nickngreg | Happy New Years, lovely people...

Author: Exit Music
Title: On Comfort
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: R.
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Summary: AU. Romance. Schmoop.
A/N: I do not own these characters, I merely worship them.

Honeyed beams split through sleek curtains with slight warmth streaking his face. Nearing seven, the sun had bloomed, and the world kept going. They hadn’t celebrated, not in the traditional sense. Passing over glitzy invitations, opting instead for the quiet of champagne and light kisses; charms of domesticity. He squinted at Nick, suppressing a chuckle at the rather odd expression plastered over his sleeping face. Almost a look of contempt marred with whimsy, and as sunlight brought forth morning, peals of laughter shook Nick out of slumber. Quizzical eyes brightened as Greg marked lazy lids with his mouth.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Words smoothing over satin bed sheets, Nick moved closer, tucking a newly shaved head under Greg’s chin. Looking across his partner’s chest, he tried to blink away the woozy of cheap liquor. Greg wriggled underneath, tickled by the flurry of eyelashes.

“Stop, you know what that does to me!” He grabbed at a jutting hardness playfully, and vaulted from the bed, only to be chased by a now bushytailed Nick. They thudded down the hall, making a sharp turn at the bathroom. Kids fighting for firsts, they shoved at each other for possession of the commode until bladders cried out for relief.

“Alright, alright. You go. I’ll start the coffee.” A dirty glare signaled his defeat, and Nick grinned and latched the door. The kitchen floor was assailed by Greg’s hop-jump jig, signaling his true need to pee. Nick waltzed into the living room, announcing his completion, and a blonde lightning bolt sped past.

“Next time, I’m going in the sink!” he chuckled back at the shout and curled up on the leather sofa, cold bare toes hiding under a flap of cushion. Rich perfumes soon filled the air as steaming cobalt mugs were set on the table, vapor wafting. He leaned back, watching Greg prepare the drinks as if sugar held the sanctity of sacred rites. With knees bent and legs butterflied, he unwound with the sunshine before him.

“Hey, I made it, you drink it buddy.” Greg poked a red stirrer at a stray big toe, not wanting to spend the morning alone. Noticing his miniature assault had failed, he set down his cup and moved upwards, swathing himself over bare chest and cooled pajama pants. Wiggling his lower torso, he teased with Nick’s erection until chocolate eyes twinkled down at him.

“Aha, good…ah…morning,” All Nick could wring out as Greg’s hand snuck under elastic, a fist wrapped around the firm white heat of his cock. Pumping calmly, he leaned forward for contact. Lips crushed together, tongues dancing with instinctive choreography. He knew exactly how to knock the wind out; Greg could play on sounds expertly, teasing a cacophony from deep within. As the fire grew, they rocked together, Nick snaking into boxer shorts littered with Santa-hatted jalapenos. Without a pause Greg lapped at his Adam’s apple; hungry kitten. Rock turned to thrust, and they melded together, moans burbling over short obscenities. With a final push they came as one, crumpling into a crude pile. He cast a moony glance over the equally worn Greg, and embraced him tightly, brushing still gelled bangs from a moist brow.

“You know, that coffee is butt cold by now.” Greg felt the elbow jab before it was delivered, and licked off glistening fingers. Propping an arm up, he gazed down and kissed him, mingling taste with taste. He snuggled and writhed, grazing nipples with pointed bites.

“Yeah, yeah. Happy New Years to you too.” Nick broke away from another kiss and rubbed his bottom lip over the constellation of marks on Greg’s right cheek, his favorite star map. He spread out letting the weight redistribute, with the younger man resting atop. Awake but not really, they watched the sun cast rays through the blue tinted glass, painting the illuminated wood.