Accommodation

Disclaimer: Law and Order: SVU is property of Universal Network Television. I am not affiliated with them, and no money is being made from this piece.

ACCOMMODATION

"Leave it on," Fin Tuturola whispered as he worked his hand into Elliot's sweatpants. "I want you to be wearing it when you do me."

"It" was the black bomber jacket that Elliot had started to ease off of his shoulders. It was made of softest Spanish leather with pockets and zippers in all the right places and it looked totally hot on Elliot's toned physique, but the sensual feel and the still-new smell were what really seemed to turn Fin on the most.

It had been a Christmas gift from Fin; he had said he wanted his man to look sharp. Elliot had worn it every day since then. Munch and Benson made comments about rolling in dough and Internal Affairs investigations, but those jokes didn't bother him. The part that rankled his conscience was that when asked, he had told them that came from his mother.

He didn't know if the lie had gotten back to Fin, but squad room gossip spread like wildfire in a turpentine factory, so if it hadn't yet, it was surely only a matter of time.

Elliot was starting to get the sneaking suspicion that he might never know. Fin was too big a guy to stoop to calling him on a foul like that--even if he had heard--no matter how much it hurt.

They both liked leather well enough--hey, what was not to like?--but sometimes Elliot wondered if the reason Fin asked him to wear it to bed was partly to hide the tattoo. It was no secret that he had it; hell, he was proud of it and his time in the corps. Everyone in the precinct had seen him sleeveless at one time or another, but the first night they had spent together Fin had traced the pattern over and over while they recovered in the sweaty sheets until the repetition irritated his arm.

"I just don't like tats," Fin had explained. "They stink of gangs, violence, murder."

"Not this one," said Stabler. "It's the US Marine Corps."

Fin held his eyes. "Like I said: gangs, violence and murder."

It didn't turn into their first fight, but it could have if they had let it.

Instead Fin made it into a game. Before Elliot could fire back, he reached between Elliot's thighs and grabbed with enough force to make sure he had the man's complete attention. The post-orgasmic indolence was waning rapidly and he felt Elliot begin to swell and lengthen against his hand. He worked the balls and cockbase with the rolling motion that he himself liked best himself and watched Elliot's chest begin to heave again. "Tell you what. First one to lose it has to get up and get the beer."

"What?" Elliot's head was thrown back against the pillow, his eyes closed and squinted in concentration.

"I jerk you, you jerk me. Whoever lasts the longest wins. Loser brings us both cold Heinie's and a fresh towel."

"Okay." Elliot sighed. Hell of a time to ask; a guy in the middle of a hand job will agree to just about anything. Dimly it occurred to him that Fin had probably already figured that out.

"Careful boy, I got a head start," said Fin and made a dive to wrap his teeth around a nipple.

Elliot sucked in his breath as one of his hands moved itself up to cradle the back of Fin's head and hold him against his chest. His hips undulated into Fin's hand, already anxious for more friction. The ease with which he'd fallen into such shameless sexuality shocked him more than being here with his friend and brother officer. He'd never been so brazen with Kathy not even when they were kids--especially not when they were kids.

But he trusted Fin with his life. In retrospect, why should it be so surprising that he could trust him with--with this? Whatever the hell "this" was.

"I'm not worried," said Elliot. He reached a hand down around Fin's cock. It was soft and still sticky with the evidence of their first time, but even flaccid, it was impressive in its size. Elliot readjusted his grip to accommodate. "You drained me good the first time. It's going to take a while now."

Fin lifted his head and smiled, a bit of Elliot's cum still crusted on his cheek. "Good. That's just the way I like it," he said, and turned his attention back to the nipple.

"Asshole!" Elliot laughed and seriously began to coax Fin's cock back to life.

They both lasted a lot longer than the first time, and when it was over they were both too whipped to remember about the beer.


That was more than a month ago and somehow they were still making it work, as the new jacket stood testament to. At Elliot's request they only met at Fin's place. Somehow the idea of going back to his house, to the bed that Kathy had picked out herself-- Somehow that just didn't seem right.

It was a pretty tenuous moral distinction Elliot had to acknowledge as he stood there deep kissing a man with his pecker already damp and begging to sucked. He tried not to think about things like that too much. As Fin's hand pulled his shirt from his pants and slipped up his chest to tangle in his hair, the only thing he wanted to know was if Fin was as hard as he was.

