It wasn’t…anyone specifically, no. At least, that’s how you always played it. You liked them, yeah. God, all of them. Any of them. A couple, more than others. But none so hysterically so. You’d just tease. Flirt. Play. And they’d shrug you off and get back to business.

Or so the women did, anyway. Because you didn’t play as hard with the boys. Well, not so outright. You would only poke at their own images of masculinity, without exposing the true nature of your own. Just Greg being the smart—sometimes ass—little screwball you were. All in fun, where nobody really knew what to take of your wisecracks, so they didn’t tend to take them as much at all.

But lately you’d felt…different. The girls just didn’t give you so much anymore, and there were only so many times you could plead and play before they didn’t even let you begin. The boys, however… Well, you were just getting started.

At first it was just for fun—of course it was—nobody had ever responded before, and least of all these guys. Regardless of what you would have done if they had.

It began with little things. Touches. Suggestions. Outright implications and you-never-know admissions. But it didn’t take as much as you thought it would. Especially since you didn’t think anything would take it at all.

Nick held your results, less interested in your humorously haughty explanations than examining it himself, to ask his own questions where necessary.

He’d turned away from you, studying it as you spoke and failing to laugh at what you perceived as your irresistible cuteness. So you did what you had to, gliding up behind him to press your chest into his back, and rest your chin on his shoulder as an arm peaked over to point with your words. The other curled around his waist.

“You’re standin’ a little close there, Bud.” He wasn’t tense. Not yet.

“What, are you afraid to be in such an intimate position with another man?”

“This is not intimate.”

“That’s all subjective. Maybe it is to me—you couldn’t know how I really felt about it.”

“Intimacy has to be between two people. Otherwise it’s just–” Nick rolled his shoulders back, turning toward you in his apparent discomfort. “Molesting. Hey, could you back off a bit here?”

“Okay, okay. As long as you’re facing me now.”

“What, is that intimate, too?” He smirked, eyebrows raised, then looked back to the recently-printed sheet.

You smiled back with a careless shrug. “Maybe to you.”

He chuckled, speaking to himself as he studied it again, “Maybe to me. Yeah.”

Though it then appeared he’d gotten his answers, he stopped mid-turn upon a sudden thought. “But how do you know you were joking?”

You looked at him with a puppy-dog head-cock.

“What if you were right?”

“About eye contact?”

“Sure.”

And he got you, lost for a comeback, even.

“Or the ‘intimate position’.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Were you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“You’re not a criminal.”

“How do you know that?”

“Greg.” He shook his head.

“Hey, you brought it up.”

“Brought…what up?”

And then Nick was so genuinely confused that you felt pleasantly sorry for him. “Look, if you’re into me that’s–”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well I guess I couldn’t really know, could I?”

So you showed up on his doorstep, certain he'd be there, as certain as any of you could be. It was dumb, stupid to be there, and you would have stood on his doorstep for another hour or so debating it, but didn’t want to freak him out, so you knocked immediately.

“Hey.” Nick opened the door. “Something up?”

“Hey, I was just…around. You’re not busy, are you?”

“No.” He stepped back, holding the door open as you entered. “You’re here because…”

“Because.” You found your way into the midst of his living room, figuring the farther you got, the less likely he was to kick you out.

“Right… Um…” Nick started back to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure.” So he let you stay, and regardless of anything else, you were glad he’d accepted your company. That, maybe, he was content with knowing you. And maybe, he’d want to know more.

A couple moments later he returned from the kitchen with something alcoholic, and you could tell he’d already had a drink or two himself. He was warm, cheeks slightly flushed, and joined you on his couch with an extra in his other hand.

He handed you a glass. “What’s up with you, Greg?”

“What’s up with you?”

“Um…nothing.”

“Okay, then.”

The two of you sat in the silence for a good few moments, before Nick slowly began with, “Hey, you...you didn’t think I really meant anything...earlier today, did you? I mean, I was just…thinking about it.”

