SquidgeWorld Archive

None of them were exactly sure how it had happened. All they knew was that somehow they'd all agreed to participate in a program for needy kids; not that they didn't think it wasn't a worthy cause, because they did. It was more the nature of their participation that left them scratching their heads over how they had come to that point.

Gil was dressed as Santa Claus, with Catherine as Mrs. Claus, and all the other graveyard CSIs were dressed as elves, right down to the pointy-toed shoes that curled up nearly a foot beyond the ends of their feet and the tights that left little to the imagination if they weren't careful about not letting their tunics ride up over their hips.

"Damn, Gris," Nick complained, tugging at the hem of his tunic. He could swear his was shorter than anyone else's. "Couldn't we have just helped out in our street clothes? I can't believe you agreed to this."

Trying to keep his eyes off the bulge Nick kept trying to hide, Grissom said in a somewhat bemused tone, "Frankly, Nick, I don't remember agreeing to this. I was asked that our team participate, and the next thing I know, I'm being handed costumes for everyone. I certainly never agreed to play Santa Claus." He bit his lip in a gesture of concentration. "At least I don't think I did."

Nick laughed. "I think you got played, Boss."

Grissom raised one brow. "So it would seem. But you, I believe, should be wearing this costume, not me."

"Me? Why do you say that?"

Grissom smirked. "Because it's St. Nick's lap everyone wants to sit on."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Afterwards they all ended up at Grissom's townhouse for an office party. Catherine, enjoying the short skirt of her Mrs. Claus outfit and the way it showed off her legs, refused to let any of them change, so by the end of an evening of drinking and general merriment they looked like a bunch of debauched elves celebrating the end of the Christmas season.

Nowhere near as plastered as his coworkers, Nick volunteered to stay and help Gil with the cleanup. Grissom normally would have protested, saying he'd have a cleaning service come in, but no way was he going to miss the opportunity to further ogle a delicious looking Nick-in-tights. Maybe he could even talk him into sitting on Santa's lap...

The image that thought garnered caused a smile to split Grissom's face. Looking up just then, Nick called him on it.

"What's that for?"

Grissom blinked. "What?"

"That shit-eating grin. You look like someone having very naughty thoughts."

Grissom's face sobered, although his blue eyes still twinkled merrily. "I don't know what you're talking about, Nick."

Nick rolled his eyes as he returned to stuffing plastic cups and paper plates in a garbage bag. "Yeah, right," he muttered, then continued almost under his breath, "You're probably thinking something that could get you kicked out of the Santa Union."

Grissom heard the low-voiced comment and snickered. If Nick only knew what his thoughts were, about how he was thinking of ways to get Santa's little helper to sit on Santa's lap.

Gathering the recyclable soda and beer cans in a bag, Gil glanced at Nick once more and said, "Thank you for staying and helping with the cleanup, although you really didn't have to."

Nick shrugged. "You needed help with the mess we made after you were nice enough to let us party here, and I didn't have anything better to do."

"No date?"

Nick snorted. "Been so long since I've had one of those, I've kind of forgotten what it feels like."

Grissom paused, one eyebrow raised. "I thought you were seeing Karen."

Nick shook his head. "That was before..."

"Oh." Grissom knew what he meant; before Walter Gordon had buried him alive.

Nick shrugged. "It's all good. It wasn't going anywhere anyway."

"Really? Why not?"

Nick looked at Grissom, wondering when he'd become so interested in his private life, but it was Grissom, man, and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to talk to the man. That was something that always gave him a warm glow...probably more of a warm glow than his boss would be cool with if he knew about it.

"Tell you the truth, I just couldn't give her what she wanted." Left unsaid was that there was someone else he'd been, and still was, enamored of.

"I'm sorry, Nick."

Nick smiled. "Don't be, man. It's all good."

They continued with the cleanup. Lost in thoughts of just what they'd ask Santa for, the men grew silent again. The only sounds were the rustle of paper and the dull clink of cans being stuffed into bags and the radio playing in the background.

Nick's hands suddenly started to shake, forcing him to drop the bag. It took a few seconds to realize just what had happened. When he became aware, he gasped and bent over, trying to prevent hyperventilating.

Grissom glanced at Nick and stilled. "Nick?" he questioned hesitantly.

"Shit!"

Grissom dropped his bag and hurried to Nick's side. "What is it, Nicky? What's wrong?"

"It's that song," Nick whispered, hands on his knees, head bowed, "that fucking song."

