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niceandfluffy2FIC: To Whom It May Concern (7/?)
Rating: NC17
Setting: CSI Vegas
Summary: When a tip off suggests that there may be murderous films being produced and distributed in Vegas, the male members of the CSI team try an undercover stunt to recover more evidence. However, their tenuous foray into the BDSM scene leads to unexpected and occasionally unwelcome discoveries within the group itself.
Warnings: BDSM scenes
Please check tags for past chapters
*
Dark. Everything was dark. Nick adjusted his hold on the chain that held him to the wall, gripping it tightly and feeling the cold chain dig into his palm as he did so. He’d never noticed how smooth metal could be before, which seemed an idiotic thing to consider at this exact moment but hell, it was one of the few things he had control over.
Everything was suddenly too loud as well. Nick found that his senses strained to judge what was happening around him now that his vision had been removed, and every little murmur, every movement, every breath now sounded as if someone had screamed it in his ear. His own body tormented him too; when he swallowed, the sound seemed as loud as a gunshot. His heart pounded unsteadily in his chest, each beat almost rocking him on his heels, and his breath was barely anything more than light, fast gasps for air, only just enough for his needs.
And then there was the tingling electricity that seemed to cover his entire body, the anticipation taking a physical form as Nick waited for the consequence to happen. And it would, he knew that. This was what he had promised to Grissom, that he was ready and prepared to take it to the next step, and yet now that he was here he wasn’t feeling in the least bit brave.
Warrick had already stepped away from him, and Nick felt his loss immediately. He had leaned towards Warrick’s warmth, his hands and instructions, and had reluctantly taken the position that Warrick had gently guided him into. His friend had left a massive gap now that he had moved away, and Nick’s sense of vulnerability took on a whole new level. He hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t be able to see the blow before it struck; now a simple breath on his shoulder was liable to make him jump half a mile. And, Nick had to conclude, that was probably the point.
I’ll need you to be vocal for me. Scream. Shout. Beg or sob if you want to.
He bit his lip and tried to focus on his own breathing. He had never been particularly good at mediating, finding more profitable things to do with his time, but Nick guessed now would have been the perfect moment to use the tool. It was just a shame that his body really wasn’t planning to listen – on anything, for that matter. Every tingle held both terror and a strange sense of longing, needing to feel connected to something other than the blindfold and the cold links of the chain. Each noise came with a little throb of anticipation deep within him, and it took the force of his willpower to slam down that thought.
Someone was also approaching. Nick strained to hear the little whisper of cloth against muscle, the faint noises of the man’s breathing and the little crunches of feet on floor as that person made his way to him. It had to be Grissom. He prayed it was Grissom. Warrick had a prowl that was noisier, not caring who heard him, and Greg’s bounce could be heard half a mile away. But then there was Blake, and Blake was the guy they were doing this whole thing for. If anyone was going to get a front row seat it was him.. and then there was the fact that Griss had been sharing ‘boys’ before..
He almost jumped out of his skin as something brushed against his flank. Cool, smooth, and almost certainly the gloves that Grissom had been wearing. Nick almost sagged with relief, a sag that suddenly froze as he realised where said hand was descending to. Fingers stroked down the line of his left hand side, gently smoothing over his waist before finally, seductively, tracing a burning line down across the rise of his left buttock. Nick shivered and bit his lip, trying to concentrate. It proved impossible to do so, especially as Gil’s finger returned to the base of Nick’s neck and slowly, gradually, began to follow the line of his spine.
He felt his cock twitch traitorously as the finger slowly reached the top of his ass, toying with him as he waited nervously to see whether it would abandon its path or follow it down into more intimate areas.
As it turned out, it was completely the wrong area to focus all his attention on. Nick gasped as something wet and warm applied itself to the spot where his neck met his shoulder, and then shivered as Grissom kissed a small path along his shoulder blade. The finger remained balanced on the start of his tail-bone, his coccyx apparently the perfect place for it to stay for a bit of a visit.
And then, just as suddenly, everything vanished again. Nick shivered, suddenly feeling the chill, and bit his lip again as he heard a swishing noise that wasn’t anything he’d heard before. He waited, his heartbeat in his ears and a flush rising to his skin, feeling each second painfully tick away. God, he hated the waiting..!
Apparently he wasn’t going to have to wait for much longer as something warmer than the latex fingers but just as alien rested on his shoulder blade. Nick shivered, his back arching automatically as he focused on the unfamiliar texture that was so teasingly positioned on his hot, nervous body. His hands curled into the chain links harder, ready and waiting. And waiting. And-
- there was nothing he could do against the tremble that ran though him as the object slowly began to work its way down his skin, a strange tickling sensation that added an extra disloyal throb or two in his groin. Nick groaned softly as it vanished again, engaged in its own game of hide and seek, but his protests were silenced by the sudden impact on the meatier part of his backside. Well, he said impact. In contrast it was actually more of a tester blow, as though Grissom was simply marking out where he was planning to strike.
Another blow added to the first. Then another. And hell, they were still damned light but deceptively warm, his skin tingling with sensation and an increased anticipation as the blows slowly began to build up like a drum roll on a particularly erotic instrument. Nick forced himself to breathe through it, slowly relaxing. This wasn’t too bad. This was…
Nick twitched from the last blow, and had to reassess his last conclusion. Okay, that wasn’t so much ouch as uncomfortable, and –
The next blow had a distinctly ‘thwap’ tendency to it that forced a grunt out of him, a tickling stinging flooding across his already slightly tender buttocks. Panting softly, his back stiffened again as another blow hit him, followed by yet another one. The grunt had turned to the faintest of whines, a strangled noise that Nick fought to bite down.
Noises… shit! One instruction and he’d already forgotten it. He panted softly, his head hanging forward for a moment as he gathered himself, and then grudgingly allowed the next yelp to be verbalised. This conveniently coincided with another burst of effort from Grissom, the sting throbbing through him, and the yelp suddenly found a whole new level of volume.
Panting, beginning to feel distinctly sore, Nick cried out again as the crop fell. Okay, perhaps this wasn’t going to be as much of an act as he had expected.
*
“That’s it, I’m getting him out of there.”
Her voice was firm. Her posture was aggressive. Her eyes flashed. And yet Lady Heather still refused to move from where she had positioned herself in the doorway. Catherine’s teeth ground together before she looked back helplessly at the nearest screen. No way was this reasonable, and if Nick cried any more she was going to grab hold of Gil and –
“Are you sure you wish to interrupt?” Heather’s voice was soft and soothing and everything Catherine currently wasn’t. Catherine looked back at her with a look that stated that clearly everyone but her was insane.
“Am I sure? Look at him! Of course I’m sure!” a finger was thrust towards the screen, although the dramatic flourish did nothing to ruffle the lady’s feathers. A cool look turned to the screen, and then back again sympathetically.
“I know it will look and sound extreme to you, but weren’t you expecting a performance?” Heather replied softly. “Remove yourself from the memory that this is one of your boys, and focus on what is happening.”
“I’m not forgetting he’s one of my boys just for convenience sakes,” Catherine snarled back. “You haven’t seen him when he’s crying-,”
“Then focus on what he isn’t doing than what he is,” Heather lifted her head and fixed her with a firm look. “He could easily stop it, if he wanted to. Gilbert was extremely cautious when it came to safety measures, and from what I’ve seen that has not changed,”
“You don’t understand. If Nicky thought Gil wanted him to be flayed alive, he’d just stand there and take it!” Catherine prowled around in a circle, her eyes moving back to the screen again in frustration. There was another flick of the wrist and Nick yelled again, no longer the soft, reluctant noises of earlier but now cries that held real depth to them, as though he had merely been practising before. The camera feed was poor, but Catherine could already see the tint to Nick’s skin – naked, bare skin, what the hell was Gil thinking? - and the way the man clung onto the chains that held him in place.
“This is further than we agreed,” she said softly, heatedly. “God, if I’d have known it would actually come to this, then there would be no way I’d have agreed-,”
There was a knock on the door and Sara slipped her head through the gap.
“Hey, I’ve been wandering around for coming up to ten minutes now, can I please come back in?”
“No,” Catherine turned her snarl on Sara, which earned herself a mere raise of the eyebrow rather than the flinch she was hoping for. Sidle had a nasty habit of being controlled at exactly the wrong moments, Catherine reflected, and then scowled inwardly as Gil chose that exact point to aim another blow to the still helpless Nick. Sara’s other eyebrow suddenly found a reason to get involved as she stared incredulously at the screens.
“Wait, was that Nick? Why the hell’s he screaming?”
