Title: Happy Birthday To Me

Author: Tayla

Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Pairing: Greg/Jim Brass

Rating: NC17

Category: Smut

Status: Completed November 21, 2002

Archive: Yes to WWOMB/Peja. All others please ask

Feedback: Yes, please. All constructive criticism will be graciously accepted

Series/Sequel: There may be a sequel or a companion piece from Brass's pov.

Disclaimers: CSI and its characters belong to Anthony Zuiker and CBS broadcasting company.
The author makes no profit and no infringement is intended.

Authors Notes: The idea for this story was in my files. Then people on the list started asking for
Brass fic, so I pulled it out and dusted it off and . . . voilà . The timeline of the story would be before the series actually started, May 7,2000

Summary: It's Greg's birthday and his lover has to work. So he goes out by himself and flirts. Big
mistake.

Warnings: Graphic M/M sex, exhibitionism and bondage.

Happy Birthday To Me
by Tayla

So it's my birthday. Twenty-five years old and the old man won't take a night off. Not that he would have come here with me even if he did have the night off. He's an old fart.

So I'm dancing. Getting all hot and sweaty, getting a real workout. There's a girl in front of me. She's cute. She's short; she's got black hair, and smallish tits. I can see them through her lacey T-shirt. She's grinding her pussy against my thigh.

There's a guy behind me, tall, built, looks like a football player. He's got a good-sized dick. I can
feel it 'cause he's grinding against my ass.

Man, I like being in the middle. I let my hands roam a little, brushing my fingertips across the
girl's hard nipples. Then I reach behind me and run my hand up the guy's legs and squeeze his ass,
pulling him closer to me.

Just flirting, just some harmless groping. I'm just getting off on the music. I'm not seriously looking
for anyone.

I have someone. I tried to explain to him how this place affects me. The heavy percussion, the
flashing lights, the alcohol fumes. And the other people. Hard sweaty bodies pressed close around
me. Male bodies, female bodies, it doesn't matter, they don't matter. Just the feeling matters.

He doesn't get it.

So he doesn't want to come dancing with me on my birthday. He wouldn't even take the night off.
If he had taken the night off, I wouldn't be here dancing anyway; I would be home getting my ass
fucked. He's good at that. He's got a big dick and he knows how to use it. It always feels so good
when he's pounding into me. Really, it does. It's good; we have it really good.

But it could be better.

We've only been together a couple of months. He found me wasted in a bar on St Patrick's Day, and drove me home. He got me into bed and got my pants off. I thought he was just making me more comfortable. Shocked the hell out of me when he went down on me. I had no idea that he
was gay, and there I am with my dick down his throat. He sucked me right off, swallowed, even.
Then he flipped me over and plowed my ass. Told me he had been watching my ass for months, that it was all he could do not to call me into his office and bend me over his desk.

Man, it been really tough at work since that night. Every time I walk past his office and see him
sitting there, my dick gets hard. And he just gives me these sly grins. He comes out and watches me in the lab. Sometimes, if there's no one around, he'll pat me on the ass and leer at me. Sexual
harassment in the workplace. I love it, even though I have blue balls every night.

It's a bit odd that he's not more adventurous in bed. He's willing to tease me a little at work. Just a
little. He wouldn't risk his career by doing anything more than a little flirting. But after work, there's a whole range of things that we can do.

But we always do the same thing, almost like he's following a script. He sucks me off, then I suck
him a little. Then he puts me on my hands and knees and fucks me. I usually get off again before
he comes in my ass.

He never wants to do anything different. I tried to give him a blowjob at the kitchen table one
morning, but he wouldn't let me finish. He pulled me to my feet and hustled me into the bedroom.

I tried slipping into the shower with him once. Only once. I learned that day not to sneak up on
him. For an old dude he moves pretty fast.

I'm not looking for anything real kinky. I do have some fantasies about sex in public, or maybe
a little bondage. The man does own a pair of handcuffs; it's kind of hard not to think about him
using them on me. But I know he wouldn't go for anything like that.

Even a change of position would be nice. He always wants me on my hands and knees. I like it
that way, but my favorite position is on my back, legs in the air, so I can see my lover's face, maybe even pull him down for a kiss.

We don't even kiss that often. He likes to kiss me after he sucks me off. But that's not really kissing, it's more like mouth rape. He doesn't swallow it all, and he gets off on making me taste myself.

But other than that, he doesn't kiss me.

Maybe he doesn't want to kiss me. Maybe he doesn't want to see my face. Maybe he's not as
comfortable with his sexuality as I am. That's not unusual for a man of his generation. I keep trying to draw him out of his shell. Maybe he likes the shell. Maybe he doesn't want to let me in. Maybe he's just using me for relief. Just a quick suck and fuck when he's got the urge.

Damn it, now I've gone and depressed myself. Why do I put up with him? I'm a hot guy. I could
have a dozen lovers, male or female. I've been propositioned many times tonight. I could take
someone up on their offer. Someone who isn't afraid to try new things, who wouldn't be so set in
their ways.

