fic: Dig the Hole Wide and Deep (1/?)
Oct. 11th, 2007 03:42 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
jayceepat.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nickngregTitle: Dig the Hole Wide and Deep
Rating: NC-17 for language and adult content
Warnings: None
Summary: Love isn’t always enough.
Spoilers: None
A/N: This is a sequel to ‘Putting Down Roots’ which you can find
here
It had been 5 months since Nick’s memorable house-warming party; memorable for so many reasons. There was the fantastic food, the beautiful house, the friends, the laughter, Grissom trying to play Twister, the ‘most of the rest of the night blazing hot sex with Greg’ after everyone else left.
Oh, did you read over that last part too fast? Go back and make sure you have that little bit firmly planted in your mind. You got it!! Nick finally, after 7 years of denial, admitted to Greg that he was crazy about him and wanted to pursue a relationship with him. He was only planning on telling Greg and then if Greg hadn’t laughed his ass off or swung at him OR tried to gently let him down because he wasn’t interested; he was going to ask Greg out on their first date.
What happened instead was a happy, hot, sexy Greg in his bed, his shower and….oh yeah….his ass; several times in fact. It was a good thing they both worked graveyard and had all day to recuperate because neither one of them could walk without groaning and sitting was something they both approached with a great deal of care.
During these past five months, Nick had experienced his highest highs and his lowest lows. That’s saying a lot when it comes from a man who’s had a loaded gun shoved in his face on at least two occasions, been thrown out a second story window by a suspect, later had that same suspect (Nigel Crane) drop a dead body through his ceiling and then first stick the gun in Nick’s face and then try to use it to blow his own brains out. Oh and let’s not forget the cherry on top,Walter Gordon. Walter Gordon, whom Nick had never met in his life, had a daughter in the women’s penitentiary and he blamed the CSI’s for putting her there. He decided to get his revenge on them and Nick paid the price. It was ironic; Nick had not even worked on her case but he paid….oh how he paid; buried alive, running out of air and eaten alive by fire-ants. Yes he had paid many times over.
But all of that didn’t hold a candle to trying to live with and love one Gregory Hojem Sanders.
======================================
Right now, Nick was at the absolute bottom of one of those low points. He had put in a double, most of it scraping blood, guts, urine and feces off almost every single surface in a run down mobile home in a run down trailer park on the very far outskirts of Las Vegas. There was a mountain of forensics evidence and because of the number of bodies in the trailer, Grissom had wanted every single bit collected, bagged and tagged.
Nick’s head, back, shoulders…oh what the hell, forget about what hurt. About the only the only thing on his body that didn’t hurt was his eyelashes and that’s because his eyes ached so badly, he couldn’t tell about his eyelashes. The only thing that had kept him going for the last five hours had been the knowledge that his boy-friend had the night off and had spent it cleaning their house and catching up on all their laundry. He could come home, take a scalding hot shower and then climb into a clean, sweet-smelling bed in a clean, sweet-smelling house and wrap himself around his clean, sweet-smelling boy friend.
Nick was tired, so tired, it took him a second to realize that his living room was a disaster area. He looked around slowly and then saw the food spilled on the coffee table, the papers thrown all over the floor, the clothes scattered from one end of the room to the other. He slowly walked into the kitchen. There were dirty dishes in the sink, on the counters, the tables; in fact there were dirty dishes everywhere except in the dish washer. He glanced into the laundry room. He was sure it was the laundry room; it was in the right location but there was no glimpse of a washer or dryer; they were hidden under the mountain’s of dirty clothes, sacks, boxes and bags of trash that hadn’t been taken out to the curb.
He walked into the bedroom ready to kill. But Greg, his loving, messy, completely un-reliable Greg was nowhere to be seen. In the bathroom, there was not one single inch of unoccupied vanity. Make-up, hair-products, cotton swabs, even bit’s of toilet paper with blood stains (Greg was the messiest shaver Nick had ever seen) were littered in layers. Nick reminded himself, as he had so often in the last five months, that grown men did not cry. He stepped into the shower; it was only marginally cleaner than the crime scene he’d been working for the last 30 hours. He kept his eyes shut, partly because they hurt so bad and partly so he wouldn’t have to see what his beautiful bathroom had become. He hurriedly bathed and shampooed and got himself clean. When he stepped out, he couldn’t find a towel. There were none on the towel racks nor in the linen closet. A wet, steaming Nick Stokes walked into his bedroom and finally found one clean t-shirt he could use for a towel. He started to just collapse on the bed but that’s when the final blow fell.
The sheets were a mess; stained with semen, blood and well, other body fluids. Let’s face it folks, homosexual men have anal sex AND they don’t always have said anal sex after they’ve both had a nice cleansing shower. Lot’s of times, they have it after a long day of work and junk food and there is a reason why one of the derogatory terms for male lovers is ‘mud packers’. I digress!
Nick knew there were no clean sheets. He pulled the disgusting sheets off, threw them on the floor and went and got a dust ruffle from the linen closet. His mother had given it to him when he first moved to LV and he just hadn’t given it away yet but at the moment, it was the only clean thing in his house. He threw it down on the bed and collapsed. He was asleep in seconds.
