Horatio's POV:

"Oh God, H," Tim moans as I slowly push into him. I cornered him in the shower and now have him bent over the sink, exactly where I want him. He's watching my face in the mirror, but I'm watching my dick disappear into his ass. "I love you," he whispers and I flick my eyes up to meet his in the mirror and then back down to his ass. He has yet to really say it; he only whispers it when he thinks I'm not listening or I'm asleep, although I know how he feels.

"So beautiful, Speed. You are so beautiful like this." I am, of course, talking about watching him take my dick inside him, because I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life than the way his body accepts mine. Craves mine.

I begin to move inside him, too aroused now to make this last, but I want to, more than anything. I slow, then stop, gritting my teeth against the urge to come. If he can just... "Speed! God, don't move," I beg, wanting more of this sweet heat.

"Wha...?" He is so close. And so am I. I love the way he feels around my dick. He's still so very tight. All I want to do right now is become a part of him. I want to take him into my body and lose myself in him. He tries to stay still; I can see how much of an effort it is for him. I can feel it in the muscles of his back as I run my hands up to his neck and back down to his ass. Just as I'm starting to gain control of myself, he squeezes me, hard.

"Damnit, Speed!" I shout as I coat his insides, pushing him right over the edge with me.

"That was..." he sighs as he falters with what he's trying to say. "...the best ever," is what he ends with.

"Yeah, it was," I agree as I pull out of him. We both groan at the loss of contact, neither of us wanting it to end. But our bodies are too sensitized right now to maintain this kind of touch. "So, another shower, then?" I ask as I place an open-mouthed kiss to the middle of his back. I have this obsession with him and showers. The first time we ever fucked was after I'd caught him masturbating in the shower at work. I can't help but get hard every time showers and his name are mentioned in the same sentence. The first time was fast and furious, the second only a little less so. The need was so strong for both of us that it took a few days before we could slow down enough to learn to read each other's bodies. To know every inch of skin, every hair. And for him, every freckle. Now, we only go straight for the hot spots when there isn't time to go slow. Like when I catch him getting out of the shower or see him heading towards the locker room at work. Though we've only fucked there once, when my control slipped too badly for me to be able to wait.

"Not with you," he says as he pushes himself upright, forcing me to take a step back.

"Oh come on," I chuckle. "I'm not that bad am I?" I ask as I try for an affronted look, knowing that I am failing miserably.

Our eyes meet in the mirror and he laughs at the look of mock indignation on my face. "Yeah, you are. I would really like to go into work just once without everyone knowing what I'd done the night before," he states as he starts to clean himself off.

"Like they wouldn't still know that you'd gotten laid. You can't keep that silly I've-just-been-fucked look off your face." I say as I grab the towel from him to clean myself.

"So? Maybe I'm tired of walking like I have a stick up my ass."

Ouch. Okay, that stings. I can tell he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Fortunately, I know he loves it when I take him; however I want to take him, whenever I want to take him.

"H? I didn't mean it the way it came out," he backpedals a little, looking like he wished he'd never opened his mouth on the subject.

"Yeah, I know." I'm pretending to be hurt. I have something that I want him to do and guilt is the best motivator I know.

"H? I'm sorry." He says as I exit the bathroom to walk over to the bed.

"Yeah? Just how sorry are you?" I ask sharply as I stop next to my, our, bed. A bed he spends more time in than his own. When he doesn't respond, I glance back at him over my shoulder; seeing the mark he left on me just hours before. It makes me shiver a little, knowing he lost some of his inhibitions enough to take some kind of control. To mark me as his. "Come on, Speed. Show me just how sorry you really are." I feel like I do when I'm interrogating a suspect who thinks that they're smarter than me. So very powerful. So very in control. None of them have ever been smarter than me. "I'd really like to know just how sorry you are."

I see him shake his head as if to clear it as I continue speaking to him. "What are you going to do, Speed? You hurt my feelings, so how are you going to apologize? Hm?" I let my voice go from sharp to husky, letting him know exactly what I want from him by way of apology.

"Okay, you want me to show you just how sorry I am?" he snaps as he approaches me by the bed. I can tell he's stressed from the way he is standing and the tone of his voice. He's pissed off. I shiver again, my belly going tense with need. "How about this for an apology?" He stops just inches away and shoves me backwards onto the mattress.

