Work Text:
"Burkhardt, how could you lose a piece of evidence? You should know better! You may have just lost us this case!" Renard scolded the young detective.
"Sir, I just –" Nick decided not to make excuses. He didn't need to.
They made their way down to the evidence room, tension so think in the air you could touch it. Renard was fuming. He couldn't believe one of his best detectives could be so careless with a key piece of evidence. So stupid, he thought. They stopped before entering the basement, with such a piercing gaze, the captain could have drilled holes through Nick.
They entered the basement – that's were all the evidence was filed away – and there was an antsy young man sitting at the desk. Renard looked up at the clock and saw it was just after five. He excused the young man, and used his master set of keys to gain entrance into the evidence room. Renard stomped down the aisle, six rows back, and four rows over. Their most recent case was connected to a case from a few months back; Nick and Hank were overwhelmed with the evidence – both old and new – and Nick may have misplaced a hair sample.
Renard pulled a box off the shelf and sat it down on the floor. Nick stifled a giggle as the captain bent down over the box and sifted through it. A baffled look made its way onto the older man's face; he was looking right at a hair sample, sealed safely in an evidence bag. Renard covered the box back up and placed it on the shelf. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned to Nick. The young detective was wearing a devilish grin.
"Oh, look at that. It must have just found its way back to the box…"
Renard shook his head. The evidence had never been missing at all. Sneaky bastard, he thought. His anger was pushed away by his newfound lust. He grabbed Nick by the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. He leaned down and captured the other man's lips in a hungry kiss. Their hands were all over each other: roaming, stroking, exploring. Nick's hands found their way to the buttons of Renard's blazer and quickly went to work on them. It wasn't long before the captain shrugged off his coat and Nick went to work on more buttons – this time the ones on Renard's expensively tailored dress shirt. Fucking buttons, Nick thought. Once Nick had all the buttons undone, he ran his hands over Renard's bare chest, receiving an encouraging moan.
Renard's friskiness was really starting to get the best of him. He pulled Nick's shirt over his head, maybe a little too roughly, and tossed it on the floor. The captain's hands started to get really grabby and went for the button and fly of Nick's how-can-you-even-walk-in-these-things-they're-so-tight jeans. Nick moaned when one of his boss's hands slipped under the waist band of his boxer briefs and started palming his half-hard cock. He whined at the loss of contact when the hand was removed, but then he noticed where it went: Renard was unzipping his own pants, pushing them – along with his boxers – down to his thighs. Nick stammered something that Renard thought to be holy shit.
"Turn around." Renard almost growled the command.
Nick obeyed. The captain pushed Nick up against the wall, and nipped at the shorter man's neck. Nick wiggled his hips a little, causing his pants to drop around his ankles. Renard's hands wandered to Nick's firm ass; he gave it an admiring squeeze. The captain moved his fingers to his mouth and swirled his tongue around his index finger. He pressed it to Nick's pucker, and slide in to the knuckle. Nick gasped and his back arched. The captain wasn't much for foreplay – he just wanted to adequately prepare Nick. He was quick to add a second finger, triggering a gasp and a moan from his subordinate. He loved the power he had over the younger man. When he added a third finger he was rewarded with:
"mmm…fuck, Sean."
Sean? Nick rarely ever addressed the captain by his first name. He actually quite liked it. Renard withdrew his fingers, spit in his palm, and lubed up his erection. He pressed the tip to Nick's ass. Nick, in turn, pushed back, desperate for more. Renard was feeling generous and wasn't going to make his detective wait any longer – he could barely wait any longer himself. With one swift push, he slid all the way into the younger man. He waited, letting Nick get used to it, but it didn't seem like Nick needed it.
"Fuck me."
Renard was taken aback by his subordinate's command, but was equally – if not more so – turned on. It didn't take long until they were rutting against each other like dogs in heat. Nick started to babble something incoherent, but sounded a bit like harderfasterfuckmoreohfuck. A bead of sweat ran down Nick's spine, which, for some reason, managed to turn on Renard even more. The captain practically fucked the detective through the wall. There might have been a little hair-pulling and a little ass-smacking, but the two were too far gone to really take note. Nick was the first to lose it, splattering the wall with his hot seed; he moaned Sean. It was enough to send the other man over the edge, too. They stood there – Renard still buried deep in Nick – panting, doing their best not to let their legs give out. Renard pulled out once they both caught their breath. Nick turned around giving his boss a sleepy, but still devilish smile.
"Maybe I should lose evidence more often."