudden step forward. "Sorry, man. I got a little lost in thought there."

"I noticed." Warrick moved past him into the break room and headed straight for the coffee machine. Nick followed him, not really wanting coffee, just wanting something to do.

Grissom came in a moment later to hand out their cases. Nick and Warrick pulled a 419 just off the strip and Greg was paired with Sara yet again on what looked to be a B&E gone bad. Nick was so thankful that he wasn't paired up with Greg that he didn't even argue when Warrick said he wanted to drive.

"So, man," Warrick said as he drove back towards the lab, "what's up?" From all accounts, their 419 hadn't sounded much like a murder. The guy had just dropped dead. They'd have to wait for Doc Robbins' autopsy report, of course, but with a history of high blood pressure and two previous heart attacks, it looked like the guy had died of natural causes.

"What's up with what?"

Warrick looked over at him and shook his head, a smirk playing around the edges of his mouth. "With you, man. You are out of it tonight. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," Nick said. He wasn't out of it. He was totally on the ball. Except, of course, for how he couldn't really get Greg out of his head.

"Nothing. Right. So what's her name?"

"Whose name?"

"Nothing's name."

Nick sighed. "It's not like that. It's..." There was no way he could tell Warrick the truth. "So, um, have you ever just been friends with benefits with somebody?"

Warrick laughed loudly and shook his head. "Don't do it, man. Do not do it. Women say they're OK with it, but they never are. You start out as friends with benefits and you end up married."

"How is Tina, anyway?"

"She's great. We're not talking about her though, we're talking about whatever girl it is that's trying to trap you in, man. Either date her or don't do anything. Friends with benefits comes with a hell of a lot more strings than you think."

"What if it didn't?" Nick asked. "I mean, what if...what if that's really all it is?"

Warrick frowned. "You sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Completely sure."

"Huh." Warrick tapped his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment. "Well, I can't exactly tell you to be a player seeing as how I'm a happily married man, now, and I'm supposed to be setting a good example, but...if that's all it is and you're sure that's all it is, hell. Go for it."

He felt better after talking to Warrick, but he didn't go for it. He and Greg passed each other at work like nothing had happened, and after a few weeks Nick had almost convinced himself that nothing had. He might have forgotten it completely if his mouth hadn't gone dry every time he thought about what had happened in the back seat of his Denali, if he didn't wake up from dreams about it achingly hard. He told himself that he'd forgotten about it even when he stroked himself off in the shower nearly every day remembering the smell of Greg's sweat and spunk and the sound of his low, needy groans. He wasn't quite sure how to explain that to himself.

He wasn't gay, wasn't attracted to guys at all. He didn't know why he'd wanted it so badly that it felt more like need. It had to have been the beer. It had been the beer and the craziness that working a double caused. He couldn't have been the first person to fall prey to insanity due to lack of sleep. In fact, if he really thought about it, he didn't want it at all. It was just something crazy that had happened, something that definitely wouldn't happen again. He should probably call Greg and let him know, just in case he was waiting for a repeat that would never take place.

"Hello?" Greg's voice was soft and thick.

"Did I wake you? This, uh, this is Nick."

"Yeah, I know. I'm awake."

"You can just go back to sleep. This was a bad time to call."

Greg cleared his throat and Nick could hear him moving around. He wondered if Greg was still in bed, wondered how warm his skin was. "I'm up," Greg said. "What's going on?"

"I just, uh, I was thinking and..." Nick closed his eyes. He should have rehearsed what he was going to say before he called.

"Come over," Greg said.

Nick swallowed hard. "What?"

"Come over."

"You're sleeping. I couldn't--"

"What you're doing right now, Nick, is known as a booty call. You want to know if you can come over. I'm saying 'yes.' Come over."

"OK," Nick whispered. It would probably be better if he could explain things to Greg in person.

Greg lived in an apartment complex on the west side of town. Nick had never been inside, but he had dropped Greg off a couple times--once when Greg's Jetta had been in the shop and once when Greg hadn't been sober enough to drive.

