Chapter Text
It was just past midnight at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and the familiar hum of fluorescent lights filled the halls. You were leaning over your desk in the trace lab, trying to make sense of the residue scraped from a tire well, when you heard a familiar voice behind you.
"Let me guess… dirt, oil, and frustration?" Greg Sanders leaned on the doorframe, a teasing grin spreading across his face.
You turned with a tired smirk. "You forgot ‘sleep deprivation’ and ‘cheap coffee.’"
Greg stepped in, tossing a file on the counter. "Got a new one for you. Warrick and I just got back from a scene near Fremont Street. Guy was hit by a car and dragged three blocks. Lots of lovely gunk stuck to the bumper."
As if summoned by name, Warrick Brown appeared in the doorway behind Greg, tall and confident, arms crossed and brow raised.
"You gonna help us out or just keep flirting with Sanders here?"
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Why not both?"
Greg made a mock-wounded noise. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."
Warrick chuckled and stepped forward, laying out a photo of the victim. "This one's weird. No skid marks, no witnesses, but something tells me it wasn’t just a hit-and-run."
You leaned in, studying the picture. The way the body was positioned, the angle of the impact—it all felt... off.
"Give me the samples. I’ll see what I can pull out of the grime. Maybe there's trace from another vehicle or location. And Greg, if you’re not too busy being a pain, run a toxicology panel on the fluids we found near the scene."
Greg gave you a mock salute. "Yes, boss."
Over the next few hours, the three of you worked like a well-oiled machine. Between your trace analysis, Greg’s tox results, and Warrick’s scene photos and instincts, the picture started coming together.
Turned out the victim had been drugged, placed in the street, and deliberately run over to stage an accident. The killer was the victim’s business partner—discovered thanks to a paint transfer you matched to a rare vintage car. One that just happened to be parked in a certain gated community Greg remembered seeing during a previous case.
As the case closed and you filed your report, you felt a nudge at your elbow.
Warrick stood beside you, holding out a cup of coffee. "You earned this."
"And I brought snacks," Greg added, holding up a bag of vending machine pretzels like it was fine cuisine.
You accepted both with a laugh. "You guys sure know how to treat a lab tech."
Warrick leaned a little closer, his voice low. "You're more than that. You’ve got instincts."
"And sarcasm," Greg added. "Very important skill set."
You looked between them, grateful for the camaraderie. Working nights in Vegas wasn’t easy. The cases were brutal, the hours worse, and the coffee burned like battery acid. But with Warrick and Greg by your side, it didn’t just feel like work. It felt like a team. Like family.
Like home.
The case had closed with an arrest, the paperwork was miraculously done by 2 a.m., and Warrick suggested something no one could say no to:
“Let’s unwind. Your place. I’m bringing the whiskey.”
Greg was already halfway to your car with his bag slung over his shoulder. “Dibs on aux.”
An hour later, your apartment was warm with low music, the lights dimmed just enough to blur the hard edges of exhaustion, and the three of you were scattered across the couch, halfway through a bottle of bourbon and into your second round of questionable storytelling.
"...and I swear," Greg was saying through a laugh, "the raccoon smiled at me. Like it knew it had outsmarted me."
You were laughing so hard you nearly spilled your drink. "That’s what you get for trying to trap it with a donut."
Warrick chuckled, his voice smooth and low. "What gets me is that you ran from it. Aren’t you the guy who once chased a guy with a chainsaw?"
"People I can deal with. Trash pandas? Whole different game."
You leaned back, warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the liquor. Greg’s arm was draped lazily over the back of the couch behind you, while Warrick lounged across from you, glass in hand, eyes lingering a little longer than usual.
"You always this relaxed off the clock?" you teased, swirling the last of your drink.
"Depends who I’m off the clock with," Warrick said, gaze holding yours just a second longer.
Greg’s grin curved slow and sly. "And the company tonight is... top tier."
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was electric.
You glanced between them. Greg, playful and golden under the dim lights, was leaning in closer, his fingers brushing lightly at your shoulder. Warrick, calm and unreadable, was watching the exchange, his eyes sharp but amused, like he was in on a private joke.
"You two always tag-team like this?" you asked, raising a brow.
"Only when the chemistry’s worth it," Warrick said smoothly.
Greg tilted his head. "And right now? It definitely is."
Your heart thudded in your chest—maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was the lingering looks, the warmth of friendship blooming into something charged and curious. You felt bold.
"So… what exactly are you guys saying?"
Warrick stood, slow and confident, walking over to you. He took your empty glass and set it down gently. Then, his hand brushed over your shoulder, deliberate, grounding.
Greg leaned in from your other side, voice a low murmur near your ear. "We’re saying… we like the way you look when you laugh. The way you handle yourself at work. And the way you're looking at us right now."
Your breath caught. This was dangerous. This was thrilling.
You didn’t move away.
Instead, you smiled. "Then maybe you should show me how you unwind… when the badge comes off."
Greg grinned, the glint in his eyes turning molten. Warrick’s hand slid lower on your back, steady and warm.
And just like that, the night blurred into soft laughter, stolen touches, and something that hovered deliciously between friendship and temptation—where boundaries dissolved and the hours melted away.
