FIC: One Good Man -- Part 19/19
Oct. 5th, 2004 10:25 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngregAuthor: Geekwriter
Title: One Good Man – Part 19
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nick lets go of the Werner case and Greg learns to compartmentalize.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. My parents are visiting, and, you know, it's hard to write porn when your mom's around.
Nick set his mouth in a tight line as he leaned back against the wall in the small observation room. He'd never seen so many people want to watch a suspect interrogation before, but then again he'd never dealt with a suspect like Jason Werner before. There was a row of chairs in front of the one-way glass and he could have taken one of them since he and Brass had been two of the first to arrive, but he just leaned back against the wall and that's where he stayed.
He'd only been asked to observe as a courtesy, he knew. He'd only been asked since he'd been the one lucky—or unlucky—enough to come across Werner and bring him in.
"Kid would look almost normal if he didn't have those horns growing out of his head," Brass said, flicking a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
Nick made a noise that could be interpreted either as a laugh or a sigh. Even he didn't know which one it really was.
Jason Werner did look normal. Completely normal. Nick hated that about suspects—there was some part of him that still felt like psychopaths should stick out somehow, be easily identifiable. Sure, he was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, handcuffs, and his ankles had been chained together and cuffed to his chair, but other than that? Completely average.
Blonde hair a little too long, plain face that was close to handsome, stunning blue eyes. He was just a kid, a nineteen year-old kid and as long as Nick lived he'd never understand what it was that made some people into monsters. He didn't deal in motive, since it was all psychological, all conjecture, but he couldn't help wondering: why this kid? What had gone so horribly wrong?
Greg had been invited, too, but an hour before they were supposed to leave he'd claimed he was too tired and just needed to sleep. Nick hadn't argued with him. He hadn't gotten much sleep, Nick knew, and he knew it was only partly because of the sheer volume of things Greg'd had to analyze from the Werner scene over the past few days. Greg had nightmares every time he fell asleep, nightmares he claimed not to remember when he woke up. Hell, maybe he actually didn't remember them, since Nick had never known him to hide from his emotions, and maybe that was part of the problem.
Nick figured he'd have a nightmare or two eventually. It was bound to happen when you saw things like that, so he didn't worry about it and he knew when he did have his nightmares that they wouldn't be nearly as bad as Greg's. He was good at turning off his emotions, good at compartmentalizing everything, good at walking away from work unscathed. Hell, he was good at it even when it wasn't about work. He could be the good son when he went back to Texas to see his family, he could be the horny stud on the dance floor, he could be the reliable employee at the lab, and his roles never mixed.
Greg hadn't ever learned to do that because he'd never had to hide who he was. It made Nick a little sad to realize that if Greg wanted to make it as a CSI he'd have to learn. Terrible things happened, people did things to each other that the devil hadn't even imagined, and it was their job to figure out the details. No one would last even a year doing that unless they figured out how to lock the horrors away in a vault in the back of their mind. From the outside, Nick knew the CSIs looked uncaring, unfeeling; it seemed wrong the way they could walk through a bloody scene and not recoil at the violence. It wasn't that they didn't feel it, they just had to tuck those emotions away and do their jobs. When he started the job he'd been hiding things from other people and from himself for so long that it was like second nature. He'd never say it out loud, but he almost hoped Greg wouldn't be able to make it as a CSI, because he was scared of what would happen if Greg learned to turn off his heart.
Nick had been staring down at his shoes as they waited for the interview to begin. As soon as the door to the interrogation room opened he glanced up. The woman who entered was small, and he thought it was funny that he'd expected her to be some sort of massive giant. She was a profiler, not a wrestler, and it wasn't her physical size that mattered.
"Jason," she said as she took a seat. She was wearing a black pantsuit with conservative pearl earrings, her hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. "I'm Special Agent Deaver." She nodded at the man who walked in just moments behind her. He was wearing a black suit and a grim expression. "This is Special Agent Rose, we're with the FBI."
Jason Werner smirked at that, and Nick rolled his eyes. He'd read enough of Werner's notebooks to know that the kid had wanted to become the most infamous serial killer of all time and that ending up on the FBI's Most Wanted List was one of his goals. He was probably tickled pink that the PD had called in the Feds for help.
Not that Nick minded FBI involvement. He actually hadn't heard a single grumble within the entire police force about it, which was rare. But nobody wanted to even look at Werner, let alone talk to the twisted little punk, so handing him off to the Feds had been an easy decision to make. They were more equipped to handle psychopaths like Werner, anyway.
"Jason," Special Agent Deaver said, "do you know what you're accused of?"
Jason Werner smiled at that, grinned as big as life, and Nick couldn't help but shudder at how disturbing it was to see how proud of himself Werner was.
"I know what I am," Werner said, the grin still on his face. "I'm the most twisted serial killer you've ever met."
Special Agent Deaver seemed less than impressed. Her expression remained impassive. "Well, actually you're accused of being a spree killer, Jason. A serial killer rests between kills, which you didn't."
Nick felt a sick twist of pleasure at the way Werner's smile faltered.
"I didn't have time," Werner snapped. "Those fucking faggots ruined everything."
Nick swallowed hard. He didn't know if Werner had actually heard about his relationship with Greg or if he was just using the word in a generally derogatory way.
"That fucking cop, man," Werner snapped. "Him and his gun, like that made him so fucking special. All the while talking to the other one like I was some kind of experiment, some kind of example. This is how you pack a gun for evidence, this is why you don't hold a suspect on the ground." He sneered. "He probably talks like that when he's fucking his girlfriend. This is how you stroke my dick, this is how you rub your tits. You know how guys like that are."
Special Agent Deaver shrugged. "I haven't had the chance to meet either one of the men who apprehended you," she said simply. "Let's talk more about you."
"I'm a badass, baby," Werner said, leaning across the table as much as his restraints would let him. "If those faggots hadn't caught me I'd be the most evil fucker the world has ever seen. I was born bad, baby, and I'm ready and willing to live up to my birthright."
Nick rolled his eyes. He'd read the exact same thing in Werner's notebooks and he didn't think Special Agent Deaver would get anything else out of him, at least not during their first interview.
"I'm gonna go," he whispered to Brass. "The kid's just jerking off and I've been up for eighteen hours."
Brass nodded at him. "See you tonight."
Nick felt good about leaving as he walked into the hall. It seems the observation room was packed to capacity, and by leaving he made it possible for another one of the cops waiting in the hall to go in and watch.
"He saying anything good?" some uniformed officer Nick didn't know asked as he headed down the hall.
Nick shook his head. "Just the same thing he's been saying to anyone who'll listen. Born bad, all that stuff. She's good, though, the FBI profiler. If you can get in or watch the tape later, I'd pay more attention to her than him. She seems like she knows how to conduct a hell of an interview."