I land with a slight bounce and a huge grin. I've been trying to get him to be more aggressive in bed, because it's the one place I can afford to let myself be vulnerable. Let myself not control everything. I have no idea how to get Tim to accept a power position in this relationship, but I know I need him to, if we're going to make this work in the long run. But he's still new to homosexual sex. I love topping him, but I also like to be topped from time to time. I got him to try once. He was so nervous that neither one of us came while he was inside me. It was only when I entered him that we both came.

Then there are the blowjobs. I love to give them, especially to him, and I also love to receive them. He tried to blow me once, but again, he was too nervous to finish what he started.

"Oh so now you're mister tough guy, huh?" I taunt him, knowing that making him angry is the only way to make him let go.

"I'll show you tough," he growls as he crawls up the bed to lie on top of me. I just grin up at him. I know how scared he is of taking charge but I'm getting off on knowing that he's pushing his limits. He straddles my torso and kisses me for all he's worth. I can feel the tension in every muscle of his body, and I realize he's trying to buy himself some time, here.

"Speed, baby. It's okay. You know you don't have to," I say as I grab his head to make him stop and listen. "Just being with you is enough."

"No it's not, H. Not anymore. I need to do this. I just don't want to fuck up again."

"You could never fuck this up, baby." I smile up at him.

"I fucked it up last time." He ducks his head.

I hate the self-consciousness and anxiety in his voice. He can't give me what I need from him when he's so caught up in doing it right... He doesn't know there's no wrong way to fuck me. Yet. "You tried to do too much, too fast, last time. Just go slow. Take it easy. And don't forget to..."

"Breathe," he finishes for me.

The first time we fucked, I must have told him to breathe at least five times. It has become a code word for us. Something we use whenever one of us is doing something we find uncomfortable to let the other know it's okay and that we understand how hard it is.

"Yeah. How could I possibly forget that? You're always telling me to breathe," he snaps at me.

"Well, it works, doesn't it?" I just grin at him. I let him get angry with me; he's beautiful when he's angry. And more than that, I can feel my own muscles relax into his anger, his sudden surge of authority and intensity. I'm the one who always has to be in charge. Be the boss. And God, sometimes, I just need to let that go. Just accept someone else's authority over me, just for a little bit. Until I can go out and face the world again and feel like I know what the hell I'm doing, making life and death decisions for the people I work with, or the victims we try to help. For some people, their god can absolve them. For me, it's Tim. I need Tim to do this for me. Tell me what to do. Make me do it. And make me love it. To give me a moment of total surrender, knowing everything will still be okay, even if I'm not in control.

"Whatcha gonna do now, tough guy?" I goad him, licking my lips as I reach out with one hand to stroke his firming erection. "Are ya just gonna sit on my chest, or are ya gonna fuck me?" I know he's going to try to blow me. Maybe even wants to, and is pissed off enough now to enjoy it. So I push him, emphasizing the word 'fuck' to let him know I'm onto him.

And suddenly, the uncertainty is back in his voice, back in his eyes, dammit. His anger fades and my own begins to stir.

"I...god, Horatio. Why is this so hard for me?"

"Maybe 'cause it's a dick and not a pussy?" I ask with a hint of sarcasm. He once told me how much he used to love going down on the women he beds.

"No, that's not it. I've been dreaming and thinking about doing this for a long time now. I don't have a problem with your dick." He sighs and starts to get off me, but I grab his thighs and hold him in place.

"Tim. Look at me." I command. I have to get him focused again. Get him to realize this isn't about me judging his technique. It's about letting him love me. Even the terrified part of me that needs to give up control to him, even if it's only in such a small way. To accept me, my weaknesses. Weakness I can't show the world outside my bedroom. "Just start with my face and work your way down when you feel like it," I continue when he looks me in the eye. Thank god. I've got his attention again, and I can see the heat rise in his gaze as he stares down at me.

He leans down and starts to kiss my forehead. Just light little touches of his lips, at first, then bolder open-mouthed kisses as he gains more confidence. He kisses me everywhere except my mouth, just concentrating on the feel of my skin beneath his lips. I have really sensitive ears, and he knows it. He licks a path from my chin to my left ear and starts to nibble. I start to moan and squirm. "Tim..." My voice is husky and I'm a little out of breath, like I've been running. "God, Tim. I lo..." I stop mid word and he stops mid nibble. Oh god. What the hell am I saying? Am I really ready to be that vulnerable to him? I really shouldn't have stopped like that. I should have turned it into something else. Like 'I love when you do that.' But because I stopped mid word, if I change it now he'll know he's not the only one who feels something here.

"H?" He pulls back to look me in the eye.

