Where You Belong

~~~~~~~~~~

Greg's Jeep Wrangler was dwarfed in the garage by Gil's Grand Cherokee. Not that he minded, since they used the larger when they went out together, or he drove a county vehicle at work. The garage caught the dusky light of sunset as Greg unloaded and hosed off his belongings.

When he finally hit the auto button to close the door, he took the opportunity to strip right there. Stepping into the kitchen nude wasn't a new experience. He was nearly silent as he proceeded through his home in search of the source of the keyboard noises.

As expected, he ended up in the office. Gil didn't look up from his computer, his glasses slipping down his nose. Greg smiled fondly, snagging one of the throw pillows that were always littered about their home. Setting it next to the chair casters, Greg dropped into a loose-limbed sprawl.

Curling one hand over the leg nearest him and sliding it suggestively high up the thigh, he kissed the outside of the knee and sighed. It was still some minutes before Gil looked away from the text on his screen. When he did, he dropped a gentle hand to card through Greg's hair.

"Did you have a good time, Pet?"

Greg um-hmmmed, eyes closed and almost dozing where he sat.

"I see you brought the beach back with you, once again."

Greg opened his eyes, frowning at the array of sandy particles on Gil's pants. "Damn. Must have been in my hair. I need a shower."

Gil chuckled, pushing back from the desk slowly to allow Greg time to untangle himself. "I believe the hot water would do me some good as well."

Greg's lips turned down slightly in irritated concern as he got to his feet. "You know you have to take breaks or your back starts to cramp up."

Gil's sheepish expression told the whole story and Greg rolled his eyes.

"See what you do to yourself when I'm not here to take care of you?"

Gil had taken the younger man in his arms, nuzzling at the salt-sticky neck. "To nag, you mean."

"Whatever works," Greg gasped as his partner's attentions became more concerted.

"Shower?" Gil suggested in a mumble against Greg's flesh.

"Yeah," he panted. "Just let me get the vacuum first."

Gil didn't release him as he started towards their room and the shower. "Let Rosemary take care of it. She comes by tomorrow."

As Gil started to strip, Greg's concern about sand in the carpet vanished. He assisted rapidly, stroking here or caressing there as flesh was revealed. Greg hurried ahead of his lover into the bathroom, quickly starting the spray of water.

He smiled when Gil brought a brightly burnished copper box into the bathroom with him. Greg immediately crossed to him, offering his neck. Gil lifted the stainless steel chain and dog tags free of Greg's head and dropped it to puddle on the counter next to the sink.

'If found, please return to Dr. Gil Grissom' and their address glinted in the light. Later, it would be washed, dried, and put away.

Gil flicked open the box's palm-sized lid and uncoiled Greg's usual adornment. Its brilliance glowed in the mellow light. They both hated to see it leave Greg's neck for the far more practical version. But it wasn't only Greg who'd be inconsolable if it was lost to the fury of the Pacific Ocean.

Greg sighed, his eyelids dropping to half-mast in contentment as his collar was once again around his throat. The dog tags were easy to tuck under a wet suit but they never felt the same.

"Admiring yourself, Pet?"

Greg's hand stilled and he blushed. He hadn't even noticed that he was stroking the jeweled gold that lay at his throat. "No… I…" he stopped the self-defense, recognizing the twinkle of Grissom mischief common to both mother and son.

"It's special to me," he murmured, stepping back into Gil's embrace.

They moved quickly into the shower after that, kissing as the spray rebounded off their bodies. Greg moaned as Gil stepped away in the roomy enclosure.

"Business first," was the gentle chastisement as the older man gestured with a shampoo bottle.

Greg turned obediently, dropping his head back so it could be scrubbed. He contemplated the tiles as he was rinsed and then shampooed again. The grit washing down his back grew lighter and Gil growled.

"Exactly how did you get this much in your hair?"

"Uh," Greg stalled. "I may have fallen a little harder than usual. It was rough today."

Greg was turned and waited patiently as he was quickly but thoroughly examined for damage or injury. "I'm okay," he offered.

Gil only frowned, prompting Greg to grab the shower gel and begin washing the skin before him. The body slowly relaxed under the long slow movements of suds and sponge, irrational worry fading with the day's effects. For a man enjoying the various consulting, writing, speaking activities of his retirement, he worried incessantly about Greg's safety in business and leisure.

The fall of water nearly obscured Greg's reminiscent words. "I've wanted you desperately since that first shower."

Gil's eyes heated, his hands moving to Greg's head as the younger man knelt at his feet. Greg nuzzled, licking the juncture of hip and thigh.

"Wanted to suck you… but you just wanted to sleep."

"Oh, I wanted much more than sleep, Pet."

Greg looked up, grinning wickedly. He bent his head to the stiffening cock, sucking it into his mouth with a noisily unnecessary slurp. He worked his lover's prick within his mouth fast and deep. Knees spread for balance, Greg's pace only slowed when the hands clenching in his hair brought him to a stop.

