Shape of My Heart

CSI, Gil Grissom, and Greg Sanders belong to other people with lawyers and money and stuff. I’m just borrowing them for a little while, and I’ll put them back when I’m done. Not making any money, yada yada yada. Criminologists do it .....intently.

"I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier...I know that the clubs are weapons of war...I know that diamonds mean money for this art...but that's not the shape of my heart...that's not the shape of my heart"
- Sting

Gil finished shaving and looked at himscarecarefully in the mirror, wiping away the last traces of shaving cream near his ear. Anticipation was doing a jig in his stomach as he searched for cologne and spritzed himself, then headed into the bedroom to get dressed; mind scrambling in a million directions at once.

He was a mess. One sock on, dragonfly boxers riding high on one thigh, he hadn't tried to do anything with his hair yet and he wasn't sure where his glasses were either. He sat on the edge of the bed and found his other sock, then realized there was a hole in the toe. This was not going well.

He pulled out another pair of socks and put them on, then wenrougrough his shirts; picked out his best suit and got dressed. He couldn't find his tie, ransacked his closet frantically, then spotted it on the bed where he had laid it out. He looked for his shoes, kicked half under the bed in his haste; rammed his foot into the bed frame, delaying his departure to perform the one footed dance of pain.

Throbbing toes slid into dress shoes, a quick stop at the mirror to wrangle his hair, straighten his tie and he was out the door with twenty minutes to spare. The note had been specific about time, place and attire but sparse on further details: Greg was up to something. He still had qualms about the situation, but the pull was undeniable. He was going.

He slipped into the truck and cranked the engine, laid a patch out of the drive but managed to stay only five miles above the speed limit as he raced across town. This was insane.

The note had been waiting for him in the door when he got home that morning. No signature, but it was clearly in Greg's hand; key card in a fold of paper. Gil whipped around in a U turn and floored it; he had left the key card on the dresser.

"Damn damn damn!" This was not going well at all. He pulled back into his drive, jerked the keys from the column and ran for the door; fumbled the keys, feeding his already jangled nerves. He swept them up in a surprisingly graceful snatch and grab and turned the lock. A quick dash through to the bedroom, grabbed the key card and skidded to the door.

"LOCK!!" The key wasn't cooperating, it was ten minutes to midnight and the assignation was twelve minutes away. He took rolling strides to the truck, punctuated with deep breaths and slammed the door, hands shaking with anger and adrenaline. Call, don't call. Call, don't call. He weighed the thought in his mind as he peeled out, focused on his goal. He got caught at a light, remembered his seat belt and buckled in; burning rubber as the light changed.

Three minutes 'til midnight and he was tossing a valet the keys. Straight to the elevators, jabbed the button and tried to calm down. His pulse was over ninety, his face flushed, sweat running under his shirt as the doors opened in agonizing slow motion. He slapped the button in the lift, grateful for the lurch of the cable; then struck numb by his reflection as he rose into the night.

His hair was unruly at best, sweat had plastered tendrils to the sides of his face. His tie was crooked, his jacket limp at the edges; the picture of a desperate man. He looked deep into his own reflection and whispered, "What are you doing?" as the doors opened.

Three throbbing steps to the door of the suite; shaking hands slid the card into the slot and gripped the lever. He took a deep breath to steady himself and slowly pushed the door open.

Flames danced in the stirred air; vanilla, paraffin and beeswax embraced him as he stepped softly into the room. He didn't see Greg anywhere, but fluttering shapes on every surface caught his attention as the door snicked closed behind him.

They looked like....wings. Gil moved to the foyer table and realized Greg had mounted a variety of butterflies and moths on wire; a bouquet of shadows dancing for him. That secret smile touched his lips as he lingered, entranced.

He stood for a few minutes admiring Greg's careful work, noticed another grouping on another table and wandered to them, then another, and another. He followed the trail of lights and shadows to the french doors of the balcony, where Greg waited for him.

Gil stepped out into the night. Greg turned and grinned at him shyly; full moonlight enhancing the blush that crept up his cheeks. He was wearing a suit not unlike Gil's, but not quite as comfortably, with a pair of red Converse All Stars.

"Nice shoes," Gil said dryly.