"Cool," the young cop said. "Thanks."
Nick ran his hand over his hair and yawned as he headed out into the bright sunlight. The sun felt good on his skin and he turned his face up towards it and stretched before climbing into his truck and driving home.
When he got in, Greg was sitting in the middle of the living room in just his boxers, surrounded by sheets and sheets of notebook paper. Some of them were full; some contained only a line or two. He watched as Greg intently scribbled something on the notebook in his lap, ripped the sheet out of its spiral binding, and looked around him until he found the pile he wanted to place it in.
"What are you doing?" Nick asked.
Greg looked up at him and grinned that sweet, goofy grin that still made Nick's stomach flip. "Didn't hear you come in," he said.
"Looks like you're busy."
Greg nodded and looked back at the piles of paper around him. "I'm compartmentalizing."
Nick laughed softly. "You're what?"
"Compartmentalizing. You know, dividing things into separate categories."
"I know what the word means," Nick said, toeing off his shoes and walking into the living room. He sat down on the outer edge of Greg's ring of paper. "But I'm pretty sure it's generally done internally."
Greg shrugged as he flipped through one of the piles. "I like to have all my data easily accessible."
"Your data."
"Yeah. You know, my thoughts and emotions. See, I've made three basic categories: things not to think about at work, things not to think about at home, and things never to let myself dwell on no matter where I am. And there are subcategories within each larger category."
Nick picked up the closest sheet of paper and looked at it for a moment. "How hot Nick looks in his CSI vest," he read.
"That's something not to think about at work," Greg said. "And it's in the subcategory of sexual distraction."
Nick grinned and lay the paper back down on the pile he'd picked it up from. "And how, exactly, is this supposed to work?"
"Well," Greg said, "that pile is going to stay here, obviously. Now these piles," he gestured to the stacks of paper to his right, "I'm going to put in a binder and take to work and leave them in my locker."
"And those?" Nick asked, reaching for the pile of paper behind Greg and to his left. He read the single sentence on the top page. The look in Tara Meadows' eyes when she thought I wanted to hurt her.
Greg took the stack of paper from Nick's hand. "These I'm going to burn." He frowned. "Which would be easier if I had a fireplace. Maybe I'll shred them, instead."
"Well, that's—"
"I know it's kind of stupid," Greg said, setting the papers back where they'd been before Nick picked them up. "I know that this isn't really how you're supposed to compartmentalize things, but I figured a symbolic gesture would be a good start."
"I think it's brilliant," Nick said, leaning across the circle of paper surrounding Greg to kiss him.
"You're messing up my piles."
"So? You work well surrounded by chaos." Nick slid his fingers through Greg's hair. He kissed Greg over and over again, kissed him and pulled him close and leaned forward until Greg was on his back and Nick was settled comfortably over him.
Greg smiled up at him and ran his fingers through Nick's hair. "Well, I am a genius," he said.
"Absolutely brilliant," Nick murmured.
"A gifted intellectual, even."
Nick laughed softly as he brushed his lips against Greg's cheek. "Don't forget modest."
"Yeah, that too." Greg slid his hands up and down Nick's back, wrapped one leg over Nick's thighs. "Oh, this is so not the time to mention this, but if I don't I'll forget. Your mom called."
Nick pushed himself up on his hands. "She called here?"
"Yeah. Have you returned any of her calls since the whole Werner thing broke?"
Nick sat up and shook his head. "No."
Greg reached up and gripped Nick's shirt in his hand. "I knew I shouldn't have mentioned it. Get back down here."
Nick shook his head and stood up, then reached down to pull Greg to his feet. "Bedroom," he whispered.
Greg smiled at him, that goofy, sexy smile again and it sent a stab of electricity through his belly and made his knees weak. He took Nick's hand in his and led him down the hall into the bedroom.
Nick saw that the sheets were rumpled, the comforter thrown back and half-off the bed. "Bad dream?" he asked softly as he wrapped his arms around Greg's waist.
Greg shrugged, then nodded.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Nothing to talk about. I can't ever remember them, just remember flashes and the fact that when I wake up I'm terrified."
Nick kissed him gently. "You're safe, you know. With me."
Greg nodded. "I know." He tugged Nick's shirt out of his waistband. "You're wearing far too many clothes."
Nick grinned and shoved Greg back so that he landed on the bed—their bed. Greg looked beautiful and debauched as he sprawled out on the bed, his hard on tenting up his boxers. "Take 'em off," Nick said as he started to unbutton his shirt.
"You gonna give me a show?" Greg asked with a gleam in his eyes.
"If you're lucky. Take 'em off. I want you naked."
Greg took a deep breath as he lifted his hips to push his boxers down. He slid them down his thighs, his hard cock slapping against his taut abs as he did so. He kicked his boxers off, pushed himself up the bed so he was leaning back against the pillows, watching with heavy eyes as Nick slowly unbuttoned his shirt and opened it, letting it fall off his shoulders and down his arms.
"Touch yourself," Nick whispered.
Greg swallowed hard.
"Stroke your cock. I want to watch you."
Greg's eyelids fluttered closed as he slid one hand down his stomach, wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock. He squeezed gently and moaned softly in the back of his throat.
"Not like that," Nick said as he popped open the button on his pants. "Do it like you would if I wasn't here."
Greg opened his eyes and looked at Nick for a long moment. His cheeks were beginning to flush pink, and Nick loved how the flush spread down from his cheeks to his chest, loved how Greg's entire body reacted when he was turned on.
"Jerk off for me," Nick told him. "I wanna see how you do it."
Greg nodded and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. His hand began to slide up and down his cock in earnest and he took a shaky breath as he let his eyes close again. He spread his legs to give Nick a better view and slid his free hand over his abs and up his chest. He brushed his fingers over one nipple, then the other. His other hand was stroking his cock purposefully, not slow, really, but at a measured, unhurried pace.
"You look so hot like that," Nick groaned as he unfastened his pants and pushed them down. He stepped out of them, left his pants and his socks in a pile at the foot of the bed. He walked around the side of the bed, never taking his eyes off Greg.
Greg slid his hand back down his stomach, down his hip. He stroked his thighs, squeezed his balls for a moment, slid his hand back up to his chest to play with his nipples again.
"What do you think about?" Nick asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out to touch Greg's hip but stopped himself and placed his hand on the sheet instead. "What do you think about when you're touching yourself?"
Greg opened his eyes, heavy with lust, as he slid his hand up his chest, up his neck, up to his mouth. He parted his lips and slid two fingers in and began to suck on them.
Nick took a deep breath, his eyes locked on Greg's full, swollen lips as they wrapped around his fingers, as he slid his fingers between them at the same tempo he used to stroke his cock. He pulled his fingers out of his mouth and reached down, bent his legs so he could push up with his feet and lift his hips. He spread his legs and lifted his hips and arched his head back as he pressed his fingers against his asshole, groaned and smiled as he slid them inside.
