Doppelganger [10/?]
Dec. 10th, 2006 09:59 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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csi_fictionTitle: Doppelganger
Genre: Angst / Suspense
Pairing: Greg Sanders / Ryan Wolfe
Rating: NC-17Beta(s): Shadowfax / Twiz
Summary: A serial killer leads the Vegas team to Miami, raising the suspicions of one CSI. Is the killer amongst the team of CSI's, or will they follow the wrong path and lose one of their own?
A/N: Miss me last week? Well, don't worry, I miss me to. Got too caught up in school and work. Chapter Twelve might be a little delayed as well, for plenty of reasons. But you've got ten and eleven to keep you occupied. Then it's all downhill from there; there's only a few chapters left.
~*~*~
“How are you feeling?”
Greg stands in front of a mirror, fingers hovering over the bandage that encircles his neck. He wants to see the extent of the damage that lies beneath, see the source of pain radiating through him while at the same time wanting to keep it hidden. Out of sight, but definitely not out of mind.
“Greg?”
Sara prompts him a little more, finally grabbing his attention in the reflection in the mirror. He’s spacey from a combination of the attack and medications they have him on, and although he sees her standing behind him, he can’t really focus on her, on anything really.
She’s used to it by now. He’s been this way since he woke up. She only hopes that getting him back home will make him a little more comfortable, being back in a place that he feels safe. Unfortunately, the doctor would rather have them wait a few days before flying back to Vegas, wanting to make sure Greg’s alright before getting on a plane.
He has agreed, however, to discharge Greg, Sara managing to convince the doctor that Greg’s not so hot on hospitals ever since the explosion. Since there’s not much else they can do for him other than put him on antibiotics and pain killers, they allow Sara to take him to a hotel, promising to bring him back in a few days for a check up.
Which is why he stands in front of the mirror now, dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a loose fitting shirt. He’s ready to get out of here, away from the smell a hospital brings, away from all the sick people.
“Greg, the doctor has already signed the discharge orders. We can leave when you’re ready.”
He nods, actually acknowledging her words, and she holds his arm as they leave the hospital room, the younger man a bit unsteady on his feet. He walks in much of a daze, going wherever Sara leads, sliding into the backseat of the cab as Sara gives the driver the name of the hotel they’ll be staying at.
The ride to the hotel is silent, Greg’s head resting against the window, his eyes closed. It looks like he’s sleeping, but Sara can feel the tight grip he has on her hand. He seems scared, but Sara can’t blame him, not after everything he’s been through.
When they finally reach the hotel, Greg heads straight for the bathroom, closing the door behind him to obtain at least a little privacy. He knows that Sara won’t let him out of her sight, but he won’t complain; he doesn’t really want to be alone right now.
He tries to avoid looking in the mirror as he makes his way to the toilet, but he finds himself standing in front of it after pissing in the toilet, his hands shaking as he washes them off. After drying them, he can’t seem to keep his actions under control any longer, his movements slow and calculated as he unwraps the bandage from around his throat.
The damage that lies beneath is startling, his skin sutured together where a wise once cut it open, massive bruising surrounding the area. It looks much worse than he thought it would. In all reality, it looks like they had to reattach his head, something you would see in a movie, and he can’t help but let his fingers carefully glide over the stitches.
“Greg, are you okay in there?”
Sara’s voice on the other side of the door catches him off guard, and he groans out in pain when he accidentally flinches and pushes on the injured area, tears springing to his eyes from the intensity of it.
The groan is loud enough for Sara to hear it, and she’s thankful that he didn’t lock the door as she walks in, finding Greg bent over the counter with his eyes squeezed closed, the bandage from his neck resting on the counter next to the sink.
“Greg, you’re not supposed to take that off.”
Sara helps him sit on the closed toilet seat, grabbing the bandage and carefully wrapping it back around his neck, making sure it’s not too tight.
“Come on, I’ll get you some pain pills and some sleeping pills. You need to rest.”
She feels like she’s taking care of a child, a side of Greg she’s never seen or dealt with before. She doesn’t mind it, however, since she did volunteer to stay behind; she’s just not used to it. He wasn’t even this bad after the explosion.