Nick knocked on Greg's door and waited, worrying that he hadn't gotten the right apartment, or that Greg had gone back to sleep. He was about to knock again when Greg opened the door, wearing baggy, wrinkled jeans and a threadbare black t-shirt.

"Hey," Nick said, not knowing what else to say.

Greg smiled sleepily and stepped back, running one hand through his already tousled hair. "Come on in."

Nick followed him down a short hallway and past a tiny but neat kitchen. The apartment smelled like coffee with just a hint of cigarette smoke. Nick didn't know where to begin. He didn't want Greg to think Nick was judging him. There was nothing wrong with being gay, or bi, it's just that Nick wasn't. It was nothing against Greg personally.

He tried to organize his thoughts. He noticed a floor-to-ceiling cat tree in the corner of Greg's living room and looked around for a moment before his eyes settled on the orange tabby ball of fluff stretched out across Greg's computer desk.

He meant to tell Greg that he hadn't come over for sex, but what came out instead was, "You have a cat?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah. Her name's Molly. She's, like, three hundred years old. We had her growing up, and then when my folks downsized and moved into a condo they decided they didn't want her anymore, so I took her. She spends most of her time sleeping on my laptop, don't you Moll?" He scratched her belly and she rolled to the side to give him better access, though she never seemed to wake.

Nick watched the way Greg's t-shirt stretched across his shoulders, the way it pulled up in back to reveal a sliver of skin as he leaned over to rub Molly's belly. Nick came up behind him, placed his hands on those strong shoulders, felt the heat of Greg's body through the thin cotton of his shirt.

Greg took a deep breath and straightened slowly. Nick moved closer and pressed his nose to the nape of Greg's neck. He inhaled deeply and ran his hands down Greg's arms. That was the scent he remembered, the scent of Greg's skin. His body's response was immediate; he got just as hard just as fast as he had the night outside the bar. Just the smell of Greg was enough to make his hands shake.

Greg turned and placed his hands on Nick's chest. He rubbed gently. "Bedroom?" he asked.

Nick nodded. He couldn't speak. He couldn't remember what it was he'd wanted to say.

Greg took Nick's hand and led him down another hallway into his bedroom. He pulled his t-shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Nick watched the shirt fall, looked around the room without really seeing anything.

"Take your clothes off," Greg said as he switched on a lamp.

Nick hesitated. He didn't know if he should. Would it change things? They'd left their clothes on before, had only undone their pants enough to gain access. He didn't want to look at Greg, didn't want to need to look at him, but he couldn't look away. His eyes followed the graceful curve of Greg's spine from the small of his back and up to his shoulders where his smooth, freckled skin was marred by a mass of white scar tissue. He didn't remember moving, but suddenly he was behind Greg again, hands on his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the center of the scar and felt Greg tremble beneath his touch. He turned and Nick didn't know what to say. He hadn't known the scars had been there.

"Hey, you," Greg said. He sounded almost confident, but his voice was just a bit too breathy and uneven. The tension between then was palpable. Nick could hardly bear it. He pulled Greg close and kissed him and the tension melted away. He hadn't planned it--kissing Greg. He hadn't planned any of it, hadn't wanted to do anything more than explain that nothing could ever happen between the two of them. He didn't know what it was that made him kiss Greg and cling to him.

Nick raised his arms as Greg pulled his shirt up and off, tossing it to the floor. He wrapped his arms around Greg and pulled him close so that they were chest to chest, skin to skin. He could feel Greg's arousal against his hip and he couldn't help but grind against it.

"Clothes off," Greg whispered. Nick nodded but didn't do anything--he didn't have to, since Greg was already undressing him. He kicked his pants off as they fell onto the bed. He pulled Greg's hips down hard over his and arched up against him, whimpering when Greg pulled away and started planting kissing down Nick's chest.

"Fuck," Greg whispered after licking Nick's right nipple. "Wanna taste you so bad."

Nick draped one arm over his eyes and took a deep breath.

"You like this?" Greg asked, kissing Nick's belly button. He ran his hands up Nick's thighs. "You want me to suck you?"

"Yes," the word came out as a hiss. He arched his back and gripped the sheets as Greg took him into his mouth. It was just as amazing as it had been before, Greg sucking him hungrily, making pleased noises that vibrated up Nick's cock and all through his body.