Nick felt his breath catch in the back of his throat as Greg began to fuck himself on his fingers.
"I think about you," Greg whispered, his voice rough with desire. He slid his fingers in and out of his ass slowly, grinding his hips against them as he continued to stroke his cock. "I think about you fucking me. I think about the way your cock feels heavy on my tongue."
"God," Nick whispered, not even aware that he'd said anything. He took a deep breath and slid his own hands over his body, his lips parted as he breathed heavily through his mouth.
"I think about…" Greg's voice broke as he slid his fingers even deeper inside himself. "I think about the way you kiss my scars when you fuck me from behind. I think about the way you bite my neck when you come."
Nick couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch Greg's stomach. His skin was warm and flushed and Nick could feel the muscles contracting beneath his touch.
"Oh, God," Greg moaned, arching his hips up, pressing his head back against the pillows.
"Put another finger in," Nick told him.
Greg nodded, pulled his fingers out, slid three back in. He whimpered and turned his head to press it hard to the side.
"You're so beautiful like that," Nick murmured. "You're so beautiful when you're hard, so beautiful when you touch yourself."
"Nick," Greg whispered. "I want you. I want you inside me."
Nick shook his head slowly. It was killing him not to grab Greg, not to shove his legs up, press his knees to his shoulders and slide inside him, but he wanted to watch as Greg brought himself off. Just the idea sent delicious shivers all through him.
"Bring yourself off for me," Nick told him.
"I need you inside me."
"You'll get me. But I wanna watch you come first." Nick wrapped his fingers around his own cock, didn't stroke it, just squeezed it to help relieve the painful ache. "You're so hot when you fuck yourself like that."
Greg breath was ragged as he continued to stroke his cock. He began to slam his fingers into his ass, twisted and crooked them up to hit his prostate. He was making desperate noises low in his throat and he tossed his head from side to side. "God, Nick," he gasped. "Oh, God, fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…"
Nick couldn't believe how beautiful Greg was like that, how amazingly sexy it was to watch him pleasure himself.
Greg was whispering a long string of words, not saying anything to Nick, really, just whispering to himself as he brought himself closer and closer to climax.
"Jesus, Nicky, oh God, oh fuck me like that, just like that, God so good so fucking good, fuck me hard, fuck me like a little whore, fuck me just like that, God, your cock's so good, so good, fuck me, God, need you to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…"
Greg grunted and arched his back as he came. The noises he made were completely unselfconscious, his desperate whimpers and cries as he shot ribbons of cum up across his belly, his chest.
Nick leaned and licked a large splash of cum that stretched along the side of Greg's neck. He found Greg's mouth and kissed him, Greg's lips parting as his tongue hungrily searching out his own taste in Nick's mouth.
"More," Greg gasped as Nick pulled back.
Nick grinned as he pushed one of Greg's knees up to his shoulder so he could move between his legs. "Greedy boy," he murmured before licking up another glob and savoring its salty-sour taste before he pressed his lips to Greg's to share it with him.
He didn't even have to look to find the condoms and lube, just reached up and they were there where he knew they would be. He continued to kiss Greg deeply as he slid the condom down his length, as he lubed up his cock and then slid a couple of lube-slick fingers into Greg's ass.
"Gonna fuck you now, baby," he murmured against Greg's mouth. "You want that?"
"Yes," Greg gasped.
Nick smiled as he leaned up, settled himself on his knees and held his cock in his hand, sliding the head of it back and forth over Greg's asshole.
"God, do it," Greg moaned.
"Like a little whore, huh?" Nick asked with a grin.
Greg's blush was visible even over the sex flush that darkened the skin from his belly to his cheeks. His eyes closed as he smiled shyly.
"You're mine," Nick said as he pressed his hips forward, groaned as Greg opened for him and he slid inside.
"Yes," Greg panted.
"Look at me."
Greg struggled to open his eyes, but he managed to look up at Nick, his expression unguarded and full of love.
"You're mine," Nick said again.
"Yes," Greg said, still looking up into Nick's eyes.
"And I'm yours."
Greg smiled a happy, heavy-eyed smile. "Yeah." He reached up to touch Nick's face, traced his fingertips along his cheekbone down to his mouth.
Nick kissed Greg's fingertips. He began to thrust slowly and Greg whimpered but didn't look away.
"Need you," Nick panted.
"Need you, too," Greg whispered, reaching up to grip Nick's hair in his hand.
"Need to be inside you, need to be with you, need you next to me when I sleep." He stretched out over Greg's body as he continued his steady thrusts into Greg's body. Their mouths were together but they weren't kissing so much as they were sharing one other's breath. "Love you so much, baby."
Greg finally let his eyes close. He slid his hand down to caress the back of Nick's neck as his other hand felt up the tense muscles in Nick's arm and shoulder. "Love you, too."
"Can't even tell you how much," Nick gasped. "Can't even tell you how much I love you, how much I need you, how you make me feel."
Greg opened his eyes again and smiled gently up at Nick. He wrapped his legs around Nick's waist and pressed his fingers against Nick's mouth. "Shh," he murmured. "It's all right. I know, Nicky. You don't have to say it. I know."
Nick closed his eyes, kissed Greg's fingers, felt like he was going to cry. So much ugliness in the world, so much cruelty, so much hate, and in the midst of it all he'd found a refuge, had found love and beauty and Greg, found Greg most of all.
He tipped his head down and pressed his face against Greg's neck, dropped down onto his elbows so that their bodies were pressed together, shivered as he felt Greg's legs tighten around his waist, Greg's arms tighten around his shoulders and hold him so close.
His eyes were closed as his hips continued to pump, his cock sliding in and out of Greg's tight, hot asshole, sending shivers all through him. His eyes were closed and he thought of Greg walking confidently through the streets of San Francisco, Greg laughing as they made love, Greg's intense concentration as he performed intricate operations in the lab, Greg with piles of paper around him as he attempted to compartmentalize his life, but mostly just of Greg at that moment. Mostly just Greg with his arms and legs wrapped tight around him, Greg kissing his ear and his temple and his cheek, Greg's fingers digging tight into his skin, Greg making soft noises in the back of his throat every time he slid into him.
He came hard, crying out against Greg's sweat damp skin, felt like he was being split into a million pieces and then coming together again in a crash, felt like if Greg wasn't clinging to him so hard he might break apart. He collapsed over Greg's body and felt Greg's hands gentle in his hair and against his back, Greg whispering soft, reassuring words to him and it was only then that he realized that he was crying.