Sara directs Greg to the edge of one of the twin beds, the younger man sitting down while she gets his medications and a bottle of water. He takes them without any problem, lying down afterwards without any prompting from Sara, his back to her as he closes his eyes.
He lies like that for a while, long enough for Sara to think he’s fallen asleep, but in reality, he can’t relax, is too afraid that someone is going to attack him if he sleeps.
Eventually, he can’t take it anymore, and he turns over only to find Sara asleep in the other bed, a frown gracing her lips as she seems to dream.
Greg quickly gets out of the bed, watching the older woman as he makes his way to the door of the hotel room, wanting a chance to get a little space while he can.
The moment he steps out into the brightly lit hallway, he feels himself relaxing. The more the light, the safer he feels, remembering the darkness of Ryan’s bedroom, the only light being provided by the bathroom he was dragged out of.
As he’s about to walk down the hallway, Greg freezes at the sound of a door opening, watching a familiar woman coming out of a room at the other end of the hallway. He remembers seeing her at the Miami Dade Crime lab, and he remains still, unknowingly holding his breath as she waits for the elevator, not noticing the man watching her.
When she’s finally gone, Greg looks in the direction of the door she came from, hesitating a moment before slowly walking towards it. When he finally reaches the room she came out of, he raises his hand to knock, almost jumping back when the door suddenly opens.
Ryan doesn’t look as startled when he sees the older man standing outside of his room; he recovered just seconds after looking through the peep hole and seeing Greg standing there.
“Greg, what are you doing here?”
He doesn’t answer, but it’s not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t. Even talking in just a whisper hurts him, preventing him from saying anything as he continues to stand in front of Ryan.
“Come on, Greg, come in.”
Greg does so reluctantly, his eyes scanning the hotel room to the best of his ability, finally landing on Ryan as the younger man closes the door and turns around so that they’re facing each other.
Ryan isn’t really sure how to communicate with Greg, realizing that the other man isn’t capable of speaking, but he soon realizes that the older man’s mouth isn’t completely useless when he suddenly finds himself pinned against the door, Greg’s tongue invading his mouth.
The kiss isn’t confident and rough like the previous times, and Ryan can almost feel the energy leaving Greg as the older man eventually pulls away and buries his face in the crook of Ryan’s neck, letting his body weight rest against Ryan’s.
“Greg, you shouldn’t be doing this. You should be getting some rest.”
Ryan tries to suppress the feelings that are trying to come up as he gently pushes Greg away, seeing that the older man has his eyes closed, his hands grasping Ryan’s biceps.
“Greg-”
He’s caught off by yet another invasion of the tongue, and this time, he feels himself being drawn in, letting his body relax against the door as he pulls Greg closer to him.
For several moments, there’s a clash between teeth and tongues, and Ryan eventually finds himself being pulled towards the bed, putting his hands out to brace himself as Greg falls back and drags the younger man with him, their lips still locked in a heated kiss.
The voice in the back of Ryan’s head is telling him that Greg’s not ready for this just yet, but he can’t force himself to push away the hands that are unbuckling his belt and pants, pulling them down with his boxers to expose his growing erection.
He gasps when a hand wraps around the base, and although he knows he shouldn’t be letting this happen, he’s letting the wrong head think for him. He puts his hands on either side of Greg’s head, bracing himself up as he thrusts into Greg’s hand, feeling the older man thrusting his own body up into him.
When he feels like he can’t take it anymore, Ryan reaches down and stops Greg’s hand, sitting back as he pulls down the waistband of Greg’s sweat pants, lowering his head down until he has captured Greg’s straining erection in his mouth.
He has to hold the older man’s hips down to keep Greg from choking him, but eventually, he pulls away, stripping himself free of his clothes before doing the same to Greg, noticing the faint bruises covering his body, the stark white bandage sticking out against the slightly pale skin.
Ryan takes a minute to react to the bandage, touching it gently much the same way Greg did before, and he slowly lowers his head down to place a light kiss between Greg’s chin and where the bandage rests, following it around the neck before finally returning back to Greg’s lips.
He’s not used to being the one in charge, but his main focus is on trying to keep Greg pain-free as he reaches for a bottle of lotion that’s sitting on the nightstand.
