John sighed, pulling a smoke from his pack and lighting it as he stepped from his car. His suit was rumpled from the rough day at work while his legs seemed to carry him automatically toward his apartment. His eyes followed his shoes, while his mind could only look forward to a hot shower and a clean bed.
Finn, being the interminable pest that he was, had been waiting outside John's apartment for three hours. He knew that eventually the older man would have to return. Fish in a barrel, only less violent and messy.
He was lying across John's doorstep, coloring in a cheap coloring book, kicking his feet.
A few steps away from his door, John stopped, noticing Finn immediately. A scowl crossed his lips.
"Not today, kid. Go home."
Looking up, Finn leveled John with an amused, cat-with-a-mouse expression. "But I've been waiting a long time, Detective Stonebrook."
John sighed again, pulling his keys up to eye level to find his door key. "Not my problem, kid. I didn't make you wait."
"I brought doughnuts," Finn said brightly, sitting up a little. "And coffee."
Slowly, John rubbed a hand over his face, his expression tired. "Look, all I want is a hot shower and then sleep. Can't you do this some other time?"
"I have to
work every other night this week." Finn bounced up to his toes,
grinning widely and holding up his grocery bag. He held out the cup
of coffee, still warm thanks to the wonders of cardboard insulators.
"All right. Just for the coffee and doughnuts, kid. Then you go home. Deal?"
"Deal," Finn said solemnly, one hand behind his back, fingers crossed.
He knew the kid wasn't about to make this easy, seeing as he hadn't missed the movement of that hand behind his little back. But today's events had shaken John like no other. When the description of the body they had found had red hair, he had instantly thought to worst. Seeing that it hadn't been Finn had only left a bad taste of lingering fear in his mouth. He opened the door and moved back into his bedroom without a backward glance at Finn. The first thing he did was check his gun before placing it into the locked box next to his bed.
Finn shut the door behind him with his butt, but turned and dutifully locked it. He could tell John Stonebrook was in a particularly unpleasant mood. With a smile, he deposited his grocery bag with the pastries (god, it had been hard not to eat them while waiting) on the coffee table. He did a routine Curious-Finn-Check of John's apartment before following him back to the bedroom.
Once done with his chore, John looked up, catching Finn in the doorway. His tired eyes saw an image of the murdered young man superimposed over Finn for just a moment. Fighting down fear and panic, John looked away, his hands rubbing over his face.
"You really should just go home, Finn." John hoped using his name would make the kid realize this was serious. He wasn't in the mood to remember his very bad day. Not right now, perhaps not ever.
"Your job is hard, but today, it's worse." Quietly, Finn sneaked closer. "You're troubled, John Stonebrook," he said softly, eyes wide and gentle.
John couldn't help but snort at the understatement of the century. "I suppose you could say that. Look, at least go wait in the kitchen. Once I shower, I'll join you, all right?"
Finn weighed his
options. He had brought a few extra things in his grocery bag, so perhaps
waiting in the kitchen wouldn't be too boring. "Okay."
John took a casual change of clothes with him into the bathroom and
stripped down, swiftly turning on the water and stepping into the warm
spray. He didn't care that the temperature hadn't been perfect when
he had first got in, he was just glad for any warmth it gave. After
a few moments of standing in the heating water, he washed up and got
out, drying himself and pulling on jeans and an old 49er's shirt before
heading out to face Finn.
He was also in the middle of cooking John dinner. Like he had not said he would be.
Wearing only his skin and a girlish, ruffled apron. Like he had most definitely, NOT said he would be.
He turned at John's voice and looked up, oven mitt on one hand, spoon in the other. "I came to make you supper, Detective Stonebrook."
John felt himself
grow hard within the confines of his jeans as his eyes took in Finn's
attire. Yet the image of the boy from earlier returned, making his eyes
glaze over in fear and his hard-on instantly melt. If ever he had wanted
a cure for what ever it was he felt toward Finn, he finally knew what
When John just walked
away so casually, Finn almost dropped the spoon. What the heck? he thought.
The apron perfectly showed off his ass, one of John's--admittedly--favorite
parts. He stood at the stove for a moment, stunned, before setting the
heat to low and stomping out into the living room.
