SquidgeWorld Archive

Learning Curve
By YS McCool

Gil joined his team at the large booth near the center of Michael's Place, a new favorite dining experience off the Strip. Grissom enjoyed the cooking, the atmosphere, and the affordable prices.

The waitress placed a menu in his hands and scooted away to take another table's orders. The gang was subdued after a long week of stewarding four groups of visiting CSIs from other states. It was exhausting having to justify yourself over and over again. The phrase "we don't do it that way" was practically worn out.

"You've been here six days and this is the first I've seen of you?" a woman in the next booth said in an exasperated tone.

"I did come here to work, not visit old friends," a familiar voice responded. It was Doctor Elaine Rayburn, the director of the crime lab in the city of Silver Lakes, Arkansas. She specialized in cold cases and had quite a reputation in the field. Rayburn's doctorate was in Forensic Anthropology with an additional Master's Degree in Biology. She had recently published a book entitled "Tools of Murder" for those in the industry.

Rayburn took notes, followed quietly, kept their hours while working their shift, did reports without a whimper, got her hands dirty, never questioned anyone's methods unless she thought she'd missed something, and was quick to praise Gil's people. She made Gil very nervous because she came across as a recruiter. Grissom had his team the way he wanted and did not want to lose anyone.

"Fine, Elaine," the other woman replied. "How was the crime lab? We're very proud of it in this state."

"And you should be," Rayburn assured the other woman. "It would be ranked number one if size weren't a factor."

"Curses on New York," the other woman teased.

"Edna, please tell me this place serves real food and doesn't just hand out food-decorated plates," Rayburn begged.

"My nephew is a chef here and the food is fabulous," Edna assured her. "If this place were located in one of the big hotels, the prices would triple."

"Good, I am starved," Rayburn lamented. "I have been living like one of the local CSI for the last week, which means coffee and energy bars." Rayburn sighed. "My stomach is gnawing on my backbone."

Edna giggled. "So, give, what's it like in the Ivory Tower, or should I call it the Red Dungeon?"

Rayburn laughed. She had a great laugh and a wicked sense of humor. "I wanted to load up the DNA lab in its entirety, snatch all of the personnel, and run for it," Rayburn confessed. "Greg is such a dynamo, so adorable, and just brilliant. I think I learned more during my day with him than I did during my two-week course. He'd be an asset back home and worthy of many bragging points. Unfortunately, I couldn't let him stay in the lab. I'd need him out watching the locals collect samples and helping them achieve the best results when they get it back to the lab, plus instructing other techs. The defense attorneys have stopped attacking the science and now concentrate their attacks on the collection process."

Greg ran his fingers through his spiky hair with a clear look of glee on his face.

Rayburn sighed. "It pains me to wait weeks for a DNA result. If we could have our own lab, we could pay for it by doing DNA tests for other cities."

"Elaine, even if you got matching funds from the federal government, it would still mean millions of dollars just to get started," Edna reminded her friend. "I could run the numbers for you, but I assure you it would be dire."

"Don't I know it," Rayburn replied glumly.

"Anything else you want from our facility?" Edna inquired.

"I'd steal Catherine in a heartbeat," Rayburn answered. "She's a very, very intelligent woman. Sharp, witty, warm, and quick to teach. That's the person I need running my day crew. If she didn't have such strong ties to the community, I'd lay siege until she buckled." Elaine paused.

Catherine looked a little surprised, but she was also smiling. It hurt Gil's stomach to think of her leaving, an all too real possibility now that her ex-husband was dead.

"Have you had the crab cakes?" Rayburn asked.

"Delicious, but get a salad to go with it. There's not enough of them if you've been going hungry," Edna recommended. "How did you get along with our Doctor Grissom?"

"Your Doctor Grissom?" Rayburn teased. "Does he know he belongs to you?"

"The man is clueless," Edna reported. "I sit on the city council and I make sure they never touch the forensics budget when the cuts start coming, but does the man ever show any gratitude?" She sighed in a very put upon manner.

Grissom now had a face to go with the voice. Edna had to be Doctor Edna Danforth, retired plastic surgeon. She was a big advocate of the police in general and the labs in particular. He'd had no idea she even knew who he was.

"He's gorgeous," Edna announced. "Those curls, those eyes, and that voice. You should see him in a tux."

Grissom was red-faced. Nick and Warrick were grinning at him. Catherine gave him a thumb's up. Greg wiggled his eyebrows. Sara had a tight little smile that could mean anything from constipation to a repressed desire to vomit. Jim sipped his coffee and checked his watch.

"That lab is stuffed with studs," Rayburn declared. "They make my guys look very plain or maybe my men suffer from over familiarity. I've known most of my staff since they were in high school."

"There are more studs in our lab?" Edna asked, sounding interested. "Maybe I shouldn't turn down the annual tour."

They were interrupted by the arrival of the waitress and the two women placed their orders.

"You have to do the tour, Honey, but only if it encompasses the graveyard shift," Rayburn warned.

"That's way past my bedtime and at my age, I need my beauty rest." Rayburn and Danforth laughed.

"It's worth a missed night of sleep to see those studs," Rayburn assured her friend. "The first guy I ran into looked like he fell off the cover of Great American Hunks Magazine."

"Oh?" Edna prompted.

"Black hair, brown eyes, chiseled, sexy as hell, and a butt you could hang onto for days at a time," Rayburn ticked off.

Grissom quietly placed his order and snagged a roll from the basket. Even their waitress appeared to be listening.