“He’s not screaming-,”
Another blow suggested that this information was inaccurate. Catherine closed her eyes and growled through gritted teeth, then gave Sara a stiff little smile.
“He’s apparently fine,” here a glare was aimed at Heather, who looked equally unruffled. Damn them! This was what men were there for, they knew when to properly cringe. Catherine snarled, then folded her arms and turned back to the screens again. Taking that as permission, Sara slipped into the room and carefully, gently, shut the door behind her.
“Oh, my god…,” she murmured as she walked closer to the screens, but Catherine noted Sara’s voice was one of curiosity rather than horror. Sara glanced up at Heather carefully. “That looks worse than it actually is, right?”
Heather tilted her head in agreement. Sara frowned at the screen, slowly lowering herself to her chair as she did so, and then flinched as the next strike landed. She looked up incredulously.
“I thought we weren’t going to that level?”
“Neither did I.”
“So when was this decided?” Sara frowned back at the screen just as Nick sobbed out another cry, his back arching as though he had been attached to an electrical charge. “And is it working?”
“Depends what the aim was,” Catherine replied grimly.
“By the look of it, Nick’s ass,” Sara commented, then looked as sheepish as Sara got as Catherine aimed a hard look at her. “Yeah, sorry. Anyway, Griss wouldn’t do this unless he thought he’d get results, right? He’s not gonna get carried away in the scene, right?”
Catherine shook her head grudgingly. “One person getting carried away, possibly. But Warrick and Greg are there as well, and they’re not moving. Whatever this is, it’s planned.”
“Oh.” Sara winced slightly, and leaned forward to lower down the volume. “Well. That’s good… I guess. Depends when our appraisals are, and whether he gets to keep that whacking stick.”
“I’m not in the mood for jokes,” Catherine gave her another hard glare, although she achieved absolutely nothing for it; Sara apparently only flinched when she had considered herself at fault for something.
“Who’s joking?” Sara shrugged, settling back in her chair as she watched the screen with her eyes narrowed slightly. “This is all supposed to be official too, right? If there’s no real boundaries here, then why should I expect them in the lab?”
“There’s boundaries,” Catherine’s voice had a snarl in it.
“Oh good. Because I love boundaries with nudity and ass whipping involved, makes me all tingly inside.” Sara replied drily, and then winced once more as Nick’s skin met up with the whip again. “Okay, I’m not sure I can put up with that for much longer. He’s making me feel guilty for just sitting back and watching,”
Catherine’s irritation suddenly had a massive alteration to the need to hug her. “Yes, I know exactly that feeling,” she confirmed, with a gleeful look towards Heather. Sara drummed her fingers on the table.
“How long does this go on for? Until he bleeds?” she asked critically. “Because, and no offence intended here, that sounds both freaky and fucked up. Do you guys even have a doctor on site, or do you have one on call with a really novel way of paying for services?”
“Blood play is only done through carefully vetted situations. Health reasons.” Heather replied, unconcerned and clearly not offended in the slightest. “Besides which, I doubt whether they’d get past bruising with the technique that Gil is employing.”
“Oh, good,” Catherine replied dryly. “That makes all the difference,”
Lady Heather’s eyebrow arched slightly in amusement.
“In your line of work, I suspect you’d know the answer to that better than I would.” She looked back at Sara. “In answer to your question, I would imagine it will continue for about ten minutes more, and then begin to trail off… to slowly return the bottom to a safer place.”
“A safer place being a mile away from that whip?” Catherine replied sweetly, then sighed softly at the look.
“If you prefer, think of it as though they are in an unusual form of exercise. Warm up, continue the session, and then slow down, cool off.” Heather replied, inserting another careless shrug here, as though it formed part of her punctuation. Sara frowned at her before watching another bout of ‘bruising’. Her finger waggled slowly at the screen.
“Exactly how did Grissom get to know all of this anyway? I didn’t see this on the syllabus back at college.” Sara thought about it, and then snapped her fingers. “You gave him a manual?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Lady Heather’s smile was one of sheer pleasantness.
Sara processed that for a moment, and then smiled brightly at her. “Can I borrow it?”
“Sara…,” Catherine growled softly.
“What, I can’t do research anymore?” she gave a little roll of the eyes, then looked back at the screen and winced. “Well, other than research using guys I know,”
“There are hoods available-,”
“NO.” Catherine slammed her fist onto the nearest flat surface, which happened to be the wall. On the other hand, it did cause the effect she was after; both women glanced in her direction, before Sara sighed softly and settled back uncomfortably against her chair. A few seconds later, she had leaned forward to turn down the volume again.
“I don’t like hearing him like that,” she said in a faintly apologetic way. “And they’re not talking anyway.”
No. They weren’t. Catherine scowled as she looked at the screen once more, her arms folded as tight as they could be without restricting her airflow. Was that a good thing? She assumed so. Certainly they had captured their target’s attention, Blake’s expression the lustful predator that she remembered so often when she had been dancing; that distant yet focused look, that suggested that their owner’s thoughts were two steps ahead in the future on what could be.
Fuck, Gil was playing a dangerous game. And as Catherine watched Nick shudder against his bonds again, she wasn’t even sure the real danger lay in Blake himself.
*
It had taken him all his strength to stay where he was. Warrick had kept his head lowered respectfully, but hell, it was hard, especially as the crop began to steadily pick up speed and strength. There was no question that Nick’s response was anything but genuine, although he never once tried to escape, the harsh, rasping pants for air in between the blows the only real signs that he needed to recover.
Warrick slowly risked a look. Grissom seemed .. well, Grissom. His arm never trembled, nor landed where it wasn’t supposed to be, and Warrick was thankful for that now that the strikes were hard enough to leave marks. Griss was aiming solely for the safer areas of Nick’s body, mostly his backside, which at least was good for any accidental longer term damage but not so good when it came to variety; Nick’s skin was beginning to find itself layered with bruises, and Warrick didn’t even want to think of what it would end up like once they were all back in the lab and Nick had to consider sitting down again.
His gaze flickered to Griss’ face. His look of concentration was impressive, as was the little flicker of exertion whenever he used the crop, but any real emotion was hidden under a coating of .. well, Grissom, mild interest and deliberation in a job well done shielding any of the man’s actual thoughts. The only thing that had truly given Warrick confidence had been the gentle caresses that Griss had given Nick right before he had started, the gentle touches of a man concerned over his partner and gestures that Grissom rarely gave unless he seriously meant it.
That observation had been his alone, it seemed, and he wasn’t the only one who was getting cautious over what was happening. Warrick almost jumped as a hand nervously touched his shoulder, Greg slipping down to kneel next to him as the young man glanced anxiously to where Nick was being given a short break to regain his breath, Stokes’ gasps for air mixed with little emotional sobs that broke Warrick’s heart each time he heard them. A finger slowly began to draw a circle on the small of his back, over and over again; the signal that Greg really, really wasn’t happy.
Warrick risked a look at the door, then, shielded, back at their target. Thankfully Blake seemed to be focused entirely on what was happening with Nick; the man had a hungry, focused look as he watched the punishment, as though he was recording every single blow in his memory for replay later. His hand was resting on one of his young men, stroking him gently and occasionally sliding his hand down the young, hairless chest to squeeze a nipple hard between two fingers. There was no question the other man was aroused; the line straining against his trousers spoke volumes.
Well, what was good for Blake was probably good enough for them. Warrick shifted positions, back onto his heels, and gently pulled Greg further onto his lap as though he was a small child needing comforting. Unfortunately his gesture was not without its cost; unprepared for the movement, Greg all but squeaked as he was pulled into position, and loud enough for Grissom’s next strike to be put on pause as he glanced down to them.
For a moment Gil’s gaze met Warrick’s dead on, a steady and silent flow of information. Finally Grissom gave the slightest tilts of his head, and then turned back to look at the naked, trembling but still standing body of his ‘boy’. He lazily swished the crop around, loosening his muscles as he waited for Nick’s breathing to slow and his head to rise up again, which had been Nick’s silent way to confirm he was ready for another one.
Permission granted, Warrick pulled Greg a little further onto his lap and gently began to stroke his hand down the young man’s leg. Incredibly, this had little effect, and Warrick was slowly beginning to worry that Greg had gone past his own personal ‘happy’ line and was paddling in dangerous waters.
Lowering his head and nuzzling the soft skin of Greg’s neck, Warrick pulled the younger man tighter to him in what he hoped was perceived as a dominant show of arousal rather than the comforting gesture he was hoping for. He could feel the young man tremble against him, on him, and that was not the greatest of places to have what was essentially an organic vibrator pressed up against. Warrick nuzzled Greg’s neck again, giving his skin a little nip with his teeth to snap the youngster out of his daze and back onto what was happening to his own skin.
