Peanut

Nick reads the file for the fifth time. Gil sits behind his desk, watching him. Not moving, just watching him. He can feel the gaze on his skin, wrapped round him like a blanket.

"You were watching me." Nick shifts in his seat, a little uncomfortable under that unwavering stare. He's thought about being watched by Gil, only it wasn't sitting reading a casefile.

Gil continues to turn the pen in his fingers and Nick watches his hands; it's easier than watching his face. Long fingers twist the pen, gentle, stroking the barrel. Hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He drags his eyes back up to Gil's, meets the direct gaze full on.

"Culpepper ... was there." The file vanishes from his hands and there is a soft slap as it lands on the desk. He can't see anything but Gil, standing in front of him, legs crossed at the ankle, palms now resting on the edge of the desk. His own hands feel clammy. He wants to uncross his legs but that would mean bringing his ankle from his knee, touching Gil, because he is standing so damn close. Griss. Not Gil. Only Gil at home in bed, on his own, in his mind.

"You don't like Peanut?" he tries for flip and it almost works, only he squeaks a little on the final syllable. But that was because Gil smiled and that always wrecks him. Gets him right in the....

What is he trying to do here? Get Nick to admit ... what? Gil isn't manipulative. He strikes that. Up till now, Gil has never been manipulative with him. And to his suspects, he merely offers honeyed silence and waits. Which is what he is doing now. Honeyed. Peanut. Nick hears his own voice in his mind saying 'Love ya'. Hell, he'd whispered it in the dark often enough. So he'd said it. Once. Joking. An escape from Culpepper. Protect your boss from himself? Nick needs to protect Gil from Nick. Case he just stops thinking and jumps his bones one night. The blinds are drawn. No one can see into the office. Gil had paged him, asked him to read the report. Gil brought him here. Why?

Play the game, whatever his game is. You asked the last question, let him answer it. Don't break the silence, keep a little control. A little dignity. He's trembling just the smallest amount. Nick tenses his fingers to hide the movement and knows Gil sees it because this man sees everything.

A small smile still edges at Gil's mouth. Gil's mouth. Do not think about Gil's mouth. Don't think about what you thought about Gil's mouth doing yesterday when you got home. Nick closes his eyes against the dizzying wave of images; now his face is flushed.

"Nothing." Gil finally speaks. And his hand is touching Nick's, drawing him out of the chair, inexorably, so that somehow he ends up with his feet between Gil''s. How did he do that? "But...." A word left hanging. Gil does sentences, Gil says what he needs to and then stops. So this is another ploy. Nick tries to resist but Gil is still holding his hand. Just holding. And that damn humming in the air is just getting louder.

"But?" He grits his teeth and edges his gaze up to the cleft in the chin, up past those lips that look like they could do wild things, up to meet that soul-searching gaze. Damn Gil and his 'I like people to work it out for themselves' beliefs. Damn him always having the answers. Damn, but he's looking like he could ... like he might .... And his hand is curving round Nick's now, pulling him forward towards those eyes. And he's going. He's going to let himself be drawn in.

"But ... I preferred the rest of the sentence." Nick's brain is still floundering round the meaning of that when Gil's mouth finds his and he stops thinking of anything except warm lips against his and it's Gil. And he's opening his mouth to an insistent tongue and it's Gil who is kissing him. And he's kissing him back. And his hands are on those shoulders, he has his fingers in Gil's hair and Gil preferred being told that he loved him to being called Peanut. And the one kiss becomes several kisses and now Gil's hand is on his ass, and he's cradled against his hips and he's gasping for air and trying to kiss him at the same time and his heart is slamming fit to bust against his rib cage.

Everything he’s ever thought about Gil’s mouth and its wickedness was right. And his hands, they’re burning him like he’s already naked. Because that’s where this is going. These aren’t ‘let’s just kiss for a while’ kisses that Gil is giving him. These are serious ‘want, need, bed, now’ kind of kisses. Open-mouthed, hot like he can’t believe, their tongues entwining, dancing. Gil fucking his mouth with his tongue. Nick’s clinging to him now, barely able to stand.

And Gil – ultra-controlled Gil – has one hand on his ass making sure their erections rub together through far-too-fucking-many layers of fabric and he’s trying to pull Nick closer, taste more of him. Fingers find the hem of his T-shirt and then, oh fuck then Gil really is touching his bare flesh and this is ten thousand times better than his imagination could offer, warm fingers skating over his ribs, fingernails scraping the length of his spine so that Nick arches and opens his mouth to gasp and Gil kisses him harder, deeper.

Gil has got his T-shirt far enough up so his fingers can find his nipple and Nick’s eyes are shut, he knows he’s whimpering and arching back, pressing their cocks together because that feels so good, so good and when Gil’s tongue draws a warm circle round his right nipple and then his mouth closes on the sensitive flesh he almost screams with pleasure. And his eyes fly open and he’s not looking at a bedroom ceiling, he’s looking at the ceiling of Gil’s office. And somewhere in his mind a tiny voice whispers ‘not here.’ And then Gil moans “Nicky” and he almost loses control.

In some other universe, a man says something in the corridor. Gil’s eyes meet his, the blue almost overwhelmed by the pupils. Nick touches his face with shaking fingers and says a word that might be ‘Home’ but he’s not sure. Gil, chest rising with rapid breaths, Gil, holding the two of them together. Gil not letting go of him, reluctantly tugging his top down, fingers still curved against his rib cage under the fabric. Gil not wanting to let him go.

Nick knows. He can tease for a while if he wishes. Open the door and walk down the corridor, wait in the car park. But this is Gil and he isn’t in the mood for teasing. Not right now. Maybe later, at home, in bed, Nick can play the devil. But not now.

The intensity of the blue eyes nearly burns him right up there and then. He reaches out to drag Gil in for a kiss that will end up with them fucking on the office floor if he has anything to do with it.