Whatever tomorrow brought, tonight belonged to just the three of you.
The tension in the room had shifted. What was once playful had grown thick with anticipation.
Greg leaned in first, his fingers brushing your jaw as he tilted your face toward him. “You’re sure?” he asked, voice softer than before.
Warrick stood just behind you, his presence solid, grounding. His hand slid along your waist, warm through your shirt. “You say stop, we stop.”
You nodded, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “I want this.”
Greg’s mouth found yours in a heartbeat—hungry, soft but demanding. He tasted faintly of bourbon and mint, tongue brushing yours in a kiss that curled heat low in your stomach.
Warrick’s hands were already exploring, slow and measured as they slid under your shirt. His lips grazed the back of your neck, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “Damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.
Hands moved in tandem—Greg’s fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, Warrick’s undoing the button of your jeans. Every touch burned, every movement coordinated like this wasn’t the first time they’d done this together.
You found yourself guided toward the couch, Greg pulling you into his lap while Warrick knelt in front of you, his strong hands on your thighs, pushing them open with a knowing smirk.
Greg nipped at your earlobe. “You have no idea how long we’ve both thought about this.”
You let out a gasp as Warrick’s lips found the inside of your thigh, your jeans now discarded somewhere behind him. Greg’s hands were in your hair, his mouth moving down your neck, his arousal pressed firm against your back.
Warrick looked up at you with hooded eyes. “You taste as good as you look, don’t you?”
Your only answer was a soft moan as his mouth found you, skilled and deliberate. Greg held you close, whispering praise and filthy promises into your ear, rocking his hips against yours in sync with Warrick’s tongue.
Every nerve in your body was on fire. Their rhythm, the way they worked you open together—it was too much and not enough all at once.
Greg turned your face toward him again, kissing you deeply, swallowing the sounds Warrick was dragging out of you. His hand dipped between your legs, joining Warrick’s, and you cried out, the stimulation sending you spiraling.
They didn’t stop. They didn’t let up.
Your climax hit like a freight train, back arching, body trembling between them. Warrick pressed kisses to your thighs while Greg stroked your hair, both of them watching you unravel like it was the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen.
But you weren’t done.
You pulled Greg down by the collar and kissed him, slow and demanding. “Your turn.”
He grinned like he’d won the jackpot. “God, I love scientists.”
Warrick stood behind you, pulling off his shirt with a lazy roll of his shoulders. “Then let’s get to work.”
Your breath still hadn’t returned to normal, but neither man was letting you catch it.
Warrick had stripped down to just his boxer briefs, the lean muscle of his chest drawing your gaze as he stood behind the couch. He looked like he was carved out of heat and confidence, and the hunger in his eyes made your pulse skip.
Greg, meanwhile, sat before you with his shirt unbuttoned, his chest dusted with light hair. He leaned in and kissed you again, slower this time—his tongue teasing yours, hands cupping your face with surprising tenderness.
“You’re gorgeous when you come apart,” he murmured against your lips. “But I want to see what you’re like when you’re in control.”
Your brows raised. “Is that a challenge?”
Warrick’s low chuckle came from behind. “You have no idea what you just invited.”
You reached for Greg’s belt and he hissed softly, watching your fingers as you worked it open. His pants fell to the floor, and you pushed him back onto the couch, straddling him as you kissed down his throat, nipping at the sensitive skin just above his collarbone.
Behind you, Warrick was close—so close that you could feel the heat of his chest against your back. His hands slid over your waist, then your thighs, then down to your core again—already slick and sensitive from your earlier climax.
You let out a soft gasp, but didn’t stop kissing Greg, whose hands gripped your hips tightly.
“I’ve got her,” Warrick said, voice low and steady, fingers slipping inside you again as you rocked back against him. “You focus on her mouth.”
Greg moaned as your lips traced down his chest, past his stomach. He was already hard—aching—and when your tongue met his length, his head dropped back onto the couch with a groan.
“Shit... that mouth—”
You sucked him slow, drawing long moans from him as Warrick worked you from behind, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder blade. His free hand brushed your breast, teasing your nipple until it pebbled under his fingers.
You were dripping now, greedy for more, your hips moving unconsciously in time with the motion of Warrick’s fingers and the rhythm of your mouth on Greg.
Greg gripped your hair, gently guiding your pace. “That’s it... just like that…”
Warrick suddenly stilled his hand inside you, then withdrew. You whimpered in protest—but only for a moment.
He bent to whisper in your ear, breath hot. “Get on the bed.”
You stood, legs shaky but eager, and the two men followed you down the hall to your room.
Greg dropped onto the mattress first, eyes dark and wild. “Come here.”
You straddled him again, but this time it was skin to skin. He slid inside you with a moan that echoed yours, hands gripping your hips as you sank down onto him slowly, savoring the stretch, the pressure.
You moved slowly, riding him, watching the way his mouth dropped open, the way his fingers dug into your thighs.
Warrick stepped behind you once again, completely bare now, eyes locked on where you and Greg were joined.
“Fuck, look at you two,” he muttered, stroking himself once before pressing his chest to your back, lips brushing your ear. “You want both of us?”