He placed his hand over Fin's package and felt him thick and clearly outlined through the pants. Elliot worked it through the fabric, concentrating on rubbing the skin up and down, imagining the way it must be moving underneath the clothes.

At first Elliot had been fascinated by Fin's dick. Fin was thick and ropy and, like most Black men he had seen in barracks and in locker rooms, uncut. Elliot had never seen an uncut one hard before and he had played with it with an obsession that approached fetishism--if you happened to be thinking like an SVU cop.

Not that the attention bothered Fin. If boyfriend likes to play with your dick, you don’t stop him and ask questions why. He loved the way the skin rolled up and over the head with just the right friction, just the right natural lube. He didn't know how cut guys stood the constant exposure. His glans was too sensitive to touch most of the time; how did they stand it scraping in their shorts all day? Even now hard and oozing and pleading to be caressed, the rub of fabric when Elliot moved his hand was a nagging irritant. In a sudden move, Fin peeled off his pants

It might make for a tempting view from behind--or in front for that matter--but the jockstrap Fin favored was no match for eight thick inches of dick. When the pants came off the dick was already protruding from one side of the pouch, ready and waiting in just the primed condition Elliot's hand had left it. The elastic bit painfully into the shaft and although the pain was vaguely stimulating in a strange sort of way, Fin reached in through the top to rearrange himself for comfort.

Elliot beat him to the punch. With a grunt from his throat, Elliot went his knees. He gripped Fin's tight little bare ass in his fingers and pulled Fin forward into his face. He jerked the top half of the black dick free and took what he could reach of it in his mouth. First he worked the foreskin with his tongue and teeth, then pulled off to probe the tip with just the very tip of his tongue.

That break gave Fin the chance to catch his breath.

"Bed," said Fin with a nod towards the bedroom. He stroked the top of Elliot's head once, then pulled away. "I wouldn't want you to have to strain your brain trying to explain away rug burns." He tweaked the collar of the jacket for emphasis. Fin tugged his T-shirt off, tossed it on the floor and stalked into the bedroom, his tight ass framed by the straps of the jock and twitching with every step.

Fin flopped on the bed and rubbed his temple in a physical effort to clear the mental debris.
It wasn't Elliot hiding in the closet per se that bothered him. He could understand that from someone who had lived an entire lifetime in the Catholic Church; what he could neither understand nor easily accept was lying to one's friends.

He had left Elliot kneeling with his fly open, the taste of sex in his mouth, and a crotch screaming for attention probably staring after his retreating, naked body and trying for the thousandth time in a month to figure out what the hell was happening. Fin felt kind of bad about that, but some things a man has to work out for himself; there just ain't no way around it.

Elliot was a good man, and good men usually made things right in the end--at least, the things that they could control.

"You coming?" Fin called from the bedroom. He pulled off the strap and tossed it in the general direction of the discarded shirt.

Elliot pulled himself to his feet. "Yeah." He stripped, putting the jacket back on afterward and came in to the bedroom, his cock pointing straight out and forward like a divining rod leading the way.

Fin pulled him down on the bed. He buried his nose in the leather and inhaled deeply of the mingled scents. From there he moved his face from the jacket to Elliot's chest and underarm and began to nibble and lick.

Elliot's pelvis began to move without his permission. They were lying balls to balls, cock to cock, a feeling he hoped to God he would never get used to. He clenched the sheets until he thought his fingers would break, then gasped as Fin's hand wrapped their cocks together and he saw stars.

He had never known that it could be like this.

He rolled on top of Fin and kissed him hard and thoroughly on the mouth. He humped his hand and abs, groaning involuntarily the whole time. Their bodies ground together and, like every other time before, Elliot was on fire.

It was so different with Fin's strength matching his. There was no need to hold back. All the ineffable energy that coursed through him body and brain he could unleash on sex without the need for control or restraint.

Sometimes the intensity of his fervor scared him. The feelings that ran through him near climax were not kind and tender at all but something far more raw and visceral. He'd seen that kind of primal violence in perps he'd collared and the result on victims he'd watched bagged up. That he could be that way with Fin, some one he cared about, hell, someone he loved--he could admit it to himself if not out-loud rocked everything he thought he knew about himself in more ways than just the obvious.