Finishing the doughnut and dusting the sugar off his fingers, John threw one arm over his face, covering his eyes. "I had a double homicide today, Finn. Nothing different for someone in my line of work. It was just rougher than normal, that's all."
"It was different, I can tell." Finn perched on the edge of the sofa, one arm bracing him on the other side of John's hip, leaning him over the older man. "Need someone to cuddle? I'd love it if you squeezed me, Daddy," he husked, his free hand settling on John's stomach.
Feeling that cold shiver of fear from earlier settle into his chest as Finn spoke to him made John reach up and pull the kid down on top of him, his arms wrapping around him to hold him tightly against him. His breathing was a little shallow as he tried not to think about how close he had come to thinking he had lost Finn completely.
A little surprised, and even more worried that John hadn't tossed him off with a growled, 'Don't call me "Daddy",' Finn clung tight to John's chest, squeezing himself close. Whatever it was that was bothering him must have been something very terrible.
After a moment, John eased his grip, a mumble coming from his lips, even though he knew it was too late. "Don't call me Daddy, kid. Just. . .please. . .not today."
"It's all right to hold me, John Stonebrook," Finn sighed, tucking his head under John's chin. "I'm not going anywhere."
John swallowed thickly, and for a brief moment, simply held the smaller man in his arms. Then, he let go all together, pushing a little to get Finn to move. "Don't you have a dinner to watch?" He refused to think about Finn and the way his pert little ass had felt as he had slid his hands down from around him. If he started thinking like that, then the case would come back to haunt him, and he wasn't ready for round three.
"Oh, oops!" Finn was up in a flash, scurrying into the kitchen to check on the food, which, thankfully, had not burnt. He pouted a little at having to leave John's arms, even for the promise of dinner.
Between what he
had brought from the store and what he'd found in the dark, frosty recesses
of John's freezer, he had actually managed to make soup that looked
pretty appetizing, or at least edible.
Sitting up slowly, John found his feet and moved to the kitchen. "Kitchen, kid. I don't think my furniture could handle an attack of your clumsiness when food is present."
"I prefer to call it 'enthusiasm,'" Finn mumbled, pleased that John was at least not wallowing in this funk tonight all alone.
There were very few dishes; it was obvious that John didn't eat at home often. After finding two bowls of relatively the same size, Finn passed John a portion of the soup and then sat at the other side of the table with his own. The straps on the apron were sliding down his shoulders, but he didn't notice that as he spooned some of the warm soup into his mouth with a sigh.
John accepted the soup with a small smile, yet as he looked at it, he couldn't force himself to eat. Instead, he simply played with it, his mind once again wandering back to the case he had dealt with today. Granted, the one responsible had been caught, but it hadn't made his day any better. Not when Benji had murmured aloud that the body of the boy had looked like Finn. It had only succeeded in making John more uncomfortable.
Finn noticed everything about John Stonebrook, so it wasn't a stretch for him to see the man wasn't eating. "If you don't tell me what's wrong, this instant, I'll take of this apron and chain myself to your bed."
Unable to keep the small smile off his lips at picturing Finn doing just that, John cleared his throat, then looked away. "It was two boys today, Finn. One nineteen, and the other eleven. Their father killed them. He had simply gotten tired of taking care of them. Thought they were more trouble than he was willing to deal with. So he killed the younger one first, making the older one watch." John took a shaking breath, knowing he shouldn't be saying this. "Then he raped his own son before killing him, as well. He was sitting in the living room, calm as hell, waiting for us. He was proud of what he did, Finn. He was so damn proud of ending their lives. It was sad."
"That is very sad, John Stonebrook." Finn's face was propped in his hands, his elbows on the table. "Some people have very different ideas about how to deal with the stresses life places on them. Some people need a lot more help than others." His spoon sank further into his soup. "There's no excuse for maliciousness, and one day, he'll regret it."
John couldn't help but look away. While he didn't want to admit one part of this tale, he knew he had to tell it. "When we got the call, the description of the oldest boy, whose name was Alex, knocked me for a loop." A lump formed in his throat, and he found it almost impossible to continue.