Grissom cocked his head, listening.

'Teresa hit a streak and laid her waitress apron down.'

Gil's eyebrows drew together. What was it? Something about Christmas in Las Vegas?

"Nicky? What is it about the song that upsets you?"

Nick laughed harshly. "Upsets me; such a nice phrase for a song that brings back the worst night of my life."

"I'm sorry, Nick, I didn't know." Grissom picked up the remote and turned off the stereo.

"Thanks," Nick said faintly.

Grissom's right hand lifted and hovered over Nick's back, uncertain whether or not to touch him. Nick took the decision away by standing up.

"Why don't you sit down, Nick?"

"Yeah, maybe I should."

Nick took the few steps to the sofa and literally fell onto it. Grissom was concerned by the fact that Nick was still visibly shaking. Going to the hall closet he took out a blanket, carried it back into the living room and spread it over Nick.

Startled, Nick looked up. "Thanks, man."

"You're welcome. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Nah, but thanks."

Grissom nodded and sat down on the other end of the sofa, pulling one leg up as he turned sideways to look at Nick. Nick looked at him, then quickly turned away, looking straight ahead.

"Can you tell me about it, Nicky?"

Nick shrugged, picking at the blanket. "It was that night. That song was playing on the radio when I drove to the trash run site. I was singing along with it, just happy to be alive, you know? And then, when I was in the cof- uh, box, it kept going through my head, so I sang it, trying to keep myself grounded. And then, when I thought they were coming for me, were digging me out, I started singing it again so they'd hear me. But it wasn't anybody, it was the plexiglass cracking, which eventually let in the ants." He glanced at Grissom quickly. "For me now, every time I hear that song, I can't help but think about what happened, can't help but feel the ants biting me over and over." Closing his eyes, he shuddered.

"I'm sorry, Nick," Grissom said softly, reaching one hand out and lightly touching Nick's shoulder in a comforting caress.

"It's just a song, right? I shouldn't let it affect me like that."

Grissom let his hand stay on Nick's shoulder. "It's more than just a song, Nick. It's an associative memory of the worst time in your life. It's only natural you'd react that way to hearing it again."

"But I don't want it to bother me," Nick said plaintively. "I just want to get over this. It's been seven months already. How long does it take?"

"Oh, Nicky," Grissom said softly, rubbing his shoulder. "It takes as long as it takes. You can't put a time limit on this type of mental healing. It will continue to get better until one day you'll realize you can listen to that song without even a twinge of unease."

Nick's head tilted as he looked at Grissom curiously. "You sound like you speak from experience."

"Maybe I do."

Nick opened his mouth to question his boss more but was surprised by a yawn stretching his mouth. "Sorry," he said a bit sheepishly.

Grissom laughed softly. "It's okay, Nick, you're tired. As am I."

"I should probably be headin' home," Nick said, although he didn't make a move to leave.

"You don't have to. You're welcome to stay here. I have a guest room."

Nick's eyebrows rose. "You do?" he asked in disbelief.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Yes, I do. It's even been used. My mother does come to visit occasionally."

Nick grinned, unaccountably pleased to have been able to yank Grissom's chain. "Thanks, man, that'd be nice."

Grissom smiled in return, hand still unconsciously tracing circles on Nick's shoulder. "I'll make up the bed."

Nick reached out, placing a hand on Grissom's knee. "Wait."

"Nick?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to just sit up for a while, maybe talk if you're not too tired. Or you don't even have to talk. I just don't think I want to be alone just yet."

Grissom patted his shoulder and squeezed it before removing his hand. "That's fine, Nick."

Nick smiled, and Grissom swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying not to think about what that smile did to him. To cover his sudden bout of lust, he reached up and tugged the Santa cap off his head and tossed it on the table.

Nick's smile became a grin when he saw that the part of Grissom's hair that had been covered by the cap had not been done up white like his beard and the bottom part of hair that showed from under the cap. "What?"

"Just wonderin' what you used to make your beard and hair white."

One corner of Grissom's mouth quirked up. "Maybe it's natural from having to supervise you guys."

Nick laughed. "I'd think that'd make you go bald, instead."

Grissom smiled. "To tell you the truth, I don't really know what it is. I have a friend in the Drama department at UNLV, and she gave it to me from their makeup department. I just hope it washes out easily."

"I don't know. Might be funny if it didn't. You'd either have to dye the rest of it white or wear a hat until it grows out enough to cut it."