You gasped, nodding, barely able to speak. “Yes—yes—please.”
Warrick’s hand slid down, wetting his fingers again before pressing gently against your other entrance. Greg held your waist as you leaned forward, giving Warrick more room.
It was overwhelming, the fullness as Warrick slowly eased inside alongside Greg, careful and slow, whispering praise and checking in with every motion.
“Just breathe,” he murmured, kissing the side of your neck. “You’re doing so good.”
The moment they were both buried in you—one from the front, one from behind—it felt like your whole body was on fire.
They moved in sync, setting a rhythm that had you keening, gasping, gripping the sheets as your second climax built faster than you could handle.
Greg kissed you, deep and sloppy. “That’s it, baby... take us both... you feel so fucking good.”
Warrick’s hands slid under your thighs, lifting you slightly as he thrust deeper. “You’re gonna come again for us, aren’t you?”
Your whole body tensed, and then shattered—white-hot pleasure crashing over you as they both held you through it, whispering your name like a prayer.
They followed soon after, Greg’s head thrown back, Warrick’s groan deep and guttural as they came inside you, heat flooding your core.
You collapsed between them, spent and glowing, breathless and sated.
Greg wrapped his arms around you, brushing your hair off your forehead. “Best. Night. Ever.”
Warrick laughed softly, pulling a blanket over the three of you. “Hope you don’t have an early shift.”
You sighed contentedly between them. “I might be calling in.”
Greg kissed your shoulder. “Worth it.”
The first thing you noticed was warmth—not just from the sunlight spilling across your sheets, but from the bodies tangled beside you.
You were tucked between Greg, who snored softly with his face buried in the curve of your neck, and Warrick, who was already half-awake, propped on one elbow, watching you with a sleepy, satisfied smile.
“Morning, beautiful,” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your face.
You stretched with a low sigh, body deliciously sore in all the right ways. “Morning, detective.”
Greg grumbled into your skin. “Too loud… too smug.”
“You moaned louder than this,” Warrick replied, smirking as he let his fingers trace lazy patterns along your stomach. “And you loved it.”
You giggled, and Greg finally cracked an eye open. “Okay, he’s got a point.”
You turned your head to kiss Greg softly. His lips were warm, familiar now, tasting faintly of sleep and you. He kissed you back slowly, with none of the urgency of last night—just affection, and the promise of more.
Warrick leaned in too, kissing the back of your shoulder. “You sore?” he asked, voice a low rumble against your skin.
“A little,” you admitted. “In the best way.”
“Good,” Greg said, rolling onto his side, his hand skimming beneath the sheet and sliding between your thighs. “Means we did it right.”
You gasped, hips twitching as his fingers teased over your already-sensitive folds. You weren’t fully wet yet, but that didn’t stop him from gently exploring.
Warrick's hand joined his, warm and deliberate, brushing over your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it peaked beneath his touch.
“God, you two don’t rest,” you whispered, breath catching.
“Not when you look like this in the morning,” Warrick said.
Greg kissed your shoulder, fingers slipping inside you slowly, curling with practiced ease. “You’re already getting wet again, baby.”
You let out a breathy moan, rocking your hips slightly, torn between the stimulation and the tenderness of the moment.
Warrick shifted behind you, pressing his hardening length against your ass. “We’ll be gentle. Just want to make you feel good again.”
Greg leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Or maybe,” he whispered, voice low and filthy, “we take our time this round. Make you beg for it.”
Your breath hitched.
The dynamic had changed from last night’s frenzy—this was slow burn, lazy desire, and two men who knew your body already and were ready to ruin you all over again.
Greg moved to straddle your waist, his cock heavy against your chest as he leaned down to kiss you, deep and hungry.
Warrick kissed down your spine, his voice low. “I’m gonna stay behind you again, hold you open for him. Make you feel full, stretched, dripping.”
You whimpered into Greg’s mouth, body already betraying you with how ready you were for more.
They positioned you carefully, reverently. Warrick’s hands on your hips, Greg’s cock teasing your entrance.
He slid in slow, inch by inch, groaning as he sank into your soaked heat.
Warrick’s fingers found your clit from behind, rubbing soft circles as Greg began to move.
Every stroke felt perfect—not just pleasure, but connection. Their hands, their mouths, their eyes locked on you, worshiping the way you gave yourself to both of them.
Your orgasm crept up slowly, heat coiling, pressure building between Greg’s thrusts and Warrick’s fingers, and when it snapped, it ripped through you like lightning.
You cried out, walls clenching around Greg as he groaned your name, chasing his release.
Warrick kissed the back of your neck, murmuring praise, stroking your thigh as Greg spilled inside you.
You collapsed between them, breathless and shaking.
Greg pulled out with a satisfied sigh, flopping beside you. “Okay. Now I need coffee.”
Warrick chuckled and kissed your temple. “You stay here. I’ll start the pot.”
As Warrick disappeared down the hall in nothing but a pair of boxers, Greg pulled you into his chest and kissed your forehead.
“You know,” he murmured, “I didn’t think Vegas had happy endings.”
You smiled, fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Maybe not. But I think we’re writing one anyway.”