Greg watches every move silently, his hands resting on Ryan’s hips as the younger man massages the lotion into his own erection, making sure it’s well-coated before slowly pushing into Greg.
For a few brief moments, Greg feels like he’s going to suffocate, his throat closing off slightly as he tries to get used to the intrusion, tries to block out the images of the attack, Ryan waiting patiently until Greg finally nods.
Unlike the last time they were together, this encounter is slow, Ryan watching for any discomfort in Greg’s face, the older man keeping his eyes open in an attempt to block any unwanted images.
He’s not really even sure why he came over here in the first place, why he forced Ryan into this by initiating the kiss; he doesn’t feel like he knows anything anymore. This whole case has driven him to the point where he can’t force himself to care anymore either, or at least, that’s how he feels, trying to stop the killer before he hits again.
Hitting this case from every angle, both in the lab and the field, he has yet to get what he needs to put a stop to this. Now he’s out, off the case and away from the evidence. Another person was attacked, and although they’re moving in the right direction, he feels like they’re getting further away.
Ryan watches the shift in emotions occurring in Greg’s eyes, the older man seeming to think about everything other than what’s going on right now. He can’t really blame Greg, though, to be the only survivor of a vicious serial killer, to be able to feel the damage left behind.
Just thinking about that night they were attacked gives him the chills, and he forces himself to finish before finally stopping his thrusts, pulling out of Greg but staying over him briefly.
“Greg, are you okay?”
Greg wishes people wouldn’t ask him that. Does he really look okay with the bruises and stitches, the inability to really talk to anyone? He nods regardless, though, realizes he never really got fully hard as Ryan moves to lay beside him, pulling the covers up over them.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Greg shakes his head, his eyes averted to the ceiling, and Ryan knows not to push it. It hasn’t been that long since the attack, and he can’t imagine anyone letting it sink in this early.
Instead, he reaches out to turn off the lamp, but thinks better of it when he sees Greg tense up slightly. He gets the picture, fast, leaving it on before laying back down, pressing himself against Greg’s side so that at least the older man knows he’s not alone.
Genre: Angst / Suspense
Pairing: Greg Sanders / Ryan Wolfe
Rating: NC-17Beta(s): Shadowfax / Twiz
Summary: A serial killer leads the Vegas team to Miami, raising the suspicions of one CSI. Is the killer amongst the team of CSI's, or will they follow the wrong path and lose one of their own?
A/N: Miss me last week? Well, don't worry, I miss me to. Got too caught up in school and work. Chapter Twelve might be a little delayed as well, for plenty of reasons. But you've got ten and eleven to keep you occupied. Then it's all downhill from there; there's only a few chapters left.
~*~*~
“How are you feeling?”
Greg stands in front of a mirror, fingers hovering over the bandage that encircles his neck. He wants to see the extent of the damage that lies beneath, see the source of pain radiating through him while at the same time wanting to keep it hidden. Out of sight, but definitely not out of mind.
“Greg?”
Sara prompts him a little more, finally grabbing his attention in the reflection in the mirror. He’s spacey from a combination of the attack and medications they have him on, and although he sees her standing behind him, he can’t really focus on her, on anything really.
She’s used to it by now. He’s been this way since he woke up. She only hopes that getting him back home will make him a little more comfortable, being back in a place that he feels safe. Unfortunately, the doctor would rather have them wait a few days before flying back to Vegas, wanting to make sure Greg’s alright before getting on a plane.
He has agreed, however, to discharge Greg, Sara managing to convince the doctor that Greg’s not so hot on hospitals ever since the explosion. Since there’s not much else they can do for him other than put him on antibiotics and pain killers, they allow Sara to take him to a hotel, promising to bring him back in a few days for a check up.
Which is why he stands in front of the mirror now, dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a loose fitting shirt. He’s ready to get out of here, away from the smell a hospital brings, away from all the sick people.
“Greg, the doctor has already signed the discharge orders. We can leave when you’re ready.”