He whined, noting the leaking head still within reach. Gil's grip tightened farther, forcing Greg to his feet. He ascended, slowly, pouting. Nibbling at the exposed lower lip, Gil let his hands slide down Greg's shoulders. He followed the line of his body down his back until he had two hands full of that perfect ass.

Greg chuckled, the sound breaking off into a whimper. "You're obsessed with my ass."

Gil hummed, making no attempt at denial. "Shall I show you what I wanted to do that day?"

Greg had a fairly good idea, having enjoyed Gil's attentions quite vigorously over the last year. He turned in Gil's loosening arms, supporting himself against the wall. His hips thrusting back to Gil was a silent yet clear plea.

"Master," Greg fussed when Gil's action was delayed by his appreciation of the figure before him.

Gil reached out, following the path of the water down Greg's back, across his scars, to the dent at the top of his rear. Gil knelt, slowly and carefully on the slick tiles. Both hands on Greg's ass, he pressed and kneaded. Then, fingers wide, he spread the cheeks so that water ran over Greg's most hidden part.

The young man shivered, panting into the ceramic. His eyes were unbound, yet closed. The nervous anticipatory need of before was meshing with his comfortable lust for his partner.

Gil leaned forward, suddenly pressing the flat of his tongue to the crease and drawing up in a wide, hot strip. Greg yowled, the sound echoing as his hole quivered. Relentless, Gil painted the shivering flesh with broad stripes of saliva and darting touches.

The water flowed down Greg and over Gil's head as if they were already joined. Greg was making short animalistic cries as he pressed himself back, the pressure of Gil's hands maintaining his breathing space. Gil's wicked, agile tongue pressed in, pumping and curling into the flesh available.

Reduced to heavy breathing, Greg was gasping against the wall when Gil stood. Their flesh was pressed together too close for any water to flow between. He silently spread his legs, encouraging the thick cock pressed against him. Gil shifted and then pushed in.

Greg moaned as he slid deep, pressing until he was fully seated. It burned, the sudden stretch and minimal preparation. There was a different hurt to this primitive claim, but one he grinned ferally in enjoyment over.

"I knew then I wanted you, Pet."

Gil began to thrust. Greg shifting from outstretched to flat against the wall as his lover made no concession for his own adjustment. Not that he either expected or needed such consideration after their lengthy experience together.

"But I also knew parts of you were still original and not yet to be mine."

Greg dropped his forehead against the tile, bucking his hips back until Gil had to fuck harder just to stay seated in his body. "Yours," he growled.

Gil licked at the water on his nape, chuckling. "Yes, Pet. All mine now."

Greg was trapped against the wall again as Gil spilled inside him. He waited, knowing he'd accept his Master's release and await his own later, or explode now if offered. Gil's heavy breath panted into his ear.

"If I'd taken you how I truly wanted that first time… would I have scared you away?"

Greg shivered, the water quickly cooling. "You weren't much gentler the first time you did, Master," he admitted honestly in a soft voice.

He felt the stillness at his back as Gil froze. "No, no, no," Greg whined until Gil shushed him.

Gil pulled out carefully, turning Greg around and dragging them both out of the brunt of the spray. Greg's eyes met the look of loving concern on Gil's face.

"I didn't mean it like that," he protested.

Gil cupped his cheeks with shaking hands, mourning the loss of the deflating erection between slim thighs. "Greg, love… We don't usually use a caution but if I'm too hard on you…"

The young man shook his head within the restraining grasp. "No, please. I need you to possess me like that."

Gil's frown hadn't completely abated. "Your first time…"

"I was ready. I needed you, however you wanted me."

Gil pulled him close, hugging him briefly. Separating, they washed rapidly in water now chill against their heated skin. Stepping out of the shower, Gil was more solicitous than usual. He toweled them both dry, bundling Greg in his robe before pulling him close again.

Greg clung, letting his Master hold him for as long as needed. "What happened?" Greg asked softly. In the year they'd been together, they both had seemed to counter their insecurities.

Gil sighed. "We've been subpoenaed. We'll have to go back to Vegas and testify about one of the last cases we worked together."

Greg waited, rubbing Gil's back through his own robe.

"I started thinking… about how lost I'd be without you."

Smiling, Greg pulled back to kiss his lover's chin. "I love you, too."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, look what the cat dragged in."

Greg turned from his gentle teasing of Judy, the ever patient receptionist, to face Warrick. They traded a complicated handshake that included several more actions than conceivably necessary.

"Warrick, my man."

Warrick chuckled. "I'm quite a bit younger than your man, Greggo."

Before Greg could decide if there was any offense in that statement, Warrick had slugged him lightly in the arm. "What's with you dressing like a grown-up? Court?"

Greg shrugged, lifting a hand self-consciously to his hair. It was shorter than he'd previously worn it but still spiky and highlighted. "Court, yes… and Gil's mom keeps buying me clothes."

Warrick started laughing. "Ah, the stories we could bribe out of you."

He slung an arm over Greg's shoulder and steered him deeper into the lab. "Come on, you can say hi to everybody and I'll introduce you to the new people."