He kissed Greg's neck, his jaw, kissed his mouth over and over again. He felt Greg's fingers in his hair, stroking his temples and his neck, felt Greg kiss him back over and over again. He shuddered as he pulled out of Greg's body, and Greg whimpered softly and they wrapped their bodies together and clung to each other as Nick's tears slowed and Greg continued to kiss and hold and caress him.
"I don't know what that was," Nick whispered, his breath hot against the skin of Greg's cheek.
"It just happens sometimes," Greg murmured.
"I thought you said it only happens when you get tied up."
Greg shook his head and ran his fingers through Nick's hair. "It happens when you let go, when you let your body take over instead of your mind."
Nick shivered and took a deep breath, squeezed Greg tight. "Does this mean I'm gonna cry every time we make love?"
Greg shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not, but if you do it's OK." He pulled back a little bit and stroked his thumb over Nick's cheekbone. "It's kind of romantic."
Nick smiled at him, moved forward to kiss him. "I do love you, you know."
Greg smiled back and sighed contentedly. "I know. I love you, too."
"I was thinking today, when I was watching that kid—Jason Werner. I was thinking of the way we punish ourselves and how pointless it is."
Greg didn't say anything, but his eyebrows dipped down a bit.
"You said to me once that you weren't a good person."
Greg looked away, his eyes darkening. "Nick, I—"
"No, listen to me. You said to me that you weren't a good person, and you meant it, you believed it. And I feel the same way. I feel like there's something wrong with me, like there's been something wrong with me my whole life. Like I'm flawed in some way, like that's what made Alison do what she did to me. That was her name. Alison."
"The babysitter," Greg whispered.
Nick nodded. "I thought she could see something, that she could tell that I was…wrong. That I was bad. And when…when I talked to Rebecca Post, the woman who killed Jacob Ellerson—"
"I remember who she is," Greg said.
"She said she could see it. She said she could tell I'd understand. That's why she wanted to talk to me. She said she could see that I knew—"
"Jesus," Greg sighed. "Nicky, she's a psychopath. She didn't see anything except the fact that you're an attractive man with a killer smile. She probably saw you glaring at her and mistook it for lust."
"I know," Nick said. "Logically, I know that. Logically, I know that there's not something intrinsically wrong with me that she could see, that Alison could see, that everybody else who's ever hurt me could see. Logically, I know I wasn't born bad. That's what Jason Werner said, you know. That he was born bad."
"Maybe he was."
Nick sighed. "I don't know. Maybe he was, maybe something happened to make him the way he is. We'll never know."
"That's a job for philosophers and priests," Greg murmured.
Nick smiled softly. "Do you remember everything I say?"
"I remember everything everyone says. It's both a gift and a curse."
Nick slid his fingers through Greg's hair still damp with sweat. "What did you get on your SAT's?"
"1600."
"Jesus."
"And I got a 36 on my ACT's. And a 2400 on the GRE."
Nick groaned and rolled his eyes.
"I took the MCAT just for fun. Got a—"
Nick kissed him hard. "Shut up."
Greg sighed and smiled a contented smile.
"My point was that both of us feel like we're flawed, like we're not good people, and it's bullshit."
"Nicky, feeling like it was your fault that you were abused is different than knowing—"
"Shut up," Nick said again. "You're not a murderer."
"But—"
"You fucked up. You fucked up royally. I'm not going to say you didn't, but it doesn't make you a bad person. Look at you. You spend your entire life solving crimes—"
"You, too."
"Shut up." Nick kissed him again. "I'm talking here."
"Sorry."
"You should be." Nick pressed his mouth to Greg's, slipped his tongue between Greg's lips and moaned softly as Greg's fingers tightened in his hair.
"I thought you were talking," Greg whispered as Nick pulled away.
Nick tipped his head down and rested it against Greg's shoulder. "You spend your whole life working at a job solving crimes when you could make a hell of a lot more money in private research—"
"It's not about the money."
"I know it's not. You're nicer to Mrs. Palmbach than her own children are."
"Well, she's a sweetheart, and her kids are assholes, anyway—"
"Greg."
"Shut up?"
"Yeah. If you were really a bad person, you wouldn't spend your whole life being kind to people. If you were really a bad person you wouldn't care so much about justice. If you were really a bad person, you wouldn't beat yourself up for the mistakes you've made in life."
"You know, you don't have to talk sweet to me to get me into bed. I'm pretty much a sure thing."
Nick smiled and nipped lightly at Greg's neck. "I'm serious, baby. You're a good man. You really are."
Greg sighed and settled deeper into Nick's arms. "You, too. You're probably the most honest, decent man I've ever met."
"That's just because you've never met my grandfather."
"I have a suspicion that I won't want to fuck your grandfather."
Nick laughed. "I hope not."
"Although, if he has a big cock.."
Nick pinched Greg's nipple hard. "Not another word about my grandfather."
"You know, pinching my nipples? Not so much a punishment." He slung his leg over Nick's hip and pulled their bodies tighter together. He stroked the hair on Nick's temple as they gazed into each other's eyes from just inches away. "I was serious, too, you know. About you being honest and decent."
Nick closed his eyes and nuzzled his face closer to Greg's. "Don't forget my killer smile."
Greg laughed and twisted his fingers through Nick's hair. "I couldn't forget that. Or your big cock."
"My Texas charm."
"Yeah, that's nice, too, but I really like your big cock."
Nick sighed sleepily. "I like yours, too."
"You like my Texas charm?" Greg asked with a grin.
"No. Your cock."
"Oh. Well, that makes much more sense."
They were silent for a long time. "You're supposed to call your mom," Greg said.
"Shut up. Ruining the mood," Nick mumbled.
"Sorry. I couldn't remember if I'd told you she wanted you to call her back."
"Later," Nick whispered. He drew his shoulders in. "Cold."
Greg reached down blindly with one hand, hooking the edge of the comforter with his foot and lifting it enough that he could grab it. He pulled it up over them and smoothed it down behind Nick's back and over his shoulders. "Better?"
"Mmm," Nick said, nodding. "Love you."
"Love you, too," Greg whispered. He closed his eyes and let himself drift in Nick's embrace and soon dropped off into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
The End
--------------------------------------------
Hon, I love to go to parties,
And I like to have a good time,
But it begins to pale after a while,
Honey, and I start looking to find
One good man.
Don't you know, I've been searching, yes I have.
One good man ain't much,
Honey, ain't much, it's only everything.
I don't want much out of life.
I never wanted a mansion in the sun.
I just want to find someone sincere,
Who treats me like he talks.
One good man,
Honey, don't you know that I've been looking.
One good man ain't much,
Hon, it ain't much, it's only everything.
Some girls they want to collect their men,
They wear 'em like notches on a gun.
Oh, honey, but I know better than that.
I know that a woman only needs one.
One good man,
Oh, baby don't you know I've been looking.
One good man, it ain't much, no, no.
Honey, it ain't much, it's only every little thing,
Everything, everything.