“C’mon, man,” he murmured in Greg’s ear, nipping at him again. “S’okay. Griss knows what he’s doing,”
There was a soft little whimper, as though a puppy had got itself trapped somewhere and wasn’t entirely sure how to work the door handles. The vibration stepped up a notch, rubbing against Warrick’s groin with such persistence that Warrick gritted his teeth and had to think of something else. Another yelp from Nick provided that relatively easily; unfortunately it was also gripping Greg’s attention with the force of an alien face-hugger thing and a particularly appealing face.
“Calm down,” he murmured, but words really weren’t having any effect other than simply background noise. Warrick growled in his throat and looked helplessly towards the scene, which was thankfully slowing down, then allowed his hand to stroke higher on Greg’s thigh. His mouth met up with the hot skin of Greg’s neck again, nipping and sucking at him with more force than before, deliberately causing a little discomfort to distract the man’s attention away from Nick to what was happening to his own hide.
Greg squirmed – again, directly on the groin, and hell Warrick could have done with something a little less flimsy covering his parts – and made another little puppy dog noise. Warrick’s teeth bit a little harder, the squirm turning into a full body shiver, and finally, finally, Warrick began to feel Greg slowly ease into the sensual suggestion that Warrick was planting. The younger man groaned softly and reluctantly, although the reluctance didn’t stop him from wriggling on Warrick’s lap persistently enough that Warrick’s cock managed to settle a little too comfortably underneath Greg’s ass.
For a little while, their surrounding world was both simple and extremely busy; Warrick was conscious of their target nearby, but Blake seemed transfixed by whatever thought was going through his own mind to really care what either of them were doing. Then there was Grissom and Nick, caught up in their own mixture of horror and fantasy, the crop no longer striking but slowly sliding along Nick’s trembling muscles, easing him back. And all of this wasn’t even taking into account the fact that Greg’s heat and nervous energy on top of him had already encouraged Warrick’s body into a little pleasure-uncomfortable tingle, his body telling him to move, to grind upwards, and his willpower struggling to resist.
Another nip at Greg’s neck resulted in the softest of moans, the younger man tipping his head back to allow Warrick access as he shifted his hips yet again over his lap. Warrick’s hand stroked along Greg’s thigh before slowly pinning him down, gently but firmly.
“You wriggle like that again and it ain’t gonna be just Nick who gets a hiding, ‘kay?” he grumbled in Greg’s ear. That managed to result in another shiver that wasn’t exactly a purposeful wriggle but did the job anyway. Warrick sighed softly. This was going to be a long few minutes. If he managed to get through it without shoving Greg up against the wall and fucking him senseless, then they were doing well.
Greg nudged backwards, eager for attention, and Warrick found that his hand slowly slipped higher, across firm, slim muscles and brushing against the other man’s hardening erection. The shorts hid absolutely nothing, and they were skin-tight enough that Warrick could feel the heat as it radiated out. The softest of groans didn’t help his composure either; oh yeah, just a little movement of his hand, just a touch and then Greg would be-
“You’re going to leave it there?” Blake’s voice cut through Warrick’s daydreaming, and Warrick cursed himself for not paying attention. Grissom had his arms folded, the crop still held firmly in one hand as he watched the other obviously aroused man prowl around the limited space.
“Any further and we’re into consent issues,” Gil replied softly. “You know how careful we have to be,”
That caused an irritable growl in response, although Warrick was pleased to see that Blake wasn’t planning to push it. Greg slowly slipped off his lap to settle on the floor next to him, his eyes wary as he watched the conversation, and Warrick was pleased he didn’t have to hint that he needed the freedom to step into the fight if one started up.
“Yes, I see your point,” Blake said grudgingly as he crossed the space and stood immediately behind Nick. A hand gently stroked down Nick’s back, but there was no longer any of the grudging acceptance that Stokes had given Gil; the knowledge of exactly who was stood behind him had caused another burst of energy to hit Nick’s muscles, each one tense and all but waiting to either fight or flee. It was painful to watch, Nick’s discomfort harder to bear that any of the blows that Grissom had inflicted.
“He’s another of your students?” Blake asked idly, fingers slowly following the marks that crisscrossed over the rise of Nick’s backside and earning himself another shudder. He put his foot between Nick’s spread legs and kicked his ankles wider apart, a movement that caused even Grissom to lose his neutral expression.
“Don’t do that. And no, he’s not.” Grissom spoke calmly, although no less intensively for that.
“No?” Blake purred, his attention still firmly on Nick.
“No. He’s a drifter. Left Texas for what he thought was the easier life, fought with his family, you know the type,” Grissom’s voice was bored as he discussed the aspects of the new and not exactly improved fictional Nick Stokes. His mouth flickered upwards in a smile. “I take the place of his family.”
“Really?”
Warrick didn’t even need to look at the man to hear the smile in Blake’s voice, and oh yeah, that little tale was designed to appeal to the bully in the predator. No family, no ties, probably no paperwork either. No one would know if Nicky vanished off the face of the planet, certainly not enough to give them any leads.
“Well, that’s good to hear..,”
Later on, he would berate himself for not knowing what Blake would have done, but at that exact moment the only thing he could do was react as Nick cried out, his back arching and his cry so damned different to the ones that he had given with Grissom. Before they had almost been statements of effort or control, pained but not distressed, a noise that the very extreme of exercise probably would have achieved by itself. This cry was one of shock and pain and fear, and brought both him and Greg to their feet instantly and Grissom immediately yanking the other man back. It didn’t take too long to work out what had caused Nick to respond like that; Blake calmly wiped his finger on his trouser leg as he looked back curiously at Grissom, obviously uncertain why a simple finger insertion within the beaten young body was enough to bring a snarl to Gil’s face.
“He’s tight.” Blake scanned Gil’s eyes thoughtfully, then a knowing smile began to creep across his face. “He’s still a virgin, isn’t he? Saving him up.”
“The time has to be right,” Gil’s voice was the most menacing that Warrick could remember it being. “Don’t touch him again.”
Blake chuckled softly. “Cute. Certainly,” his eyes gleamed. “Although I think I might have a proposal for you.”
“Oh?” Grissom crossed to where Nick was still dangling from his chains and began to unbuckle the shackles from the other man’s wrists, catching him before Nick sagged to the floor in a boneless heap. Nick slowly folded onto his knees, his breathing ragged and quick and frightened, although his panic slowly eased as soon as Gil’s touch had slid across his skin. Blake watched idly as Grissom lifted the blindfold, gently ruffling the younger man’s hair as Nick blinked upwards with soft, pitiful, pleading dark brown eyes that worked so damned well on all of them. Warrick could see the tracks of his tears down his cheeks, a red rim surrounding Nick’s eyes, and prayed that it wasn’t as bad as it looked like.
“Yeah.” Blake purred, pausing to look down at the beaten man for a moment before dismissing him and looking up at Grissom. “Give me your number and I’ll give you a call when we have things set up.”
His eyes flickered to where Warrick was stood, then back again. “We’ll talk on the details later, hmm?”
Gil raised his head but gave the smallest of nods and fished in a pocket. He brought out a battered piece of paper that looked like the remains of a shopping list, then a small, short pen that apparently had been ‘borrowed’ from a bank. The number written and passed back, Grissom looked back down at Nick thoughtfully.
His expression was misread, and resulted in a throaty chuckle from Blake.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your work,” he gave the smallest of bows. “A pleasure doing business with you, Gil. And I look forward to our future agreements,”
A finger snap brought his two men from their position to stand next to him, their features impassive and completely unconcerned over what their master had been discussing. Warrick wasn’t even sure they’d even heard him. Blake looked down at Nick for a moment, then back at Gil.
“Try to keep him innocent, hmm? I promise, it’ll be worth it,” his eyes sparkled before he turned and left the room, leaving behind him a whole mountain worth of issues.
*
“What the hell were you thinking?!”
Catherine had a way of cutting through social niceties. Gil ignored her as he sat down next to Nick’s prone body and gently stroking his shoulders and arms, easing him back from the scene into the reality that was currently surrounding them. A blanket had been draped over his lower half, avoiding pressing material against his bruises, and Nick seemed to be perfectly happy as he rested his head against his arms, accepting the caresses as payment for a job well done.
“We have a lead into this world,” Gil spoke mildly, when it was clear that Catherine wasn’t going away. “That’s what we need.”
“By beating the crap out of Nick?”