"Tim. I...uh...I..." I falter and turn my head away.

"I love you, Horatio Caine." He finally says it out loud. The rush of emotion it stirs in me scares the shit out of me. And amazes me more than I can say.

"H, I..."

And from the suddenly terrified look on his face, I know he's afraid I'll take some kind of offense, instead of being shaken to my soul by his simple statement. "No, Tim, don't ever be sorry or try to apologize for how you feel. Just because I'm not ready to say it, doesn't mean you're not." And I am such a coward. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I tell him just how much I need him? That I love him? That for the first time since my wife left me, I'm letting someone close enough to see that I'm not the pillar of strength the world thinks I am?

"Then you know." A statement, not a question.

"I hear you say it all the time," I tell him, the rush of tenderness nearly choking me. "You might think I'm not paying attention or I'm sleeping, but that's what I want you to think." I shift so that I'm sitting up and eye level with him. "The first time, I thought I was hearing things, you'd said it so softly. But you said it again the next night and I started to pretend I wasn't listening or was sleeping so I could hear it again. I feel better knowing you love me." And it's the truth. It's given me the guts to try and ask for what I need from him. Ask for that absolution. Ask for him to take what I want to give him: my authority, my self-confidence, the weight that rests on me all day, every day. I want him to take it away. Just for a little while. Give me some peace.

"H?" he says as he shakes his head.

"It's okay. I knew before I even heard the words come out of your mouth. It's in the way you touch me, the way you look at me when I enter you. But mostly it's in the way you say my name as you climax." I stroke the side of his face gently to keep him focused on my words. I need to make sure he knows how much I trust him, and how honored I am to know how he feels about me. It's the thing that might make this possible for both of us. This... relationship.

I can see his eyes fill with tears he refuses to shed as he grabs my head with both hands and tries to suck my heart out with his tongue.

"Speed," I pull away to gulp some air and to try to get him back under control. "Go slow. We have all night." I give him the smile that the victims get. The 'I'm here for you if you ever need anything' look. And it works with him just like it works with the victims.

He leans back in and captures my lips with his. The kiss starts out slow, but then gets deeper, more desperate. I can feel his stubble rubbing against my cheek as he kisses his way back to my ear, where he continues to nibble on the lobe and lavish attention on the outer rim. Then he kisses his way down to my shoulder to deepen the mark he placed there earlier. I hiss at the pain of his teeth breaking the skin.

"Good thing that stays covered. I really don't want to have to explain why I've got a bite mark on my shoulder," I can't help the half-laugh as the pain sizzles through me, his mark far deeper on me than just my skin. I feel the first little tingle of a release I haven't felt in years. His ownership of that one square inch of my skin sears me. Knowing he is tasting my blood.

"Mmmm," is all he says to that.

Once the mark is as deep as he wants it, he begins to kiss and lick his way across my shoulder to the hollow where my collarbones meet. He dips his tongue there just like I do to his navel and presses his lips to the pulse jumping there. He leaves another mark, this one without the teeth, and continues his exploration of my body. As he kisses his way across my upper chest, one hand finds a nipple and begins to tease it hard.

"God, Speed. The things you make me feel. Those hands of yours should be illegal," I gasp as he finally takes my right nipple into his mouth and starts to suckle.

His illegal hands are on the move. Stroking and teasing everywhere he can reach. Everywhere except where I want, need, his touch the most. My dick.

He pushes me back down onto the bed and licks his way down my side to my leg and then runs his tongue over to the other side, stopping to lap at my navel. I'm thrashing like a hooked fish now as I try to get some friction on my dick. He just holds me down with one hand while the other continues to play with my nipples.

"Speed!" I'm frantic now. Just the way I usually have him. I've been teaching him how to please me by using his body as an example. Now he's showing me what he's learned.

He kisses, nibbles, sucks, and licks his way down my left thigh, looking up at me through his eyelashes. As we gaze at each other and our eyes meet, I know without a doubt that he can see I love him every bit as much as he loves me. Like I said to him, it's in the little things. His name. The way I say it. The way I touch him, both publicly and privately. And God help me, I need him like I've never needed anyone in my life. My body is begging for him to set me free. And it scares me to death.

As he runs his fingers up the side of my dick, I hold my breath. He knows what I want, need, him to do and he'll do it. Eventually. When he's done teasing me. I'm being treated to the same torture I've used on him each and every time I've done this to him. A soft stroke with just the fingertips up one side and just a little more pressure down the other. Then he grabs the base and gives it a squeeze, which makes me whimper with need.