--"One Good Man" by Janis Joplin
Title: One Good Man – Part 19
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nick lets go of the Werner case and Greg learns to compartmentalize.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. My parents are visiting, and, you know, it's hard to write porn when your mom's around.
Nick set his mouth in a tight line as he leaned back against the wall in the small observation room. He'd never seen so many people want to watch a suspect interrogation before, but then again he'd never dealt with a suspect like Jason Werner before. There was a row of chairs in front of the one-way glass and he could have taken one of them since he and Brass had been two of the first to arrive, but he just leaned back against the wall and that's where he stayed.
He'd only been asked to observe as a courtesy, he knew. He'd only been asked since he'd been the one lucky—or unlucky—enough to come across Werner and bring him in.
"Kid would look almost normal if he didn't have those horns growing out of his head," Brass said, flicking a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
Nick made a noise that could be interpreted either as a laugh or a sigh. Even he didn't know which one it really was.
Jason Werner did look normal. Completely normal. Nick hated that about suspects—there was some part of him that still felt like psychopaths should stick out somehow, be easily identifiable. Sure, he was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, handcuffs, and his ankles had been chained together and cuffed to his chair, but other than that? Completely average.
Blonde hair a little too long, plain face that was close to handsome, stunning blue eyes. He was just a kid, a nineteen year-old kid and as long as Nick lived he'd never understand what it was that made some people into monsters. He didn't deal in motive, since it was all psychological, all conjecture, but he couldn't help wondering: why this kid? What had gone so horribly wrong?
Greg had been invited, too, but an hour before they were supposed to leave he'd claimed he was too tired and just needed to sleep. Nick hadn't argued with him. He hadn't gotten much sleep, Nick knew, and he knew it was only partly because of the sheer volume of things Greg'd had to analyze from the Werner scene over the past few days. Greg had nightmares every time he fell asleep, nightmares he claimed not to remember when he woke up. Hell, maybe he actually didn't remember them, since Nick had never known him to hide from his emotions, and maybe that was part of the problem.
Nick figured he'd have a nightmare or two eventually. It was bound to happen when you saw things like that, so he didn't worry about it and he knew when he did have his nightmares that they wouldn't be nearly as bad as Greg's. He was good at turning off his emotions, good at compartmentalizing everything, good at walking away from work unscathed. Hell, he was good at it even when it wasn't about work. He could be the good son when he went back to Texas to see his family, he could be the horny stud on the dance floor, he could be the reliable employee at the lab, and his roles never mixed.
Greg hadn't ever learned to do that because he'd never had to hide who he was. It made Nick a little sad to realize that if Greg wanted to make it as a CSI he'd have to learn. Terrible things happened, people did things to each other that the devil hadn't even imagined, and it was their job to figure out the details. No one would last even a year doing that unless they figured out how to lock the horrors away in a vault in the back of their mind. From the outside, Nick knew the CSIs looked uncaring, unfeeling; it seemed wrong the way they could walk through a bloody scene and not recoil at the violence. It wasn't that they didn't feel it, they just had to tuck those emotions away and do their jobs. When he started the job he'd been hiding things from other people and from himself for so long that it was like second nature. He'd never say it out loud, but he almost hoped Greg wouldn't be able to make it as a CSI, because he was scared of what would happen if Greg learned to turn off his heart.
Nick had been staring down at his shoes as they waited for the interview to begin. As soon as the door to the interrogation room opened he glanced up. The woman who entered was small, and he thought it was funny that he'd expected her to be some sort of massive giant. She was a profiler, not a wrestler, and it wasn't her physical size that mattered.
"Jason," she said as she took a seat. She was wearing a black pantsuit with conservative pearl earrings, her hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. "I'm Special Agent Deaver." She nodded at the man who walked in just moments behind her. He was wearing a black suit and a grim expression. "This is Special Agent Rose, we're with the FBI."
Jason Werner smirked at that, and Nick rolled his eyes. He'd read enough of Werner's notebooks to know that the kid had wanted to become the most infamous serial killer of all time and that ending up on the FBI's Most Wanted List was one of his goals. He was probably tickled pink that the PD had called in the Feds for help.
Not that Nick minded FBI involvement. He actually hadn't heard a single grumble within the entire police force about it, which was rare. But nobody wanted to even look at Werner, let alone talk to the twisted little punk, so handing him off to the Feds had been an easy decision to make. They were more equipped to handle psychopaths like Werner, anyway.
"Jason," Special Agent Deaver said, "do you know what you're accused of?"
Jason Werner smiled at that, grinned as big as life, and Nick couldn't help but shudder at how disturbing it was to see how proud of himself Werner was.
"I know what I am," Werner said, the grin still on his face. "I'm the most twisted serial killer you've ever met."
Special Agent Deaver seemed less than impressed. Her expression remained impassive. "Well, actually you're accused of being a spree killer, Jason. A serial killer rests between kills, which you didn't."
Nick felt a sick twist of pleasure at the way Werner's smile faltered.
"I didn't have time," Werner snapped. "Those fucking faggots ruined everything."
Nick swallowed hard. He didn't know if Werner had actually heard about his relationship with Greg or if he was just using the word in a generally derogatory way.
"That fucking cop, man," Werner snapped. "Him and his gun, like that made him so fucking special. All the while talking to the other one like I was some kind of experiment, some kind of example. This is how you pack a gun for evidence, this is why you don't hold a suspect on the ground." He sneered. "He probably talks like that when he's fucking his girlfriend. This is how you stroke my dick, this is how you rub your tits. You know how guys like that are."
Special Agent Deaver shrugged. "I haven't had the chance to meet either one of the men who apprehended you," she said simply. "Let's talk more about you."
"I'm a badass, baby," Werner said, leaning across the table as much as his restraints would let him. "If those faggots hadn't caught me I'd be the most evil fucker the world has ever seen. I was born bad, baby, and I'm ready and willing to live up to my birthright."
Nick rolled his eyes. He'd read the exact same thing in Werner's notebooks and he didn't think Special Agent Deaver would get anything else out of him, at least not during their first interview.
"I'm gonna go," he whispered to Brass. "The kid's just jerking off and I've been up for eighteen hours."
Brass nodded at him. "See you tonight."
Nick felt good about leaving as he walked into the hall. It seems the observation room was packed to capacity, and by leaving he made it possible for another one of the cops waiting in the hall to go in and watch.
"He saying anything good?" some uniformed officer Nick didn't know asked as he headed down the hall.
Nick shook his head. "Just the same thing he's been saying to anyone who'll listen. Born bad, all that stuff. She's good, though, the FBI profiler. If you can get in or watch the tape later, I'd pay more attention to her than him. She seems like she knows how to conduct a hell of an interview."
"Cool," the young cop said. "Thanks."