“Well I guess that depends on if you did mean something.”

“No, I mean I’m asking if you thought–”

“Did you mean something?” you asked, quickly cutting him off, but managing to at least slightly hinder your excited intrigue.

He bit his lip. “Are you here because you expect something from me?”

You almost denied his implications, to play it off with a nervous smile and another crack, but opted to go forward. “Well, I’d like to; I guess that depends on you.”

“Games, Greg. What does that mean? You like me?”

“Yeah,” you said, simply.

His eyebrows twitched together.

“But the key question here is,” you began, trying to be cute, “do you like me?”

Pure perplexity painted his face. “You’re really into dudes?”

“Come on, Nick.” A hint of nervousness joined your heart’s anxious beats. “I’m open anything. Well, trying anything. And then if I like it...”

“And you’ve tried…guys.”

“It’s not as bad as you might think.”

“And you…”

“Bottomed?”

“Bottom?”

“That means I received, Nick.” Grinning, you slid yourself closer, upon the crack between the two cushions. Nick didn’t notice, too lost in his own thoughts.

“You’re serious.”

“Don’t have any reason to lie. Well, I probably do, but my lie would be the opposite, because why would I lie to say this?”

“If it was a joke.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t take a joke this far. Well, maybe, but I wouldn’t joke about this. Not like this.”

“So you meant that—earlier today—it was intimate to you?”

“ ‘Intimacy has to be between two people,’ Nick.” And you were closer, fingertips even on his thigh.

He didn’t move. Didn’t twitch or tense or speak. Just looked.

“But I’d like to make it true…” Your hand went farther, up and in between his legs.

Still, he gave you nothing. Just breathed.

You reached over him, purposefully across his lap, to let your glass clink beside his on the end table.

His hand placed itself upon your lower back. You looked to him, caught before able to slink back, and braced yourself. It wasn’t a hard, warning touch, but you couldn’t assume this ‘straight boy’ was necessarily all too keen on your advances. You waited for his objection. His, ‘Greg, what are you doing?’ and your innocent embarrassment as you ushered yourself out the door, trying to explain the joke that he knew no longer existed.

“You want me to have sex with you?”

You raised yourself, effectively flustered, his firm hand sliding up your back. “Well I-”

Still, he only looked. Your eyes met his intensity, but you couldn’t tell what they said. If it was lust or confusion or disgust or just…amusement. But you decided not to care. Forget the possibility of making things weird—he already thought you were weird. If no longing lurked beneath his silent darkness, he could just brush you off. So what if the kid had a thing for him? That kid has a thing for everybody.

Then you gave him the truth. “Yeah.”

“I’ve never been with a guy before, Greg.”

“Does it really matter?” you asked, humbled in this attempted seduction of your superior. “There’s always a first time…”

“What makes you think I like you that much?”

“Well you haven’t said no. You haven’t been disgusted and keep playing along with me, so…”

“You want me to do things to you?”

“Yes.”

“Like?”

“Anything.”

He was quiet again, something incredible sparking behind those eyes.

You smiled coyly. “You’d top, Nick.”

“Yeah…” he said, reverting back to his thoughtful mumbling.

“It wouldn’t necessarily have to go that far. We could just do…” Your fingers finally nestled at the crook of Nick’s crotch. “…things.”

Still, he just watched, eyes focused on the further advancing hand, as your thumb took advantage of its placement. He breathed, and you noted its heaviness and the subsequent tightening of his package.

“It’s okay to like me,” you whispered, leaning into him. Your breath brush his cheek on its trip to his neck. When your tongue peeked out to meet the lips kisses, Nick’s heavy rush of air finally caught in a rogue gasp.

“Greg.” His voice was rough, but hushed.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, the warmth of your words in his ear.

“No.” His fingers snuck up your neck, turning your cheek. “But...” You met his chocolate eyes as they melted into a succumbing smile. “You could at least try my lips while you’re at it.”