"Does this god have a name?" Edna inquired.

"Nick. A name that should be whispered in passion," Rayburn answered wistfully. "He nearly destroyed me by calling me Ma'am."

"Ow," Edna sympathized. "Instant elderliness."

"When I realized he was Texan and any woman over the age of consent could be called Ma'am, I got over it," Rayburn assured her friend. "I can also assure you that he's not there because he's so pretty. The man is very smart, can engage almost anyone in conversation, that is a skill I need to develop, and is meticulous when processing a scene. I admired his concentration."

"You were standing behind him and looking at his ass," Edna accused.

"Only once," Rayburn confessed. "It was just too distracting. He's lucky I didn't take a bite out of it while he was casting a tread mark."

Nick turned red and covered his face. He was grinning.

Edna laughed and was still laughing when their salads arrived. The waitress replenished everyone's water. No one at their table seemed ready to break the spell by speaking.

"And then there was the Chocolate Prince," Rayburn sighed.

Poor Warrick nearly choked on his drink and had to be assisted by Jim.

"Yeah?" Edna inquired.

"I don't think a room full of supermodels could resist licking him even if you swore he was not only fattening but would cause pimples," Rayburn quipped. "Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, I tell you. Sexy is just a jumping off place for that man. He's got it all -- height, mouth, eyes, voice, and body. Warrick is also a very intelligent and focused man. He's extremely organized and he could go onto management, though it would be a shame to take him out of the field."

Everyone at Grissom's table got their meals at the same time that Gil's salad arrived. That's what he got for arriving late.

"Grissom made the jump," Edna reminded her friend.

"He's not a good manager and it should be a cardinal sin to keep that man behind a desk when his skills and heart are in the field." Rayburn paused. "He's weeks behind in his paperwork, but paperwork has never solved a case. The man is choked with invitations to lecture, an important source of revenue for the financially strapped civil servant, and he can't take advantage of most of it because he's always racing to beat back the paperwork monster. If you want to do him a favor, let him hire an administrative assistant to keep that paperwork off of his back."

Grissom sat back. He'd never thought of asking for an assistant, but then the budget wouldn't stretch enough to pay for someone competent.

"You were right, Edna, this is delicious," Rayburn declared.

"I told you," Edna replied. "I'll see about getting the man an assistant. I don't want you to steal him from us."

"Edna, if I didn't know that you'd hunt me down and kill me in my sleep, I'd snatch the entire graveyard shift, including Brass and Robbins," Rayburn assured the other woman. "Brass could give me intimidation lessons or just sit and smolder sexuality."

Jim dropped his fork.

"Robbins really needs to be teaching as part of his workload," Rayburn continued. "The man is just brilliant but not at all arrogant. He's really warm and funny."

"Are you sure you've only been here six days?" Edna asked. "You've really got a handle on our people."

"I just watched and took notes, Edna. It's what I do," Rayburn said, brushing off the compliment. "I wish I could stay and get to know them a little better. Sara intrigued me."

"Sara?" Edna asked.

"Another member of the graveyard shift. She comes off as a hardcase. She's focused like a laser beam and that makes her seem harsh. Sara's the only one who I didn't get any kind of personality reading from. That might have been her plan. I know the one case I worked with her, she double-checked my work as if I'd fallen off the turnip truck that very morning."

Sara cringed.

"I wanted to point out that I was doing this work before she had her first period," Rayburn continued, "but I was a guest and not likely to have to testify."

"I thought Southern women were taught from birth to get along with everyone," Edna teased.

"Only if we want something," Rayburn corrected. "Otherwise, we can give even a New York babe a run for her money when it comes to bitchiness."

Gil's meal arrived and he ate, still shamelessly listening to Rayburn talk about his department.

"Any other suggestions?" Edna inquired.

"Why don't you have a 'drive home' service for your people?" Rayburn asked. "Driving sleepy is just as dangerous as driving drunk, but, unfortunately, it is a socially acceptable excuse. In Silver Lakes, once my people pass twelve hours on duty, they get a meal coupon, a taxi ride home, and a pick up the next day of duty. Silverlode Taxi Service provides the rides free of charge. In exchange, I attend their annual stockholders' meeting, press the flesh, and eat the dinner."

"What's the longest you've been on duty?" Edna asked. "I've heard some horror stories."

"Forty-three hours," Rayburn answered, sounding sad, "but that was a plane crash with survivors and a partially submerged plane. "I couldn't leave until we found every passenger, dead or alive. I still don't remember how I got home, but my car was sitting in the office parking lot when I made it back there."

The two women went quiet and more rolls arrived. Gil ignored the temptation of the warm bread in order to make some notes. Free taxi service? This was Vegas, anything could happen.

"When do you meet with the staff again?" Edna asked.

"Friday afternoon, but it's only the shift supervisors and department heads," Rayburn answered. "I'm supposed to give them a review, which they're looking forward to like a root canal."

"They'll appreciate your insight," Edna insisted.

"They'll burn me in effigy," Rayburn replied. "Oh lord, is that the dessert cart?" she gasped.

"Don't be afraid," Edna soothed, "they have lo-cal and sugar-free selections."

"How modern of them," Rayburn said, a smile plain in her tone. "I had to whine for years before my favorite restaurants started offering no-sugar added items."

"We call it the Showgirl Effect," Edna explained. "High rollers follow them like dirt travels behind a three-year-old. If your establishment doesn't offer lo-cal, then you won't see the showgirls and the high rollers who hang with them."