Grissom threw a mock-scowl at Nick. "Perish the thought."

"Sure. You could always pull out that straw hat you wore to crime scenes back in the summer," Nick said, barely holding back the laughter.

Grissom blushed. He'd never realized just how much controversy that hat would cause. Most of the others in lab had looked at him strangely but hadn't been brave enough or foolish enough to say anything, but Catherine...well, he refused to even think about what she'd said about it.

Nick did laugh then. It wasn't often he got to see Grissom looking abashed. Grissom just smiled, pleased Nick was laughing and smiling again...even if it was at his expense.

"So what do you want to talk about?"

Nick shrugged. "I don't know. Sports?"

"The only sport I follow is baseball."

Nick groaned. "No baseball. I'm still pissed about the Astros punking out in the World Series."

"Well, there's always poker."

One of Nick's eyebrows lifted. "Yeah? You watch competitive poker?"

"Yes. I find it fascinating, looking for the players' tells."

"Do you play?"

Grissom smiled. "You could say that." Considering it was how he'd generated a lot of his income in college.

"Wanna play a hand or two?"

"Why not."

Grissom rose and walked towards his dining table. Nick walked behind him, grinning at the image of a bow-legged Santa. Looked like Santa had been doing a little riding. Maybe he needed to give his reindeer a break. Save a reindeer, ride a CSI. A Texan CSI to be specific. And he had a feeling Grissom could take him on a wild ride.

Nick pulled out a chair and sat while Grissom took a deck of cards from a drawer in the kitchen.

"Want something to drink, Nick?"

"Got any tea?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Grissom took a glass from one of the upper cabinets and filled it with ice and tea, then set it on a coaster next to Nick. Nick smiled his thanks, then took a big sip. Almost immediately he choked and made a horrible face.

"Damn, Gris, you drink it like this?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"There's no sugar in it, that's what's wrong."

Rolling his eyes, Grissom got the sugar bowl and a long-handled spoon and set them in front of Nick.

Nick smiled. "Thanks, Gris."

"Anything else?"

"Do you have any lemon?" Nick asked as he spooned sugar into his glass.

Grissom shook his head as he took a small dish of sliced lemons from the refrigerator and set them next to the sugar. "Anything else?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nah, man, this is great. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Grissom said dryly before seating himself across from Nick with his own glass of tea. Tilting his head to one side, he watched Nick prepare his tea, curious. "Why do you add sugar to make it sweet, then add lemon to make it sour? Doesn't one cancel out the other?"

Nick shrugged as he took a sip. "Just the way I've always drank it. Guess it's a Southern thing. But one taste just complements the other rather than equalizing it."

"If you say so."

Nick smiled as he took a sip. How like Grissom to try to look at everything scientifically, even the way he fixed his tea.

Grissom took the cards from the box and began to shuffle. "What do you want to play?"

"Dealer's choice."

"Five Card Draw."

Nick nodded, suppressing a smile. Grissom probably thought his game was Texas Hold-em since that was all the rage, but it wasn't. Five Card Draw was right up his alley.

"Stakes?" Grissom questioned.

Taking a sip of his tea and looking up with just his eyes, Nick said casually, "We could always play strip poker."

Grissom stopped shuffling and peered at Nick, searching those dark eyes. Accepting the challenge, he said, "All right."

Nick was a bit shocked at first, but then a slow grin spread across his face. "Deal'em."

It was only years of practice at hiding his emotions that kept Grissom from breaking into his own grin. Looked like he might not need Santa's help after all to get his Christmas wish.

Nick won the first hand, and Grissom lost his belt. The second hand, however, went to Grissom, and Nick's belt joined the cast-off pile. After only two hands, both men realized this might not be as easy as they'd originally thought because the other was a player.

Grissom lost his boots next. He tried to take off only one, but Nick refused, saying they were a pair and had to stay that way. Which meant when Nick lost next both his elf shoes joined the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Grissom was a bit perplexed. Nick always had an expressive face, always let his emotions show, but while searching for his tells, Grissom wasn't able to find any. Seemed like Nick wasn't quite the open book he'd always assumed.

Grissom lost the next two hands, along with his socks and tunic. Since he wasn't wearing an undershirt, he was left in only his pants and boxers.

But the lack of an undershirt distracted Nick. A dull flush crept up his cheeks as he kept glancing up from under his eyes at Grissom's chest, taking full note of the hard nipples peaking out from the light covering of salt-and-pepper hair. And it was enough of a distraction that Nick was soon in the same boat, wearing nothing but tights and what was underneath.