Nick ran his hand over his hair and yawned as he headed out into the bright sunlight. The sun felt good on his skin and he turned his face up towards it and stretched before climbing into his truck and driving home.
When he got in, Greg was sitting in the middle of the living room in just his boxers, surrounded by sheets and sheets of notebook paper. Some of them were full; some contained only a line or two. He watched as Greg intently scribbled something on the notebook in his lap, ripped the sheet out of its spiral binding, and looked around him until he found the pile he wanted to place it in.
"What are you doing?" Nick asked.
Greg looked up at him and grinned that sweet, goofy grin that still made Nick's stomach flip. "Didn't hear you come in," he said.
"Looks like you're busy."
Greg nodded and looked back at the piles of paper around him. "I'm compartmentalizing."
Nick laughed softly. "You're what?"
"Compartmentalizing. You know, dividing things into separate categories."
"I know what the word means," Nick said, toeing off his shoes and walking into the living room. He sat down on the outer edge of Greg's ring of paper. "But I'm pretty sure it's generally done internally."
Greg shrugged as he flipped through one of the piles. "I like to have all my data easily accessible."
"Your data."
"Yeah. You know, my thoughts and emotions. See, I've made three basic categories: things not to think about at work, things not to think about at home, and things never to let myself dwell on no matter where I am. And there are subcategories within each larger category."
Nick picked up the closest sheet of paper and looked at it for a moment. "How hot Nick looks in his CSI vest," he read.
"That's something not to think about at work," Greg said. "And it's in the subcategory of sexual distraction."
Nick grinned and lay the paper back down on the pile he'd picked it up from. "And how, exactly, is this supposed to work?"
"Well," Greg said, "that pile is going to stay here, obviously. Now these piles," he gestured to the stacks of paper to his right, "I'm going to put in a binder and take to work and leave them in my locker."
"And those?" Nick asked, reaching for the pile of paper behind Greg and to his left. He read the single sentence on the top page. The look in Tara Meadows' eyes when she thought I wanted to hurt her.
Greg took the stack of paper from Nick's hand. "These I'm going to burn." He frowned. "Which would be easier if I had a fireplace. Maybe I'll shred them, instead."
"Well, that's—"
"I know it's kind of stupid," Greg said, setting the papers back where they'd been before Nick picked them up. "I know that this isn't really how you're supposed to compartmentalize things, but I figured a symbolic gesture would be a good start."
"I think it's brilliant," Nick said, leaning across the circle of paper surrounding Greg to kiss him.
"You're messing up my piles."
"So? You work well surrounded by chaos." Nick slid his fingers through Greg's hair. He kissed Greg over and over again, kissed him and pulled him close and leaned forward until Greg was on his back and Nick was settled comfortably over him.
Greg smiled up at him and ran his fingers through Nick's hair. "Well, I am a genius," he said.
"Absolutely brilliant," Nick murmured.
"A gifted intellectual, even."
Nick laughed softly as he brushed his lips against Greg's cheek. "Don't forget modest."
"Yeah, that too." Greg slid his hands up and down Nick's back, wrapped one leg over Nick's thighs. "Oh, this is so not the time to mention this, but if I don't I'll forget. Your mom called."
Nick pushed himself up on his hands. "She called here?"
"Yeah. Have you returned any of her calls since the whole Werner thing broke?"
Nick sat up and shook his head. "No."
Greg reached up and gripped Nick's shirt in his hand. "I knew I shouldn't have mentioned it. Get back down here."
Nick shook his head and stood up, then reached down to pull Greg to his feet. "Bedroom," he whispered.
Greg smiled at him, that goofy, sexy smile again and it sent a stab of electricity through his belly and made his knees weak. He took Nick's hand in his and led him down the hall into the bedroom.
Nick saw that the sheets were rumpled, the comforter thrown back and half-off the bed. "Bad dream?" he asked softly as he wrapped his arms around Greg's waist.
Greg shrugged, then nodded.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Nothing to talk about. I can't ever remember them, just remember flashes and the fact that when I wake up I'm terrified."
Nick kissed him gently. "You're safe, you know. With me."
Greg nodded. "I know." He tugged Nick's shirt out of his waistband. "You're wearing far too many clothes."
Nick grinned and shoved Greg back so that he landed on the bed—their bed. Greg looked beautiful and debauched as he sprawled out on the bed, his hard on tenting up his boxers. "Take 'em off," Nick said as he started to unbutton his shirt.
"You gonna give me a show?" Greg asked with a gleam in his eyes.
"If you're lucky. Take 'em off. I want you naked."
Greg took a deep breath as he lifted his hips to push his boxers down. He slid them down his thighs, his hard cock slapping against his taut abs as he did so. He kicked his boxers off, pushed himself up the bed so he was leaning back against the pillows, watching with heavy eyes as Nick slowly unbuttoned his shirt and opened it, letting it fall off his shoulders and down his arms.
"Touch yourself," Nick whispered.
Greg swallowed hard.
"Stroke your cock. I want to watch you."
Greg's eyelids fluttered closed as he slid one hand down his stomach, wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock. He squeezed gently and moaned softly in the back of his throat.
"Not like that," Nick said as he popped open the button on his pants. "Do it like you would if I wasn't here."
Greg opened his eyes and looked at Nick for a long moment. His cheeks were beginning to flush pink, and Nick loved how the flush spread down from his cheeks to his chest, loved how Greg's entire body reacted when he was turned on.
"Jerk off for me," Nick told him. "I wanna see how you do it."
Greg nodded and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. His hand began to slide up and down his cock in earnest and he took a shaky breath as he let his eyes close again. He spread his legs to give Nick a better view and slid his free hand over his abs and up his chest. He brushed his fingers over one nipple, then the other. His other hand was stroking his cock purposefully, not slow, really, but at a measured, unhurried pace.
"You look so hot like that," Nick groaned as he unfastened his pants and pushed them down. He stepped out of them, left his pants and his socks in a pile at the foot of the bed. He walked around the side of the bed, never taking his eyes off Greg.
Greg slid his hand back down his stomach, down his hip. He stroked his thighs, squeezed his balls for a moment, slid his hand back up to his chest to play with his nipples again.
"What do you think about?" Nick asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out to touch Greg's hip but stopped himself and placed his hand on the sheet instead. "What do you think about when you're touching yourself?"
Greg opened his eyes, heavy with lust, as he slid his hand up his chest, up his neck, up to his mouth. He parted his lips and slid two fingers in and began to suck on them.
Nick took a deep breath, his eyes locked on Greg's full, swollen lips as they wrapped around his fingers, as he slid his fingers between them at the same tempo he used to stroke his cock. He pulled his fingers out of his mouth and reached down, bent his legs so he could push up with his feet and lift his hips. He spread his legs and lifted his hips and arched his head back as he pressed his fingers against his asshole, groaned and smiled as he slid them inside.