"Something had to be comfortable," Greg answered quietly. He crossed to Gil almost hesitantly, carrying three roses in suddenly sweaty hands; offering them to his lover shyly. "I...uh, got these for you. Coral is for desire..." Gil cut his explanation off with a tender, greedy kiss.

Greg gave in for a moment, then pulled back slowly. "Yellow is for joy..." Again Gil pulled him into a kiss; not too long, just enough to allow his own joy to shine through. "And white...." Greg said a little breathlessly, "white is for secrecy."

"Not innocence?" Gil asked throatily, wrapping one arm around Greg and pulling him close for another kiss. Greg laughed and kissed him passionately.

"I'm young, not innocent, Grissom. I thought we covered that last weekend." He slipped his arms around the older man's waist and planted a line of kisses along his jaw. "Of course, I'd be happy to refresh your memory..." Gil chuckled and began to cover Greg's face with kisses in return, slipping his free hand into Greg's hair before ravaging his mouth.

"I definitely remember," Gil whispered, nibbling on Greg's ear and neck. Greg shivered slightly as Gil's tongue teased him, promising bliss. He grabbed Gil's ass with both hands, pulling him forward; hard flesh colliding as they consumed each other. Moonlight gleamed in Gil's hair, giving him an almost ethereal halo effect when Greg finally broke free from their kiss.

Greg slipped a hand from Gil's ass and gestured toward the table on the far side of the balcony. "I thought we might have a little something to eat like normal people, instead of not drinking coffee," he said with a laugh. They crossed over and Greg pulled out a chair for Gil, then another for himself and picked up a bottle of wine, but Gil closed in and took the bottle from his hands, placing it and the roses on the table.

"Later, Greg. I'm not hungry for food." He pulled Gre him him one armed and began nipping as his neck, deftly stripping Greg of his tie with the other hand, then working at the buttons of his shirt. Greg shrugged from his jacket, then met Gil's hand with his own in his haste to remove the shirt.

He slid hot hands up Gil's chest, brushing against nipples that were still a bit tender; pushing the jacket off his shoulders. Gil shimmied a little to work free of the sleeves, pressing against Greg and backing him into the table; continuing with the buffet he started on his neck and working toward collar bones. He caught the jacket with his fingertips, then flung it over a chair as Greg removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

Gil slid his hands up Greg's chest, pressing him onto the table, slowly working his way down Greg's freckled torso with kisses and nips. He loved the taste of Greg, the smell of him, the texture of his skin; he was intoxicated with lust, protectiveness and desire.

He breathed in his scent, working his way down the dark trail of hair that disappeared into Greg's trousers, then began to lick his way back up, nipping harder, one hand working the buckle of the belt, the other holding Greg down.

Greg groaned as Gil began to rub him through the fabric, deft fingers teasing, squeezing, tormenting, but making no effort to free him from his pants or his frustration. He slipped his feet around Gil's calves, drawing him closer, arching his back in an effort to press into skin. He worked his fingers through Gil's hair, clutched at his shoulders, at the fabric that flapped in the breeze; trying to pull Gil onto him.

Gil nuzzled his way into Greg's armpit, chuckling. "I could just tie you to the table if you won't lie still, Greg." He grinned as Greg stilled beneath him, rewarding him by teasing the near nipple with his tongue and teeth; straightened up, pushing his hips further between Greg's thighs, grinding against him as he ran his thumbs along the edge of his ribs.

He unfastened Greg's trousers, a half a step back and Greg lifted his ass, Gil jerking two layers fabric over slim hips and working them over the sneakers. He caught one foot by the heel, then grinned. The sneakers were staying. Greg was splayed over the table, shirt open, rock hard, panting with need and bathed in moonlight; he looked... edible.

Gil pulled over a chair and made himself comfortable, placed Greg's shod feet on the edge of the seat and began his feast. Delicate bites of inner thigh, punctuated with licks; the hairs rising in the wake of his attention. He carefully grazed on each leg, fixing Greg with a pointed stare when his hand strayed too close to his aching cock.