But Fin was no vic and nobody's simpering whore. He wanted this every bit as much--hell, he'd egged him on, taught Elliot how he liked it--and the orgasm that they reached with sessions like this blew them both clear across the Jersey line.

Elliot checked his dick out of habit not necessity and slid down to kneel between Fin's legs. "You man enough to take this?" Elliot asked as he wagged his glistening meat.

"I can take what ever you're dishing out and come back for more," said Fin. He raised his legs and locked them around Elliot's back, squeezing much harder than was needed to hang on.

At the pressure Elliot lost his breath. He jerked and dropped the condom; he had to go back and start all over again. He rolled it out--he was finally getting the hang of that again--smeared some of the lube on his finger and poked it up Fin's ass.

Fin gasped. "Oh yeah. Gimme more."

Elliot gave him two, then three in rapid succession ramming Fin's ass with his knuckles.

"Is that all you've got, big boy?" Fin rubbed his chest with one hand and choked his dick with the other.

"Eat me," said Elliot and traded fingers for one condom covered and very eager dick up the ass.

"Oooh!" Fin cried out and bucked into the pressure, curling his body up into a V. He threw arms around Elliot's neck and keeping his legs around Elliot's back, pulled them both down on the bed, muttering a senseless stream of wild obscenities into the air while Elliot fucked his ass almost apart.

Maybe life in the sex squad has some advantages, because Fin knew every trick in the book. He could clench his asshole so hard around his dick that Elliot thought it would milk the spunk right out of him. Or he could reach underneath and hold the base just right with thumb and forefinger, brushing the balls with his knuckles and teasing the sensitive underside with one finger, but holding pressure just right so that Elliot could never come. He could climb on top of Elliot's pole, hold him down and ass-fuck like a banshee or he could bend over, stay completely still and take it clear up to his chest for however long Elliot could dole it out. After less than six weeks they already had sex down to a science.

Either that or Fin had gone and gotten him bewitched.

Tonight Fin was active, trying to get them both off hard and fast. That was never a big problem for Elliot buried in anything sweet and hot and tight, but Fin was beating his own meat between their stomach and saying words he had never heard in the Marines.

"You fuck me, you White boy. You fuck me good and make it last and show me you're not some sorry pansy ass. I want you to make me bark like a dog until I give it up all over your pretty face. Your daddy could shove a cock better than that, you cocksucker. You shove it in me hard and deep; I want to feel what you've got."

Each word got Elliot even harder. He was sure one day his cock would burst. He pounded Fin's ass faster and with even less caution as his mind turned to the single mission of getting his painfully swollen rocks off. "Is this how you like it? Is it, huh?" The sweat was running down his face; he could barely see. He could taste it on his lips and the taste of sweat always turned him on

"Harder…harder…" Fin's words came in staccato now and his hand flew over his dick in frenzied furor. Elliot moaned and tensed as he felt the sweet familiar warning rising in his gland.

"Don't you fucking come until I say so!" said Fin, at the same time as worked a hand around and jabbed a finger up Elliot's ass.

Elliot came with a roar, spasms jerking his body uncontrollably. His face dissolved into a vision of pure ecstasy and watching it, Fin came all over his own stomach without ever touching himself again.

Elliot collapsed on top and tried to make his depleted body roll off to the side.

"Don't," said Fin and put his arms around him, clutching him to his chest, keeping his full weight on his body. "I love you, man," he said.

"Mmm." Elliot tried to form some words, but the effort was too much, so his settled for a tender kiss.


They must have fallen asleep for when Elliot's cell chirped, it startled him alert. He hopped across the floor to the pile of abandoned clothes and began to search. The first ring always made some pathetic part of him think it might be Kathy. By the second ring the smarter parts had informed the rest that it would certainly not be.

It took until the fourth ring to find the phone. "Stabler….Okay, twenty minutes." Elliot reached for a towel. No time for a shower, a once-over would have to do.

Fin watched from the bed. "Problem?"

"Olivia. They found another slasher vic with a note pinned to the body: genitals carved up the same way, same ligature pattern: it doesn't sound like a copycat. The ME says she was definitely killed after Rampey was arrested, so our perp is still out there. Cragen wants Olivia and me on scene."