“I’m fine-,”
“Is that right?” Catherine folded her arms. “I’ll believe it when you can sit down again. Oh, or perhaps when you can actually put on a pair of boxers without wincing.”
Nick sighed softly, and closed his eyes as he resettled into Gil’s caresses. Catherine paced up and own for a few moments, then swivelled on her toe and stared defiantly back at Gil again.
“Where’s Greg and Warrick? Should I be worried about them too?” she demanded.
“They’re getting themselves dressed and ready to leave,” Gil replied patiently. “In the room a few doors down, with a private shower and a large bedroom. And it’s purely a bedroom,” he added. “With a lock on the door and a bed in the middle and a mattress. The same as you’d find in most houses.”
Catherine shook her head and ran her hand through her hair as she clearly struggled with the images in her mind. Gil watched her out of the corner of his eye, impressed that the shouting had been the limit to the woman’s frustration. He had half expected her to come out either punching or shooting.
“So you think that this guy’s going to contact you to arrange a meeting in order to use Nick in one of his films?” she said finally. “What happens if he doesn’t?”
“Then he doesn’t, and we leave it.” Gil replied idly. “He’ll either believe us now, or he’ll get scared off from us and try someone else. It’s an all or nothing situation, Catherine. That’s why we had to take it to the levels we did.”
“And all of this is for a situation we don’t even know is right or not?” Catherine rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers wearily. “I mean, do you genuinely feel proud of yourself, Gil?”
“Catherine, I’m fine. Leave him alone,” Nick’s eyes didn’t open but his voice was stronger than it had been for a while. “I could have stopped it-”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, do you all have that script? Yeah, you could have said something, but you wouldn’t have, would you, Nicky? Not unless Gil was about to actually cut off your dick or slit your throat.” Catherine’s voice was brisk, sharp and unforgiving. “And don’t you dare tell me that you could have, not after all we’ve been through together.”
“I’m not upset on what had to happen,” Nick replied as steadily as he could. “Can we drop it now?”
“The question of spanking? Sure, why not. Let’s get onto the whole sexual molestation instead, shall we?” Catherine fixed Gil with an even sharper look. “You were supposed to be watching him, and yet that happened?”
Gil felt Nick shift uncomfortably underneath his hand, and gently stroked him again, soothingly. Spanking was apparently one thing, but Blake’s touch was another, and thankfully Catherine was angry but not ridiculously enough so that she had failed to acknowledge Nick’s genuine distress. She growled in frustration, then sighed and leaned forward to gently rub her hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Nicky. I just hate seeing you like this,”
“Yeah,” there was a ghost of a breath, then the smallest of rueful chuckles from Nick. “I know. You’re just fussing,”
“Given the situation, I’m allowed a little bit of a fuss, surely?” Catherine patted his shoulder again, then fixed Gil with her firmest ‘I’m not letting you get out of it that easily’ expression. “You gave that man your cell number, yes?”
“I thought the work one might be a little undiplomatic,” Gil murmured. “And before you start listing out the things you want me to do, yes, I will let you know as soon as he calls. Jim will probably tackle any search on the actual premises, anyway. He’s eager to do his part,”
“As long as his part doesn’t involve a whip in his hand, I’m beginning to get a bit dubious on what you boys get up to in your spare time-,”
“Of course it doesn’t, the budget doesn’t cover that type of expenditure,” Gil sat up a little, and smiled affectionately down at Nick who had pouted slightly at the lack of contact. Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she looked down at them, then suspiciously at Gil again.
“You guys need to confess anything to me, or are we looking at some weird sexual bond from a tense mission?” she asked bluntly. “Because if Ecklie sees you give Nick that sort of look during shift, you’re probably gonna find yourselves with a rather insistent internal affairs report.”
That managed to poke Nick into movement, his eyes opening to fix Catherine with a genuinely bewildered expression.
“What?”
“Oh, come on. You both know what I’m talking about.” Catherine replied crossly. Nick looked at her blankly, then up at Grissom uncertainly. There was another little laugh from Catherine, who began to pace up and down the room again.
“Fantastic! In one evening we manage to fuck up the entire group,”
Gil raised a hand. “I’m not fucked up.”
“You’ve been fucked up for a while, Gil, it’s just you get away with it because you can dress it up in scientific clothing before you give it a bottle.” Catherine folded her arms again. “And if the pair of you smart guys can’t see what’s in front of your noses, then we’re fucked twice over.”
Gil’s fingers drummed on the firm muscle of Nick’s arm. “Your mind seems to be a little preoccupied on the concept of intercourse-,”
“Probably because we’re in a damned sex club, Gil!” Catherine waved a hand at Nick again. “And you’ve just done unsavoury things to one of your subordinates!”
“Who doesn’t mind-,”
“And that’s definitely not the point here, Nick!” Catherine leaned across to give the lightest of smacks against his thigh. “Look, if you two are happy together, then that’s great, that’s fine, you just have to be sensible about it and save your own asses… okay, outside of the whole spanking thing.. before you find that the lab protocol gets upset.”
Nick’s bewilderment was a little too obvious. “Happy together? Catherine, this is a case..,”
Catherine looked at him for a few moments with the bewildered look of one that suspected her leg was being pulled, and then sighed wearily. She smiled resignedly at Gil.
“Oh, you’re in for an interesting conversation, aren’t you?” she shook her head and stepped away from the bed, walking to where Lady Heather had supplied her with a glass of fine wine that glistened in the light. Nick pushed himself up slightly, looking over his shoulder to follow her movements with a frustrated, confused look that confirmed that Catherine’s comment was pretty close to the truth.
“Hey, what’s that s’posed to mean, Catherine? There isn’t anything here that wasn’t considered earlier on.” Nick’s voice was low but heated, unusual for Stokes and another sign that things weren’t quite right. Gil allowed the frustration to find its outlet, knowing that Catherine was more than capable of slapping Nick down if he got too aggressive, although the chances that Nick ever got that far were pretty limited. That just wasn’t who Nick was. Frustration simply led to grudging acceptance, which Sara had complained more than once to him about whenever she had wanted to start a war and found her target engaged in a cup of coffee instead.
“Nicky…,” Catherine sighed.
“Hey, don’t ‘Nicky’ me like that,” Nick snapped back, clearly rattled. “I ain’ some kid here. You think you could have done better? Fine. You try it next time.”
“I’m not criticising how you achieved what you did. I’m commenting on the consequences of what you did,” Catherine’s voice had dropped to her usual soft voice she used whenever she was guarding her CSI charges, and it was clear by the way that Nick’s eyes flashed in irritation that he had noticed this.
“We got an insight and I got a few bruises. Big deal.”
Catherine’s gaze slid to Gil, and he could already see the anger give way to sympathy. The woman was nothing if not practical, and everything had already happened; now it was simply a case of smoothing over the consequences, regardless of Nick’s denial. Not that it was all Nick’s confusion, of course. Gil looked down at his fingers, tracing a line with his fingertip over the bone idly as he went through everything in his mind and still couldn’t quite work out where they were or what they were doing. He was horribly conscious of a strange, all body hum, which seemed to prickle throughout him with the insistency of arousal but not quite yet the power of it. Simply drawing his attention to the matter of unfinished business, but then he had no right to that conclusion. The game was essentially over; he would not be taking Nick to that hideout, regardless of what they promised, and therefore the prospect of ever having the younger CSI under his express control was limited.
And yes, that was definitely disappointment he felt as a result. Not wanted, certainly, but then desire never did listen to common sense. But not wanting something didn’t make it any the less real. Eventually reality had a nasty habit of getting revenge.
“Sara’s already collecting the equipment to take back to the department,” Catherine spoke again. “Guess we’ll see you tomorrow, give you some time to relax. Unless you wanted to see a doctor..?”
“No.” Nick’s voice was short and blunt. Catherine sighed wearily.
“… yeah, thought not.” She shook her head with the slow movements that suggested everyone in the world was mad other than her, then walked to the door. “See you tomorrow, boys. And make sure you have that chat.”
“Of course,” Gil spoke mildly.
“I mean it, Gil. I will be checking.”
“Of course.”
There was another little pause, and a sigh. “And you’re probably going to ignore me for your own little plan, aren’t you?”
Gil grinned ruefully, then shrugged. “Of course,”
“God, I hate you sometimes, Gil Grissom.” Catherine reached the door and moodily looked back at him. She sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘Of course’.”
And with that, the door slammed after her, leaving Gil with a most interesting situation indeed.