You matched the softness of his grin before taking up his suggestion. “Well I didn’t know you were such a stickler for intimacy…”

“I suppose this is intimate, isn’t it?” He held your cheek, studying your eyes.

“It is to me.”

“If it is to both.”

“Is it?”

“Look, Greg...” he began, as your lips went back to sucking his. “I want to, but...”

“No buts.” You kept kissing. “You want to.”

“I just...” He groaned, your palm working his bulge.

“You want me...”

“Yes,” he whispered, pushing himself into your touch.

“But...you think you’re ‘straight.’” Your kisses trailed off with your words, head resting itself on his shoulder as you left him with the opportunity to think about it. You watched your fingers instead grope the fabric of his tight T-shirt, contemplating ways to remove it.

“Mm.”

“You know, Grissom was explaining it to me once...sexuality isn’t that strict. Very few people are solely one way or the other. Gay, straight...and bi doesn’t even mean equally attracted to both. Most people are somewhere along the scale, varying between each extreme, one side as one-hundred-percent heterosexual and the other one-hundred-percent homosexual.”

“Figures. It sounds almost like you quoted that directly from him.”

“I wrote it down.” You gave him another cheeky grin.

He smirked. “So where are you on this scale?”

“I don’t know. One-to-ten, probably about a six.”

“On which end? Straight or gay?”

“Which do I lean toward?”

“Yeah.”

You shrugged. “I like to have my secrets. Now you tell me.”

“Man, I don’t know.”

“Well you like me, right?” You cupped his cheek, intentionally adorable. “That makes you at least a nine.”

“So you do lean more toward girls.”

“Not on your scale.”

“Huh.”

“You didn’t suspect?”

He frowned, surrendering judgment.

“It doesn’t matter.” Curled fingertips scrunched up the hem of his shirt. “You don’t have to live inside a label. Just...” Your lips met his taut abdomen. “Let’s feel good...”

His fingers dug into your tousled highlights, jaw clenching.

“Nobody will know...” Your fingers snuck inside his belt-less waistband.

Nick’s lips hung parted in tortured awe, the rest of his facial features creased to match, before finally managing his breathy, “But they always know.”

“Yeah...” You leaned up in thought. “Grissom did give me the eyebrow.”

“What? When?”

“When I was holding you so lovingly. He walked by. You didn’t see?”

“Oh man.” His warm cheeks fell into his palms.

“Nick, you know not a day goes by when Grissom doesn’t look at me like I’m nuts. Seriously, even when I’m at home, he sends me emails, pictures of him giving me that face.”

Nick just looked scared.

“I’m kidding. Nick, it’s not like he knows. I didn’t even know.”

“Grissom knows everything.”

“So? It’s not like he’s the type to gossip.”

Nick looked off, pondering your point.

“You thinking about how gorgeous I am?” you asked, head cocked and pushing into his line of vision.

He attempted to suppress his smile, mouth curving downward while the rest of his face gave him away.

“You don’t have to deny it,” you whispered, slipping to your knees before him. Your fingers found their way back inside his waistband, taking hold of the linked flaps. Before unbuttoning, you looked to him, waiting for his eyes’ response.

He nodded, a needy, almost frightened thing.

“I promise it won’t hurt,” you said, opening him up. He aided your tug of his dark pants to his ankles, even managing to slip off his shirt as your ever-anxious fingers explored the bulge beneath his black boxer-briefs. His head rolled back into its willing awe, arms embracing the expanse of the couch, as you exposed the rest of him.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, barely able to capture enough air to speak it. “I didn’t know you–”

“What?” His gaze snapped back down at you.

“And you’re not even entirely hard yet.” You only watched it, that impressively flushed cylinder lying up toward his hip, begging for just enough blood to right itself.

“What?” His questioning wasn’t as worried this time.

“You really choose not to get laid all the time? I mean, if I were you...” You trailed off in your awe.

“You’d...sleep with everything?” His wondering almost seemed innocent.