Fin made a face. "Munch owes me a twenty. I told him that little weasel Rampey couldnta done this. I'll give you a ride." Fin stood up and took the towel from Elliot, wiping the worst of the evidence from himself.

Elliot shook his head. "No, better not. Olivia thinks I'm home alone."

Fin tossed the towel in the hamper and scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"What?" It came out as a snap. "Don't tell me you told her?"

"No, I didn't tell her! Come on, Elliot. Give your partner a little credit. She is a sex squad detective, she ain't blind and she ain't stupid. What do you think?"

"It's not like that." Elliot mumbled the words as he bent to tie his shoe.

"Yeah, yeah." Fin made no effort to cover the disgust in his tone. "'I can quit anytime I want to.' 'I just tried it once.' No wait, I know the one! 'It's not mine; I was just holding it for a friend.'" Fin took his dick in hand and waved it at Elliot in rude accentuation.

At least Elliot had the grace to look embarrassed. "Fuck you, Fin. Lighten up. I'm not a junkie and I'm not hurting anything. I'm separated and this isn't a crime."

Fin dropped his dick and locked eyes instead. "That's right, it isn't and you're not, so what've you got to be ashamed of?"

Elliot pursed his lips and looked away. The room was so quiet he could hear his own heart pound. "You don't understand. It's complicated. If my kids found out--"

"Yeah? What if your kids found out? Wise up, Elliot! This is the third millenium and the only one who's got a problem with this is you."

"I know." The words slipped from Elliot's lips before he could stop them. Introspection had never been his thing and he had no intention of starting now, but as he heard the words hit his ears from the outside, he realized it was true.

You didn't need a department shrink to know that that was a big admission for a man like Stabler. It fit; Stabler was a big man. Fin knew he could do it if he tried. Fin wasn't unsympathetic; it wasn't all that many years ago that he'd stood in those same shoes himself.

From behind, Fin's arm swung around his chest and squeezed him just below the neck, pressing him backwards, bringing their bodies together. One dark hand massaged his shoulder and another gently stroked his cheek. It reeked of sex and sweat and unapologetic manhood and at the moment it seemed like the sweetest feeling in the world. Elliot turned his cheek into the caress.

It tickled as Fin whispered into his ear. It tickled and it threatened to make him hard all over again.

"I love you." Fin's words buzzed into his ear.

Elliot squeezed his eyes closed and kissed the hand. "I don’t deserve you."

"I know."

Elliot reached backwards and punched his side. "Asshole!"

"Ow!" Fin let go in mock distress.

Still chuckling, Elliot finished dressing and shrugged the Spanish leather back on. He shuffled in his feet without realizing it. "Hey, Fin, about that ride--"

"Forget it." Fin flopped down naked on the overstuffed sofa and flicked the remote. The TV flickered on and Jay Leno's voice started quoting Top 10 New Year's Resolutions from the White House in Bose surround sound. "I'm going to catch the end of the Miami game and see if Munch doesn't owe me another twenty. You and Benson can fill me in at the station all nice and proper."

Elliot paused at the door. "Sure," he said at last. "It's just over on 63rd and Lex. I should be back in two hours--maybe less." He reached out for the doorknob.

Fin continued flipping channels. "You know where to find me."

Elliot crammed his left fist in his jacket pocket and opened the apartment door.

"For a while," Fin called out.

Elliot turned back to the apartment. Fingers still on the handle, he watched Fin sitting there naked; he considered the hall, the neighbors. Hell, he was a cop and a Marine; he'd faced worse than them--and he knew how to make fast decisions.

"I love you too," said Elliot. He swallowed once and waited.

Fin looked up from the sofa and tossed him an approving nod mixed with that quirky patented smile of his. "Fair enough," he said softly.

"Fin, if you really want--"

Fin jerked his head in impatience. "Go. I want to see the game. And I probably won't wait up."

Elliot closed the door, turning the deadbolt behind him. As he took the key from the lock, he paused to feel it's freshly cut edge--cut just for him--and it pleased him an inordinately.

It was stupid really; it was just a key. He let it fall back among the other ones on his ring. He might think about why that was tomorrow. For now it just all felt good.