"Thank goodness I don't have to compete against showgirls at home," Rayburn announced. "It's bad enough that they seem to be dragging infants through the lab on tours now."

"Have you started dating?" Edna asked, her voice betraying her concern.

"I go out, but no one serious." She paused. "It's too soon."

"Elaine, Terry died almost two years ago and his ghost is probably ready to kick you in the ass to get back out there." Edna's voice was firm and it showed resolve.

Grissom seemed to remember that Rayburn's husband had died slowly of cancer.

"Edna, it's fun to look and tease, but right now, it all seems so shallow compared to what I had with Terry." She paused. "I'm obviously not ready and until then, I have my kids, my work, and your staff to steal."

"Your kids are all grown and moved out, your work will not keep you warm at night, and I have a dessert fork," Edna warned, "and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Mercy," Rayburn begged.

==========================
Gil could have gone home but he found himself at Warrick's place as if he were expected.

"There you are," Warrick chastised as he all but dragged Grissom inside. "Did you take the scenic route?"

"I had to drop off my dry cleaning," Gil explained, finding himself somewhat embarrassed. "Did we have a date?"

The younger man nodded. "I penciled you in for the next several months until you get tired of me," he explained. "Besides, you said you'd show me some things." Warrick began undressing Gil as if the older man didn't know how. "Do I need to hit other spots when I'm stripping you down? I always like playing with your hairy chest, patting your ass, occasionally taking a soft nip out of your shoulders, and --" he stopped. "What's wrong?"

Gil must have gone glassy-eyed during the rundown of Warrick's particular kinks. "Nothing, I'm just enjoying your list."

"I told Nick to hang back for an hour tonight so I could be alone with you and get some pointers. You have more patience than Nick once the dicks hit the air." Warrick waved his hands in an expression of being overwhelmed. "I'm in over my head, Gris. You warned me. You told me straight out, but I wasn't really listening."

"Nick Stokes will break you," Gil recalled from his warning to the man.

"I know he wants my ass and by rights he should have it, but --" Warrick stopped. "I feel like I'm cheating both of you by not giving it up."

Gil snorted. He gripped the taller man's cock. "As long as this is working, Rick, I won't be complaining."

"Nicky told me he was pretty much a confirmed top and it's not fair for you to have to take us both," Warrick said firmly.

"What version of schoolyard rules is that?" Gil asked impatiently. "I know that the whole equality thing has been ingrained in you since birth, Rick, but this isn't as lopsided as you seem to think." Gil led the younger man back to the big bedroom. Nick had left a large container of lube and an assortment of condoms by the bed and the feather duster was still resting on top of a ceiling fan blade where it had landed the previous night.

Gil's sense of orderliness wouldn't let him leave it there. He flicked it across Warrick's nipples just to remind the younger man of the madness that had nearly taken him when Nick had used it on him while Gil sucked his cock.

"Some men can only dip the wick, and that is probably you," Gil said softly as he pulled the younger man down on top of him. "You don't respond as much to anal stimulation, you almost always lose your erection when penetrated, and, quite frankly, you don't ache for it the way I do."

"You ache for it, Nick gets off on it... What is wrong with me?" Warrick asked. "I've enjoyed everything we've done. Why can't I take this next step?"

"Why do you have to take it?" Gil asked. "No one is insisting you take their cock, Warrick. That's only you." He tried another long, slow lick and was rewarded by a deep groan from the taller man. "I love having a powerful man over me. There's nothing like the feeling of barely controlled strength directed at you. Sometimes I even have it in me to want things a little... rough."

Grissom had gone too far after telling himself not to frighten off Warrick. Brown had stilled and a shocked expression had taken up residence on his face. "Rick?"

"How... rough?" Warrick asked as he gripped Gil's face. "Tell me."

Grissom decided to answer as if he'd received a command. "I'm restrained, forced to give pleasure and to take it, then fucked as hard as you can dish out."

"Whoa, that's sexy," Warrick said softly. He lifted Gil to his feet. "You're so intense, aren't you? You're always dropping these wicked hints that you want me to --"

"To?" Gil prompted.

"Stake you out on the bed and conquer you inch by inch," Warrick finished. "Why are you working a brother like that? If I give in to my instincts, that would make this relationship even more out of balance."

"You poor clueless man," Gil said hotly against the other man's ear. "The submissive is always in charge, Warrick. In that kind of play, you would be my tool of pleasure." He licked the younger man's ear to silence him. "Everything would be about me."

"Make it about you, Gil," Warrick insisted. "Show me what I need to do to make it all about you."

Gil answered that by pulling Brown's shirt off. He placed his hands over Warrick's, stopping the younger man from taking off his pants. "Not yet."

Grissom moved his head down to Warrick's waist and licked at the taller man's navel. Warrick squirmed nicely under Gil's attention and his cock, which was already firming up well, hardened to the point that Grissom was going to have trouble getting the zipper down without doing harm.

He sucked at Warrick's balls through the fabric of his khaki pants. Brown acknowledged Gil's skill by throwing his head back and burying his hands in Grissom's hair.

Gil had a theory about Warrick's erogenous zones and he was ready to put them to the test. He cupped the younger man's ass and very gently massaged it. Grissom never put more pressure on it than Warrick would have experienced with a woman.

"It's okay," Gil promised before pulling down the other man's zipper. Warrick's cock sprang away from his body and almost got Grissom in the eye. Gil licked the underside while continuing to caress the younger man's sexy ass.