He lifted his head and watched as Greg's hips rolled against the mattress. "Are're turned on from this?"

"Mmm." Greg nodded as he kissed the tip of Nick's cock.

"Can I...I mean, can I see?" He put his hands over his face, feeling the blush heat his skin. He couldn't believe he'd just asked that.

Greg didn't seem to think it was something to be embarrassed about, however. "Yeah," he said, and pushed himself up so that he was kneeling. He unbuttoned his fly and slid his jeans down. He wasn't wearing underwear.

Nick swallowed hard. He'd never seen a guy's cock before. Not hard. Not outside of porn.

Greg smiled down at him, stroking his own cock slowly. "You're blushing. You can touch if you want."

Nick ran his hand up Greg's thigh, over his hip. He carded his fingers through the curls surrounding the base of Greg's cock. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and squeezed. Greg smiled and closed his eyes. "Nice," he said.

Nick tugged on Greg's jeans with his other hand until finally Greg pulled away, tugged his jeans down and then finally they were both naked and kissing and Nick rolled them over, rocking against Greg until he found what seemed to be the most perfect feeling in the world.

He ground his hips against Greg's, slid his cock against Greg's, kissed Greg hard, kissed his mouth and his jaw and the freckles on his throat. Greg's hands were on his back, then gripping his ass, pulling him down harder. Greg hooked his leg around Nick's waist, pulled him even closer, arched up against him.

Jesus. That was Greg. That was Greg's body beneath his body. That was Greg's cock hard and rubbing against his cock. Those were Greg's hands on his skin, Greg's mouth sucking on his earlobe, Greg's ragged breaths hot against his skin.

"Nick," Greg whimpered. "Nick, God, Nick, I'm...I can't...I'm gonna..."

Nick kissed his throat, tasted his sweat and skin, kissed his way up to Greg's mouth and looked down into his eyes as they rocked together.

"I'm close." Greg's voice was hoarse.


"I'm really, Nick, God, I'm..."

"Good, Greg. Good. I want you to."

He gazed down into Greg's eyes, deep black-brown pools, gaze into Greg's eyes and watched as Greg gazed back up at him. Then Greg's eyes widened and his body bucked up hard and Nick felt warm wetness spreading between them. He dropped his head down, pressed, his cheek against Greg's neck, felt Greg shaking with release and that was all he needed. Another stroke and he felt his balls pull up, felt white heat spreading through his belly and then he was crying out, clinging to Greg and coming.

He rolled off Greg's body and collapsed onto his back, exhausted. His entire body was weak and warm and he grinned as he tried to catch his breath.

Nick was just starting to return to full consciousness when Greg said, "That was amazing."

Nick nodded and was pretty sure he managed a grunt.

"I mean it, Nick. You kiss like...fuck. I think I could come just from the way you kiss me."

Nick rolled his head to the side so he could see Greg's face. Greg was looking back at him with sleepy eyes and flushed cheeks and a red, swollen mouth.

What Nick wanted to say was that Greg was amazing, too. Instead, what came out was "I should probably go."

Greg stretched. "You can crash if you want."

"'s just that all my stuff's at home, and if I don't want to be late for tonight's shift..."

"Don't worry about it," Greg said, flopping back on the bed. He curled around one of his pillows and sighed contentedly.

"Um, right. So I'll guess I'll see you later," Nick said.

Greg nodded and yawned, snuggling further under the covers. "Later," he said. He seemed completely unconcerned, like he really didn't care if Nick stayed or not.

Nick pulled his clothes on and glanced over at Greg one last time before leaving. The apartment door locked behind him and he squinted into the bright sunlight, hoping he had a pair of sunglasses in his truck.

He'd done it again. He didn't know why. It wasn't like he was gay. It wasn't like he couldn't find anyone else to sleep with. It had been a mistake, a definite mistake, and he really was going to tell Greg it was over. He'd tell him that night before shift, since nothing crazy could happen between them at work.