~~~~~~~~~~

Grissom was still blinking when Stefan, the CSI that had replaced Greg, sauntered out of Catherine's office. "He's… uh…"

"Flamingly gay?" Catherine asked with a smirk. "I know. Ecklie said something insulting about at least knowing in advance when I hired him."

Gil snorted. "Conrad's unchanged then."

"Oh, yeah."

"And everyone else?"

Catherine laughed. "What? Did you think the lab would stop when you left?"

Gil smiled the faintest of self-deprecating grins. "Not entirely."

She laughed again, shaking her head. "Greg has been good for you. I'm surprised… but very pleased."

"Thank you, Catherine."

She grew serious for a moment. "Gil, you should know I found your file on Sara."

"Oh?" he asked, deceptively uninterested.

"I spoke with her about it."

"Catherine…"

"I'm her boss now," Catherine interrupted. "You may have been willing to ignore that she was sexually harassing you, but I won't tolerate that behavior. Thank God you at least documented the prior incidences."

"That could end her career," Gil observed.

"If she doesn't stay straightened out, she deserves to have it end," Catherine stated without compromise. "Now, let's go find that boy of yours."

~~~~~~~~~~

Greg was fishing through the cabinets in the breakroom, wondering if that last stash of good coffee had ever been found. He'd forgotten one when he left, little surprise as he'd not only left hurriedly but had also stashed a secret supply in more than two dozen places.

"Back in Daddy's hands," he muttered, relieving the dusty container from its place in the very back.

The faint noise of the door behind him had Greg turning, climbing down from the stepstool he'd used to reach the isolated spot.

"You came back for your coffee?" Sara asked, arms folded across her chest.

Greg sighed mentally, not really having looked forward to this confrontation. Blind Tibetan monks had known that Sara had a thing for the boss.

"Nope," he replied brightly. "Testified on a case this morning, the coffee is just a bonus."

She released her combative posture, crossing the room to him. Leaning in, she seemed like someone confiding, supportive. Greg was instantly suspicious.

"I really hope the case goes smoothly… You left so quickly that I'm not sure you've heard."

"Heard?" Greg inquired, not yielding an inch of belief.

"Griss has been…" She hesitated with a slight downturn of her mouth that said she didn't want to inflict this on him. "His professionalism has been called into question. His methods, his ethics, all doubted. There were cases," another hesitation, "where they didn't even call him to testify because of it."

Her full attention was on him and Sara didn't see the persons standing at the door. "Sara," Greg whispered, leaning in conspiratorially.

"It's okay," she reassured, reaching out to touch his arm. "If you'd known that you'd ruin his career…"

Greg dropped his eyes, hiding the laughter he knew lurked in the irises. "Sara?" he tried again.

"Yes, Greg?"

He looked up, smug triumph etched in every centimeter of his face. "What bothers you more? That he didn't choose you, or that he chose me?"

Her face darkened instantly as she yanked her hand back. "You…"

"I wouldn't finish whatever you're about to say," Catherine warned. She'd waited in the door at Grissom's cautioning hand, pausing to see how this played out. As usual, the older man had been right.

Greg straightened, smirking down at the canister in his hand for a moment. "You know what? Keep the coffee… The good stuff is almost as good as an orgasm."

Nonchalantly, Greg deposited the dusty canister on the counter just in front of Sara. He strolled across the small room, feeling the dagger bearing stare digging into his back. Catherine was the recipient of a quick grin before he flashed his full attention onto his partner. Gil's lip twitched in that way that said he was highly amused but too nice to show it in public.

Greg reached out, curling his hand around his lover's neck to pull him down into a kiss. It started as a quick press of lips, deepening rapidly as Greg staked his very public claim.

"All right, you two… Get a room," Catherine interrupted with a nudge into Greg's side.

The young man sidled away from it, pressing briefly against the very appreciative flesh before him. He pulled back, grinning. "I believe we already have one."

Grissom never looked away from Greg as he added, "Catherine, call me when there's an outcome."

Neither of them gave any true attention to the women as they turned away. Catherine, though, was still staring hard and displeased at Sara.