"Not yet, baby," he reminds me. "I'm in charge right now."

"Speed." I beg, his assertion of control a rush in my blood. His name is everything from plea to curse in my mouth.

He just chuckles as he strokes his fist lightly up the shaft to the head where he rubs the palm of his hand in tiny circles, and I hiss with the pleasure of it, the near-pain of his calloused palm electric against my cockhead. He's never been able to make me this needy before. This is almost what I need from him. To make me give him control. I have my hands fisted in the sheets to keep from grabbing him and having this end the way I want, no need for it to.

He continues to lightly stroke me as he watches my face. He waits – and waits, and I bite my lip, drawing blood. The feral look in his eyes as he leans up and licks it off nearly makes me come right there.

"Mmm. Horatio Caine. My favorite drug," he murmurs in my ear as he increases both the pace and tightness of his hand on my dick. I stiffen in response to being called a drug, a rush of anxiety and anger flooding me, only to be burned away by his next move.

As I feel my climax rushing towards me like a freight train, he leans down and takes me into his mouth.

"Shit, Speed!" I cry out as he swallows me whole. "Easy, baby. Maybe a little warning next time?" It takes all my effort to speak, and he just looks at me through his eyelashes as he continues to suck on my dick. I grab fistfuls of his hair and start to fuck his mouth the way I fuck his ass, with the same single-mindedness, the same need. "I'm gonna come now Speed!" I warn as I feel my balls tighten up. He pulls back until just the head of my dick is in his mouth and starts to swallow the second before I spurt, and the pressure of his tongue along the bottom of my dick makes me want to sob. He sucks me dry and continues to hold me in his mouth until I've gone limp. When he finally lets me go, it's with a soft 'pop'.

"Mmm. Yummy. Now I know why you love doing that so much," he says as he crawls up my body to share my pillow.

"No. I love to do that because it's the only time you'll allow me to take part of you into my body," I answer, my mind and heart in chaos. I can't believe he's just going to by-pass the fact that he called me his drug of choice. I. AM. NOT. ANYONE'S. DRUG. Not even Timothy Speedle's. And I love him with all my heart and soul. But he knows how I feel about addicts. After all, Ray said he loved me too, and look where he ended up.

"I couldn't get you off, H! Please let's not argue about that again. Okay?" He's freaking on me, but I can't care. I can't. I can't go there again. I lost my brother to an addiction, and Timothy is - is too important to lose to that demon. Even if I'm his drug. I couldn't break Ray's addiction, but I can break Tim's.

"No," I say in a clipped voice as I sit up, dislodging him from my side. I can see he recognizes my tone. It's the one that Stetler usually gets. Eric and Calleigh call it my 'I really can't stand you, but I have to be polite to you' voice. Only this time, I can hear hurt and anger in it. He probably can, too. "We need to discuss this, Timothy." I use his full name on purpose. He needs to know he crossed a line.

The last time I called him Timothy was on Dispo Day. That day from some nightmare. A nightmare where his vest does not catch the bullet and we bury him along side Officer Hollis.

Right after I found out that he wasn't cleaning his gun.

"Please, Horatio. Not now."

"Then when?" I demand as I get out of bed to pace back and forth in front of it. "We've been together almost a month now, Tim. When are we going to discuss this?"

"Discuss what exactly? I thought this was about the fact that I don't want to top you." I hear him get out of the bed and approach where I'm standing, staring out at the ocean.

"It is." I try my best to convince myself that's ALL it's about. And know that I am failing miserably.

"Liar." That simple word, like a slap to my face.

I turn around so fast I almost hit him. I didn't realize how close he was. "What did you just say?" My eyes narrow on his face.

"Um..."

"Don't even think of lying to me, Speedle." I've never called him that before. I am beyond pissed, now, and he is so far over the line it might as well be in another county. The last man to call me a liar barely made it to the hospital, where he was in a coma for three weeks.

"I called you a liar. We both know this isn't about the fact that I couldn't make you come when I topped last week. So why don't you just tell me what's wrong? Maybe I can help." He's terrified. But he can't be any more scared than I am.

Help? Nothing can help me now. Tim can't afford the price. Neither can I. I was so damned wrong to have let him into my heart. But I couldn't have stopped him if I'd tried. Now I can only hope I can get him back out without it killing both of us.

"Get out," I say, and watch as his world ends, his shocked pain nearly killing me right there. I know I'll wish it had before this is over.