He nods, actually acknowledging her words, and she holds his arm as they leave the hospital room, the younger man a bit unsteady on his feet. He walks in much of a daze, going wherever Sara leads, sliding into the backseat of the cab as Sara gives the driver the name of the hotel they’ll be staying at.
The ride to the hotel is silent, Greg’s head resting against the window, his eyes closed. It looks like he’s sleeping, but Sara can feel the tight grip he has on her hand. He seems scared, but Sara can’t blame him, not after everything he’s been through.
When they finally reach the hotel, Greg heads straight for the bathroom, closing the door behind him to obtain at least a little privacy. He knows that Sara won’t let him out of her sight, but he won’t complain; he doesn’t really want to be alone right now.
He tries to avoid looking in the mirror as he makes his way to the toilet, but he finds himself standing in front of it after pissing in the toilet, his hands shaking as he washes them off. After drying them, he can’t seem to keep his actions under control any longer, his movements slow and calculated as he unwraps the bandage from around his throat.
The damage that lies beneath is startling, his skin sutured together where a wise once cut it open, massive bruising surrounding the area. It looks much worse than he thought it would. In all reality, it looks like they had to reattach his head, something you would see in a movie, and he can’t help but let his fingers carefully glide over the stitches.
“Greg, are you okay in there?”
Sara’s voice on the other side of the door catches him off guard, and he groans out in pain when he accidentally flinches and pushes on the injured area, tears springing to his eyes from the intensity of it.
The groan is loud enough for Sara to hear it, and she’s thankful that he didn’t lock the door as she walks in, finding Greg bent over the counter with his eyes squeezed closed, the bandage from his neck resting on the counter next to the sink.
“Greg, you’re not supposed to take that off.”
Sara helps him sit on the closed toilet seat, grabbing the bandage and carefully wrapping it back around his neck, making sure it’s not too tight.
“Come on, I’ll get you some pain pills and some sleeping pills. You need to rest.”
She feels like she’s taking care of a child, a side of Greg she’s never seen or dealt with before. She doesn’t mind it, however, since she did volunteer to stay behind; she’s just not used to it. He wasn’t even this bad after the explosion.
Sara directs Greg to the edge of one of the twin beds, the younger man sitting down while she gets his medications and a bottle of water. He takes them without any problem, lying down afterwards without any prompting from Sara, his back to her as he closes his eyes.
He lies like that for a while, long enough for Sara to think he’s fallen asleep, but in reality, he can’t relax, is too afraid that someone is going to attack him if he sleeps.
Eventually, he can’t take it anymore, and he turns over only to find Sara asleep in the other bed, a frown gracing her lips as she seems to dream.
Greg quickly gets out of the bed, watching the older woman as he makes his way to the door of the hotel room, wanting a chance to get a little space while he can.
The moment he steps out into the brightly lit hallway, he feels himself relaxing. The more the light, the safer he feels, remembering the darkness of Ryan’s bedroom, the only light being provided by the bathroom he was dragged out of.
As he’s about to walk down the hallway, Greg freezes at the sound of a door opening, watching a familiar woman coming out of a room at the other end of the hallway. He remembers seeing her at the Miami Dade Crime lab, and he remains still, unknowingly holding his breath as she waits for the elevator, not noticing the man watching her.
When she’s finally gone, Greg looks in the direction of the door she came from, hesitating a moment before slowly walking towards it. When he finally reaches the room she came out of, he raises his hand to knock, almost jumping back when the door suddenly opens.
Ryan doesn’t look as startled when he sees the older man standing outside of his room; he recovered just seconds after looking through the peep hole and seeing Greg standing there.
“Greg, what are you doing here?”
He doesn’t answer, but it’s not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t. Even talking in just a whisper hurts him, preventing him from saying anything as he continues to stand in front of Ryan.
“Come on, Greg, come in.”
Greg does so reluctantly, his eyes scanning the hotel room to the best of his ability, finally landing on Ryan as the younger man closes the door and turns around so that they’re facing each other.
Ryan isn’t really sure how to communicate with Greg, realizing that the other man isn’t capable of speaking, but he soon realizes that the older man’s mouth isn’t completely useless when he suddenly finds himself pinned against the door, Greg’s tongue invading his mouth.
