Author: Jesika / Ice Queen
Warnings/Spoilers: Very brief mention of “PWF”
Summary: That naked cowboy looks an awful lot like our favorite Texan. Yeehaw. First CSI slash, be gentle.
It wasn’t until almost an hour before his shift ended that Greg realized his prized picture was missing, and he spent the entirety of the remaining hour searching in every trash can imaginable trying to find it. Now he sits on the floor just inside his apartment, his back leaning against the hard wood as he tries to imagine who might have taken, and what kind of harassment he’s going to have to face at work the next day.
Although he’s just finished one of the longest shifts he’s been dealt in a while, he knows sleep won’t come easily to him, his thoughts focused on the semen stained picture that could possibly be in the hands of an enemy, trying to find anything they can use against him. It’s not like they know who it belongs to, but it’s not hard to run DNA on the paper, he does work in a forensics lab after all.
He lets a deep breath exhale past his lips when he finally finds the strength to pull himself up off the ground, deciding that a long hot shower might do him some good to relax his aching muscles as he makes his way down to his bedroom, the balls of his hands rubbing furiously at his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the unshed tears that he never realized where present until now; it’s like a kid that loses his favorite blanket or stuffed bear, he takes that picture everywhere with him.
The black out curtains are drawn so that his room is pitch black when he walks in, his eyes closing briefly when he hit’s the light switch, washing the room in the artificial light. When he’s sure he can reopen his eyes without going blind, the young CSI gazes around the room, his body stiffening and his breath catching in his throat at the sight of his missing picture sitting on the pillows of his king sized bed. He wants to run over and grab it, press his lips to it like a lost child and promise to never lose it again, but his CSI training kicks in and he cautiously surveys the room, looking for any evidence of who might have brought it in.
His feet cautiously move him over to the bathroom, the small room flooding with light to reveal it’s emptiness before the CSI attempts to turn around, his muscles stiffening again when he feels a set of muscular arms wrap around his torso, pinning his arms to his side so that he can’t move.
It takes him a moment to realize that he’s still facing the mirror in the bathroom, and he cautiously looks up to see his attacker standing behind him, his knees buckling beneath him when he sees the wide grin playing under the black cowboy hat, the eyes shadowed just like in the picture he adores and masturbates to frequently.
“I saw the show you put on it the bathroom, I never knew I could turn you on that much.”
Greg can’t help but let his head fall back at the sound of the rough Texan accent, his neck becoming fully exposed and allowing the lips of the older man to ghost past the sensitive area below his ear, causing a loud moan of pleasure to ripple throughout the young CSI’s body.
“So it wasn’t just my imagination, that picture really is of you.”
Greg doesn’t really want or need an answer to his question, what he needs more is to feel skin against skin, feel that sweet tongue that’s gliding up the side of his neck to prod and explore his mouth, amongst other things. He needs to feel himself full of the cowboy standing behind him in that damn hat that keeps it all a mystery, keeps his imagination running on overtime until he’s laying spent in the middle of his oversized bed, wishing that instead of his own hand, it were the rough hands of his coworker stroking and manipulating his erection into orgasmic compliance.
His tainted imagination continues to run wild with pornographic thoughts until he feels a warm tongue licking at the side of his lips, his attention snapping to just in time to part his moist lips and turn his head as far as humanly possible, his ass grinding against the prominent erection behind him while his tongue begins a willing battle with the taste of gum and mouthwash.
He doesn’t realize that the hold on his torso has loosened until he finds himself standing chest to chest against the older man, their tongues still engaged in a furious battle as he slides his palms against the slick torso, faintly aware of the smell of strawberry massage oil radiating from the man in front of him. He makes a mental note to drop by the local sex shop the next time he gets a chance and buy some of that memorable oil, and something in the back of his mind tells him he won’t be needing it to masturbate to some pornographic picture anymore, not when he’s got the real cowboy standing in front of him, hands pulling his shirt over his head so quickly that lips barely break contact.
It isn’t until his lungs are burning from lack of oxygen that Greg manages to pull himself from the kiss, the room filled with the ragged sounds of panting as the young CSI slowly raises his eyes to those staring down at him from under the brim of the cowboy hat, that wide Texan smile hitting him right in his groin that’s really starting to become painful inside the tight restraints of his jeans.
It comes out as a throaty plea despite Greg’s attempts to control himself, his eyes rolling back briefly when he feels those rough Texan hands sliding down his bare chest, stopping momentarily to pinch and rub at the small pink buds, the brim of the hat pressing against Greg’s smooth chest as Nick leans down to suck on the young CSI’s nipple, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, causing Greg’s head to fall back against the door frame that he’s found himself pressed against.
“You can’t keep teasing me like this… fuck, I want to feel you in me.”