“I’m not easy, Nick. I may flirt, but that doesn’t mean I’d just give it away.”

“‘Give it away’?” he smiled. “Right. Now doesn’t count?”

“This is different,” you began, breath brushing his naked cock. “I’ve wanted you.”

His dick twitched.

Your lips touched.

Nick sunk back into the couch. “Oh god.”

And as you took him, part of you wished to speak, to tell him how perfect he tasted, how the texture sent shivers through your tongue, but couldn’t bear to break from it. So you continued, satisfied in his bliss.

“Oh god. You…know what you’re doing,” he panted, curling his hand around the one that held his hip.

“Do I?” you whispered as your lips fluttered up his length.

“Sh, sh.” The hand over yours then took residence atop your head, fingers diving into your hair again. But he didn’t guide you, just exemplified his need for your mouth.

You stayed with him like that. Until, “Nick?”

“Mmm?” Hazed with lust, he gazed at you.

“Do you want to touch me?”

The haze lifted, eyes widening with the rawness of that desire. “Yes.”

You rose, offering yourself to him. He lifted your shirt just enough to allow his lips the room to taste your boyish abdomen. You gasped for him, sucking in a tighter breath when his hand met your crotch. As you slipped off that shirt, he released you, pushing the rest of your clothing to the floor as he took in your full arousal. He was gentle in his touches, awed by your reactions, as he explored the body he’d never known like this before. He took you into his hand, studying it like he’d never even seen another erection. Then you thought, maybe he hadn’t.

Your eyes closed as you fell into your own haze, wooed by the slow up and down of his loving fist. Until, he kissed. Just his lips at first, hesitantly, still discovering you. Then his tongue tasted the tip of you, causing a devastating shudder to roll up your spine. You watched him now, even more overwhelmed by his focus, his interest in your pleasure. His free hand also held himself, just as lovingly.

“Nick,” you whispered, “take me to your bed.”

He nodded, eyes fervently agreeing, and took your hand. In the bedroom, his body took yours atop the covers, too eager to feel your nakedness against his. Your lips met at the same time, limbs curling around each other. Your fingers pressed into the flesh of his back, desperate to bring him closer as his groin ground deliciously into yours.

“Nick. Lube.” And then you realized, that should be a question. What if he didn’t have any?

“Yeah.” He scrambled over you, frantically searching the drawer of his nightstand. He returned with a condom and–

“Ky?” The gel kind, even.

“Yeah.” He popped the top.

“Well I guess you need lubrication to get into any orifice. Except the mouth because that’s pre-lubed–”

Nick held a finger to his lips, and you shivered, silent before him. He stood there on his knees, squeezing a dollop onto his fingertip. “Pull your legs back.”

Barely a second passed between his command and your compliance. You laid there beneath his examination, a shaky thrill tickling your insides in this further exposure. You gasped when the chilled gel of his finger touched, and he promptly pulled away.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

He knew you meant it, and half-smiled in his relief. “You’re sure this feels good?”

You almost couldn’t respond this time. Your mouth dropped open, prepared to speak, to exclaim, are you kidding me?! but only managed, “Yes.”

And something snapped behind his eyes. “Okay.” He tried again, his fingertip stroking you with an eased gentleness, and watched your eyes roll back as it pushed inside.

“God.” Your gasps shuddered as his finger fucked you, lips parted and especially red along with your blotched cheeks. “God. Nick.” He added another. “Take me.”

“You’re sure you’re ready?”

“Please.”

Nick nodded to himself, fumbling for the lube again. He positioned himself, watching your eyes, and your fingers as they lifted from the pits of your knees along with your higher-pitched, softly protesting gasps. Then waited until your breath evened, and fingers drew him back to attempting the task. Until, finally, through held breath and a thankful grimace, he slipped through.

You panted your appreciation, moaning as he filled you.

