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Black Leather
folder
G through L › Law & Order
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
6,541
Reviews:
27
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › Law & Order
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
6,541
Reviews:
27
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Law & Order, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Dream a Little Dream
Title: Black Leather
Author: RamJamsBlackBetty
Rating: NC-17 (probably more like R+, but since that's not an option, we'll go with NC-17 just to be safe...) Run, children, run far away!
Disclaimer: Don't own them...don't own anything...*sniff* At least I get to play with them, eh?
Archive: yes, tell me where!
-- -- -- -- denotes flashback/dream
Tell me if this chapter is confusing or anything, I mean, I know what's going on, but that's not the point. YOU need to know what's going on!
Oh!! Thanks to Dee, my first brave reviewer! *grins*
Onward!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
...He knew damn well that his coffee mug was dry and he knew that his partner and the whole squad knew it, too. He ran anyway, as if fleeing the scene of a crime....
Safely locked in the bathroom, he leaned against the door, slowly sliding down until he sat on the cold floor. His mind was racing. He removed the tinted glasses that were at times the only thing that kept the real world from getting too close, and gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose.
-- -- -- --
His body is burning, he is coed bed by the flame that was ignited with the first touch of his skin to leather. He’s being charred alive, but he can’t get away. If he were to leave now, only his shell would walk away, his soul would be forever possessed by the leather, and the heat, and the skin, and the hands.
The hands hold fast to his hips, neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away, just holding him still.
His face is still buried in the black abyss, but he has become braver with every passing moment. Now, he ventures from its blissful safety, though he still keeps his eyes closed.
With infinite caution, as if expecting violent rejection, he turns his head so he can nuzzle the tan neck. He’s watched jealously many times as the collar of the jacket had done this very action, but he figures his caress was more appreciated than that of the leather.
He feels, more than hears, the moan of encouragement as it rumbles past his ear.
His hands slide up from hips to sides and down again, before venturing around to grip the denim-covered ass. He nips the expanse of neck he has discovered, and then soothes it with feather-light brushes of his lips.
More of the wonderful neck is proffered him and he finds a tendon that stands out from the smooth column of flesh. He follows it from the collarbone upwards until his lips are resting on the pulse that rages right under the burning skin. Gently, he scrapes histh oth over the spot, sending a shiver through the body that threatens to overwhelm him.
Another sound rumbles past his ear, but it is not a moan this time.
It is a single word: “Please…”
-- -- -- --
The banging on the bathroom door rousted him from his heated contemplations.
“You still alive in there? The Captain wants to see you!”
The voice through the door was that of his partner – cocky, but at the same time concerned.
His own voice was almost lost as it fought its way past his dry throat and thick tongue. His “I’ll be right there” could have been yelled louder by a mute.
He was breathing heavily through his open mouth as he got up from the floor. He chanced a glance at the mirror and was not entirely surprised by what he saw. The color was high in his cheeks, his eyes were glazed again (or were they still glazed?), his tie had been loosened so that the knot was well below the collar of his shirt.
It was like his dream lover had not been a dream at all…
Heaving a sigh, he tightened the tie with shaking hands, his unquenched thirst for completion plaguing him more with every moment.
He had been haunted by the dream all day, but it refused to reveal to him whom he was sharing his ecstasy with. With a growl of frustration, he splashed cold water onto his face in an attempt to refocus on work, not pleasure.
He managed to get the blush under control and his hands had stopped shaking so violently, though he could not convince them to remain entirely still.
The walk across the squad room was the longest he could remember.
The other detectives must have noticed his especially bizarre behavior because they were all watching him closely even though they tried to pretend that they weren’t. He could feel their eyes on his back as he ventured towards the Captain’s office even though his own eyes were riveted on the door so that he would not forget where he was going. Also, if he stared hard enough, he might be able to overcome the powerful need to look to his partner for reassurance.
As he passed by each of his fellow detectives, his nose was working overtime, trying to find the scent of leather in the air. He did not even realize that he was breathing solely through his nose until he walked passed Elliot’s desk. For the first time, he realized just how obnoxious the smell of cheap cologne really was.
The next landmark on his passage to judgment was Olivia’s desk. He’d always noticed the smell of her hair, it was hard not to, but this time, he noticed she also smelled of Elliot. Normally, this would have at least given him pause, maybe even provoked an over-the-rim-of-the-glasses stare, but today was not a normal day.
He walked on mechanically.
He noticed in the back of his mind that he had not blinked in a very long time. He feared that if he lost sight of the Captain’s door for even that long, he would be forever lost, and in even deeper trouble because he would run for the street and never come back.
The last desk to pass was his own, behind which his partner sat, his elbows spread wide, with forearms resting on the surface of the desk in front of his chest, in among the many files they were currently working on together.
Out of the corner of his eye, he became aware that his partner was wearing a black coat that bunched up on his shoulders and was tight around his upprms.rms. The coat shone softly in the light of the bullpen.
He was going to dismiss these realizations as the mad ramblings of his overheated mind, but his nose got the better of him. It had told him many things over the years and, right now, it was trying to tell him something very important. It was telling him that Fin smelled of coffee. Now, this was not a revelation, to any extent, but the next thing his nose told him was.
