Author: Jesika / Ice Queen
Challenge: Clothing, with a little bit of Voyeurism
Warnings/Spoilers: Very brief mention of “PWF”
Summary: That naked cowboy looks awfully like our favorite Texan. Yeehaw. First CSI slash, be gentle.
He can hear Archie laughing in his direction from the A/V lab as he makes his way towards the men’s restroom at the back of the building, his lab coat swaying behind him as he disappears into the large room. Doors slam gently as he looks in each of the stalls, letting out a deep breath when he realizes he’s alone, his movements frantic as he goes into the handicapped stall farthest from the door.
The second the lock slides into place Greg presses his back against the wall and opens his lab coat, a sharp intake of breath entering his lungs as he ghosts his hand over the tight bulge in his jeans, trying to suppress the image of Nick in his tight new jeans that hug him in all the right places, make his ass stand out more than ever and the bulge in his crotch more prominent.
His hands haven’t been so unsteady since the explosion two years ago, but since the first image of the shift he got was of Nick bending down to pick up a file he dropped, those tight jeans accenting his ass and legs, his hands have resumed their shaking, this time in need to touch himself, relieve the pressure that’s growing deep in his groin.
He figured he could just bury his face in a microscope or keep his attention focused on the case in front of him, but he soon realized how hard it was when Nick appeared behind him, standing a little too close like he always does, testing the limits of the young CSI’s personal space.
Greg grinds his backside against the tiled wall, wishing it were Nick standing behind him, his head falling back as he closes his eyes and lets his hand run down his clothed chest, his fingers scraping over the top of his jeans and causing him to let out a quiet gasp. His fingers shake as he opens his belt and undoes his jeans, his breathing already coming out in ragged pants as he pushes the rough material down far enough for his erection to spring free, begging to be manipulated and stroked.
He knows he’s got to move quick if he doesn’t want to get caught, cursing Nick for putting him in this position as he fists his shaft, a strangled cry passing his lips at the sudden heat radiating off of his palm. He bites his lip and reaches into his coat pocket with his free hand, beginning a steady pumping rhythm on his cock as he shakily unfolds the worn magazine page, the young CSI staring at the picture he ripped out of an old porn magazine of a young male wearing nothing but a cowboy hat that hangs low over his eyes, concealing the models identity.
He knows that it’s just a coincidence that the model looks similarly like his coworker that he drools over, but it doesn’t stop his imagination as he takes in the sight of the man spread out on the bed, wishing he could trace every inch of Nick’s sweat slick skin with his tongue, taste the cum that he imagines pooled across the Texans abdomen.
His lip is on the verge of splitting wide open as his release hits him with full force, his back arching off the tiles as his semen comes out in spurts in front of him, adding to the many spots that already litter the worn magazine page. His hands are so slick with sweat that the picture slips from between his fingers onto the ground, his eyes screwed closed while he comes down from his high, his knees beginning to buckle under him.
After several moments of trying to get his breathing pattern back under control, the young CSI cleans himself up and tucks his withering cock back into his pants, his mind still in so much of a fog from his orgasm that he doesn’t realize the picture is gone and the soft sound of the bathroom door clicking closed.
His hands aren’t shaking so much anymore as he washes and dries them, giving himself a last once over before taking a deep breath and leaving the bathroom, thankful that no one around is paying any attention to him as he makes his way back to the DNA lab.