He didn't tell Greg it was over that night. He didn't say much to Greg at all, just nodded at him in the hall when they passed. He wondered if he could just pretend that things in Greg's apartment hadn't happened. He decided he would. The stuff that happened between them had just been a mistake, an accident, some sort of temporary insanity.

Another week passed, and Nick was starting to feel like his life was returning to normal. Sure, he still thought about Greg sometimes, but he didn't beat himself up over it. It wasn't like he was looking for a repeat or anything, he just hadn't slept with anyone in a long time, and things with Greg had been exciting, different. That was all.

He wasn't ever going to do anything about it again, though. He knew that. He was just going to sometimes remember the things they'd done and maybe, after enough time passed, he'd laugh at himself for thinking that Greg Sanders, of all people, was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Whatever it was that made him think that was gone, though. He was sure of it, even as he left the lab and turned left instead of right, heading for Greg's apartment. He didn't let himself think about what he was doing, just knocked on Greg's front door and pushed his way inside, grabbing Greg roughly as they kissed hello.

He dropped to his knees right there in the hallway, pinned Greg's hips against the wall, and took Greg's cock into his mouth, marveling at how normal it felt against his tongue, at how amazing it felt to know that he was the one making Greg whimper and gasp.

A few days later, Greg showed up at Nick's with a six-pack of beer. They watched half of the first quarter and then ended up naked on the couch, arching against each other and grinding together until they came. They didn't even bother to get dressed afterwards, just covered up with Nick's old A&M blanket and watched the rest of the game with their bodies still intertwined.

Nick liked to be held down and kissed until he was dizzy with it. Greg liked to be on top. Greg was vocal during sex, turning suddenly quiet and intense as he came. Nick whispered the occasional soft word during, but when he came he could never hold back an explosive cry. They both laughed a lot and kissed for hours and then went to work and acted like nothing had happened. They nodded to each other in the hall and occasionally worked the same case. Everything was normal until one of them called or showed up at the other's doorstep, and then any notion of normality flew out the window.

It was all right. Nick still thought it felt off somehow, but he didn't let himself think on it too much. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to admit, even to himself, that what he had with Greg was the best thing he'd had in years. It was maybe the best thing he'd ever had.

"So, uh," Nick said softly as he pulled on a jacket. The locker room was empty except for him and Greg. "You, uh, you wanna do something later?"

Greg straightened up from where he was tying his shoes. "I already said I'd go out with Archie, but if you want--"

"No," Nick said quickly. "No, it's all right."

"Are you sure? I just--"

"Don't worry about it. Have fun with Archie." He left the locker room trying his damnedest not to be mad. He had no reason to be mad.

It wasn't like Greg was his boyfriend. Greg wasn't anything to him. He was just a friend, albeit with benefits. He was just a fuck buddy. What he did on his own time was his own business, not Nick's. Nick didn't have any right to be jealous.

He had no right to be jealous, but he was. He couldn't sleep. He paced back and forth in his living room, trying not to imagine what Greg and Archie were doing, trying not to imagine Greg kissing Archie, whispering the same words to him as he did to Nick. He couldn't help but imagine it, though, and it hurt deep in his gut to think of Greg with anyone else.

It wasn't like he was gay. No way he was gay. He liked women and only women...and Greg. That didn't make him gay, that just made him...he had no idea what that made him. He couldn't ask anyone what they thought about it, either, since the only safe person to broach the subject with was Greg, and he really couldn't just come out and say maybe he had feelings for the guy. Could he? No. No way.

He wasn't gay. He didn't have feelings for Greg, he just liked the sex. It was just sex, nothing more. He couldn't be gay because that just wasn't who he was. He was straight, perfectly straight, and always would be.

Right. And that's why you get hard just thinking about sucking dick.

The little voice in his head was the same one that he'd heard his whole life, the same one that always told him that he wasn't good enough, that he had to do more, work harder, be better. It was the voice that always reminded him when he did something that his father wouldn't approve of. It was the voice that nagged him worse than his mother ever had. His sister Katie was an artist, and she'd said she heard the same thing in her head, a voice that always told her she was talentless, that she should paint nice, pretty pictures that their mom would be proud of, that she should give art up completely and get married and have babies instead. Katie called that voice her monkey mind and she insisted that the only thing to do was to ignore it completely and let it die of starvation. Nick had never been able to do that.