~~~~~~~~~~

Greg sauntered into the hotel room a step ahead of Gil. It was quite a bit nicer than the city usually rented for even a visiting expert. Fortunately, they'd been successful in the argument that the city would save money on combining their two planned rooms into one upgrade as the men would hardly sleep apart.

As the door closed and locked, Greg turned. He waited, watching as Gil leaned back against the exit. This was awkward, a departure from the norm. The entire trip had them slightly off center. Their life had been developed in California. They'd settled into a routine and both knew their parts.

Here, in Las Vegas, it was hard not to return to the way things were before. Of course, before hadn't been nearly as satisfying.

"That was rather unusual for you, Pet."

Greg stepped back towards the door, closer to Gil. He shrugged, glancing down as he came within arm's reach.

"I didn't think you appreciated the idea of public displays."

Greg shrugged again. "People don't usually understand our sort of displays."

Reaching out, Gil cupped a hand behind Greg's head. He urged the younger man forward, pulling him into his own relaxed body.

"And today?" he inquired.

Greg shrugged again.

"Gregor."

The serious tone and his first name had Greg looking up. Gil was frowning slightly, serious and completely not playful. Las Vegas brought back uncertainty and a tendency towards before. Greg really didn't want to return to the loneliness and loss.

"No," he murmured. Reaching up, he gripped the lapels of Gil's suit. They crumpled easily under his suddenly sweaty and desperate hands. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean…"

Greg's face was wilting as fast as the suit he was mangling. "Please…"

Gil shushed him, pulling him into his arms and pressing his head down onto a shoulder. "Greg… Pet… What's...?"

They'd fallen into such an easy, comfortable rhythm that Gil found himself floundering. Once again, it seemed they'd succumbed to a miasma of miscommunication. The same occurrence had almost kept them from existing at all. He wouldn't lose what they'd built.

"Tell me what's wrong," Gil practically begged.

Greg stiffened, wiping his face against Gil's shoulder before turning it back out so he could speak. He did so, hesitant at voicing his fears.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Master. I just wanted…" Tapering off, Greg didn't want to admit his fault.

"I told you to always ask for what you want, Love," Gil murmured. It was a gentle reminder, a cornerstone of what they had together.

"You also told me I wouldn't always get it."

Gil sighed, closing his eyes. He didn't want to imagine his world coming apart as he leaned against a hotel room door. However, he refused to take another step until this insecurity was aired.

"Tell me." It wasn't a beg, or even a request. This was a flat-out, simple demand.

Greg complied as he was accustomed to doing… immediately and without prevarication. "I wanted them to know you were mine."

He paused, waiting for Gil's response. When it didn't come, he babbled his explanation in an increasingly nervous voice. "I know I'm yours… Completely yours, for however and whatever you want of me. But she's always coveted you… And I know that you may want to bring another home some day. I'm yours, so I'll do anything you want… But…"

Greg pressed his face into the shoulder again. It absorbed the strained drops that had escaped his desperate control. "Please, Master, not Sara."

Gil frowned into the room, confused and trying to understand. It literally sounded like Greg expected him to take another. To bring someone into their lives as if they needed the supplement.

"Oh, Pet," he sighed. Gil urged Greg away from the nestled protection of his grasp. He drew the younger man back until he could meet the hesitant and wary gaze.

Greg was clearly trying to be accepting and failing even as he agreed with the impossible. "I will accept anyone you choose. I promise."