"Gil, damn... man," Brown moaned helplessly. He rocked himself gently inside Gil's mouth. Nick had trained the man from the beginning not to choke his partner with his long, thick cock.

Gil wrapped his hand around Brown's cock and slowly stroked it. "You'd only be worrying about this if you felt that Nick and I taking it up the ass from you somehow diminishes us. Do you think we're less of a man for liking cock?"

"Hell no," Warrick insisted, "but to be even we need to trade off."

Gil shook his head. "What if I'm the one who feels he's cheating you?" he asked. "What if I told you I've looked a long time for a man who could handle me in bed and give me the inches and the power my particular sexual kinks demand?"

Warrick looked surprised. "Is that what you're telling me?"

"It's exactly what I'm telling you, Warrick," Gil assured him. "You let me put Doctor Grissom aside and just be Gil or Sugar Bear in your arms."

Warrick blushed. "Sorry about the Sugar Bear thing," he apologized. "If I'd called Nick that, he would have taken a golf club to my head."

"Nick worries about his size," Gil explained.

"He's packing plenty," Warrick insisted, missing the point.

"I meant his height and weight when compared with you," Gil corrected. "He probably prefers pretty boys who are his height or smaller. You've thrown him for a loop."

"Me?" Warrick inquired furrowing his brow. "I'm the one who's begging at the Gil and Nick table like a dog."

Gil quickly pushed the image of Warrick collared out of his mind, only to have it replaced with the even more wicked images of Master Brown properly clad and Grissom taking it like a man. Those days were long over and if the man was having difficulties with just the thought of being penetrated, a whisper of those games would send him running. Grissom did not want this man to run.

"Do you like taking my mouth?" Gil asked before kissing the head of the younger man's cock.

"Of course I do, Sugar Bear," Warrick insisted as he ran his fingers through Gil's hair.

"What if I confessed that I like sucking cock more than I like having my cock sucked?" Gil asked, taking a tiny step forward in bringing more of himself to light. "What if I told you that it turned me on even more to try to take two cocks or that I really like it if someone larger than myself, but who I trusted, held my head while fucking my mouth?"

"I'd find that very intense," Warrick answered.

Intense covered a lot of ground and, therefore, Gil needed clarification. "But do you like hearing that?"

"Yes," Warrick assured him. Gil found himself suddenly pinned down on the bed. Warrick was over him, holding him by the wrists while his cock was humped by Warrick's larger tool. "I'd like it even better if you told me it was okay for me to hold you like this." He kissed Gil with an edge of brutality to his strength. "It would flip every switch I have to hear you want more from me while I have you this way."

Gil begged the gods he hadn't misheard that. "Warrick, I'm about to cum because you're holding me down and I know that if you didn't want me to get up, I couldn't. I also know that if I asked you to let me go, you would." He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Let me go."

Warrick released Gil almost before he'd said "go". That was all the reassurance Grissom needed.

"My safe word is 'micron', Rick. The bottom is ultimately in charge of all sessions because he can stop everything by uttering that one word." Gil reached over and gripped Warrick's cock, which was still firm and proud. "I'll have to train you to do this."

"I've done it before," Warrick interrupted.

Grissom suppressed a groan. If there was something he knew how to do, it was suppress. "But not with another man," Gil explained. "That changes things. I can take more than a woman can, I have two, not three, holes, and I've got no tits."

Warrick placed both of the older man's wrists in his right hand and cupped Gil's right pec with his free hand. "I wouldn't say that," he teased. Brown sucked in Gil's left nipple and used his teeth, causing the older man to all but writhe on the bed. "You have very nice titties." Warrick spread his oral attention all over Gil's chest. He tugged Gil's chest hair, lapped at his sternum, and sucked both nipples in turn.

Gil came so hard he nearly bit his tongue.

"I think you liked that," Warrick quipped.

Gil had a scathing comment to demonstrate his razor-sharp wit, but forgot it when Warrick pressed Gil's captured wrists against his stomach and went down to lap Gil's dick clean. "Oh, damn," he moaned. His dick was highly sensitized after his orgasm, he was being restrained, and it was Warrick who was sucking his cock -- Gil didn't stand a chance. Grissom needed a distraction. He tried counting in Greek. He tried naming each of the butterflies in his collection. He tried remembering the speech of welcome he was giving later. He tried, but failed. Gil came again, with a pleasure so explosive that pain would have been a step down in sensation.

Warrick flipped Gil onto his stomach, hit his ass with two powerful slaps, squirted an ampoule of lube into Grissom's twitching bottom, and mounted him. Gil liked, no loved, it rough and Warrick was giving it to him very, very rough. Everything fled his mind as his body took over completely.

Gil missed what Warrick was saying but he could feel his lover's deep voice vibrating through both of their bodies. Warrick came and kept himself from collapsing on Gil by the strength in his arms. Gil wouldn't have been able to do anything but fall.

Warrick gently coaxed Gil into his arms and stroked his back. Gil drifted off. They hadn't done anything about Warrick's perceived imbalance of their relationship, but Grissom was feeling pretty damn good.

[][][]=============[][][]=============[][][]

Nick stepped into Warrick's place to find his friend with a definite hangdog expression on his face. "What happened?" he asked, really worried. Gil's SUV was outside and Nick had been counting on the older man to talk Warrick out of breaking things off because he hadn't been able to bottom for Nick.