*
TBC
Rating: NC17
Setting: CSI Vegas
Summary: When a tip off suggests that there may be murderous films being produced and distributed in Vegas, the male members of the CSI team try an undercover stunt to recover more evidence. However, their tenuous foray into the BDSM scene leads to unexpected and occasionally unwelcome discoveries within the group itself.
Warnings: BDSM scenes
Please check tags for past chapters
*
Dark. Everything was dark. Nick adjusted his hold on the chain that held him to the wall, gripping it tightly and feeling the cold chain dig into his palm as he did so. He’d never noticed how smooth metal could be before, which seemed an idiotic thing to consider at this exact moment but hell, it was one of the few things he had control over.
Everything was suddenly too loud as well. Nick found that his senses strained to judge what was happening around him now that his vision had been removed, and every little murmur, every movement, every breath now sounded as if someone had screamed it in his ear. His own body tormented him too; when he swallowed, the sound seemed as loud as a gunshot. His heart pounded unsteadily in his chest, each beat almost rocking him on his heels, and his breath was barely anything more than light, fast gasps for air, only just enough for his needs.
And then there was the tingling electricity that seemed to cover his entire body, the anticipation taking a physical form as Nick waited for the consequence to happen. And it would, he knew that. This was what he had promised to Grissom, that he was ready and prepared to take it to the next step, and yet now that he was here he wasn’t feeling in the least bit brave.
Warrick had already stepped away from him, and Nick felt his loss immediately. He had leaned towards Warrick’s warmth, his hands and instructions, and had reluctantly taken the position that Warrick had gently guided him into. His friend had left a massive gap now that he had moved away, and Nick’s sense of vulnerability took on a whole new level. He hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t be able to see the blow before it struck; now a simple breath on his shoulder was liable to make him jump half a mile. And, Nick had to conclude, that was probably the point.
I’ll need you to be vocal for me. Scream. Shout. Beg or sob if you want to.
He bit his lip and tried to focus on his own breathing. He had never been particularly good at mediating, finding more profitable things to do with his time, but Nick guessed now would have been the perfect moment to use the tool. It was just a shame that his body really wasn’t planning to listen – on anything, for that matter. Every tingle held both terror and a strange sense of longing, needing to feel connected to something other than the blindfold and the cold links of the chain. Each noise came with a little throb of anticipation deep within him, and it took the force of his willpower to slam down that thought.
Someone was also approaching. Nick strained to hear the little whisper of cloth against muscle, the faint noises of the man’s breathing and the little crunches of feet on floor as that person made his way to him. It had to be Grissom. He prayed it was Grissom. Warrick had a prowl that was noisier, not caring who heard him, and Greg’s bounce could be heard half a mile away. But then there was Blake, and Blake was the guy they were doing this whole thing for. If anyone was going to get a front row seat it was him.. and then there was the fact that Griss had been sharing ‘boys’ before..
He almost jumped out of his skin as something brushed against his flank. Cool, smooth, and almost certainly the gloves that Grissom had been wearing. Nick almost sagged with relief, a sag that suddenly froze as he realised where said hand was descending to. Fingers stroked down the line of his left hand side, gently smoothing over his waist before finally, seductively, tracing a burning line down across the rise of his left buttock. Nick shivered and bit his lip, trying to concentrate. It proved impossible to do so, especially as Gil’s finger returned to the base of Nick’s neck and slowly, gradually, began to follow the line of his spine.
He felt his cock twitch traitorously as the finger slowly reached the top of his ass, toying with him as he waited nervously to see whether it would abandon its path or follow it down into more intimate areas.
As it turned out, it was completely the wrong area to focus all his attention on. Nick gasped as something wet and warm applied itself to the spot where his neck met his shoulder, and then shivered as Grissom kissed a small path along his shoulder blade. The finger remained balanced on the start of his tail-bone, his coccyx apparently the perfect place for it to stay for a bit of a visit.
And then, just as suddenly, everything vanished again. Nick shivered, suddenly feeling the chill, and bit his lip again as he heard a swishing noise that wasn’t anything he’d heard before. He waited, his heartbeat in his ears and a flush rising to his skin, feeling each second painfully tick away. God, he hated the waiting..!
Apparently he wasn’t going to have to wait for much longer as something warmer than the latex fingers but just as alien rested on his shoulder blade. Nick shivered, his back arching automatically as he focused on the unfamiliar texture that was so teasingly positioned on his hot, nervous body. His hands curled into the chain links harder, ready and waiting. And waiting. And-
- there was nothing he could do against the tremble that ran though him as the object slowly began to work its way down his skin, a strange tickling sensation that added an extra disloyal throb or two in his groin. Nick groaned softly as it vanished again, engaged in its own game of hide and seek, but his protests were silenced by the sudden impact on the meatier part of his backside. Well, he said impact. In contrast it was actually more of a tester blow, as though Grissom was simply marking out where he was planning to strike.
Another blow added to the first. Then another. And hell, they were still damned light but deceptively warm, his skin tingling with sensation and an increased anticipation as the blows slowly began to build up like a drum roll on a particularly erotic instrument. Nick forced himself to breathe through it, slowly relaxing. This wasn’t too bad. This was…
Nick twitched from the last blow, and had to reassess his last conclusion. Okay, that wasn’t so much ouch as uncomfortable, and –
The next blow had a distinctly ‘thwap’ tendency to it that forced a grunt out of him, a tickling stinging flooding across his already slightly tender buttocks. Panting softly, his back stiffened again as another blow hit him, followed by yet another one. The grunt had turned to the faintest of whines, a strangled noise that Nick fought to bite down.
Noises… shit! One instruction and he’d already forgotten it. He panted softly, his head hanging forward for a moment as he gathered himself, and then grudgingly allowed the next yelp to be verbalised. This conveniently coincided with another burst of effort from Grissom, the sting throbbing through him, and the yelp suddenly found a whole new level of volume.
Panting, beginning to feel distinctly sore, Nick cried out again as the crop fell. Okay, perhaps this wasn’t going to be as much of an act as he had expected.
*
“That’s it, I’m getting him out of there.”
Her voice was firm. Her posture was aggressive. Her eyes flashed. And yet Lady Heather still refused to move from where she had positioned herself in the doorway. Catherine’s teeth ground together before she looked back helplessly at the nearest screen. No way was this reasonable, and if Nick cried any more she was going to grab hold of Gil and –
“Are you sure you wish to interrupt?” Heather’s voice was soft and soothing and everything Catherine currently wasn’t. Catherine looked back at her with a look that stated that clearly everyone but her was insane.
“Am I sure? Look at him! Of course I’m sure!” a finger was thrust towards the screen, although the dramatic flourish did nothing to ruffle the lady’s feathers. A cool look turned to the screen, and then back again sympathetically.
“I know it will look and sound extreme to you, but weren’t you expecting a performance?” Heather replied softly. “Remove yourself from the memory that this is one of your boys, and focus on what is happening.”
“I’m not forgetting he’s one of my boys just for convenience sakes,” Catherine snarled back. “You haven’t seen him when he’s crying-,”
“Then focus on what he isn’t doing than what he is,” Heather lifted her head and fixed her with a firm look. “He could easily stop it, if he wanted to. Gilbert was extremely cautious when it came to safety measures, and from what I’ve seen that has not changed,”
“You don’t understand. If Nicky thought Gil wanted him to be flayed alive, he’d just stand there and take it!” Catherine prowled around in a circle, her eyes moving back to the screen again in frustration. There was another flick of the wrist and Nick yelled again, no longer the soft, reluctant noises of earlier but now cries that held real depth to them, as though he had merely been practising before. The camera feed was poor, but Catherine could already see the tint to Nick’s skin – naked, bare skin, what the hell was Gil thinking? - and the way the man clung onto the chains that held him in place.
“This is further than we agreed,” she said softly, heatedly. “God, if I’d have known it would actually come to this, then there would be no way I’d have agreed-,”
There was a knock on the door and Sara slipped her head through the gap.
“Hey, I’ve been wandering around for coming up to ten minutes now, can I please come back in?”
“No,” Catherine turned her snarl on Sara, which earned herself a mere raise of the eyebrow rather than the flinch she was hoping for. Sidle had a nasty habit of being controlled at exactly the wrong moments, Catherine reflected, and then scowled inwardly as Gil chose that exact point to aim another blow to the still helpless Nick. Sara’s other eyebrow suddenly found a reason to get involved as she stared incredulously at the screens.
“Wait, was that Nick? Why the hell’s he screaming?”
“He’s not screaming-,”
Another blow suggested that this information was inaccurate. Catherine closed her eyes and growled through gritted teeth, then gave Sara a stiff little smile.