You kiss him for hours, you suck his dick, you think about him all the time. You can't go two days without him. Just what did you think that meant, exactly? Just who did you think you were fooling?

Nick headed into the kitchen, turned on the sink, and splashed cold water on his face. He was going crazy, wasn't he? He had to be. Why else would he think about Greg nearly every minute of the day? Why else would he actually need Greg's touch? Why else did he think that Greg's laughter was the best sound in the world?

Maybe because you're falling in love.

No. Just, no. It wasn't possible. It wasn't. He wasn't. He was straight, damnit, he was--

He meant to punch the side of the cabinet and he did, sort of, his fist slipping from the frame of the cupboard doors into the glass.

"Damnit!" He jerked his bloodied hand back and inspected the damage. He had cuts and scrapes across the back of his hand and one small knick at the base of his palm, but nothing that looked too deep. He turned the water on again and stuck his hand beneath it, prodding the skin for any broken glass. He wrapped a towel around his hand and knotted it, using his teeth and his left hand to pull the knot tight. There was broken glass both inside and outside the cupboard door, some of it spotted with blood. He was such an idiot.

Nick thought about going to urgent care. He thought about going to bed. He didn't do either of those things. Instead, he drove to Greg's, just like he'd known he would all along. He couldn't decide if he wanted Greg to be there or not. He didn't know what he wanted to say or even if there was anything to say.

"Hey," Greg said with a smile as he opened the door. His hair was mussed from sleep and his clothes were rumpled. Nick wanted to pull Greg into his arms and nuzzle his neck, feel his sleep-warm skin beneath his hands. "Come on in."

Nick followed him inside and, once again, he seemed to have no control over his words. "Are you sleeping with Archie?"

Greg stopped suddenly and turned around. "What?"

"I...never mind. Fuck." Nick ran his good hand through his hair. He sat on the edge of Greg's couch and stared at the floor. He could feel Greg standing next to him but he didn't look up.

"I'm not sleeping with Archie," Greg said softly. "What happened to your hand?"

"I, um...I punched a window. Actually, I punched through the window."

Greg nodded and sat down next to him. "You get it checked out?"

Nick shook his head.

"You, uh, you want me to look at it?"

"It's fine."

"You sure?"

Nick laughed humorlessly and shook his head. "I'm not sure about anything, man."

"OK." Greg moved his hand towards Nick's slowly. "I'm going to look at it."

"You don't have to."

"I know. I'm just going to take the towel off, all right?"

Nick looked up as he recognized Greg's tone of voice as the same one that they all used with people they thought might suddenly turn violent. "I'm not going to freak out on you, Greg."

"You sure about that?" Greg asked. He unknotted the towel quickly, his long fingers moving deftly around Nick's hand. "You did punch through a window, after all. I don't think you need stitches," he said as he leaned in to get a better look at the cuts on Nick's knuckles and the back of his hand.

"I told you it was fine."

"You sure you got all the glass out?"

"Pretty sure."

Greg's hands were cool and dry as his trailed his fingertips over Nick's skin, feeling for any embedded glass. "Come on."

Nick didn't move as Greg stood and tugged gently on his hand.

"Let me clean it up, bandage it."

"I can do it."

"I've got two hands, you've got one. It'll go faster if I do it."

Nick just nodded as he followed Greg into the bathroom. He flipped the toilet lid down and sat on it as Greg turned on the tap and ran a washcloth beneath the water. He squeezed it out and applied the damp, warm cloth to the back of Nick's hand, easing away the smears of dried blood.

"So, uh," Greg began. "Do I want to know what made you punch a window?"

Nick shrugged.

"I'm assuming it's about me."

He nodded.

"You really thought I was sleeping with Archie?"

"I don't know. No. I just...this doesn't make any sense, Greg. What we're doing, it makes no sense."

Greg didn't say anything for a long time. He tossed the washcloth into the sink and patted Nick's hand dry with a soft towel. He applied antibiotic ointment to the cuts. He was tender as he wrapped Nick's hand in gauze and tapped it into place. He sat back on his heels and rubbed the back of his neck.