Gil licked and sucked at the joint of thigh and torso, drawing sighs and shivers from Greg; muscles flexing, back arching, calves tensing in an effort to draw Gil closer. He breathed deeply, nostrils flared, drinking in the heavy musk, then blew gently across damp skin. His tonsnaksnaked out, teasingly, tracing the curves of Greg's sack, then sucked him gently into his mouth.

"Oh, yeah..." Greg gasped as Gil took him into his mouth, the gentle hot pressure sent him reeling. He lay there under the night sky, the neon glare of the Strip mixed with moonlight and dancing flames; a surreal counterpoint to Gil's mouth. He could feel hot breath in secret places, gentle tugs as Gil rolled him in his mouth, the perfect pressure as he sucked just enough, a heavy pleasure of trust. He whimpered as Gil released him slowly, only to surge upward as Gil took him to the root.

"God...Gil!" Greg propped himself up with one arm, the other clutched in Gil's hair as he sucked him. He loved watching this, seeing Gil take such pleasure in giving. He was so intent on Gil's head in his lap he didn't see the arm that planted itself in his chest and shoved him back down.

Gil didn't want any distractions, he wanted Greg. He took his time, a steady slow rhythm, lost in the taste and feel of Greg in his mouth; salty sweet delicate skin, the little gasping noises he made when his tongue hit the right place, the power he felt knowing HE did this to Greg; drove him over the edge, made him cry out his name.

"Gil..ohgod...yes...ohyes..." Greg whimpered, hands drifting back toward Gil, to touch, to plead; he was certain he was going to lose his mind. His words only fueled Gil's lust; hands gripped his thighs, pressing in tender places. Gil wasn't going to stop this time, he wanted it all. Greg shivered as tongue scraped along the underside of his cock, bringing little gasps and moans that only intensified Gil's relentless focus.

"Gil...ohohoh...more..." Again Gil found some reserve of talent and intensified the sensations, driving Greg to babble.

"DearGOD....yes...ohGilohGil...YES....Ohgod...ohgod...OHGOD...GIL!!!." He arched his back as he came but Gil was ready for it, slipping his hands under his ass and supporting him as he went over the edge, almost off the table as Gil savored his reward.

He had no idea it would be like that; the flush of pride that he felt almost overwhelmed him. His doubt in himself slid away with the softening of Greg's cock in his mouth; little sighs and moans sent shivers down his spine as he sucked the last of him and released him.

Gil sat back slowly, dazed by his own thoughts and the strong taste of Greg in his mouth. He laid his head against Greg's thigh, running his hands over his flanks, needing to touch and be touched. Greg sat up slowly and reached for Gil, needing contact as much as the older man did, each lost in their own thoughts. Gil stood and leaned into him, aundeunder his shirt, flesh to flesh they simply held one another under the night sky.

"Wow," Greg finally managed. He wrapped his legs around Gil and grinned. "My ass is kinda cold...got something to warm that up too?" Gil smirked and slid his hands down Greg's back to his ass, pulling him closer, rocking his hips forward.

"Feels pretty warm to me...but I might have just the thing here..." he rocked forward again as Greg reached for his belt. He quickly worked the buckle and unfastened Gil's pants, laughing as he caught sight of the dragonfly boxers; dark fabric puddled at Gil's feet.

"What's so funny, Greg?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Nothing, bug man, nothing at all." He grinned as he released Gil from his confinement, stroking him playfully. "My ass is still cold here..."

"Quit playing with it and turn over, then I can do something to help you out," he mumbled as he nibbled at Greg's neck again. "We...uh...need something though..." looking around for something acceptable, since he had swallowed what had passed for lube his last time. That thought alone made him harder, a flush of pleasure deep inside.

Greg slipped off the edge of the table and retrieved his pants, producing a small plastic packet from a pocket and handing it to Gil. He stretched then kissed Gil soundly before turning around and laying back over the table, giving a wicked little shimmy as he got comfortable.

Gil tore off the tab and worked the slick gel over his fingers, kicked his trousers out of the way and closed on Greg, flipping the shirt tail out of his way. Greg made a startled gasp as cold fingers probed him; sighing as heavy heat began to build in his gut, anticipation of what was to come. He heard as much as felt Gil prepare himself with a shuddered breath; he had forgotten to check which packet he handed over.

"It's...getting warm. Greg, what is this?" Gil asked, tingling with more than his need to take the young man.