“He’s apparently fine,” here a glare was aimed at Heather, who looked equally unruffled. Damn them! This was what men were there for, they knew when to properly cringe. Catherine snarled, then folded her arms and turned back to the screens again. Taking that as permission, Sara slipped into the room and carefully, gently, shut the door behind her.
“Oh, my god…,” she murmured as she walked closer to the screens, but Catherine noted Sara’s voice was one of curiosity rather than horror. Sara glanced up at Heather carefully. “That looks worse than it actually is, right?”
Heather tilted her head in agreement. Sara frowned at the screen, slowly lowering herself to her chair as she did so, and then flinched as the next strike landed. She looked up incredulously.
“I thought we weren’t going to that level?”
“Neither did I.”
“So when was this decided?” Sara frowned back at the screen just as Nick sobbed out another cry, his back arching as though he had been attached to an electrical charge. “And is it working?”
“Depends what the aim was,” Catherine replied grimly.
“By the look of it, Nick’s ass,” Sara commented, then looked as sheepish as Sara got as Catherine aimed a hard look at her. “Yeah, sorry. Anyway, Griss wouldn’t do this unless he thought he’d get results, right? He’s not gonna get carried away in the scene, right?”
Catherine shook her head grudgingly. “One person getting carried away, possibly. But Warrick and Greg are there as well, and they’re not moving. Whatever this is, it’s planned.”
“Oh.” Sara winced slightly, and leaned forward to lower down the volume. “Well. That’s good… I guess. Depends when our appraisals are, and whether he gets to keep that whacking stick.”
“I’m not in the mood for jokes,” Catherine gave her another hard glare, although she achieved absolutely nothing for it; Sara apparently only flinched when she had considered herself at fault for something.
“Who’s joking?” Sara shrugged, settling back in her chair as she watched the screen with her eyes narrowed slightly. “This is all supposed to be official too, right? If there’s no real boundaries here, then why should I expect them in the lab?”
“There’s boundaries,” Catherine’s voice had a snarl in it.
“Oh good. Because I love boundaries with nudity and ass whipping involved, makes me all tingly inside.” Sara replied drily, and then winced once more as Nick’s skin met up with the whip again. “Okay, I’m not sure I can put up with that for much longer. He’s making me feel guilty for just sitting back and watching,”
Catherine’s irritation suddenly had a massive alteration to the need to hug her. “Yes, I know exactly that feeling,” she confirmed, with a gleeful look towards Heather. Sara drummed her fingers on the table.
“How long does this go on for? Until he bleeds?” she asked critically. “Because, and no offence intended here, that sounds both freaky and fucked up. Do you guys even have a doctor on site, or do you have one on call with a really novel way of paying for services?”
“Blood play is only done through carefully vetted situations. Health reasons.” Heather replied, unconcerned and clearly not offended in the slightest. “Besides which, I doubt whether they’d get past bruising with the technique that Gil is employing.”
“Oh, good,” Catherine replied dryly. “That makes all the difference,”
Lady Heather’s eyebrow arched slightly in amusement.
“In your line of work, I suspect you’d know the answer to that better than I would.” She looked back at Sara. “In answer to your question, I would imagine it will continue for about ten minutes more, and then begin to trail off… to slowly return the bottom to a safer place.”
“A safer place being a mile away from that whip?” Catherine replied sweetly, then sighed softly at the look.
“If you prefer, think of it as though they are in an unusual form of exercise. Warm up, continue the session, and then slow down, cool off.” Heather replied, inserting another careless shrug here, as though it formed part of her punctuation. Sara frowned at her before watching another bout of ‘bruising’. Her finger waggled slowly at the screen.
“Exactly how did Grissom get to know all of this anyway? I didn’t see this on the syllabus back at college.” Sara thought about it, and then snapped her fingers. “You gave him a manual?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Lady Heather’s smile was one of sheer pleasantness.
Sara processed that for a moment, and then smiled brightly at her. “Can I borrow it?”
“Sara…,” Catherine growled softly.
“What, I can’t do research anymore?” she gave a little roll of the eyes, then looked back at the screen and winced. “Well, other than research using guys I know,”
“There are hoods available-,”
“NO.” Catherine slammed her fist onto the nearest flat surface, which happened to be the wall. On the other hand, it did cause the effect she was after; both women glanced in her direction, before Sara sighed softly and settled back uncomfortably against her chair. A few seconds later, she had leaned forward to turn down the volume again.
“I don’t like hearing him like that,” she said in a faintly apologetic way. “And they’re not talking anyway.”
No. They weren’t. Catherine scowled as she looked at the screen once more, her arms folded as tight as they could be without restricting her airflow. Was that a good thing? She assumed so. Certainly they had captured their target’s attention, Blake’s expression the lustful predator that she remembered so often when she had been dancing; that distant yet focused look, that suggested that their owner’s thoughts were two steps ahead in the future on what could be.
Fuck, Gil was playing a dangerous game. And as Catherine watched Nick shudder against his bonds again, she wasn’t even sure the real danger lay in Blake himself.
*
It had taken him all his strength to stay where he was. Warrick had kept his head lowered respectfully, but hell, it was hard, especially as the crop began to steadily pick up speed and strength. There was no question that Nick’s response was anything but genuine, although he never once tried to escape, the harsh, rasping pants for air in between the blows the only real signs that he needed to recover.
Warrick slowly risked a look. Grissom seemed .. well, Grissom. His arm never trembled, nor landed where it wasn’t supposed to be, and Warrick was thankful for that now that the strikes were hard enough to leave marks. Griss was aiming solely for the safer areas of Nick’s body, mostly his backside, which at least was good for any accidental longer term damage but not so good when it came to variety; Nick’s skin was beginning to find itself layered with bruises, and Warrick didn’t even want to think of what it would end up like once they were all back in the lab and Nick had to consider sitting down again.
His gaze flickered to Griss’ face. His look of concentration was impressive, as was the little flicker of exertion whenever he used the crop, but any real emotion was hidden under a coating of .. well, Grissom, mild interest and deliberation in a job well done shielding any of the man’s actual thoughts. The only thing that had truly given Warrick confidence had been the gentle caresses that Griss had given Nick right before he had started, the gentle touches of a man concerned over his partner and gestures that Grissom rarely gave unless he seriously meant it.
That observation had been his alone, it seemed, and he wasn’t the only one who was getting cautious over what was happening. Warrick almost jumped as a hand nervously touched his shoulder, Greg slipping down to kneel next to him as the young man glanced anxiously to where Nick was being given a short break to regain his breath, Stokes’ gasps for air mixed with little emotional sobs that broke Warrick’s heart each time he heard them. A finger slowly began to draw a circle on the small of his back, over and over again; the signal that Greg really, really wasn’t happy.
Warrick risked a look at the door, then, shielded, back at their target. Thankfully Blake seemed to be focused entirely on what was happening with Nick; the man had a hungry, focused look as he watched the punishment, as though he was recording every single blow in his memory for replay later. His hand was resting on one of his young men, stroking him gently and occasionally sliding his hand down the young, hairless chest to squeeze a nipple hard between two fingers. There was no question the other man was aroused; the line straining against his trousers spoke volumes.
Well, what was good for Blake was probably good enough for them. Warrick shifted positions, back onto his heels, and gently pulled Greg further onto his lap as though he was a small child needing comforting. Unfortunately his gesture was not without its cost; unprepared for the movement, Greg all but squeaked as he was pulled into position, and loud enough for Grissom’s next strike to be put on pause as he glanced down to them.
For a moment Gil’s gaze met Warrick’s dead on, a steady and silent flow of information. Finally Grissom gave the slightest tilts of his head, and then turned back to look at the naked, trembling but still standing body of his ‘boy’. He lazily swished the crop around, loosening his muscles as he waited for Nick’s breathing to slow and his head to rise up again, which had been Nick’s silent way to confirm he was ready for another one.
Permission granted, Warrick pulled Greg a little further onto his lap and gently began to stroke his hand down the young man’s leg. Incredibly, this had little effect, and Warrick was slowly beginning to worry that Greg had gone past his own personal ‘happy’ line and was paddling in dangerous waters.
Lowering his head and nuzzling the soft skin of Greg’s neck, Warrick pulled the younger man tighter to him in what he hoped was perceived as a dominant show of arousal rather than the comforting gesture he was hoping for. He could feel the young man tremble against him, on him, and that was not the greatest of places to have what was essentially an organic vibrator pressed up against. Warrick nuzzled Greg’s neck again, giving his skin a little nip with his teeth to snap the youngster out of his daze and back onto what was happening to his own skin.