"I'm an animal," Warrick confessed.

"And?" Nick prompted. It wasn't like he expected to find Gil in any kind of danger.

"Gil was telling me he'd like things a little more rough when he was with me and I... I just held him down and took what I wanted." Warrick sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised if he never stepped inside my place again."

Nick had his own theories about Gil's kinks and what Warrick had described sounded like Gilbert Grissom Heaven to him. "Is he still in the bedroom?" he asked.

"Yeah... the scene of the crime," Warrick answered before sighing.

'Drama queen,' Nick thought while keeping his face serious. He walked down the hall and found Gil flat on his back on the bed, naked, sound asleep, with a big stupid smile on his face. "Oh yeah, he didn't like that at all."

Nick whipped out his padded handcuffs, which he'd planned on using on Gil, and cuffed Warrick. He turned the taller man around to face him. "Warrick Brown, you're under arrest for extreme sexual satisfaction. You have the right to moan. No keeping silent. You have the right to beg. If you give up your right to beg, you will be forced to beg again and again until your arresting officer is satisfied with your sincerity. Do you understand these rights?"

Warrick looked Nick in the eyes. "Have you lost your mind, Stokes?" he demanded.

"Definitely," Nick agreed. He pulled the larger man toward the guest bedroom. The room had a full-sized bed and that was all they needed.

"Do you know what your problem is, Rick?" Nick asked the larger man as he lowered him onto the bed.

"We don't have the time to list all of my faults." Warrick grunted as he tried to roll himself over without having the use of his arms. All he managed to do was wiggle his ass seductively and give poor Nick many impractical ideas when all he had to work with was a skittish anal virgin.

"You get these ideas in your head about what is right or wrong and you stick to them no matter what evidence piles up around you." Nick placed a soft nip on the big man's ass. "Sex does not come with scorecards and friendship doesn't have to cover the point spread."

"I can't just keep taking from you and Gil," Warrick insisted. "It's not right."

"Warrick, I think you're misdirecting," Nick announced.

"What?" Warrick asked, still trying to roll over.

Nick rolled the larger man onto his side while divesting Brown of his unneeded pants. Even in full angst mode, Warrick was semi-hard. Nick took it as a compliment. "Warrick, you've only been with women before us, so we'll skip to the chase scene. Women could only receive you. Did you feel you were cheating those women by not letting them take your ass with a dildo to, as you say, even things out?"

"No," Warrick admitted.

"Are you worried that if you don't or can't go that next step that I'll get bored and move on?" Nick asked. Perhaps he was riding an ego wave of his own making, but it was a question he needed to ask.

"Yes," Warrick answered without hesitation. "Greg is waiting in the wings for you and he can do anything and probably has." There was such a vulnerable look on the man's face that it caused Nick's chest to tighten.

Nick leaned down and softly kissed Warrick. "You're not losing me over a lack of anal intercourse. I promise. I give you my word and you know my word is always good."

"Nick, I started this and now I can't finish it," Warrick moaned. "What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Nick insisted. "I don't know what you've heard or what you've read, Rick, but there are no firm rules about topping. Okay?"

"Okay," Warrick responded, his voice barely above a whisper. If the other man broke into tears, Nick would crack too. "I'm not good at this," he tried to explain. "I can't seem to catch up. Every time we get together, you guys show me how little I know and the fact I haven't made any progress."

Nick caressed Warrick's face instead of pulling the other man's hair out in frustration. "Rick, Gil Grissom is puddled out on your bed and smiling in his sleep. Not even drugs could get that man to drop his guard that much." He kissed the other man soundly. "Add to your list of things you're not allowed to do --"

"Right after 'call Nick cute'?" Warrick asked.

Nick gave the other man his most serious look. "This goes before the cute restriction." That pronouncement garnered Warrick's full attention. "You are not allowed to critique your own sexual performance with us."

Warrick had something to say but Nick covered the larger man's full lips with two fingers.

"Don't interrupt," Nick warned. Warrick nodded. "You're doing quite well, Rick. Lots of full-time gay men never get fucked in the ass. Lots of full-time straight men do. Every rule you seem to have in your head about being with other men is based on a faulty premise."

Warrick's voice dropped almost to a whisper, as if his words were too dangerous to be spoken out loud. "Nick, you've got me cuffed. Why don't you just go ahead and do it?" he suggested.

"Do it?" Nick nearly gurgled. He tried to give himself enough time to control his emotions before he spoke. He almost made it. "I'm not a rapist, Rick. No matter how much I want it, I'll never put us in a situation where there's the slightest chance you didn't want it as much as I do."

"I do want it, Nicky," Warrick shouted. "I want to do it with you so much, but I'm scared."

Nick released Warrick from the handcuffs, which had gone from fun prop to dangerous in the space of a sentence, and rubbed his lover's wrists. It was unnecessary, the cuffs hadn't left a mark, but the action gave him time to think with his head instead of with his cock.

"One day the anticipation will overrun the fear and you will open up to me." Nick rolled Warrick underneath him. "I'm looking forward to that day."

Warrick's eyes searched Nick's face. "Tell me about him."

Nick knew instantly who the "him" was -- Nick's first time to bottom. "His name was Ramon and he was part owner of a downtown watering hole. I answered the call to bust up a fight there."

"Two good old boys?" Warrick asked as his arms surrounded Nick and pulled him close.

"No, two 'cream of society' ladies, who had discovered that they had planned their daughters debutante balls on the same day." Nick let a short laugh escape. "Dresses were torn, stockings ripped, one wig died, and the scandal lasted for weeks."