"We can stop," Greg said softly. "Go back to the way things were before."

"Can we?"

"Yeah. I mean, lots of people have to work with people they've fucked."

"Is that all it is? Fucking?"

Greg shrugged.

"It's not, is it? It never was." He stroked Greg's hair. "Look at me. Look at me, Greg. We were never just fucking, were we?"

Greg looked up at him and shook his head. "No."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I kind of hoped you already knew."

"Come here." Nick cradled the back of Greg's head in his good hand and pulled him close for a kiss. Their lips met softly, just brushing together. He sighed and breathed in Greg's scent, then pressed his mouth more firmly against Greg's. Greg's lips parted as he leaned into the kiss.

"I thought..." Nick whispered against Greg's mouth. "I couldn't wait for the next time, wanted you so bad, needed you, had to touch you, but at the same time, I couldn't stand it. I thought it was because you were a guy."

Greg tried to pull away but Nick held him close.

"That wasn't it. That's not a problem. That's good, Greg, that part of it is good. I don't...I don't do casual, Greg. I've tried and it just doesn't work--it's not me. I thought it was just fucking. That's what was wrong."

Greg nodded and slid his arms around Nick's shoulders. "I thought you just didn't want to talk about it. I thought you just wanted to pretend that there wasn't anything between us." His breath was hot against Nick's cheek.

"I did. I just...I didn't expect this. Did you?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah, actually."

"You could have clued me in."

"Sorry. I didn't think even you had enough denial to ignore it."

"I have more denial than you can imagine."

"Apparently." Greg stood up slowly and tugged on Nick's hand. "Come on. We should get some sleep."

"We gonna talk about this? Figure out what's going on?"

"We're dating," Greg said with a smile.


"We eat together, watch the game, hang out, have sex. What else do you think dating is?"


"Come on." Greg tugged on Nick's hand again. "I'm exhausted. You have no idea how frustrating it is to try to help Archie pick out a stereo system."

"I...that's what you did with him? You looked at stereos?"

Greg nodded. "I would have told you if you'd given me the chance. He God. I mean, I thought I was particular when it came to stereos, but he's just persnickety."

Nick smiled. "Persnickety?"

"I suppose that's what I get for offering to help an A/V tech pick out audio equipment."

"Yeah. I suppose so." Nick stood and followed Greg to the bedroom, holding on to Greg's hips as they walked. When Greg turned the light on, the cat lifted her head up and stared at them malevolently for daring to disturb her nap.

"Sorry, Molly girl," Greg said as he scooped the old cat into his arms. "You wanna sleep on your chair by the window? I'll open the blinds so you get lots of sun. That sound good?"

Nick pulled his shirt off as Greg carried the cat down the hall. He shucked his pants and shoes and was pulling the bedclothes down when Greg came back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Fuck," Greg breathed.

Nick looked at him. "What?"

"I just forget how beautiful you are until I see you again."

Nick blushed and ducked his head as he crawled beneath the covers. The sheets were still warm and they smelled of Greg and dryer sheets. He closed his eyes and listened to Greg move around the room, taking his clothes off, turning out the lights. The bed dipped as Greg crawled in and slid close to him. Nick reached out with his bandaged hand and found the spot on Greg's hip that he liked to hold. His fingers seemed to fit perfectly in to the hollow there.

"I was thinking earlier that I was crazy," Nick whispered. He scooted forward so that he was pressed against Greg's back.

Greg reached back and stroked Nick's thigh lazily. "You are," he said, seeming unconcerned.

Nick smiled and nuzzled the back of Greg's neck. "I'm probably going to freak out about this again tomorrow."

Greg patted Nick's leg gently. "That's OK. Go to sleep."

Nick closed his eyes, felt the warmth of the bed and the scent of Greg's skin envelop him. He slept.


*The title, Autre Ne Vueil, comes from the inscription on a a 15th Century French poesy ring that translates to, "No one but you." I thought that was pretty Valentine-y, and thus appropriate for a fic (that was supposed to be) posted on Valentine's Day.
Tags: *adult, *mature, -greg/nick, geekwriter143
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