Rating: NC-17 for language and adult content
Warnings: None
Summary: Love isn’t always enough.
Spoilers: None
A/N: This is a sequel to ‘Putting Down Roots’ which you can find
here
It had been 5 months since Nick’s memorable house-warming party; memorable for so many reasons. There was the fantastic food, the beautiful house, the friends, the laughter, Grissom trying to play Twister, the ‘most of the rest of the night blazing hot sex with Greg’ after everyone else left.
Oh, did you read over that last part too fast? Go back and make sure you have that little bit firmly planted in your mind. You got it!! Nick finally, after 7 years of denial, admitted to Greg that he was crazy about him and wanted to pursue a relationship with him. He was only planning on telling Greg and then if Greg hadn’t laughed his ass off or swung at him OR tried to gently let him down because he wasn’t interested; he was going to ask Greg out on their first date.
What happened instead was a happy, hot, sexy Greg in his bed, his shower and….oh yeah….his ass; several times in fact. It was a good thing they both worked graveyard and had all day to recuperate because neither one of them could walk without groaning and sitting was something they both approached with a great deal of care.
During these past five months, Nick had experienced his highest highs and his lowest lows. That’s saying a lot when it comes from a man who’s had a loaded gun shoved in his face on at least two occasions, been thrown out a second story window by a suspect, later had that same suspect (Nigel Crane) drop a dead body through his ceiling and then first stick the gun in Nick’s face and then try to use it to blow his own brains out. Oh and let’s not forget the cherry on top,Walter Gordon. Walter Gordon, whom Nick had never met in his life, had a daughter in the women’s penitentiary and he blamed the CSI’s for putting her there. He decided to get his revenge on them and Nick paid the price. It was ironic; Nick had not even worked on her case but he paid….oh how he paid; buried alive, running out of air and eaten alive by fire-ants. Yes he had paid many times over.
But all of that didn’t hold a candle to trying to live with and love one Gregory Hojem Sanders.
======================================
Right now, Nick was at the absolute bottom of one of those low points. He had put in a double, most of it scraping blood, guts, urine and feces off almost every single surface in a run down mobile home in a run down trailer park on the very far outskirts of Las Vegas. There was a mountain of forensics evidence and because of the number of bodies in the trailer, Grissom had wanted every single bit collected, bagged and tagged.
Nick’s head, back, shoulders…oh what the hell, forget about what hurt. About the only the only thing on his body that didn’t hurt was his eyelashes and that’s because his eyes ached so badly, he couldn’t tell about his eyelashes. The only thing that had kept him going for the last five hours had been the knowledge that his boy-friend had the night off and had spent it cleaning their house and catching up on all their laundry. He could come home, take a scalding hot shower and then climb into a clean, sweet-smelling bed in a clean, sweet-smelling house and wrap himself around his clean, sweet-smelling boy friend.
Nick was tired, so tired, it took him a second to realize that his living room was a disaster area. He looked around slowly and then saw the food spilled on the coffee table, the papers thrown all over the floor, the clothes scattered from one end of the room to the other. He slowly walked into the kitchen. There were dirty dishes in the sink, on the counters, the tables; in fact there were dirty dishes everywhere except in the dish washer. He glanced into the laundry room. He was sure it was the laundry room; it was in the right location but there was no glimpse of a washer or dryer; they were hidden under the mountain’s of dirty clothes, sacks, boxes and bags of trash that hadn’t been taken out to the curb.
He walked into the bedroom ready to kill. But Greg, his loving, messy, completely un-reliable Greg was nowhere to be seen. In the bathroom, there was not one single inch of unoccupied vanity. Make-up, hair-products, cotton swabs, even bit’s of toilet paper with blood stains (Greg was the messiest shaver Nick had ever seen) were littered in layers. Nick reminded himself, as he had so often in the last five months, that grown men did not cry. He stepped into the shower; it was only marginally cleaner than the crime scene he’d been working for the last 30 hours. He kept his eyes shut, partly because they hurt so bad and partly so he wouldn’t have to see what his beautiful bathroom had become. He hurriedly bathed and shampooed and got himself clean. When he stepped out, he couldn’t find a towel. There were none on the towel racks nor in the linen closet. A wet, steaming Nick Stokes walked into his bedroom and finally found one clean t-shirt he could use for a towel. He started to just collapse on the bed but that’s when the final blow fell.
The sheets were a mess; stained with semen, blood and well, other body fluids. Let’s face it folks, homosexual men have anal sex AND they don’t always have said anal sex after they’ve both had a nice cleansing shower. Lot’s of times, they have it after a long day of work and junk food and there is a reason why one of the derogatory terms for male lovers is ‘mud packers’. I digress!
Nick knew there were no clean sheets. He pulled the disgusting sheets off, threw them on the floor and went and got a dust ruffle from the linen closet. His mother had given it to him when he first moved to LV and he just hadn’t given it away yet but at the moment, it was the only clean thing in his house. He threw it down on the bed and collapsed. He was asleep in seconds.
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