Now I'm making the man sound ancient and he's not, really. He's in good shape for a guy his age.
And I like men his age usually.

Of course middle aged men usually hit a point in their lives where they want to prove their not old,
that they've still got 'it'. Give me a man on the verge of a mid-life crises any day. They're very
grateful for the attention and happy to be with a younger man. And they're usually quite fearless
in bed.

Usually.

Apparently I have found the one man in Vegas who's happy being a stick in the mud.

Man, I'm really bringing myself down. I need a drink. I head over to the bar, but I'm stopped by a
heavy hand grasping my shoulder in a crushing grip. I spin around and them I'm face to face with
the last person I ever thought I'd see in a dance club. Hey, maybe there was a homicide and he's
here to investigate. Then I notice that he's not wearing the professional clothes that he usually
wears to work. He's wearing gray pants and a black silky button down, unbuttoned down to the
middle of his chest. And he's wearing honest-to-god gold chains and a fucking pinky ring. His Jersey is showing. He looks like a Mafioso.

I thought for a moment that my prayers have been answered and my straight-laced lover is finally
loosening up a little and I give him a huge grin and start to hug him.

My grin fads when I see the stern, unforgiving expression on his face. He grabs my arm again,
hard enough to bruise, and hustles me out of the club. I manage to wrench my arm out of his grip
when we get to the parking lot.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" I yell at him.

"With me? I've been looking for you for the past three hours and where do I find you? In a bar
acting like a whore."

"Chill out man, I was just dancing."

"Oh really? Just dancing? In pants that look like they were painted on and a fishnet shirt. Shaking
your ass for anyone who wants to look."

"They can look all they want, just like I look. That doesn't mean that any one is doing any touching."

"No touching, huh? I saw that jock practically fucking you right there on the dance floor, and I'll
bet you have a wet spot from where that bitch was humping your leg."

Oops. I didn't know he had seen all that. I'm in big trouble now. "That was just some harmless
anonymous groping. I didn't come here looking to pick anyone up. Honest."

"You shouldn't be here at all!"

He's right up in my face, and now he's pissing me off. "What? I'm supposed to sit at home jacking
off while you're at work? Or am I not supposed to touch myself either?"

"I'm not at work, now. You asked me to take the night off."

"And you said you couldn't. So I came out to amuse myself. I was going to be home way before
you got off shift. So why are you so pissed at me?"

Oh now he's really mad. His blue eyes are flashing and his face is all red. He drags me down the
alleyway behind the club. He pushes me face first into the wall and I get my hands up to brace myself just in time to avoid a nasty bruise on my cheek. He's pressing into me from behind, and for the second time that night I have a hard cock grinding into my ass. And then he hisses in my ear,

"This is my ass and I don't want you showing it off to anyone else." He punctuates his words with a hard thrust of his hips that grinds me into the wall in front of me. And despite the discomfort of flesh meeting bricks, I feel myself starting to get hard.

Well I wanted different and exciting. I guess getting roughed up fits the bill. I certainly didn't
expect this from him.

I struggled a bit, trying to squirm away from him. Not because I really wanted to get away. Just to
see what he would do. "Let go of me. You know, just because you're my boss doesn't mean you own me."

He grabs my wrists and pulls my arms around behind my back and this time my head does meet
the bricks. I hear the 'snick' and feel the cold steel around my wrists.

He 'cuffed me! Oh my god, he's handcuffed me and my dick almost rips its way out of my pants. I decide to keep up with the wise ass act, just to see how far I can push him.

"What are you going to do now, pig? Arrest me and take me in?"

"Not yet, slut. You came out tonight looking for cock, well you've found it." He continues to thrust
against me. God I've never seen him like this. So wild. Not really out of control, just really dominant. It sends a thrill through me and I shiver with it. Gonna push him just a little bit farther.

"I wasn't doing anything wrong, I was just dancing."

Oh man, now he's got me by the hair and he pushes my face into the wall, making a nice scrape on my left cheek.

"Shut up, slut. I don't want to hear your excuses. All I want to hear out of you is those sexy little
moans you make when my cock is reaming out your ass."

I could almost come in my pants just from his hot words, except I can't because he reaches around and unfastens them, lowering them to expose my ass. Then there's two wet fingers prying my hole open and I can hear him fumbling with his own zipper.

God, he's gonna fuck me right here in the alley. It's dark back here, but not that dark. Anyone
walking by will be able to see us. Maybe not clearly enough to see details, but they'll certainly
know what were doing. But I can't really bring my elf to care too much. In fact the thought turns me on a little more. Guess I'm a bit of an exhibitionist.

He sets the head of cock against my hole, digs his fingers into my hips and with one sharp thrust, he's in me to the balls. I bite back a groan as the pain and pleasure shoots through me.

"Don't hold back, baby. I want to hear you." He whispers in my ear. He's talking more tonight than he ever has before when we've had sex. And it's such a fucking turn on, hearing his voice in my ear while his cock is plunging into my body. So I do moan out loud and he rewards me with an extra hard thrust and more words.