"What about the daughters?" Warrick inquired. "Did they leave town, change their names, and dye their hair?"

"They had a combined ball with a "Texas Shootout" theme and started a trend for balls with themes," Nick answered. "The only thing we like more than a scandal in Dallas, is a trend."

"You asked him out?" Warrick asked, not allowing Nick to switch subjects.

"No, he asked me," Nick corrected. "It was a bit of a shock as I hadn't been with a man since college. I turned him down."

"But he persisted," Warwick guessed. "He'd seen the spectacular Nick Stokes and he could not rest until you were his. That pretty man wore you down."

"He wasn't pretty," Nick corrected again. "He had personality." Stokes played with Warrick's nipples. "Ramon wore me down and I went out with him. He knew hot spots in town that I'd never heard of and he took me there. We had a good time."

"And?" Warrick prompted, obviously into the story.

"It was just kissing and hugging at first. I was a cop and I had to be careful." Nick watched the other man nod. "I'd hate to tell you how many women thought I'd fix traffic tickets for them because we'd gone out, so I was extra cautious with Ramon."

Warrick said nothing and Nick continued his story. "He took me out on his boat. It was a very romantic outing and we went from kissing to blowjobs and me taking him." Nick smiled. "It was a good thing we were on the water. Ramon was a screamer."

Warrick chuckled. "It's always the quiet ones who go screamer on you." Stokes got the feeling his lover was not just referring to Gil Grissom.

"Ramon was loud," Nick recalled. "He also showed me how good it felt to have your ass played with."

"What did he do?" Warrick asked. He stared into Nick's eyes as if the secret to ultimate pleasure or his own salvation was about to be imparted.

"Fingers, tongue, and then anal beads," Nick recounted.

"Anal beads," Warrick said as if he were trying the phrase for the first time. "Do you have any?"

Nick pretended to pat himself down for the requested item. "Not on me," he confessed, "but I have some at home. Both the string kind for the ladies and the rod version for the boys." Stokes's fertile imagination summoned up images of Warrick and the beads. It made his pants tight. "You can come over tomorrow and take them for a test drive."

"Okay." Warrick kissed Nick so hard that Stokes was ready to make the round trip to bring the beads and Warrick together.

Warrick wasn't satisfied with just a kiss. He stripped Stokes down, licking Nick's skin as he did. Brown was wrong about many things. One being that he was not improving in their play. If Warrick got much better at sucking cock, Nick was going to have to limit the man's access to his dick.

Man! Stokes was babbling as Warrick went down on him. He may have even told the man how to cover up his death so his parents would never have to know how he died, though the stupid post-mortem smile would have been a giveaway.

Warrick moved his attention down to Nick's ass and ate him out until Nick begged for mercy and cock in the same sentence. Warrick took him slow, loved him long, and came very hard with Nick's name on his lips.

"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky," Warrick chanted as he kissed Stokes with an edge of desperation to his moves. "Thank you," he whispered.

Nick moaned a response. It was all he could do.

Instead of being wiped out by their lovemaking, Warrick was energized. He carried Nick into the master bedroom and placed him on the bed with Gil. Grissom, the sexy bastard, rolled over and cuddled Nick without waking up.

Warrick got on the other side and the two of them squeezed in on Gil as if the older man was brought onto this earth to be the creamy filling in their sandwich. There were worse callings in life.

[][][]=============[][][]=============[][][]

Grissom was not looking forward to having his crew vivisected by an out-of-state criminologist with a big... personality. Elaine Rayburn had Ecklie laughing his ass off and the sheriff was almost licking the woman's shoes.

Rayburn had dressed in coveralls, had her hair pulled back, and wore little makeup when she worked with his crew. Now she was very glamorous in her dark red dress that set off her light brown skin, black crisscross high-heeled sandals that made her even taller, makeup, dangling earrings, and a hairstyle that took off at least ten years from her face.

"Doctor Grissom," Rayburn greeted warmly. "There you are." She hooked her arm through Gil's and instantly made him her escort as they left Ecklie, who was still giggling, behind. "Thank you," she whispered between her pearly white teeth. "I thought I was going to have to stab him to get away."

Gil was confused. "You made him laugh," he accused.

"He made himself laugh and I just stood there trying to guess what was funny," Rayburn explained. "He's hoping his crew will get the invite, and I'd like it to be graveyard shift."

"Invite?" Grissom asked, thoroughly confused.

Rayburn frowned. "Didn't you get the e-mail?" she asked.

E-mail, the bane of Gil's existence. "Not yet," he temporized.

Rayburn counted to ten in Spanish before addressing him. "Which means you haven't even opened your in-box. Right?"

"Right," he agreed sheepishly.

"I wrangled a grant that will allow us to bring in ten members of your staff to train us over a three-week period. Ecklie wants it to be his crew because it is part of a national program and there is a lot of prestige up for grabs. I don't care about that," she assured him. "I want my people to have the chance to see your crew in action and to learn from them. Granted three weeks is nothing in regards to proper training, but it is all the grant will cover and probably the max time I can take you away from Vegas."

Grissom was intrigued. Their crew had never been given a chance to do one of these exchanges. Ecklie's people had gone twice, once to Denver and the other time to Phoenix, and Conrad still bragged about it. All Gil's people had gotten from the opportunities was overtime. He was going to grab this if he could.