"It's new. One of my friends gave it to me to try." He felt the warmth spreading from Gil's application and his own returning desire, a not unpleasant burn that accentuated his emptiness. "Please, Gil. I need it. I need it bad."

Gil stepped behind him; a throaty growl escaped him as he slipped home. He gripped Greg's hips and leaned over him, nung hng his neck before he rocked back a little and pushed again, bringing a very satisfying moan from his lover.

"Yeah...give it to me, Gil," Greg sighed as he arched his back and steadied himself on his elbows. Gil pulled back farther, not quite separating and thrust again, the slick hot feel and the sound of Greg's voice testing the limits of his control. He paused, trying to focus; pulse pounding, cock aching, buried to the hilt in bliss when Greg started whimpering.

"Mer, mer...nydelig...mer Gil..." he begged, pushing back against him; the words unknown but understood instinctively. The heat, the night, the exposure; combined they intensified every sensation, the words drove him on with single-minded intent.

"Greg....keep talking," Gil commanded, his voice like gravel. English was good, but this was amazing; he had never had an experience like this, every sense on overload. He felt alive; truly, brilliantly, achingly alive for the first time in years.

"Knull meg hardere, Gil...hardere..." Greg gasped as Gil complied, driving forward faster, groaning with his own need. "Ja...ja...DER, oh Gil...nydelig..." Greg arched his back, rocking into Gil as he thrust; a litany of need pouring from him.

"Ja ja ja GIL...der...akkurat der...igjen...mer..." he gripped the edge of the table, eyes glazed, heart pounding, head swimming, each feeding the frenzy of the other. "Nydelig...jeg kommer snart...ja...Gil..."

Gil could feel Greg was on the edge, hen'tn't far from it himself. He let go of Greg briefly and ripped the back of his shirt apart; teeth bared, snarling, thrusting, wanting even as he took. He tasted flesh, salty sweet as Greg started to moan, hips working against him frantically. He wrapped one arm around the young man, holding him closer, growling, biting, moaning; lost in him, lost in himself.

"Gil, jeg kommer snart...mer...ja jaer..er...JA oh JA...GIL!" He flung himself back, crying out, drowning from the inside as they came together; shuddering and rocking, each supporting the other. Greg leaned forward against the table; exhausted, exhilarated, breath coming in gasps at he fought to keep his legs under him.

Gil wasn't in much better shape, aftershocks surged over frayed nerves as he steadied himself with one hand on the table, the other wrapped loosely now around Greg; unable and unwilling to break contact. He wanted more, but his leaden limbs refused to obey, he simply stroked whatever skin his fingers could reach and hoped it would be enough.

He tasted blood, realized he had bitten his own lip along with Greg. The blood appeared to be his; Greg's back was marked, the skin unbroken. His shirt was in tatters, ripped clear up the back, spattered with droplets of darkness in the waning moonlight.

Gil sighed, slowly pulling away, the separation almost unbearable, but necessary. He stroked Greg's back gently, whispered he would return and headed into the suite, momentarily returning as promised to his lover. Gentle hands supported Greg, bathed him, wrapped him in a robe and held him close. When they could no longer stand Gil sat; Greg simply climbed on his lap and clung to him in silence, drifting; words unnecessary.

The candles flickered and crackled, jagged tongues of flame snuffed themselves out; the waxy smell bringing them back to reality. That and hunger. In the predawn they ate; brie smeared on fingers rather than crackers, sweet German wine right from the bottle, strawberries dripping with chocolate and laughter as they recovered from the intensity of their passion for each other.

The edge of the sky turned pink as they retired to the bedroom, suddenly shy with each other as they climbed into bed; they had never shared the intimacy of dreams. They met in the middle, finding a comfortable arrangement of limbs and breath, heavy lidded eyes locked together, fighting the need to drift apart into slumber. Finally they slept; deep, dreamless sleep anchored in the arms of the other.

Gil shifted restlessly in the king size bed, still mostly asleep; alien smells, too much room, the reality of sharing a bed long forgotten. Gentle snores competed with the hum of the air conditioning for his attention. The weight of Greg draped across him was both comforting and confining, gradually drawing him to consciousness, disoriented. He opened his eyes to late morning sun and the man lying in his arms, heart pounding, thoughts scattered.