“C’mon, man,” he murmured in Greg’s ear, nipping at him again. “S’okay. Griss knows what he’s doing,”
There was a soft little whimper, as though a puppy had got itself trapped somewhere and wasn’t entirely sure how to work the door handles. The vibration stepped up a notch, rubbing against Warrick’s groin with such persistence that Warrick gritted his teeth and had to think of something else. Another yelp from Nick provided that relatively easily; unfortunately it was also gripping Greg’s attention with the force of an alien face-hugger thing and a particularly appealing face.
“Calm down,” he murmured, but words really weren’t having any effect other than simply background noise. Warrick growled in his throat and looked helplessly towards the scene, which was thankfully slowing down, then allowed his hand to stroke higher on Greg’s thigh. His mouth met up with the hot skin of Greg’s neck again, nipping and sucking at him with more force than before, deliberately causing a little discomfort to distract the man’s attention away from Nick to what was happening to his own hide.
Greg squirmed – again, directly on the groin, and hell Warrick could have done with something a little less flimsy covering his parts – and made another little puppy dog noise. Warrick’s teeth bit a little harder, the squirm turning into a full body shiver, and finally, finally, Warrick began to feel Greg slowly ease into the sensual suggestion that Warrick was planting. The younger man groaned softly and reluctantly, although the reluctance didn’t stop him from wriggling on Warrick’s lap persistently enough that Warrick’s cock managed to settle a little too comfortably underneath Greg’s ass.
For a little while, their surrounding world was both simple and extremely busy; Warrick was conscious of their target nearby, but Blake seemed transfixed by whatever thought was going through his own mind to really care what either of them were doing. Then there was Grissom and Nick, caught up in their own mixture of horror and fantasy, the crop no longer striking but slowly sliding along Nick’s trembling muscles, easing him back. And all of this wasn’t even taking into account the fact that Greg’s heat and nervous energy on top of him had already encouraged Warrick’s body into a little pleasure-uncomfortable tingle, his body telling him to move, to grind upwards, and his willpower struggling to resist.
Another nip at Greg’s neck resulted in the softest of moans, the younger man tipping his head back to allow Warrick access as he shifted his hips yet again over his lap. Warrick’s hand stroked along Greg’s thigh before slowly pinning him down, gently but firmly.
“You wriggle like that again and it ain’t gonna be just Nick who gets a hiding, ‘kay?” he grumbled in Greg’s ear. That managed to result in another shiver that wasn’t exactly a purposeful wriggle but did the job anyway. Warrick sighed softly. This was going to be a long few minutes. If he managed to get through it without shoving Greg up against the wall and fucking him senseless, then they were doing well.
Greg nudged backwards, eager for attention, and Warrick found that his hand slowly slipped higher, across firm, slim muscles and brushing against the other man’s hardening erection. The shorts hid absolutely nothing, and they were skin-tight enough that Warrick could feel the heat as it radiated out. The softest of groans didn’t help his composure either; oh yeah, just a little movement of his hand, just a touch and then Greg would be-
“You’re going to leave it there?” Blake’s voice cut through Warrick’s daydreaming, and Warrick cursed himself for not paying attention. Grissom had his arms folded, the crop still held firmly in one hand as he watched the other obviously aroused man prowl around the limited space.
“Any further and we’re into consent issues,” Gil replied softly. “You know how careful we have to be,”
That caused an irritable growl in response, although Warrick was pleased to see that Blake wasn’t planning to push it. Greg slowly slipped off his lap to settle on the floor next to him, his eyes wary as he watched the conversation, and Warrick was pleased he didn’t have to hint that he needed the freedom to step into the fight if one started up.
“Yes, I see your point,” Blake said grudgingly as he crossed the space and stood immediately behind Nick. A hand gently stroked down Nick’s back, but there was no longer any of the grudging acceptance that Stokes had given Gil; the knowledge of exactly who was stood behind him had caused another burst of energy to hit Nick’s muscles, each one tense and all but waiting to either fight or flee. It was painful to watch, Nick’s discomfort harder to bear that any of the blows that Grissom had inflicted.
“He’s another of your students?” Blake asked idly, fingers slowly following the marks that crisscrossed over the rise of Nick’s backside and earning himself another shudder. He put his foot between Nick’s spread legs and kicked his ankles wider apart, a movement that caused even Grissom to lose his neutral expression.
“Don’t do that. And no, he’s not.” Grissom spoke calmly, although no less intensively for that.
“No?” Blake purred, his attention still firmly on Nick.
“No. He’s a drifter. Left Texas for what he thought was the easier life, fought with his family, you know the type,” Grissom’s voice was bored as he discussed the aspects of the new and not exactly improved fictional Nick Stokes. His mouth flickered upwards in a smile. “I take the place of his family.”
“Really?”
Warrick didn’t even need to look at the man to hear the smile in Blake’s voice, and oh yeah, that little tale was designed to appeal to the bully in the predator. No family, no ties, probably no paperwork either. No one would know if Nicky vanished off the face of the planet, certainly not enough to give them any leads.
“Well, that’s good to hear..,”
Later on, he would berate himself for not knowing what Blake would have done, but at that exact moment the only thing he could do was react as Nick cried out, his back arching and his cry so damned different to the ones that he had given with Grissom. Before they had almost been statements of effort or control, pained but not distressed, a noise that the very extreme of exercise probably would have achieved by itself. This cry was one of shock and pain and fear, and brought both him and Greg to their feet instantly and Grissom immediately yanking the other man back. It didn’t take too long to work out what had caused Nick to respond like that; Blake calmly wiped his finger on his trouser leg as he looked back curiously at Grissom, obviously uncertain why a simple finger insertion within the beaten young body was enough to bring a snarl to Gil’s face.
“He’s tight.” Blake scanned Gil’s eyes thoughtfully, then a knowing smile began to creep across his face. “He’s still a virgin, isn’t he? Saving him up.”
“The time has to be right,” Gil’s voice was the most menacing that Warrick could remember it being. “Don’t touch him again.”
Blake chuckled softly. “Cute. Certainly,” his eyes gleamed. “Although I think I might have a proposal for you.”
“Oh?” Grissom crossed to where Nick was still dangling from his chains and began to unbuckle the shackles from the other man’s wrists, catching him before Nick sagged to the floor in a boneless heap. Nick slowly folded onto his knees, his breathing ragged and quick and frightened, although his panic slowly eased as soon as Gil’s touch had slid across his skin. Blake watched idly as Grissom lifted the blindfold, gently ruffling the younger man’s hair as Nick blinked upwards with soft, pitiful, pleading dark brown eyes that worked so damned well on all of them. Warrick could see the tracks of his tears down his cheeks, a red rim surrounding Nick’s eyes, and prayed that it wasn’t as bad as it looked like.
“Yeah.” Blake purred, pausing to look down at the beaten man for a moment before dismissing him and looking up at Grissom. “Give me your number and I’ll give you a call when we have things set up.”
His eyes flickered to where Warrick was stood, then back again. “We’ll talk on the details later, hmm?”
Gil raised his head but gave the smallest of nods and fished in a pocket. He brought out a battered piece of paper that looked like the remains of a shopping list, then a small, short pen that apparently had been ‘borrowed’ from a bank. The number written and passed back, Grissom looked back down at Nick thoughtfully.
His expression was misread, and resulted in a throaty chuckle from Blake.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your work,” he gave the smallest of bows. “A pleasure doing business with you, Gil. And I look forward to our future agreements,”
A finger snap brought his two men from their position to stand next to him, their features impassive and completely unconcerned over what their master had been discussing. Warrick wasn’t even sure they’d even heard him. Blake looked down at Nick for a moment, then back at Gil.
“Try to keep him innocent, hmm? I promise, it’ll be worth it,” his eyes sparkled before he turned and left the room, leaving behind him a whole mountain worth of issues.
*
“What the hell were you thinking?!”
Catherine had a way of cutting through social niceties. Gil ignored her as he sat down next to Nick’s prone body and gently stroking his shoulders and arms, easing him back from the scene into the reality that was currently surrounding them. A blanket had been draped over his lower half, avoiding pressing material against his bruises, and Nick seemed to be perfectly happy as he rested his head against his arms, accepting the caresses as payment for a job well done.
“We have a lead into this world,” Gil spoke mildly, when it was clear that Catherine wasn’t going away. “That’s what we need.”
“By beating the crap out of Nick?”
“I’m fine-,”
“Is that right?” Catherine folded her arms. “I’ll believe it when you can sit down again. Oh, or perhaps when you can actually put on a pair of boxers without wincing.”