Fin smelled of leather, too.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sorry about the cliff...This took forever to write!
That's all for now...await eagerly for the next installment!!!
RJsBB
Author: RamJamsBlackBetty
Rating: NC-17 (probably more like R+, but since that's not an option, we'll go with NC-17 just to be safe...) Run, children, run far away!
Disclaimer: Don't own them...don't own anything...*sniff* At least I get to play with them, eh?
Archive: yes, tell me where!
-- -- -- -- denotes flashback/dream
Tell me if this chapter is confusing or anything, I mean, I know what's going on, but that's not the point. YOU need to know what's going on!
Oh!! Thanks to Dee, my first brave reviewer! *grins*
Onward!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
...He knew damn well that his coffee mug was dry and he knew that his partner and the whole squad knew it, too. He ran anyway, as if fleeing the scene of a crime....
Safely locked in the bathroom, he leaned against the door, slowly sliding down until he sat on the cold floor. His mind was racing. He removed the tinted glasses that were at times the only thing that kept the real world from getting too close, and gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose.
-- -- -- --
His body is burning, he is coed bed by the flame that was ignited with the first touch of his skin to leather. He’s being charred alive, but he can’t get away. If he were to leave now, only his shell would walk away, his soul would be forever possessed by the leather, and the heat, and the skin, and the hands.
The hands hold fast to his hips, neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away, just holding him still.
His face is still buried in the black abyss, but he has become braver with every passing moment. Now, he ventures from its blissful safety, though he still keeps his eyes closed.
With infinite caution, as if expecting violent rejection, he turns his head so he can nuzzle the tan neck. He’s watched jealously many times as the collar of the jacket had done this very action, but he figures his caress was more appreciated than that of the leather.
He feels, more than hears, the moan of encouragement as it rumbles past his ear.
His hands slide up from hips to sides and down again, before venturing around to grip the denim-covered ass. He nips the expanse of neck he has discovered, and then soothes it with feather-light brushes of his lips.
More of the wonderful neck is proffered him and he finds a tendon that stands out from the smooth column of flesh. He follows it from the collarbone upwards until his lips are resting on the pulse that rages right under the burning skin. Gently, he scrapes histh oth over the spot, sending a shiver through the body that threatens to overwhelm him.
Another sound rumbles past his ear, but it is not a moan this time.
It is a single word: “Please…”
-- -- -- --
The banging on the bathroom door rousted him from his heated contemplations.
“You still alive in there? The Captain wants to see you!”
The voice through the door was that of his partner – cocky, but at the same time concerned.
His own voice was almost lost as it fought its way past his dry throat and thick tongue. His “I’ll be right there” could have been yelled louder by a mute.
He was breathing heavily through his open mouth as he got up from the floor. He chanced a glance at the mirror and was not entirely surprised by what he saw. The color was high in his cheeks, his eyes were glazed again (or were they still glazed?), his tie had been loosened so that the knot was well below the collar of his shirt.
It was like his dream lover had not been a dream at all…
Heaving a sigh, he tightened the tie with shaking hands, his unquenched thirst for completion plaguing him more with every moment.
He had been haunted by the dream all day, but it refused to reveal to him whom he was sharing his ecstasy with. With a growl of frustration, he splashed cold water onto his face in an attempt to refocus on work, not pleasure.
He managed to get the blush under control and his hands had stopped shaking so violently, though he could not convince them to remain entirely still.
The walk across the squad room was the longest he could remember.
The other detectives must have noticed his especially bizarre behavior because they were all watching him closely even though they tried to pretend that they weren’t. He could feel their eyes on his back as he ventured towards the Captain’s office even though his own eyes were riveted on the door so that he would not forget where he was going. Also, if he stared hard enough, he might be able to overcome the powerful need to look to his partner for reassurance.
As he passed by each of his fellow detectives, his nose was working overtime, trying to find the scent of leather in the air. He did not even realize that he was breathing solely through his nose until he walked passed Elliot’s desk. For the first time, he realized just how obnoxious the smell of cheap cologne really was.
The next landmark on his passage to judgment was Olivia’s desk. He’d always noticed the smell of her hair, it was hard not to, but this time, he noticed she also smelled of Elliot. Normally, this would have at least given him pause, maybe even provoked an over-the-rim-of-the-glasses stare, but today was not a normal day.
He walked on mechanically.
He noticed in the back of his mind that he had not blinked in a very long time. He feared that if he lost sight of the Captain’s door for even that long, he would be forever lost, and in even deeper trouble because he would run for the street and never come back.
The last desk to pass was his own, behind which his partner sat, his elbows spread wide, with forearms resting on the surface of the desk in front of his chest, in among the many files they were currently working on together.
Out of the corner of his eye, he became aware that his partner was wearing a black coat that bunched up on his shoulders and was tight around his upprms.rms. The coat shone softly in the light of the bullpen.
He was going to dismiss these realizations as the mad ramblings of his overheated mind, but his nose got the better of him. It had told him many things over the years and, right now, it was trying to tell him something very important. It was telling him that Fin smelled of coffee. Now, this was not a revelation, to any extent, but the next thing his nose told him was.
Fin smelled of leather, too.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sorry about the cliff...This took forever to write!
That's all for now...await eagerly for the next installment!!!
RJsBB