Gil smiled slightly, saddened that he had neglected this one necessary reassurance for so long. A year together and still he'd allowed Greg this doubt.

"You will, Pet?"

Greg swallowed, clearly not liking the taste of the words even as he spoke them. "Yes, Master."

"I've already chosen."

Closing his eyes, Greg nodded miserably.

"I chose you, Gregor Mathias Sanders."

Eyelids blinking open, Greg stared at Gil in confusion. It was clear he didn't understand.

Gil's face drooped in obvious grief as he lifted his hands. He cupped Greg's face between them, stroking the pained lines in such precious flesh. "Don't you understand, Pet?"

Greg shook his head, mute.

"You are mine, as I am yours. There's no one else for me. There never will be."

Greg's bottom lip curled inward, depressed slightly where he clutched it with his teeth. He waited for the denial, still expecting to lose everything. Gil was the first person he'd been able to love and keep.

Gil took a deep breath, finally stepping away from the door. He guided Greg into the room, pushing him steadily closer to the bed. Finally, he released him to gesture his intentions.

"Get undressed and pull the covers back. I'll be with you in a moment."

Greg stared after him until the bathroom door closed between them. The suit the young man had been wearing was stripped with jerky, uncertain motions and dropped across a nearby chair. He toed his shoes off, leaving them to the side and stripped off his socks with harsh yanks.

Crawling up on the bed, Greg pushed the covers down sloppily. They bunched and huddled at the end of the bed, the decorative cover falling to lump messily on the floor. Despite Gil's words, he remained uncertain. The long minutes where the noises from the bathroom continued but his lover didn't emerge weren't precisely reassuring.

When Gil finally did step back into the room, he was nude as well. He glanced at the slight mess the younger man had made, his lips curling up at the minor sign of petulance. It wasn't the time for discipline.

Greg lounged, the medallion of his collar chain settling into the dip of his throat. The ant charm moved jerkily every time he swallowed, wriggling against his skin on its double helix links.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Gil held out a small black box. "When I left Las Vegas, I thought this lost. Catherine returned it to me today. I wasn't particularly thorough in cleaning out my office."

Gil made no move to take it back, still offering it to Greg. He sat up slightly, reaching out for the item. The box was hinged, a jeweler's resting place. Working it open carefully, he stared at the familiar ring.

It was a Master's ring. Specifically designed for the Domain, Greg had seen them before. He'd even glimpsed Gil's once, but it hadn't looked like this.

"She did have it modified, but I heartily approved the change."

Where once the ant had sat lonesome, raised slightly against the surface, it now had accompaniment. There was a loop, an etched circle surrounding the center object. The double helix was echoed here, eternally vigilant around the insect.

"When you put it on me," Gil's voice broke through Greg's minor fugue, "I will never again take it off without your hand removing it."

Greg's hands shook as he eased the gold from its case. Gil took the box, tossing it without care into some lost corner of the room. He waited, hand out, for Greg's attention. It slid up his finger with a heavy weight. Now he understood fully why Greg hated to be parted from his true collar. This was the reassurance filling the vacancy he'd never fully realized was there.

"As I am yours, you are mine," Greg whispered, his hands stilling. He looked up, meeting Gil's adoring gaze with such radiant pleasure as to be nearly shining.

Gil leaned down, meeting his lover's lips with his own. They kissed slowly, softly, sweetly. It wasn't about possession. It was about love.

When he drew back, Gil twisted his hand to offer Greg the other item he'd brought out of the bathroom with him. Anticipating, Greg smirked at the small package of lubricant. He moved to roll over, eager to offer his lover and Master the use of his body.

But Gil stopped him with a hand on his hip.

"No, Pet…"

Greg paused, pouting. "Master," he whined, wanting the physical reminder of his joy.

Gil clambered onto the bed, stretching out next to the already supine body. He scooted closer and Greg curved to meet him. Stretched along each other, touching from neck to toes, Gil whispered his explanation.

"I've always found it hard to trust."

"I know, Master. It's okay," Greg reassured, stroking lightly at the edges of the chest pressed against him. He moved again to roll over and was halted once more.

"Pet," Gil sighed, a slight anxiety coloring his tone with frustration.

Greg blinked. His face slackened as he understood what Gil was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to offer. "No… I can't…"

"I thought you'd do anything for me?" Gil teased lightly.

"I… You…" Greg paused, disbelieving. "Really?" he asked, shades of his younger self bleeding through the shock.