"You like it hard and rough, don't you slut. You don't care who sees you as long as you've got a
cock up your ass."

As if on cue, I hear somebody clear their throat, and we both turn to see the patrol officer standing not six feet away from us.

And he doesn't miss a stroke, just reaches into his jacket and whips out his shield showing it to the
cop. "Beat it, rook" he says.

The man looks at me first and asks if I'm all right.

"I'm fine," I gasp. "Terrific. Great. You can leave us alone now. Or stay and watch, I don't care. Just don't stop him now."

Both the cop and my lover chuckle at that.

"You can go now, officer. I can handle this."

"Sorry to bother you, Captain." The officer says then goes about his business.

God that was a rush. Getting caught in flagrante by a cop. And he didn't even blink, just whipped
out his own badge. Maybe he's not as stiff as I thought.

Except his dick is certainly still stiff and he resumes pounding my ass, and every thrust shoves me into the wall. I don't think my dick has ever been harder. But I can't do anything about it.

He notices my distress and wraps one hand around my cock, but he doesn't pump it.

"Please." I whimper.

"Please what, slut. Should I let you come?"

"Please, yes."

"I ought to leave you hanging." He flicks his tongue in my ear as he's talking. "I should just
take what I want and leave you high and dry, how would that be?"

He wants me to beg. I'm not gonna disappoint him. "Please Jim. Please, I want to come so bad."

"And why should I let you?"

Time to break out the wise guy, again. "Because it's my birthday and I'm the best piece of ass
you've ever had."

I feel his surprised gasp of laughter in my ear. "You know, you're right." And he starts to pump
my dick in time with his thrusts into my ass. I know he's getting close from the frantic rhythm
and he pumps harder, faster, then he just stops dead and I feel the wetness as he comes in me. He gives one last pull on my cock and I'm hosing down the bricks.

We both stand there, him leaning against me, and me leaning against the wall, trembling and panting from the exertion. He finally stirs and his dick slips out. He gives my cock one last pet, pulls my pants up and tucks me away. He steps back and pulls himself together, leaving me still holding up the wall, with my hands still 'cuffed behind me.

He eventually gets around to unlocking the 'cuffs. He lets me turn around, and he brings both my
hands up in front of me, rubbing at the red marks on my wrist. He sees the big scrape on my cheek, and brushes his fingers lightly over it. "Did I hurt you, baby?"

Baby? Public sex, bondage, and love nicknames all in one night? It's either feast or famine with
this guy. Maybe he just needed some time to warm up. Or maybe he just needed a special occasion to bring out his tender side. Yes, I said tender. I know getting slammed into a wall and fucked senseless doesn't sound tender, but it's what I wanted. Some display of imagination on his part, not just the rote fucking that he seemed to be comfortable with.

And calling me 'Baby', now that's just icing on the cake. I can't resist a man who calls me pet names. I look into his eyes, and I think I see warmth and affection there. I don't know if I didn't notice before, or if he just wasn't showing it.

"No Jim, you didn't hurt me. At least not too badly. Nothing a little first aid won't cure."

"Well, why don't I take you home and patch you up."

"Okay."

We walk back to his car and I just have to ask. "Jim, what was all this about."

"What do you mean."

"The jealous boyfriend routine and the fucking in public. That's just not like you. You won't even
let me blow you in the kitchen, and now you're fucking me in front of an audience. What gives?"

"Did you like it?"

That was a no brainer. "Hell yes, I liked it. I've never been so hot in my life."

"Happy Birthday, Greg."

"Does that mean it's only a one time thing."

He sighs and we get into the car before he answers. "Some one asked me where you were tonight. I told them it was your birthday and you asked for the night off. And he asked me why I was at work instead of with you. He told me that if I didn't start paying attention to your needs, that you might just get stolen out from under my nose."

"Then someone knows about us." I had a pretty good idea who. There weren't too many people
that got along well enough with Brass to get into his personal life. Really only one that I could
think of. And the thought jump-started my imagination.

"And this other person, could it be that he would want to do the stealing?"

"No, he wouldn't do that to me."

"Well then, would you be interested in sharing me with this other person?" Oh yes, imagination
definitely working over time.

I expected him to reject the idea outright, but he didn't. Maybe this really was a new and improved
Jim. Because he actually thought about it and said, "Well I suppose we could ask him. He might be up for it."

I handed him his cell phone. "Why don't you invite him to breakfast?"

He dialed. I could only hear his side of the conversation, but I could imagine the rest.

"Hey, it's Brass . . . No, nothings wrong. I just wanted to invite you to a special birthday breakfast
celebration . . . Just me, you and Greg . . . Yes, that's what he wants . . . What can I say, the boy
has me wrapped around his finger . . . You going to accept the offer? . . . That's the idea. Dirty old man . . . You know where he lives? . . . Great, we'll see you for breakfast, then. Around seven."

He hung up the phone and smiled at me.

Oh goody, more presents.

end