His hips remained still as the rest of him merged with you, allowing your legs to curl over his splayed thighs. He kissed your neck, then whispering, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not,” you said, just as softly.

“Okay.” He moved with you, a hand on your hip and yours clutching his sides. You watched his eyes, whenever he stared into yours, reading your ecstasy and heightening his high with it. Mostly he didn’t watch you—he kissed you and touched you and whispered things you knew that he said to girls, but it made you tingle and moan and want him more, anyway.

Soon you were sweating and he was grunting and it was frantic and god, you wanted him and you had him but you needed him.

In the midst of it, he cried your name, and your breath caught. He wasn’t done but you almost were. Your heels dug into him, desperate for his forceful thrusts, and you whimpered, “Nick,” for him when that loving fist curled around you again. “Please.”

“Are you almost there?” he asked in a half-husky whisper, his thrusts slow and timed, keeping you on edge.

“No.” You never wanted to stop. You needed to, you had to, your body begged you to, but you didn’t want to leave it. “But–” you panted into his kiss.

“Cum for me,” he roguishly insisted. “Cum with me.”

“Yes,” you hissed, eyes complementing the passion in his.

His thrusts match yours into his hand, hurried and needy and almost...almost...

You lost yourself first, tensing with catching gasps as he fucked you accordingly, then following suit with a couple quivering thrusts, overwhelmed in your own overwhelm, to end it all for himself.

He didn’t leave you immediately, instead melted back into you, with heavy, steadying breaths against your cheek. Your fingers trickled up his back, caressing his neck in your affectionate gratitude as the high faded.

He kissed your forehead, even smoothing your hair before slipping from you, and wandering off in his nakedness, to the bathroom, you assumed.

You crawled from the bed just long enough to wipe yourself off with some tissues, then turn the covers over and slide beneath them. Nick returned with a cocked eyebrow and thoughtfully confused gaze, met by your innocuous smile. He didn’t speak, only found himself a clean pair of underwear, then tossed another at you. You didn’t question it, managing to work them on as he snuck in beside you.

You touched him, gentle fingers on his chest. He laid a hand atop them, taking them into his hold. “This doesn’t change things, Greg.”

“I know.” You smiled again. “I’m a professional.”

He smirked. “Sure you are.”

You pulled his hand to your mouth, abruptly biting the fleshy side of his wrist.

“Hey! What’d you do that for?” he asked, rubbing the redness. “Do you know how dirty your mouth is, Greg?”

“Yes. I do. Maybe you shouldn’t be so mean to me, then.”

“Great, this is gonna leave a mark.”

“Well…” You scooted up his body, half of yours covering him. “Maybe I should just give you a hickey to match…” Your lips touched his neck. “They might think you had a life, for once.”

“Yeah, and it was with a teenage girl. No, Greg.”

“Okay,” you smiled, opting to nuzzle it instead.

“Greg, you…” His fingers tickled your neck’s hairline. “…didn’t do this to get on my good side, did you? I mean, so I’d favor you?”

“What…so you’d take me out in the field?” You were almost appalled by his questioning, as it honestly hadn’t occurred to you. “No. But…” you began, sweet again. “If you want to, I won’t mind…”

“No. If you’re needed, you’re needed; if you’re not, you’re not.”

“Fair enough.”

“So you’re…sure you don’t want to go?” he asked, with as much sensitivity as he could mange. You knew he didn’t want you to be hurt, but you were, anyway.

“You want me to leave?”

“No, I just…it’s kind of weird.”

“What, after all that, this is too intimate for you?”

“No, I’m just…it’s new to me. You’re not a woman. It’s…I don’t know.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be affectionate with me. You cared enough to fuck me.”

He was quiet, guiltily taken aback.

“Sorry… I meant, you were affectionate, then. So what if the excuse of your high is gone? You meant it. It’s okay to care about me, too. I understand if I was just your experiment, but it wouldn’t hurt to let it last a little longer. To pretend it’s something more. Even just for now, here. Just while we sleep.”