He had a slight headache from the wine, an odd combination of tastes in his mouth, a thousand questions seeking answers in his mind. He shifted again, trying to get a better vantage point, to actually look at Greg, but his movement disturbed the young man; he turned slightly, burrowing his head in Gil’s chest with a snuffling noise, arms tightening around him possessively; a sigh of contentment on his lips as he drifted back into deep sleep.

Gil was having a war of wills with himself; to wake Greg, or to think about what he was doing. His dick was voting strongly for waking Greg, his conscience for thought; his bladder won. Carefully he eased himself from Greg and the bed to seek relief.

He padded around the suite naked, drawn again to admire the bouquets Greg had made for him, then he remembered the roses and stepped out onto the balcony. The blooms were nearly beyond recovery, a wave of guilt crashed over him as he gathered them gently; he decided he would press them. The thought that Greg put into these... assignations, dates, whatever they were astounded and humbled him.

He wandered back inside, called room service and ordered coffee and croissant for two, remembering his nakedness at the knock on the door. He scrambled for a robe from the bedroom floor, signed the bill and closed the door, grateful for the end of the intrusion; the strong smell of coffee and fresh bread clearing his head.

He carried breakfast back into their room, arranged the meal within reach, then decided he could think when he was alone. The sight of Greg sprawled naked across the sheets was simply too much to pass up. Long lines of taut muscle called to him and he gave in, slipping back into the bed and curling around his lean form, embracing the comfort of him. Gil was floating in the pleasant haze between sleep and wakefulness when Greg stirred, laying a line of stubbly kisses along his chest.

"Coffee?" he asked hopefully, a bleary smile on his face.

"Morning to you too, Greg," he replied, a small smile dancing around his lips.

"Not before coffee it isn't," he replied, running long fingers through mussed hair; one foot rubbing Gil's calf. They sat up against pillows, Gil filling a cup and passing it over, then another for himself; side by side in comfortable silence. Greg drained his cup and handed it over with a hasty "Be right back," as the rest of him woke up as well, returning to a refill and Gil's grin.

"Hungry? I ordered breakfast."

"Not for food, Grissom," he replied with a wicked grin of his own. "Put that down, Gil," he said as he knelt on the end of the bed, eyes bright. "I've got something better." Gil complied with a smirk, his cock stirring in anticipation.

"There are things more important than coffee, Greg?" he asked, arms open as the young man crawled onto his lap, rapidly hardening as skin met skin.

"One oo tho things," he replied, as he settled on Gil, wrapping his arms around him and drawing him into a kiss. Gil responded eagerly; mint and coffee flavored kisses, then laughter, realizing they had each spared the other morning breath. Greg kissed his way around Gil's face; hairline, eyelids, nose and finally his chin before starting on his neck.

He slid down Gil's thighs, then leaned forward to attack his chest, drawing a gasp from the older man as he sucked and bit tender nipples. He shifted to his knees, nudging Gil's thighs apart and stretched out between them, teasing throaty moans from him one handed before taking him slowly in his mouth.

"Greg," he sighed softy, closing his eyes for a moment, drifting on the sensations. He half opened them again, unable to resist the urge to watch; hands stroking through the young man's hair in rhythm to his movement. He gave himself to Greg completely; his fear of complications and lack of control had burned away in passion.

Greg felt Gil relax on some inner level; there was a lazy sweetness in this moment of trust. Slowly and insistently he took Gil closer to the edge, drawing shivers and gasps from him as he sucked and licked, one hand massaging him in timeless rhythm, taking and giving. He felt Gil’s pulse in his throat, a slick hard throb that told him everything he needed to know. He needed gentleness, something to balance the darkness that he had shown; to release his fear of himself and whatever it was that he kept in the private dark corners of his life.

“Oh, Greg, what you do to me...” Gil whispered, one foot rubbing idly against his lover’s thigh as he continued to watch himself being sucked. The warm wetness of Greg’s mouth encompassed him, a languid peace settled over him even as he felt the heat rise in his belly; the urgent madness that usually drove their passion tempered by familiarity and something more. Embers of emotion long buried flickered with new life.