Nick straightens back up at the sound of need and urgency in Greg’s pleas, his lips finding their way back to the younger man’s while his hands find the buckle of his belt, pulling the restraining material free until he’s able to slide his hands down Greg’s sides and slip them into the back of his jeans, squeezing the round globes of his ass before pulling him up so the younger man’s legs are wrapped tightly around his waist.
Greg wraps one arm around the back of Nick’s neck while the other holds the cowboy hat in place on the older man’s head, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth at the feel of the older man’s lips and tongue traveling down the hollow of his neck, a small grunt escaping from within as his back is pressed against his bed under Nick’s weight.
Both men groan in displeasure when Nick pulls away and reaches for the lube that Greg keeps on the nightstand beside his bed, the younger CSI busying himself with removing his jeans and socks, his hand reaching out to stop Nick’s movements when he notices the older man getting ready to slick up his fingers with the warming liquid.
Nick gives his young lover a questioning glance before Greg grabs the lube and switches places with the older man, the cowboy hat slipping off Nick’s head as he lays back against the pillow, the picture laying forgotten on the floor as Greg straddles Nick’s thighs and pours lube down two of his fingers, his eyes never leaving the older man’s as he leans forward. Their lips capture in another heated kiss as Greg slips the fingers into the tight ring of muscles of his own ass, his back arching and a loud moan of pleasure escaping from within when he feels two of Nick’s fingers joining his own, stretching him enough to take in the seven inch cock below him without causing any discomfort or damage.
Their fingers move in sync with each other until Greg feels himself on the brink of orgasm, pulling the slick digits out before he can come, wanting nothing more than to be impaled by the Texan below him, both of their moans filling the room to the point that his neighbor’s dog is howling furiously outside.
Greg’s lips travel from Nick‘s lips and past his cheek, his teeth gently biting and pulling on the soft tissue of his earlobe as he feels the cowboy hat being placed on his own head, the sweat on the brim of the hat mixing with his own as he whisper’s “I’ve always wanted to ride a cowboy” before completely impaling himself on the older man’s throbbing cock, his eyes screwing shut while his jaw locks in a quiet scream of pleasure.
Nicks fingers dig bruises into Greg’s hips as he pushes his head deep into the pillow below him, his breath catching in his throat at the sudden action, his cock about ready to explode even before the younger man begins to move.
The feel of warm lips sucking on his neck brings the older CSI out of his temporary brain lapse, his eyelids slowly parting just as Greg sits back up, the younger man’s hands resting on Nick’s chest as he slowly pulls himself up off the hard cock before pushing back down, incoherent words leaving his lips and his eyes locking with the man below him.
The two men become caught up in a heated staring match as Greg’s rhythm picks up, his gaze taking in the sight of Nick’s facial expressions contorting with each hard push down, and he has to reach up and hold the hat in place as his pace gets even faster, the older man’s hips bucking up in time with Greg’s thrusts, both men quickly reaching the brink of their orgasms.
It doesn’t take but a few more thrusts before Greg is wildly screaming out his lover’s name, his ears faintly picking up the sound of his neighbors dog howling outside, and it isn’t until he lets his gaze fall down that he realizes that Nick has been stroking him this whole time, streams of cum now pooling on the older man’s stomach and matting down the small trail of hair that starts just under his navel.
His body has become to spent from his own orgasm to keep the younger CSI going anymore, both his hands now resting on Nick’s chest as he allows the older man to thrust up into him, taking control of his own movements until he feels his own essence painting the insides of his young lover.
Their bodies collapse together as they try to get their breathing under control, Nick’s arms wrapped tightly around Greg’s waist and the younger man’s hands still resting between their bodies on Nick’s chest, the pads of his thumbs ghosting over the older man’s nipples every few moments until feels Nick pushing him onto his side.
A grunt leaves Greg’s lips as Nick pulls out of him, the older man removing the cowboy hat from his young lover’s head and setting it safely on the nightstand beside the bed, his body blanketing Greg’s briefly as he leans over the bed to grab the picture, a slight blush rising in the younger man’s cheeks as Nick holds out the picture in front of them.
“You got off on this, and it wasn’t even my best work. You should see the pictures that they chose not to print in the magazine.”
Greg turns over until their bodies are molded together, their breaths mingling as the younger man pulls the picture out of Nick’s hand and crumples it in his own, tossing it back to the floor and smirking at Nick’s raised brow of curiosity.
“If they printed pictures other than that, my hand would be permanently attached to my dick. How about we make pictures of our own?”
Nick grins and leans into Greg, their lips meeting only briefly before the older man feels the young CSI’s breathing even out, that Texan grin playing on his lips as he follows his lover into a deep slumber, his last thoughts reminding himself to get in contact with the photographer the next time he gets a chance.
Thx for all the reviews, I didn’t expect this fic to be such a big hit. I guess I should do this more often. =D