"Thanks for telling me this," Gil said gratefully. He escorted the doctor to the meeting room and held Rayburn's chair for her.

The director, his staff, the department heads, and all of the shift supervisors shuffled in. Gil made some notes while the welcome speeches were made. His speech was well received. Grissom's hearing dropped out on him twice and was still not quite working while Rayburn made her first remarks.

"-- myself, why is my opinion important to these people?" Rayburn inquired. The room erupted into laughter. "But as we all know, sometimes fresh eyes catch that one little thing that makes all other clues fall into place." Rayburn smiled at them. "You have a fine facility here, but you know that. I've made some observations and I won't bore you by reading them to you." She passed out the printed list, complete with bullet points.

Grissom saw both the free rides home and administrative assistant suggestions, along with several others. Gil cringed when he saw the bit about experiments being mixed with staff's meals in what had been designated as a staff refrigerator.

In fact, she nailed them pretty good on some procedural failings, many of which Gil had been guilty of himself. Ecklie really got it in the neck about some of his high-handed moves even though his name wasn't mentioned specifically. No one's name was mentioned. Grissom respected her for that. Rayburn could have gutted them all as she was leaving and her three-week offer was still a plum they all would want, but she hadn't.

Rayburn took questions and things got lively as some people tried to defend themselves. Gil didn't bother to go that route, he just asked for some clarifications on her points, made more notes, and smiled politely.

It was over. Rayburn was heading home to her lab, Gil had assignments to hand out and a proposal to write up, and Ecklie had people to scowl at. Someone had to be blamed for those points that so obviously talked about him.

"Grissom, surely you don't intend to throw your hat in the ring," Ecklie said dryly. His expression said that all of Las Vegas would be insulted if he did.

"Why not?" Grissom asked.

"The woman obviously needs a more professional hand holding hers," Conrad explained. "Let's face it, you couldn't find a more backwater place. You'd be out of your element and your crew would be out of their league." He patted Gil on the arm. "Don't embarrass us."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Gil assured the other man. It got a big smile out of Ecklie, which was almost enough to make Gil spit. He hurried to his office.

Sitting on his desk was a beautiful arrangement of sunflowers, a bag with two soggy lemons inside, and a mature male rhinoceros beetle with a note on his wire cage.

Please take care of our orphaned child, Brutus
Maximus. He loves rotting fruit, bike rides,
and walking on children's hands. He's a night creature, just like you.

Brutus was walking along a limb inside his cage. At the bottom of the cage was a great facsimile of the kind of litter you would find on the floor of an equatorial jungle. Someone knew what they were doing.

Gil smiled and sat down. He didn't recognize the handwriting, but this had to have come from a close acquaintance.

"New friend?" Catherine asked from the doorway.

"Yes," Gil answered. "According to the note, his name is Brutus Maximus." Grissom took the beetle out of his cage and held him in his hand. He almost filled Gil's palm.

"That is one big bug," Catherine noted from the safety of her distant position.

"Cool," Greg remarked as he looked around Catherine. "What's his name?"

"Brutus," Catherine reported. "How do you know it's a male?"

"The horns," Greg answered, holding his fingers against his forehead.

"Oh, lord, don't let that one get loose," Brass begged before scooting along.

"Hey, I got that guy to stop screaming," Gil said defensively. "He only needed a little understanding."

"Don't we all," Catherine remarked before walking away.

"I didn't know you could import those," Greg said as he moved closer.

"You have to have a license," Gil explained. Brutus accepted a bit of the lemon without hesitation, pointing to him having been handled before.

"Hey, dude, that lemon has gone bad," Greg noted.

"That's what he wants," Gil explained as he let the beetle walk into Greg's hand. "He normally forages the jungle floor during the night, turning the fallen fruit back to organic matter."

"Nature's little housekeeper," Greg said as he let the bug move to his other hand. "Is it true that this little guy can carry 700 times his own body weight."

"850 times," Gil corrected. "Can you imagine being able to carry 850 times your own weight?"

"It sure would make moving furniture so much easier," Greg quipped as he reluctantly gave Brutus back to Gil. "Better haul it. Mike says Ecklie is on the warpath."

"Really?" Gil inquired. He placed Brutus back in his cage and closed the door carefully. The escape of Bugsy, which Ecklie had treated like a high crime, hadn't been his fault. Someone had broken the spider's cage.

Nick and Warrick entered his office together just as Greg headed down the hall. "We sent the flowers but not the bug," Nick noted.

Gil had never gotten flowers from a lover before. It made him smile. "Thanks, guys."

"Wow, that's one grand bug," Warrick said as he examined the cage. "Obviously he's an import."

"Oh yeah, he's definitely from out of town," Nick agreed. He looked back at the door and then back to Grissom. "We're going to my place after shift. Can you come?" He leaned closer. "I'm introducing Rick to anal beads and I'd like some help."

If Brutus had been in Gil's hand, he might have gotten crushed. Warrick Brown and anal beads. Lord. "I'll be there," he promised. "I need to get something written up now."

The two men took the hint and left the office. Grissom read his e-mail, outlined a proposal, and had it typed up before the first case rolled in. If things went well, then Gil, Catherine, Sara, Warrick, Nick, Greg, Archie, Jim, Al, and Bobby would be going to Silver Lakes.

[][][]=============[][][]=============[][][]
Stokes was ready to climb the walls by the time Warrick parked in the lot in front of Nick's apartment. Gil may have been just as anxious, but he wasn't showing it.

