Heart Brake

Greg woke first, a little worse for wear, but nothing like it would have been without Gil to take care of him. Gil lay naked next to him, face down and snoring gently. Greg climbed out of the bed slowly and slipped into the bathroom, took care of the first order of business, then brushed the fur out of his mouth.

He changed out the washer and started the dryer, then rummaged in the kitchen for more electrolytes. He sipped the drink slowly, sliced some bagels and made coffee, selected some condiments and carried his offering into the bedroom.

Gil was still asleep. He had shifted while Greg was gone; half curled on his side, one leg stuck out across the bed, mouth open, hair flattened in some places and snarled in others; childlike despite the gray and the crows feet. Greg put the tray on the bedside table and slipped into the bed next to him.

Gil reached out for him; a small sigh escaped his lips as Greg snuggled close. Greg laid his head on the older man’s chest and listened to his heartbeat. Things were so much more complicated than they should have been, or less complicated, but in the wrong way; Greg couldn’t decide.

His head hurt enough without trying to be philosophical, he settled for the comfort of Gil’s arms sleepily closing around him. He drifted a while in the safety of Gil’s embrace, letting his mind wander aimlessly; he kept coming back to how good it felt to be right where he was.

Gil tried to drift back to sleep after Greg climbed back in the bed next to him, but mind and body wouldn’t let him. He slipped from the bed and went into the bathroom, checked on the dryer and tried to figure out what he was doing, again.

“Gil, come back to bed,” Greg called sleepily, bringing a complicated smile to the older man’s lips. He put his concerns aside, used Greg’s toothbrush and went back to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. Greg stretched like a cat, then settled against the headboard. “I kept it warm for you,” he wit with a grin.

Gil smiled, but his eyes were troubled; as usual too many thoughts were flying through his head. Greg wasn’t having any of it. He slid from the bed, padded over to Gil and wrapped his arms around him.

“Come on, stay a while Grissom,” he said as he ran his hands down Gil’s back. Your clothes aren’t dry yet and I made breakfast.” He leaned in and nipped Gil gently on the neck. “It could be fun…” he whispered. “You need more fun, Gil.”

“You do have a point there,” Gil answered slowly, “and there too,” he added with a smile as Greg’s hard on pressed into his thigh. He responded in kind as he steered Greg to the bed and onto his back. Gil nudged him into the center of the bed, then knelt between Greg’s thighs with a grin.

“What kind of fun did you have in mind, Greg?” he asked playfully, accenting the question with nips and licks at each knee. Greg squirmed and laughed beneath Gil, then tweaked a nipple playfully.

“This is exactly what I had in mind, Gil.” He shimmied a little for effect, then wrapped his arms around the older man and pulled him close. Greg loved the weight of Gil on top of him, he wasn’t sure why; he just did. He liked to struggle against him, the feel of flesh on flesh; it seemed a fitting reflection of their relationship, such as it was.

Gil kissed Greg deeply and held him down; he knew it did something nameless but hot to Greg; the grateful brightness in his eyes gave it away every time. Probably an undercurrent of “daddy” among other things; Gil didn’t really want to examine it any closer than that, just use it to his advantage.

The purple green flash of bruise that just showed around his hand startled him as he leaned in for another kiss. He jerked his hand away from Greg’s arm as though he had burned himself on the memory; guilt clouded what had been lust filled eyes.

Greg rolled Gil over and pinned him to the bed; sitting on his chest, knees pressed into tan biceps. He considered smacking the living hell out of Gil for an instant then caught his chin in a firm but gentle grip and looked deep into his eyes.

“If you need payback I can give you payback, Gil.” Greg flexed his biceps with a wicked scowl, then leaned forward, sliding his cock against Gil’s chest. “I’d rather just fuck like rabid monkeys instead,” he said with a leer and a grin. He waggled his eyebrows obscenely as he watched Gil’s face; guilt flowed into confusion, then the sparks of lust and humor returned.

“Fuck like rabid monkeys?” Gil repeated slowly, eyeing the slick-wet head of Greg’s manhood as it bobbed just out of range of his mouth. Greg rose to his knees, staying just out of reach, then hooted and scratched under his arms. Gil attacked; writhing and knocking Greg off balance to roll him facedown into the sheets.

He rolled on top of Greg, sliding his arms underneath him and gripped his forearms to hold his still; nuzzling his neck as he got comfortable, his cock pressed against Greg’s ass.

“How exactly do rabid monkeys fuck, Greg?” he purred in the younger man’s ear. He shifted his hips, grinding slowly against his lover, reassured as Greg pushed back against him with a sigh.