Nick sighed softly, and closed his eyes as he resettled into Gil’s caresses. Catherine paced up and own for a few moments, then swivelled on her toe and stared defiantly back at Gil again.
“Where’s Greg and Warrick? Should I be worried about them too?” she demanded.
“They’re getting themselves dressed and ready to leave,” Gil replied patiently. “In the room a few doors down, with a private shower and a large bedroom. And it’s purely a bedroom,” he added. “With a lock on the door and a bed in the middle and a mattress. The same as you’d find in most houses.”
Catherine shook her head and ran her hand through her hair as she clearly struggled with the images in her mind. Gil watched her out of the corner of his eye, impressed that the shouting had been the limit to the woman’s frustration. He had half expected her to come out either punching or shooting.
“So you think that this guy’s going to contact you to arrange a meeting in order to use Nick in one of his films?” she said finally. “What happens if he doesn’t?”
“Then he doesn’t, and we leave it.” Gil replied idly. “He’ll either believe us now, or he’ll get scared off from us and try someone else. It’s an all or nothing situation, Catherine. That’s why we had to take it to the levels we did.”
“And all of this is for a situation we don’t even know is right or not?” Catherine rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers wearily. “I mean, do you genuinely feel proud of yourself, Gil?”
“Catherine, I’m fine. Leave him alone,” Nick’s eyes didn’t open but his voice was stronger than it had been for a while. “I could have stopped it-”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, do you all have that script? Yeah, you could have said something, but you wouldn’t have, would you, Nicky? Not unless Gil was about to actually cut off your dick or slit your throat.” Catherine’s voice was brisk, sharp and unforgiving. “And don’t you dare tell me that you could have, not after all we’ve been through together.”
“I’m not upset on what had to happen,” Nick replied as steadily as he could. “Can we drop it now?”
“The question of spanking? Sure, why not. Let’s get onto the whole sexual molestation instead, shall we?” Catherine fixed Gil with an even sharper look. “You were supposed to be watching him, and yet that happened?”
Gil felt Nick shift uncomfortably underneath his hand, and gently stroked him again, soothingly. Spanking was apparently one thing, but Blake’s touch was another, and thankfully Catherine was angry but not ridiculously enough so that she had failed to acknowledge Nick’s genuine distress. She growled in frustration, then sighed and leaned forward to gently rub her hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Nicky. I just hate seeing you like this,”
“Yeah,” there was a ghost of a breath, then the smallest of rueful chuckles from Nick. “I know. You’re just fussing,”
“Given the situation, I’m allowed a little bit of a fuss, surely?” Catherine patted his shoulder again, then fixed Gil with her firmest ‘I’m not letting you get out of it that easily’ expression. “You gave that man your cell number, yes?”
“I thought the work one might be a little undiplomatic,” Gil murmured. “And before you start listing out the things you want me to do, yes, I will let you know as soon as he calls. Jim will probably tackle any search on the actual premises, anyway. He’s eager to do his part,”
“As long as his part doesn’t involve a whip in his hand, I’m beginning to get a bit dubious on what you boys get up to in your spare time-,”
“Of course it doesn’t, the budget doesn’t cover that type of expenditure,” Gil sat up a little, and smiled affectionately down at Nick who had pouted slightly at the lack of contact. Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she looked down at them, then suspiciously at Gil again.
“You guys need to confess anything to me, or are we looking at some weird sexual bond from a tense mission?” she asked bluntly. “Because if Ecklie sees you give Nick that sort of look during shift, you’re probably gonna find yourselves with a rather insistent internal affairs report.”
That managed to poke Nick into movement, his eyes opening to fix Catherine with a genuinely bewildered expression.
“What?”
“Oh, come on. You both know what I’m talking about.” Catherine replied crossly. Nick looked at her blankly, then up at Grissom uncertainly. There was another little laugh from Catherine, who began to pace up and down the room again.
“Fantastic! In one evening we manage to fuck up the entire group,”
Gil raised a hand. “I’m not fucked up.”
“You’ve been fucked up for a while, Gil, it’s just you get away with it because you can dress it up in scientific clothing before you give it a bottle.” Catherine folded her arms again. “And if the pair of you smart guys can’t see what’s in front of your noses, then we’re fucked twice over.”
Gil’s fingers drummed on the firm muscle of Nick’s arm. “Your mind seems to be a little preoccupied on the concept of intercourse-,”
“Probably because we’re in a damned sex club, Gil!” Catherine waved a hand at Nick again. “And you’ve just done unsavoury things to one of your subordinates!”
“Who doesn’t mind-,”
“And that’s definitely not the point here, Nick!” Catherine leaned across to give the lightest of smacks against his thigh. “Look, if you two are happy together, then that’s great, that’s fine, you just have to be sensible about it and save your own asses… okay, outside of the whole spanking thing.. before you find that the lab protocol gets upset.”
Nick’s bewilderment was a little too obvious. “Happy together? Catherine, this is a case..,”
Catherine looked at him for a few moments with the bewildered look of one that suspected her leg was being pulled, and then sighed wearily. She smiled resignedly at Gil.
“Oh, you’re in for an interesting conversation, aren’t you?” she shook her head and stepped away from the bed, walking to where Lady Heather had supplied her with a glass of fine wine that glistened in the light. Nick pushed himself up slightly, looking over his shoulder to follow her movements with a frustrated, confused look that confirmed that Catherine’s comment was pretty close to the truth.
“Hey, what’s that s’posed to mean, Catherine? There isn’t anything here that wasn’t considered earlier on.” Nick’s voice was low but heated, unusual for Stokes and another sign that things weren’t quite right. Gil allowed the frustration to find its outlet, knowing that Catherine was more than capable of slapping Nick down if he got too aggressive, although the chances that Nick ever got that far were pretty limited. That just wasn’t who Nick was. Frustration simply led to grudging acceptance, which Sara had complained more than once to him about whenever she had wanted to start a war and found her target engaged in a cup of coffee instead.
“Nicky…,” Catherine sighed.
“Hey, don’t ‘Nicky’ me like that,” Nick snapped back, clearly rattled. “I ain’ some kid here. You think you could have done better? Fine. You try it next time.”
“I’m not criticising how you achieved what you did. I’m commenting on the consequences of what you did,” Catherine’s voice had dropped to her usual soft voice she used whenever she was guarding her CSI charges, and it was clear by the way that Nick’s eyes flashed in irritation that he had noticed this.
“We got an insight and I got a few bruises. Big deal.”
Catherine’s gaze slid to Gil, and he could already see the anger give way to sympathy. The woman was nothing if not practical, and everything had already happened; now it was simply a case of smoothing over the consequences, regardless of Nick’s denial. Not that it was all Nick’s confusion, of course. Gil looked down at his fingers, tracing a line with his fingertip over the bone idly as he went through everything in his mind and still couldn’t quite work out where they were or what they were doing. He was horribly conscious of a strange, all body hum, which seemed to prickle throughout him with the insistency of arousal but not quite yet the power of it. Simply drawing his attention to the matter of unfinished business, but then he had no right to that conclusion. The game was essentially over; he would not be taking Nick to that hideout, regardless of what they promised, and therefore the prospect of ever having the younger CSI under his express control was limited.
And yes, that was definitely disappointment he felt as a result. Not wanted, certainly, but then desire never did listen to common sense. But not wanting something didn’t make it any the less real. Eventually reality had a nasty habit of getting revenge.
“Sara’s already collecting the equipment to take back to the department,” Catherine spoke again. “Guess we’ll see you tomorrow, give you some time to relax. Unless you wanted to see a doctor..?”
“No.” Nick’s voice was short and blunt. Catherine sighed wearily.
“… yeah, thought not.” She shook her head with the slow movements that suggested everyone in the world was mad other than her, then walked to the door. “See you tomorrow, boys. And make sure you have that chat.”
“Of course,” Gil spoke mildly.
“I mean it, Gil. I will be checking.”
“Of course.”
There was another little pause, and a sigh. “And you’re probably going to ignore me for your own little plan, aren’t you?”
Gil grinned ruefully, then shrugged. “Of course,”
“God, I hate you sometimes, Gil Grissom.” Catherine reached the door and moodily looked back at him. She sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘Of course’.”
And with that, the door slammed after her, leaving Gil with a most interesting situation indeed.
*
TBC
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Date: 2010-04-09 09:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-10 09:27 am (UTC)Ah well, as long as it all makes vague sense and consistency, we can have a bit of artistic license over it ;)
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Date: 2010-04-10 02:39 pm (UTC)*evil cackle of .. um... evilness*