Nick felt his breath catch in the back of his throat as Greg began to fuck himself on his fingers.
"I think about you," Greg whispered, his voice rough with desire. He slid his fingers in and out of his ass slowly, grinding his hips against them as he continued to stroke his cock. "I think about you fucking me. I think about the way your cock feels heavy on my tongue."
"God," Nick whispered, not even aware that he'd said anything. He took a deep breath and slid his own hands over his body, his lips parted as he breathed heavily through his mouth.
"I think about…" Greg's voice broke as he slid his fingers even deeper inside himself. "I think about the way you kiss my scars when you fuck me from behind. I think about the way you bite my neck when you come."
Nick couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch Greg's stomach. His skin was warm and flushed and Nick could feel the muscles contracting beneath his touch.
"Oh, God," Greg moaned, arching his hips up, pressing his head back against the pillows.
"Put another finger in," Nick told him.
Greg nodded, pulled his fingers out, slid three back in. He whimpered and turned his head to press it hard to the side.
"You're so beautiful like that," Nick murmured. "You're so beautiful when you're hard, so beautiful when you touch yourself."
"Nick," Greg whispered. "I want you. I want you inside me."
Nick shook his head slowly. It was killing him not to grab Greg, not to shove his legs up, press his knees to his shoulders and slide inside him, but he wanted to watch as Greg brought himself off. Just the idea sent delicious shivers all through him.
"Bring yourself off for me," Nick told him.
"I need you inside me."
"You'll get me. But I wanna watch you come first." Nick wrapped his fingers around his own cock, didn't stroke it, just squeezed it to help relieve the painful ache. "You're so hot when you fuck yourself like that."
Greg breath was ragged as he continued to stroke his cock. He began to slam his fingers into his ass, twisted and crooked them up to hit his prostate. He was making desperate noises low in his throat and he tossed his head from side to side. "God, Nick," he gasped. "Oh, God, fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…"
Nick couldn't believe how beautiful Greg was like that, how amazingly sexy it was to watch him pleasure himself.
Greg was whispering a long string of words, not saying anything to Nick, really, just whispering to himself as he brought himself closer and closer to climax.
"Jesus, Nicky, oh God, oh fuck me like that, just like that, God so good so fucking good, fuck me hard, fuck me like a little whore, fuck me just like that, God, your cock's so good, so good, fuck me, God, need you to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…"
Greg grunted and arched his back as he came. The noises he made were completely unselfconscious, his desperate whimpers and cries as he shot ribbons of cum up across his belly, his chest.
Nick leaned and licked a large splash of cum that stretched along the side of Greg's neck. He found Greg's mouth and kissed him, Greg's lips parting as his tongue hungrily searching out his own taste in Nick's mouth.
"More," Greg gasped as Nick pulled back.
Nick grinned as he pushed one of Greg's knees up to his shoulder so he could move between his legs. "Greedy boy," he murmured before licking up another glob and savoring its salty-sour taste before he pressed his lips to Greg's to share it with him.
He didn't even have to look to find the condoms and lube, just reached up and they were there where he knew they would be. He continued to kiss Greg deeply as he slid the condom down his length, as he lubed up his cock and then slid a couple of lube-slick fingers into Greg's ass.
"Gonna fuck you now, baby," he murmured against Greg's mouth. "You want that?"
"Yes," Greg gasped.
Nick smiled as he leaned up, settled himself on his knees and held his cock in his hand, sliding the head of it back and forth over Greg's asshole.
"God, do it," Greg moaned.
"Like a little whore, huh?" Nick asked with a grin.
Greg's blush was visible even over the sex flush that darkened the skin from his belly to his cheeks. His eyes closed as he smiled shyly.
"You're mine," Nick said as he pressed his hips forward, groaned as Greg opened for him and he slid inside.
"Yes," Greg panted.
"Look at me."
Greg struggled to open his eyes, but he managed to look up at Nick, his expression unguarded and full of love.
"You're mine," Nick said again.
"Yes," Greg said, still looking up into Nick's eyes.
"And I'm yours."
Greg smiled a happy, heavy-eyed smile. "Yeah." He reached up to touch Nick's face, traced his fingertips along his cheekbone down to his mouth.
Nick kissed Greg's fingertips. He began to thrust slowly and Greg whimpered but didn't look away.
"Need you," Nick panted.
"Need you, too," Greg whispered, reaching up to grip Nick's hair in his hand.
"Need to be inside you, need to be with you, need you next to me when I sleep." He stretched out over Greg's body as he continued his steady thrusts into Greg's body. Their mouths were together but they weren't kissing so much as they were sharing one other's breath. "Love you so much, baby."
Greg finally let his eyes close. He slid his hand down to caress the back of Nick's neck as his other hand felt up the tense muscles in Nick's arm and shoulder. "Love you, too."
"Can't even tell you how much," Nick gasped. "Can't even tell you how much I love you, how much I need you, how you make me feel."
Greg opened his eyes again and smiled gently up at Nick. He wrapped his legs around Nick's waist and pressed his fingers against Nick's mouth. "Shh," he murmured. "It's all right. I know, Nicky. You don't have to say it. I know."
Nick closed his eyes, kissed Greg's fingers, felt like he was going to cry. So much ugliness in the world, so much cruelty, so much hate, and in the midst of it all he'd found a refuge, had found love and beauty and Greg, found Greg most of all.
He tipped his head down and pressed his face against Greg's neck, dropped down onto his elbows so that their bodies were pressed together, shivered as he felt Greg's legs tighten around his waist, Greg's arms tighten around his shoulders and hold him so close.
His eyes were closed as his hips continued to pump, his cock sliding in and out of Greg's tight, hot asshole, sending shivers all through him. His eyes were closed and he thought of Greg walking confidently through the streets of San Francisco, Greg laughing as they made love, Greg's intense concentration as he performed intricate operations in the lab, Greg with piles of paper around him as he attempted to compartmentalize his life, but mostly just of Greg at that moment. Mostly just Greg with his arms and legs wrapped tight around him, Greg kissing his ear and his temple and his cheek, Greg's fingers digging tight into his skin, Greg making soft noises in the back of his throat every time he slid into him.
He came hard, crying out against Greg's sweat damp skin, felt like he was being split into a million pieces and then coming together again in a crash, felt like if Greg wasn't clinging to him so hard he might break apart. He collapsed over Greg's body and felt Greg's hands gentle in his hair and against his back, Greg whispering soft, reassuring words to him and it was only then that he realized that he was crying.
He kissed Greg's neck, his jaw, kissed his mouth over and over again. He felt Greg's fingers in his hair, stroking his temples and his neck, felt Greg kiss him back over and over again. He shuddered as he pulled out of Greg's body, and Greg whimpered softly and they wrapped their bodies together and clung to each other as Nick's tears slowed and Greg continued to kiss and hold and caress him.
