Hungry

Greg groaned and briefly buried his nose in his jacket sleeve. “God that stinks,” he moaned into the fabric before lifting his head again and setting his kit on one of the island stools.

Nick stood beside him, his own nose wrinkling as he looked over the kitchen. “Okay, work the scene.”

Greg rolled his eyes and Nick shrugged. “Fine, if you don’t ever want that breakfast--”

“Alright,” Greg huffed, holding his hands up. It was the end of their shift and he was tired. If this was the only way he got another night— morning with Nick, then so be it. “Whatever you say, Boss. Uh, there was obviously a struggle in here.” He carefully stepped around the island and stood in the center of the kitchen. “The victim says--”

“Victim?” Nick asked, eyebrows arched.

“What? Are you saying anyone would ask for this?” Greg pointed to the large knife stuck straight up in the cutting board. “There was obviously a lot of… passion here.”

Nick smirked. “Some do people get off on that. I know the type. All teasing smiles, flashes of skin, bumping together accidentally, they’re practically begging for it. Don’t be assigning blame until you’ve gathered all the evidence.”

Greg scowled. “Looks like someone planned a romantic meal and things got out of hand. The story is they were cooking together and got distracted when there was too much accidental bumping together.” Greg bumped his hip into Nick before looking in the sink. “The burning pan set off the smoke alarm and got dumped in the sink. The vegetables were kicked and scattered from the cutting board when the smoke alarm was disabled.” He pointed out scuff marks on the counter top, obviously from a pair of tennis shoes.

“Well, there you go, the guy had every right to be compensated after he’d been working so hard. He wasn’t making leather and onions,” Nick quipped. “And if his advances weren’t accepted willingly, how’d they end up in the bedroom?”

Greg was still staring at counter. “Uh, what?”

“Your vic woke up in the bedroom, right? Do you see any other signs of a struggle getting in there?”

Nick saw Greg’s eyes cloud and he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Nick pressed himself against Greg’s back, one hand under his shirt and stroking his stomach and the other down his pants and squeezing his erection. “No, you didn’t struggle, did you? You were begging for it, Greggo. Admit it.” Greg groaned and Nick nibbled his neck, biting roughly. “Look at this mess.”

“Hey,” Greg squeaked. “It’s not my fault Grissom called us back--”

Nick ignored him. “You deliberately sabotaged breakfast because you couldn’t wait. Last night. This morning.”

Flashes of aborted shower sex as they raced back to work flitted behind Greg’s eyes. “Yes,” Greg hissed. “I’ll do it again too. Fuck breakfast. Just, god, Nick, fuck me!”

Nick pushed him up against the counter, unzipping his pants and pushing them down. He reached over the counter and grabbed Greg’s shaving kit, dumping it on the counter. “Get ready,” he growled.

Greg grabbed the lube and slicked his fingers, pushing them into his ass. He moaned at the soreness still lingering from the night before.

“Fuck,” Nick groaned, watching Greg stretch himself as he opened his pants and rolled a condom onto his cock. He slicked it with lube and pushed Greg’s hand out of the way. Despite the hurried preparation, he was careful pushing in, holding Greg tight against his chest. “Easy, easy there.”

Greg’s head fell back on his shoulder. “Nick…” more a harsh shuddering breath than actual enunciation.

“Yeah, I got you.” Nick leaned him over the counter again, slowly withdrawing and sliding back in. They both moaned, pushing together for the last few inches.

Greg arched and cried out when Nick changed the angle and the blunt head slid against his prostate. Nick held him there, fingers under his shirt again, twisting his nipples, and deep thrusts that just set him on fire. It wasn’t long before Greg was clawing at the counter top, begging to come.

Nick rode him harder, his own balls aching for release and when Greg started clawing at him too, one hand flying back to slap his hip and spur him on, he reached down and jerked him off. Greg came hard, his red sweaty face pressed to the counter, twisted as he bit his lip to keep from screaming and Nick couldn’t help licking at his mouth when he fell forward, biting and snarling through the convulsions wracking him.

Greg was shaking under him, legs quivering like jello and Nick carefully pulled out. He wasn’t strong enough to hold Greg up though and Greg laughed as he slid down and slumped on the floor, sighing as he leaned against the cool cupboards. Nick sank down next to him and Greg’s head rolled to the side, smiling at him. “I lo—um.” Greg’s eyes darted away and he cleared his throat. “I’m hungry.” He tried to straighten out his legs and pull his pants up. “We should clean this up and--”

Nick grabbed Greg’s head, pulling him over for a hard kiss. Greg was knocked off balance and ended up sprawled across Nick’s lap. Regardless of how, Greg was pliant in his arms and Nick relaxed too, the kiss becoming softer, but deeper. When they finally broke apart, he whispered, “Me too.”

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