Grissom looked at all that smooth golden skin before him and reached a shaking hand to grab his tea, taking a big gulp. He hoped to hell he didn't lose the next hand, because there was no way his boxers could disguise his semi-erect cock.

Grissom was lucky.

Nick not so much.

Nick gulped when Grissom laid his cards down. He didn't even bother showing his. Not when Grissom had a royal flush. Cheeks burning, he stood and skimmed the tights down over his hips and legs.

Grissom choked on the sip of tea he'd just taken when he saw Nick. "A jock strap?" he questioned hoarsely.

If possible, Nick's blush deepened even more as he mumbled, "Everything else showed under those damned tights."

Unconsciously licking his lips, unable to take his eyes off the red triangle of fabric barely concealing Nick's cock, Grissom said, "Turn around."

Cheeks blazing by this time, Nick did as requested because that was more than just curiosity in Grissom's blue eyes.

"Beautiful," Grissom said, the word not much more than a breath of air.

That one word went straight to Nick's dick. He bit his lip to keep from groaning as he filled and lengthened, the head stretching up to peek out of the top of the jock strap. Okay, so it was more than just peeking. He thought about trying to adjust it, to cover himself, but not if he had a real shot with Grissom. Only one way to find out.

"Gris?"

"Yes, Nick?"

Nick swallowed and took the bull by the horns, so to speak. "You still gonna make me sleep in the guest room?"

"Not if you don't want to," Grissom said, the tone of his words a clear invitation to sleep in the master bedroom if Nick so desired.

"Thank God," Nick whispered, turning around.

Grissosm made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a whimper. In other circumstances he might have been embarrassed by it, but not here, not now. Not when he had the one thing he wanted most being offered to him.

Grissom stood and held out his hand, pleased when Nick took it without hesitation. He pulled Nick close enough that each could feel the heat radiating off the other. Blue eyes stared into brown. Finding what he sought, one corner of Gil's mouth lifted.

"Merry Christmas, Nicky," he said softly before leaning in and pressing his lips to Nick's.

It was a mere meeting of one mouth to another, no openness, no teeth, no seeking tongues, but to Nick it was the most perfect kiss he'd ever received because this was Gil Grissom, the object of his desire since he'd first moved to Las Vegas.

"You gonna make love to me, Gris?"

Grissom smiled sweetly. "It would be my pleasure, Nick."

Still holding Nick's hand, Grissom led him to the bedroom. On the way Nick snagged Grissom's Santa hat from the coffee table in the living room.

"What's with the hat?" Grissom asked as he turned on the bedside lamp.

Nick placed the cap on Grissom's head and said, "I want to sit on Santa's lap."

One hand flat on the small of Nick's back, Grissom pulled him closer. "And have you been a good boy?"

Nick waggled his eyebrows as he slipped his arms around Grissom's neck. "Depends on your definition of good, I guess. Does it matter?"

Grissom wrapped his arms around Nick's waist. "No. Either way you get to sit on my lap."

"And do I get a present?"

"Oh, you definitely get a package."

"Hot damn!"

Grissom leaned forward, and Nick met him halfway. Gone was the gentle first touching of lips to lips. This was taking and claiming, search and discovery. Nick's arms tightened around Grissom's neck as he was pulled closer, bodies plastered together, smooth skin against lightly-furred, hard cock to hard cock.

Nick's brain was all fuzzy around the edges from Grissom's kiss. Damn, but the man knew how to kiss. He didn't just kiss. Grissom made love to his mouth thoroughly and completely, sending a bolt of electricity zinging through Nick's veins that heated his blood to boiling.

One kiss turned into two, which turned into a whole series of drugging kisses that blurred into one long mouth-fucking. Hands roamed and explored, tugged, caressed and groped. Never breaking the kiss, Nick's hands slid under the edge of Grissom's red pants and boxers, pushing them down his legs as far as he could reach. Grissom took care of the rest, shimmying out of the garments and stepping out of them, leaving him naked. Nick pulled him close again, groaning into Grissom's mouth when the head of his cock where it rose above the waistband of his jock strap slid against Grissom's own erection.

Never losing his grip on Nick's waist, Grissom walked backwards till the backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed. He fell back, taking Nick with him. Nick's legs automatically parted so that he was straddling Grissom's legs where he sat on the edge of the bed.

Nick laughed, forcing Grissom to pull back just a bit and look at him with one eyebrow raised.