"I don't know what that was," Nick whispered, his breath hot against the skin of Greg's cheek.
"It just happens sometimes," Greg murmured.
"I thought you said it only happens when you get tied up."
Greg shook his head and ran his fingers through Nick's hair. "It happens when you let go, when you let your body take over instead of your mind."
Nick shivered and took a deep breath, squeezed Greg tight. "Does this mean I'm gonna cry every time we make love?"
Greg shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not, but if you do it's OK." He pulled back a little bit and stroked his thumb over Nick's cheekbone. "It's kind of romantic."
Nick smiled at him, moved forward to kiss him. "I do love you, you know."
Greg smiled back and sighed contentedly. "I know. I love you, too."
"I was thinking today, when I was watching that kid—Jason Werner. I was thinking of the way we punish ourselves and how pointless it is."
Greg didn't say anything, but his eyebrows dipped down a bit.
"You said to me once that you weren't a good person."
Greg looked away, his eyes darkening. "Nick, I—"
"No, listen to me. You said to me that you weren't a good person, and you meant it, you believed it. And I feel the same way. I feel like there's something wrong with me, like there's been something wrong with me my whole life. Like I'm flawed in some way, like that's what made Alison do what she did to me. That was her name. Alison."
"The babysitter," Greg whispered.
Nick nodded. "I thought she could see something, that she could tell that I was…wrong. That I was bad. And when…when I talked to Rebecca Post, the woman who killed Jacob Ellerson—"
"I remember who she is," Greg said.
"She said she could see it. She said she could tell I'd understand. That's why she wanted to talk to me. She said she could see that I knew—"
"Jesus," Greg sighed. "Nicky, she's a psychopath. She didn't see anything except the fact that you're an attractive man with a killer smile. She probably saw you glaring at her and mistook it for lust."
"I know," Nick said. "Logically, I know that. Logically, I know that there's not something intrinsically wrong with me that she could see, that Alison could see, that everybody else who's ever hurt me could see. Logically, I know I wasn't born bad. That's what Jason Werner said, you know. That he was born bad."
"Maybe he was."
Nick sighed. "I don't know. Maybe he was, maybe something happened to make him the way he is. We'll never know."
"That's a job for philosophers and priests," Greg murmured.
Nick smiled softly. "Do you remember everything I say?"
"I remember everything everyone says. It's both a gift and a curse."
Nick slid his fingers through Greg's hair still damp with sweat. "What did you get on your SAT's?"
"1600."
"Jesus."
"And I got a 36 on my ACT's. And a 2400 on the GRE."
Nick groaned and rolled his eyes.
"I took the MCAT just for fun. Got a—"
Nick kissed him hard. "Shut up."
Greg sighed and smiled a contented smile.
"My point was that both of us feel like we're flawed, like we're not good people, and it's bullshit."
"Nicky, feeling like it was your fault that you were abused is different than knowing—"
"Shut up," Nick said again. "You're not a murderer."
"But—"
"You fucked up. You fucked up royally. I'm not going to say you didn't, but it doesn't make you a bad person. Look at you. You spend your entire life solving crimes—"
"You, too."
"Shut up." Nick kissed him again. "I'm talking here."
"Sorry."
"You should be." Nick pressed his mouth to Greg's, slipped his tongue between Greg's lips and moaned softly as Greg's fingers tightened in his hair.
"I thought you were talking," Greg whispered as Nick pulled away.
Nick tipped his head down and rested it against Greg's shoulder. "You spend your whole life working at a job solving crimes when you could make a hell of a lot more money in private research—"
"It's not about the money."
"I know it's not. You're nicer to Mrs. Palmbach than her own children are."
"Well, she's a sweetheart, and her kids are assholes, anyway—"
"Greg."
"Shut up?"
"Yeah. If you were really a bad person, you wouldn't spend your whole life being kind to people. If you were really a bad person you wouldn't care so much about justice. If you were really a bad person, you wouldn't beat yourself up for the mistakes you've made in life."
"You know, you don't have to talk sweet to me to get me into bed. I'm pretty much a sure thing."
Nick smiled and nipped lightly at Greg's neck. "I'm serious, baby. You're a good man. You really are."
Greg sighed and settled deeper into Nick's arms. "You, too. You're probably the most honest, decent man I've ever met."
"That's just because you've never met my grandfather."
"I have a suspicion that I won't want to fuck your grandfather."
Nick laughed. "I hope not."
"Although, if he has a big cock.."
Nick pinched Greg's nipple hard. "Not another word about my grandfather."
"You know, pinching my nipples? Not so much a punishment." He slung his leg over Nick's hip and pulled their bodies tighter together. He stroked the hair on Nick's temple as they gazed into each other's eyes from just inches away. "I was serious, too, you know. About you being honest and decent."
Nick closed his eyes and nuzzled his face closer to Greg's. "Don't forget my killer smile."
Greg laughed and twisted his fingers through Nick's hair. "I couldn't forget that. Or your big cock."
"My Texas charm."
"Yeah, that's nice, too, but I really like your big cock."
Nick sighed sleepily. "I like yours, too."
"You like my Texas charm?" Greg asked with a grin.
"No. Your cock."
"Oh. Well, that makes much more sense."
They were silent for a long time. "You're supposed to call your mom," Greg said.
"Shut up. Ruining the mood," Nick mumbled.
"Sorry. I couldn't remember if I'd told you she wanted you to call her back."
"Later," Nick whispered. He drew his shoulders in. "Cold."
Greg reached down blindly with one hand, hooking the edge of the comforter with his foot and lifting it enough that he could grab it. He pulled it up over them and smoothed it down behind Nick's back and over his shoulders. "Better?"
"Mmm," Nick said, nodding. "Love you."
"Love you, too," Greg whispered. He closed his eyes and let himself drift in Nick's embrace and soon dropped off into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
The End
--------------------------------------------
Hon, I love to go to parties,
And I like to have a good time,
But it begins to pale after a while,
Honey, and I start looking to find
One good man.
Don't you know, I've been searching, yes I have.
One good man ain't much,
Honey, ain't much, it's only everything.
I don't want much out of life.
I never wanted a mansion in the sun.
I just want to find someone sincere,
Who treats me like he talks.
One good man,
Honey, don't you know that I've been looking.
One good man ain't much,
Hon, it ain't much, it's only everything.
Some girls they want to collect their men,
They wear 'em like notches on a gun.
Oh, honey, but I know better than that.
I know that a woman only needs one.
One good man,
Oh, baby don't you know I've been looking.
One good man, it ain't much, no, no.
Honey, it ain't much, it's only every little thing,
Everything, everything.
--"One Good Man" by Janis Joplin
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