"He's going to be fine," Gil insisted. He rubbed Nick's shoulder and kept the younger man from rushing the door until Warrick rang the bell. Brown must have sat in his car for a few minutes before working up the nerve to come to the door.

Nick pulled Warrick inside and hugged him tightly. "You don't have to do anything you are not 100% enthusiastic about. Okay?"

"Okay," Warrick agreed. "I ordered pizza before I came up."

Pizza. He'd been ordering pizza instead of shaking in terror. That was good. Nick reluctantly released the larger man. "Pizza is nice."

Gil moved up and took Nick's place to hug Warrick. "Are we good?" he asked.

"Very good," Warrick assured him as he patted Grissom's ass. He nuzzled Gil's throat. "Sugar Bear," he moaned.

It was times like this that Nick wished Warrick could come up with a nickname for him that did not have diminutive connotations. He moved the three of them to the couch and the hugging and kissing continued in earnest until the pizza arrived. Gil managed to pay but only because Warrick wasn't going to the door without pants, shirt, shoes, or underwear. If the man didn't want to be stripped naked, he shouldn't have joined the pile.

They fed each other, shared some beers, cleaned up, and made their way to Nick's bed. Stokes had all of the props laid out and he was ready to explain them or just put them away. All depending on Warrick's reaction.

But he had planned without taking into consideration who his partner was. Grissom dived into Warrick's ass and licked and teased the man until Brown went up on his knees without prompting.

"Bring the beads," Grissom ordered as he worked three fingers in and out of Warrick's tight bottom.

Nick lubed the beads he'd carefully cleaned while he and Gil, who had ridden home with Nick, talked about Warrick. Stokes was glad to have the older, more experienced man with him when tackling their skittish lover. Stokes was happy to let Grissom lead.

"Oh yeah," Warrick moaned as the first of the beads on the rod went inside him. Four more beads followed the first and the rod's handle was flush against Brown's bottom. "Feels nice," he reported lazily.

"It's going to be nicer," Gil promised before taking Warrick's cock into his mouth. He worked the larger man's cock for a good long time, making sure that Warrick was close to madness for the next part.

Nick eased the beads out just as Warrick came. Brown, who normally wasn't that loud when he came, nearly screamed the place down. It's always the quiet ones who go screamer on you.

Stokes straddled the larger man and placed the head of his lubed and sheathed cock against Warrick's recently awakened hole. He hesitated, waiting for Warrick to say no. He didn't.

Nick pressed hard against Warrick and his cockhead popped inside. He held still for two breaths before pressing in further.

Warrick bucked against him as his prostate was brushed. "Damn," he moaned.

Nick could only agree. Warrick's ass was so tight that it took most of Nick's strength to keep going. When he struck bottom, it was a triumph for all of them. He held on and kissed Warrick's neck and shoulders. "You feel so good, baby," he swore.

Warrick was shaking and Nick was ready to pull out and never ask for this again, then the big man spoke. "I'm ready, Stallion."

Nick had just gotten a new nickname and he was going to let this one stick.

Stokes rocked his hips against Warrick, moving further and further out before each thrust inward. Soon they were in rhythm. Warrick was taking his cock and Nick was going mad.

Nick lost himself, going animalistic as he grunted, groaned, and shouted his way to orgasm. It was over far too quickly. Stokes eased out and allowed Gil to move into position.

Where Nick had been frantic, Gil was calm, and where Nick had rushed, Gil was steady and smooth. He and Warrick made slow tender love.

Nick stroked the older man's back as Gil arched in soft waves that threw his hips against Warrick's ass and pushed his short thick cock deep into the taller man's body.

"Jesus," Gil groaned. He was obviously struggling to hold himself back and suffering because of it.

"He wants it, Gil," Nick encouraged. "He wants all of his Sugar Bear."

"Sugar Bears get fucked, they don't fuck, Nick," Grissom chastised.

"Then fuck him like Gil Grissom," Nick suggested.

"Fuck me, Gil," Warrick grunted. "Show me how my Sugar Bear wants to be taken."

That hit Nick's buttons with a sledgehammer and he wasn't involved. He knew it had snapped all of Grissom's hold on his emotions. Gil closed his eyes and drove himself deeply into Warrick. He shouted nonsense interspersed with Warrick's name and occasionally Nick's until sweat was pouring down his face, neck, and back. He came with tears glistening on his cheeks.

Nick helped Gil unto his back. "It's okay, Gil," he whispered.

Warrick wasn't so out of it that he couldn't help. He removed Gil's condom and wiped the older man down with some of Nick's handy disposables. "Are you still with us, Gil?" he asked, sounding very concerned.

"Have you ever done something you hadn't even allowed yourself to dream about before?" Grissom asked.

"Just did," Nick assured the man.

"Ditto," Warrick agreed.

"Then you know I'm not alright," Grissom said simply. The three of them ended up lying on their backs, with Gil in the center, and looking up at the ceiling. "Rick, we need to put a butt plug in you to keep you stretched. Nicky, you did good."

"So did you, Gil," Nick assured the older man. He reached over and took Grissom's hand. "We all did good."

[][][]=============[][][]=============[][][]

Doctor Elaine Rayburn read the three proposals from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Even if she hadn't had her own personal preferences, Doctor Grissom's proposal ran rings around the other two. His team simply outshone all other competition. She placed her stamp of approval onto the cover sheet, making it official. Grissom's crew was coming to Silver Lakes.

The End