Broken

Greg's boyfriend isn't as perfect as he originally thought. Can Nicky save him in time? Warning: ANGST. Characters not mine.

Chapter 1:

Greg moaned loudly, reaching his high beneath the other man. "NICK!" He screamed, coating both of their abdomens with the sticky, white liquid, the mans face flashing in his mind, behind his closed eyes.

A slap echoed in the room, the all too familiar stinging sensation rocketing through his cheek, making him bite down on his lip until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. "What? Who the hell are you thinking about when I fuck you? You got someone else's cock up your ass when I'm not around?" The angry, somewhat demonic, voice of his lover roared, still pinning him against the sheets.

The younger man remained silent, taking the additional slap to the other side of his sweat-sheened face without any further reaction. He moved to sit up, but the stronger man had other plans.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and holding them above his head, he leaned down, whispering in his ear. "Answer me, Gregory…" The voice commanded. The hands restraining the slighter man slowly moved toward his neck, thumbs pressing against his throat, quickly diminishing his air supply. "Are you screwing around on me?"

Greg's hands clutched at the elder man's muscular arms, trying to free himself from his current position, gasping for air. "Get the hell off of me!" He croaked. In a rush of adrenaline, he gained the strength to shove the man straddling him to the floor, quickly scrambling to his feet.

"How dare you…"

Without hesitating any further, Greg raced into the bathroom, locking himself within the safety of the tile walls.

He sighed, his breath coming in heavy bursts, his bare skin against the cold tile relaxing him enough to get his breathing back under control. Starting the bath, he let his mind wander, wondering how in the hell he'd ended up in this situation.

Dating Corey Ambrose had been his cousins suggestion. 'He's a good guy,' she'd told him when he'd gone to visit her a few months ago. Although, now he was starting to wish he hadn't listened. Apparently she wasn't privy to the controlling, abusive, sadistic bastard side of her old friend.

Slipping into the warm water, he let out a soft moan, the temperature soothing his Corey-inflicted aches and pains. He really did want to tell someone what was happening to him. It was hard enough hiding the evidence, the bruises, let alone the secret from the people he loved like family. But, he was scared. Scared of Corey, mostly, scared of what the team would think. They didn't even know that he was into guys, he couldn't comprehend telling them that he couldn't defend himself against one, he'd seem like a pathetic failure.

Even as a CSI, someone who witnessed cases just like this one on an almost weekly basis, he couldn't bring himself to tell anyone. He just couldn't.

He heard the soft knock on the other side of the door. "Go away!" he yelled, sinking deeper into the water.

"Greg, I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't cheat on me. You know how jealous I can get."

Greg knew that, he also knew that he shouldn't be falling for this. This is how it always worked. He'd seen it so many times at work. Abuser lives up to the title, the victim runs away, then the abuser comes back, begging for forgiveness. It was a chain, it never ended.

"Please, let me in. I'm so sorry, Greg. You know I don't mean it. It's just hard, knowing you work with all those men who could steal you away from me."

There was another sign. Excuses. Control. Apologies. It was all there, and he -knew- it. Then why did he find himself wrapping a towel around himself, draining the tub, and opening the door?