The kiss isn’t confident and rough like the previous times, and Ryan can almost feel the energy leaving Greg as the older man eventually pulls away and buries his face in the crook of Ryan’s neck, letting his body weight rest against Ryan’s.
“Greg, you shouldn’t be doing this. You should be getting some rest.”
Ryan tries to suppress the feelings that are trying to come up as he gently pushes Greg away, seeing that the older man has his eyes closed, his hands grasping Ryan’s biceps.
“Greg-”
He’s caught off by yet another invasion of the tongue, and this time, he feels himself being drawn in, letting his body relax against the door as he pulls Greg closer to him.
For several moments, there’s a clash between teeth and tongues, and Ryan eventually finds himself being pulled towards the bed, putting his hands out to brace himself as Greg falls back and drags the younger man with him, their lips still locked in a heated kiss.
The voice in the back of Ryan’s head is telling him that Greg’s not ready for this just yet, but he can’t force himself to push away the hands that are unbuckling his belt and pants, pulling them down with his boxers to expose his growing erection.
He gasps when a hand wraps around the base, and although he knows he shouldn’t be letting this happen, he’s letting the wrong head think for him. He puts his hands on either side of Greg’s head, bracing himself up as he thrusts into Greg’s hand, feeling the older man thrusting his own body up into him.
When he feels like he can’t take it anymore, Ryan reaches down and stops Greg’s hand, sitting back as he pulls down the waistband of Greg’s sweat pants, lowering his head down until he has captured Greg’s straining erection in his mouth.
He has to hold the older man’s hips down to keep Greg from choking him, but eventually, he pulls away, stripping himself free of his clothes before doing the same to Greg, noticing the faint bruises covering his body, the stark white bandage sticking out against the slightly pale skin.
Ryan takes a minute to react to the bandage, touching it gently much the same way Greg did before, and he slowly lowers his head down to place a light kiss between Greg’s chin and where the bandage rests, following it around the neck before finally returning back to Greg’s lips.
He’s not used to being the one in charge, but his main focus is on trying to keep Greg pain-free as he reaches for a bottle of lotion that’s sitting on the nightstand.
Greg watches every move silently, his hands resting on Ryan’s hips as the younger man massages the lotion into his own erection, making sure it’s well-coated before slowly pushing into Greg.
For a few brief moments, Greg feels like he’s going to suffocate, his throat closing off slightly as he tries to get used to the intrusion, tries to block out the images of the attack, Ryan waiting patiently until Greg finally nods.
Unlike the last time they were together, this encounter is slow, Ryan watching for any discomfort in Greg’s face, the older man keeping his eyes open in an attempt to block any unwanted images.
He’s not really even sure why he came over here in the first place, why he forced Ryan into this by initiating the kiss; he doesn’t feel like he knows anything anymore. This whole case has driven him to the point where he can’t force himself to care anymore either, or at least, that’s how he feels, trying to stop the killer before he hits again.
Hitting this case from every angle, both in the lab and the field, he has yet to get what he needs to put a stop to this. Now he’s out, off the case and away from the evidence. Another person was attacked, and although they’re moving in the right direction, he feels like they’re getting further away.
Ryan watches the shift in emotions occurring in Greg’s eyes, the older man seeming to think about everything other than what’s going on right now. He can’t really blame Greg, though, to be the only survivor of a vicious serial killer, to be able to feel the damage left behind.
Just thinking about that night they were attacked gives him the chills, and he forces himself to finish before finally stopping his thrusts, pulling out of Greg but staying over him briefly.
“Greg, are you okay?”
Greg wishes people wouldn’t ask him that. Does he really look okay with the bruises and stitches, the inability to really talk to anyone? He nods regardless, though, realizes he never really got fully hard as Ryan moves to lay beside him, pulling the covers up over them.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Greg shakes his head, his eyes averted to the ceiling, and Ryan knows not to push it. It hasn’t been that long since the attack, and he can’t imagine anyone letting it sink in this early.
Instead, he reaches out to turn off the lamp, but thinks better of it when he sees Greg tense up slightly. He gets the picture, fast, leaving it on before laying back down, pressing himself against Greg’s side so that at least the older man knows he’s not alone.
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