"What's so funny?"

"Just thinkin' how much more I like sitting on Santa's lap now than I did when I was a kid."

"Santa's enjoying it, too."

"Yeah, I can tell," Nick said, grinding down against the hardness under him.

Grissom groaned. "You're wearing too many clothes, Nicky," he complained.

Nick chuckled, stood up and stepped back just enough to push the red jock strap down his legs. Grissom watched it all hungrily and thought of all kinds of possibilities for that jock strap later. After Santa and his elf got to play. Grissom reached up for the Santa cap but Nick stopped him.

"Uh-uh. Gotta keep that on."

Grissom rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Instead he patted his thighs. "Come sit on Santa's lap, little boy."

Nick was grinning as he once again straddled Grissom's legs and seated himself, this time nothing between them, just bare skin to bare skin. Grissom hissed when Nick's hard cock rubbed against his stomach, leaving a trail of precum.

Voice rough with desire, Grissom said, "So, what do you want for Christmas, little boy?"

"I want to go for a ride. Can you do that, Santa? Can you take me on a ride?"

"I think Santa can handle that." Grissom leaned forward for another kiss.

Lips barely touching, Nick said, "How about we get to the main attraction?"

Grissom pulled back in surprise.

"Not that I don't enjoy the foreplay," Nick hastened to add. "But I've wanted this for so long that I don't want to wait any longer. The rest can wait till next time."

Grissom smiled, gratified to hear the next time part of that statement. One hand on Nick's thigh, Grissom leaned over, pulled open the nightstand drawer and pulled out a tube of lubricant gel and a condom.

Nick put a hand over the condom. "I'm clean, Gil."

The use of his name and the trust Nick was giving and asking for caused Grissom's nostrils to flare. Blue eyes never leaving brown, he tossed the condom back into the drawer and shut it.

Nick leaned down and put his mouth against Grissom's ear. "Just so you know, I've never ridden bareback before."

"Neither have I," Grissom said, awed by the implications of Nick's actions.

Gazes locked, Nick reached for the lube, opened it and coated the fingers of Grissom's right hand. His breath caught when the first finger worked its way into his body, thrusting and wiggling before being joined by a second finger. By the time a third finger was added, his breathing was harsh and erratic, his body quivering with need.

Nick squirted out more lube, this time onto his own hand, then tossed it aside. Wrapping his hand around Grissom's cock, he coated the hardness with the lubricant. Both men looked down, watching Nick's hand stroking Grissom's erection. Both were beyond words at the moment.

Hands on Grissom's shoulders, Nick raised up. Grissom's hands gripped his hips as he guided him down onto his cock, letting him sink slowly onto the hard shaft. Nick cried out and Grissom groaned when the connection was complete.

"Nicky," Grissom said, that one word a mere breath of sound.

"Oh, God, I know."

Nick began to move, Grissom's hands on his hips guiding him as he rose and fell. Leaning down, Nick took Grissom's mouth in a kiss that was deep and intense, his tongue searching out every nook and cranny of the older man's mouth, seeking hidden treasure in every crevice.

Grissom held on for the ride, literally. His fingers dug into the flesh of Nick's hips hard enough that later there would be fingerprint bruises, but neither man much cared. The only thing that mattered to them was this connection, one not just of body but of heart and soul as well.

Thigh muscles burning, Nick picked up the pace, Grissom's hips thrusting up with each downward stroke. He kissed the corners of Grissom's mouth, the dimpled chin hidden under the beard, the shell of each ear, continuing down to nuzzle at the area where neck met shoulder, teeth lightly scraping the spicy-tasting skin.

Changing the motion of his hips, Nick found just the right angle so that his prostate was brushed on each thrust. His breath caught at the sensation, eyes going blurry for just a minute. But even more intense was the thought that this was Gil Grissom buried deep inside him. The emotional pleasure was as great as the physical.

"Nicky!"

Grissom cried out and thrust deep, holding Nick's hips still when he came, filling Nick with his warmth. Nick followed close behind without ever being touched, his warm cum splashing over their chests and stomachs.

Nick grinned ear to ear as he looked at Gil. He was hot and sweaty, covered with cum and his ass ached, but he couldn't think of a single present he'd wanted more than the one he'd just received.

"Thank you, Santa."

Grissom smiled, blue eyes bright with pleasure greater than he could ever remember. Nick leaned down to kiss Grissom's ear, saying one last thing.

"Merry Grismas."