“Greg...ohgod...Greg...yesss” he gasped, almost at the point of no return. Greg pulled back, catching the head of Gil’s cock against his palate, running his tongue over taut nerved velvet skin, increasing the suction as the older man shivered on the edge of oblivion; then rocked forward again, pushing him over. Gil’s hands spasmed in his hair as he exploded in his throat, crying his name in a voice tight with emotion.

Greg sighed with a deep sense of satisfaction, releasing Gil slowly, teasing the sensitive head with his tongue until Gil shuddered and asked him to stop. He slid up slowly, resting his head against Gil’s chest, leaving a trail of kisses and nips in his wake; their arms twined around one another as they lay there breathing.

Gil kissed the top of his head, hands stroking his back and neck, overcome. He loved the feel of Greg in his arms, the solid realness of him; he gave so much and asked so little in return. He took a shuddering breath, squeezing Greg tightly, then whispered, “Greg, I...I...need you. I need this and I’m afraid.” It was the best he could manage, the only words he could force past the fear that washed over him. He kissed Greg’s head again, then rested his cheek there, eyes closed, waiting.

Greg stirred in his arms, laying delicate kisses across his chest before looking Gil in the eyes. A half smile flickered across his face, eyes unreadable. needneed this too, Gil. It’s all good.” He propped himself up, then took Gil’s mouth in a greedy kiss, tongue teasing him with the taste of his own cum. “Turn over, baby. Let me give you what you need.” He shifted off Gil and lay on his side, patting the space in the bed beside him sporting a wicked grin.

Inside he was trembling, but he didn’t dare let Gil get sucked into the dark maelstrom he seemed to carry around with him. He was crazy about Gil and was elated that he had broken through to the private world he inhabited in his head, but he was terrified he was going to screw it up.

Gil shifted slowly, laying down next to Greg, head turned toward him, his face a conflict of emotions. Greg straddled his hips, massaging tense shoulders, letting his hands say what his mouth could not. He did understand what Gil meant; he saw the loneliness, need and secrets, he was not afraid. His hands found every knot, easing his suffering; letting him drift in the pleasure of touch without demands.

Greg worked his way down Gil’s back, shifting to his knees to work on the tight knots in his lower back, bringing groans from him as they loosened slowly. Finally he leaned forward, kissing his neck, the side of his face, asking for and receiving permission to touch him in other ways. Gil arched his back, stretching against Greg, a slow smile spreading across his face as he felt hot breath across his skin.

Greg began to lick his back in long strokes, working his way down, the salt of his skin mixing with the other tastes of Gil in his mouth as he settled beneath him. He crawled further down the bed, one knee nudging Gil’s thighs apart, pausing to lick and suck at the dimples at the base of his spine, then bit Gil’s ass with a laugh.

“Hey! What are you doing back there?” Gil asked, a chuckle in his voice. He cocked one hip to the side with a nudge from Greg’s elbow, looking over his shoulder with a smirk.

“I believe it’s called ‘getting some ass,’ Gil,” he replied, taking another bite. He tried to growl, but ended up dissolving into helpless laughter. Gil turned on his side, laughing, curling one leg against Greg’s butt; nudging him with his heel.

“Well, get on with it then, it’s a little chilly in here.” Deep blue eyes sparkled with affection; the wave of darkness had receded under Greg’s touch. He settled back on his stomach, sighing with pleasure as Greg ran his hands down his back again; the sensation of skin on skin building the level of anticipation.

Greg went back to licking; a nibble here, a bite there, kissing and nuzzling his way back to Gil’s ass, hands kneading firm muscles. His tongue scraped along the base of Gil’s spine, bringing a delicious shiver from him; then a moan as he went further.

“Ohgod Greg!” he gasped, shocked and delirious in the same moment. He tried to lie still as Greg’s tongue worried at him; pressing, tasting, insistent; but it was a battle he was destined to lose. His hips jerked as muscle giving way without regar dig dignity, only pleasure.

Gil tossed his head, a low moan escaping his lips as he wound his hands into the sheets; abandoning himself to the attention of his lover. His breath came in gasps, arms flexing, hips rising of their own will, seeking more as Greg continued with this most intimate of kisses.