“Better yet, how does my rabid monkey want to fuck?” he hissed, tightening his grip on Greg’s arms; flexing against him, licking salt from the nape of his neck. Greg shivered beneath him; back arched, thighs splayed, head tipped back in submission and desire.

“Like this, Gil, exactly like this,” Greg replied softly. He was drunk on sensation; the tangle of cotton sheet beneath him, the coolness of Gil’s tongue on fevered skin, the slick feel of teeth as Gil tasted and nibbled his way across his shoulders.

He moaned as Gil bit harder, shifting his hips; a small gasp escaped his lips as Gil’s cock slid against him. Gil loosed his grip, sliding his hands on top of Greg’s, indicating he should keep them where they were placed; Greg gripped the sheets in anticipation.

Satisfied Greg would do as he was shown, Gil shifted again, straddling Greg’s hips. He started slowly, working the knots out of Greg’s neck, then shoulders; Greg groaned as Gil pressed his thumbs down the sides of his spine. Gil slid down onto Greg’s thighs and began to work on the lower back; he leaned forward as he worked, kissing away the soreness, tracing the muscles with his tongue. Greg sighed and slipped one hand back to rub Gil’s thigh.

Greg was only slightly surprised at the smack that rang though the air as Gil’s hand stuck his right buttock; he hissed as Gil smacked him again, matching red handprints burned on his ass. He replaced his hand in its original position and pushed his hips back, willing Gil to hit him again; sighing as he got what he wanted.

Gil was always surprised at how willing Greg was to put up with his little foibles; how their needs seemed to intersect at the oddest moments. He leaned forward, savoring the heat from his marks as he chewed delicately on one of Greg’s ears.

“Where was I?” he asked between nibbles, Greg simply moaned in response. “Oh yes, I remember now…rabid monkeys!” Gil grinned and began to tickle him mercilessly; his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. Greg writhed beneath him giggling, hands clenched firmly on the edge of the mattress, head pressed against the pillows, gasping for breath as Gil continued his assault.

“Please…no more tickling…Gil, PLEASE!” he begged. He was too hard to piss himself but the tickling was getting past what he could handle. He was afraid that if Gil didn’t stop he would accidentally crack him in the face with his head, putting a damper on the moment. G-d knows thad had both worked hard just to get here without any explosions or bitter words.

Gil stopped tickling but his hands still roamed Greg’s body; stroking here, squeezing there, something about the texture of his skin was irresistible. This wasn’t what he wanted; well, what he needed at any rate. He certainly wanted Greg; he always wanted Greg. But Greg needed gentleness and Gil needed pain; he needed forgiveness and suffering act act of contrition, a payment for the pain he caused.

Some part of his mind remembered the words from long ago as his hands caressed and kneaded; touched and explored his lovers body. Oh, my Greg, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee… He touched softly, pressed slicked fingers gently, preparing him, worshiping him while punishing himself. Greg moaned and gasped, making all the little sounds that drove Gil to madness; the little hitches of breath, the shudders of sleepy pleasure that distracted him from his mental self abuse, allowing him to focus on the task at hand.

He entered him slowly, drawing out little cries of need from Greg; agonizingly beautiful sounds. He cherished every muffled sigh, every throaty moan, every whimper and whisper of lust; storing them away for when his body failed him and he would live in the silence he feared more than death.

He gave himself to his task; thrusting slowly but relentlessly, struggling to keep his focus as Greg writhed around him and beneath him; crying his name as he hit that perfect knot inside again and again until he drove Greg over the edge. The sharp cry of “Gil!” tore at his soul as he let himself go; moaning Greg’s name between clenched teeth as he melted into him, shuddering and nearly weeping.

He buried his face in Greg’s back, nuzzling against the sweat slicked skin, pretending the water in his own eyes was simply the result of their passion rather than his own self recriminations. Gil shifted his hips, separating them, settling his weight gingerly onto his elbows and simply lay against him for tim time.

Greg’s gentle snores brought him back around; shafts of golden sunlight danced over their tangled limbs. He disentangled himself gingerly and rose from the bed, then headed into the bathroom to clean himself up. He dressed quickly and decided to let Greg sleep; the door snicked quietly behind him as he slipped guilt filled into the day.

The light burned his eyes as he drove the mindless road home; the solid click of the latch echoed in his darkened townhouse as if to mock him in his cowardice. He found himself on the cool tile floor on his knees, head against the door, the words whispered into the emptiness he held in his chest.

“Oh, my G-d, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee…”