Gil chuckled, kissing Greg lightly on the chin. "Really, Pet. I want you to do this for me. Consider it a service."

Greg preened under the now stroking hands. "I didn't think you'd ever want that from me," he admitted.

"It's not a frequent desire," Gil admitted, "but I desire you in every way."

"Master," Greg breathed out as Gil's mouth turned to nibbling at his ear. "How?"

Slapping lightly across the buttocks under his hand, Gil grinned. "Impatient."

Before Greg could demur, Gil was turning his back to the younger man. They were spooned, Greg's very anticipating cock pressed into his Master's backside.

"Oh," Greg sighed. "Like this, then…"

Neither of them needed to explain that the position would be easiest on Gil's older body. Greg bent to kiss lightly at the nape exposed to his hungry gaze. He stretched one arm, urging it under his lover's head for support and connection. The other, dropping the necessity between them, moved to stroke and reassure.

Greg had never failed to participate in their sex play. He'd simply never been in a position to initiate it before. While he'd certainly been free to ask if he was particularly in the mood, they tended to perform when Gil wished.

It wasn't long before Greg's hand was stroking over his lover's hip. At the silent urging, Gil curled more onto his front, his leg lifting up towards his torso. "You're going to feel so good, Pet," he murmured, kissing the arm beneath his head. His hands clenched in the sheet, flexing as Greg's hand ventured further.

The lubricant was cold, warming quickly as Greg smoothed it into the sensitive skin of his lover's crease. Fluttering under his fingers, Gil's anus was a fascinating new territory. They sighed in unison as Greg dipped one exploratory fingertip shallowly inside. It wasn't quite enough to tease.

"There is such a thing as too slow, Pet," Gil growled in warning, straining back until he'd taken the entire digit.

Greg whimpered at the sight of his Master moving himself on that one finger. Easing it back, he waited until the body in front of him had grown still. Ever careful of this offering, he coated his fingers liberally before venturing back.

Two slid in slowly, resisting. Gil hissed at first, silencing himself when it seemed as if Greg might stop. Cautious, Greg held his hand still. He could feel the muscles spasming, adjusting to his presence and adapting to the expansion. When it seemed best, he began to move his hand. Pumping in and out, Greg luxuriated in the soft moan of approval.

Eager, he slipped a third fingertip past the opening. Impatient now, Gil shoved back onto the hand. It sank deep, rubbing over his prostate as Greg flexed his fingers in surprise.

"Enough," Gil growled. "Fuck me, now."

Gil's anus twitched as Greg rapidly withdrew his fingers. He spread the slickness over his far too eager cock, edging his body even closer. They were pressed into a single skin as Greg guided himself to the hole. Pressing inside, there was a moment's breath in which it seemed as if the entire world paused.

Then, sinking inside in a single steady movement, Greg pressed his forehead to Gil's upper back. "Master," he breathed out.

"Oh, God," Gil moaned. "Yes, Pet, just like that."

They found a rhythm fairly easily. Greg's smooth movements of hip and Gil's responses kept them locked together. Unlike their usual frenzy, this was a subtle mating of body. Relatively certain that he wasn't fantasizing as he'd never even dared hope for this experience, Greg eased his tight grip of Gil's hip to slide his hand around front.

Gil's prick was leaking steadily, caught by his raised thigh. As Greg's hand closed around him, stroking in time with the now faster thrusts, he groaned. Greg began to whimper, his movements becoming jerky.

Removing his hand from the twisted sheet to cover Greg's, Gil whispered, "Come with me, Love."

Directing them together in a fast, hard stroke, his completion came quickly. Faint arcs spilled onto the sheet as Gil pushed back onto Greg's cock. The younger man pressed forward, burying himself deep as he came with a groaning shudder.

They stayed silent for an extended time, pressed together and unwilling as yet to give up the connection. As Greg slipped from his body, Gil wiggled back to keep them spooned together. They'd be sticky and uncomfortable in a few minutes, but that simply didn't matter yet.

"Thank you," Greg finally spoke to Gil's neck. He licked apologetically over the reddened result where he'd bitten down when he came.

Squirming slightly, Gil raised the joined hands covered with his own semen to kiss Greg's hand. "Never doubt that this is where we belong, Pet," he asserted with quiet confidence.

He didn't need to explain to his lover that he wasn't referring to Las Vegas. There was only one thing he could mean - together.

Finis

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