"Please...Greg...don't stop...ohgod..." he whimpered; rocking his hips, eyes closed, deliciously wanton and wanting. Greg sought new secrets, to know the needs of this man; to nurture the trust Gil was showing him. Every shiver, every sound sent him reeling, drunk with power; he used it carefully, savoring the moments.

"Greg, I...need..." he groaned, what little train of thought he had derailed as Greg found some perfect place inside him, burning him with his own desire.

"Yeah, Gil, tell me what you need," Greg answered, slick fingers pressing deep now, bringing another gasp from Gil; another breath stolen from him.

"Fuck me, Greg. I need you inside me..." he answered, impaling himself on Greg's hand again. Greg tore the plastic tab off the packet of lube with his teeth, quickly prepared himself and knelt behind Gil.

Gil lunged back, sighing as Greg entered him in one smooth motion, completing him. Greg tried to move slowly, but Gil was having none of that; he needed Greg to possess him, to chase his fear and doubt away; to drive him beyond himself. He rocked back against him with desperate urgency, need overwhelming him.

Greg thrust harder, bringing a throaty groan of satisfaction; gripping his hips, driving into Gil, pushing him forward; and again; his lover arched beneath him writhing. Then Greg pulled back, leaving emptempty and frustrated.

"Gil...I want to see your face. Come 'ere." He laid on his back, one arm pulling at Gil's trembling thigh.
Gil straddled slim hips, arched his back and slid slowly onto Greg's cock; brow furrowed, nostrils flaring as he settled on him completely. His hands gripped Greg's shoulders, cerulean eyes afire, tongue caught between his teeth in the midst of a wicked grin.

"Yeah, baby, show me what you want," Greg said softly, his heart pounding; unable to tear his eyes from the sight of Gil leering down at him. Gil flexed tan thighs, lifting himself slowly, leaning forward before dropping back, gasped again as Greg's hardness hit that perfect place inside. Greg gripped one of his knees, an anchor in a sea of lust, the other stroking Gil's cock as he slowly and deliberately fucked himself.

“God Gil, you’re so hot,” Greg gasped. He had never seen Gil like this; he doubted many ever had. Gil was clearly enjoying the incredulous look on his face, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he ground his hips against him, gently rocking on his knees; little shivers wracked his body as he moved, biting his lower lip as he leaned closer.

"Keep talking, Greg." He groaned as Greg thrust up, arching his back into it, hands gripping tighter on Greg's shoulders as another shudder overcame him.

"Yeah, Gil...take it, take it all..." he thrust again, finding Gil's rhythm and countering; gripping both knees now, bracing his heels, swept away. "Come on, baby...give it up for me...oh yeah, Gil...come on..." Greg chanted, his own eyes wild. Gil became more frantic; sweat running down his chest, back arched, face flushed; close but not close enough.

"Come for me, Gil...come on, baby, I wanna see it...give it up...you're so close, baby..." Greg moaned; the heat, the need in Gil's face was almost too much. He couldn't hold on much longer. He thrust upward, shuddering with the effort of holding his own orgasm in check; and again; flushed, panting, hands aching from the grip he had on Gil’s still flexing knees; and again. He arched his back, groaning as he felt himself slide over the edge, gasping his name as he shuddered inside Gil; eyes wide open, head thrown back against the bed.

Gil rocked back as Greg writhed below and shattered into a million pieces shouting Greg’s name. He fell forward, knees clenching Greg’s sides, hands sliding to the bed to support his weight on shaking arms. “Ohgod, Greg...ohgod...” he gasped, rolling to one side and half taking Greg with him; pulling him close, feverish with the need to touch him.

They rearranged a little, Greg held close; gently stroking Gil’s face, his eyes glazed, hair plastered in sweaty curls to his temples, need pouring from him. He wrapped an arm around Gil, soothing him, stroking his back, sides, whatever he could reach. Gil nestled his head in the crook of Greg’s shoulder, eyes heavy, calmer now, drifting in the afterglow and Greg’s attention.

“Morning,” Greg said softly, bringing a sleepy smile to the older man’s lips. He stroked a hand through tangled gray hair, watching Gil slip away, then whispered into his ear, “I love you too, Gil.”