Over Identification

Disclaimer: Grissom, Cath and their merry band of men belong to CBS, Bruckheimer Productions, et al. I claim no credit for them, and fanfic is pretty much a not-for-profit business.

"What?" Greg asked, raising one bemused eyebrow.

He watched the hot blush spread across Nick's face and became intrigued. There was obviously more to this than Nick was letting on. The only thing that got him that ruffled was talking about sex, which was why the whole conversation was so interesting.

"It's not like it's a big deal," Nick said.

"It's not a big deal," Greg agreed, "just weird, that's all. I mean, every day you're surrounded by corpses that have been killed in a myriad of gory and disgusting ways. You see severed limbs and decapitation and whatever else. But...you're afraid of feet?"

If anything, Nick's blush deepened, and Greg felt his cock stir. Nick could be such a bad ass in the field that over the course of their one week relationship, Greg's favorite thing to do had become making the conservative and somehow still shockable man flustered in private.

"I'm not afraid of them," Nick argued defensively. "I just don't like them."

"But why?" Greg persisted. "What is it that makes feet somehow more disgusting to you than, say, sifting through someone's stomach contents?"

"I'm not...it's not that bad," Nick said. He fidgeted with a loose thread on an arm of the couch. Snapping it off, he raised his head to look at Greg. "I don't know, G. Something about the toes and the way they're so....bony." His gaze dropped down once again to the thing that had started this conversation, Greg's own toes peeking out from under his jeans.

Greg wiggled his toes and Nick looked away, swallowing hard.

"All I'm asking is that when we're together you don't walk around...like that."

"Barefoot, you mean," Greg said.

"Yes."

"In my own house."

"It's not a big deal," Nick repeated. He glanced down and up again quickly and that blush flared back up, but this time it was accompanied by an uncomfortable shifting in his seat that made everything click into place for Greg.

Biting down on a mischievous grin, he arranged his features into what he hoped was a look of sympathetic understanding.

"I see," he said. "You have some sort of foot phobia..." He raised his hand to stop Nick's no doubt indignant objection to the word "phobia." "No, you have a foot phobia, so I should wear socks when we're together, otherwise we might be in the middle of having sex and my naked toes might accidentally brush against the smooth backs of your knees..." Nick's shifting increased and Greg continued, "or the soft skin at your inner thighs, right next to your dick where you're so sensitive." He saw a distinct jump inside of Nick's pants and couldn't stop the predatory grin that spread across his lips. "That would be horrible."

"Yeah," Nick croaked, voice low and turned on.

Greg straddled Nick's lap and placed his hands on his shoulders, forcing Nick to look him in the face. "You don't have a foot phobia," he said, "you have a foot fetish, don't you?" He lapped at one of Nick's ear lobes delicately. "Don't you, Nicky."

"Yes," Nick gasped, hands coming up to palm Greg's hips.

Greg smiled into his neck. "Why couldn't you tell me?"

Nick shrugged, looking embarrassed and sheepish. "As a CSI I've seen so many messed up, kinky people. The worst kind of sickos. I didn't want to equate myself with them."

"Nick, getting off on feet isn't the same thing as dressing up like a baby and asking me to wipe your ass."

Nick snorted. "I know. Logically I know, but..."

"...But let's save the philosophical discussion for later," Greg interrupted. "Right now I want to talk about some practical applications for this foot thing of yours. Do you want to touch my feet? Do you want to suck on my toes?" He leaned forward and spoke directly into Nick's ear as he ground down on the sizeable erection pushing against him. "I bet I would like it."

Nick groaned, a loud, broken sound, and thrust his hips in response. "Please."

"What about the other way around? What if I licked yours instead? Would you like that too? My tongue against your heel, tickling along your arch, thrusting between your toes?"

Nick's hands on Greg's hips clutched him so hard he would have bruises, but that only ratched up Greg's arousal.

"G, come on. Anything. Either way. Anything," Nick said, his breath panting.

"I'll do it all," Greg said. "I'll do whatever you want, Nicky. You just have to ask. I'm easy, but you knew that."

Greg could feel tense thigh muscles loosen under him as Nick laughed. "You first. I mean, I want to...do you first."

Greg grinned slow and promising and slid off of Nick's lap to lay on the couch. He spread his arms out invitingly and ran his bare foot along Nick's jean-covered dick, feeling it twitch and strain against the fabric and watching avid brown eyes glaze over.

"What are you waiting for?"