"He had red hair and a thin frame like yours, Finn. Even Benj recognized it. It was like seeing you there today, cold and not breathing. Never to smile at me again." He dropped his spoon, giving up the play of eating and simply sat back, his eyes fogged as if remembering what had happened.
Finn's eyelids lowered, lashes obscuring what was in his eyes. He felt momentarily sickened by himself that in some way, that news had made him happy. There was never cause to be happy in the face of such a needless death, even if John's discomfort proved to Finn how much he cared.
"But it wasn't me, John Stonebrook. I'm right here." He slid one hand across the table, reaching out to touch John's wrist. "I'm still warm." He gently dragged John's hand to his mouth, letting his breath puff against the older man's skin. "I'm still breathing."
Then he smiled.
Hesitantly, John nodded, knowing his heart was beating a little irregularly. "I know that, Finn. I knew it the minute I actually saw the kid. Heard the name. But it still scared the hell out of me." He shook his head. "I actually realized that there is the very real possibility I'll get a call, and this time it'll be about you."
With certainty, Finn shook his head. "That won't ever happen."
John looked at him skeptically, especially knowing the line of work the kid was in. "No one can be certain of that, kid. Not even glass-half-full people like you."
"I know it won't happen." Finn sat back and picked up his spoon. "You're protecting me, after all."
John snorted, looking away with a disgusted look on his face. "I wasn't much protection for my family, kid. I can't even keep tract of you half the time. I can't protect you when I couldn't even do it for the ones who mattered in my life."
"That wasn't your fault." Finn's voice was sure, and at the same time forgiving and comforting. Even though he was a little stung by, 'the ones who mattered,' in which he apparently wasn't included, Finn pushed his soup away and reached again to touch John. This wasn't about what Finn wanted. This was about helping a man, a good man, who needed help. "You've saved me before. I have faith in you."
Realizing his mistake at the tightness that set in around Finn's eyes, John stood and rounded the small area. He pulled Finn roughly out of his chair and into his arms, his breath warm against the sweet smell of that red hair. "I'm sorry. Don't take what I said as if you don't matter. You do. More than I should let you. That's why today bothered me so much. The ones that mattered in the past, I couldn't save them Finn. I can't even bring justice to their deaths. I'm failing miserably. I I don't want to fail with you, too."
"You aren't failing, John Stonebrook. You're still trying, which is more than enough." He sighed and wrapped himself around John's bigger body, into the slightly scruffy warmth of him. It was a good place to Finn, a safe place. He would never doubt John's ability to save him, which was all wrong. Finn was supposed to be the one saving others. But maybe this, with John, could prove to be mutually beneficial after all. Maybe they could save each other.
"I told you, I have faith in you. I want you to have it in yourself," Finn whispered against his neck, his face tilted up. "You'll find peace, I know it."
Looking down at
Finn, his eyes soft from such conviction, John couldn't resist the pull
of temptation anymore. Tugging Finn closer, he lowered his lips to the
younger man's, refusing to think about whether this made him gay or
not. This was Finn. The one he had come to care about. The one he had
almost believed he had lost today. In John's mind and body, there was
suddenly a need to taste him, to know he was really there. He couldn't
keep from confirming, in his own way, that he was really there. Warm
John found himself deepening the kiss, lightly running his tongue over Finn's soft lips. As he felt Finn press closer, he couldn't suppress the moan that slipped from his lips to Finn's. All he knew was that at that moment, he desperately wanted this young man.
Breaking the kiss to breathe, Finn whispered against John's mouth, grinning a little. "Can I still chain myself to your bed sometime?" His hands were gripping John's lower back firmly, holding him.
John laughed softly. "I suppose we could give it a try, sometime. Provided you don't kill me before then."
"Don't worry, John Stonebrook. I know CPR, and 911." Finn laughed too, then licked John's mouth. One of his hands dipped around from John's back to lightly brush across the front of his pants.
John sucked in a deep breath as his jeans rapidly became too tight for him. Now that his pity party was over, he could finally realize that Finn had been purposely seducing him for the better part of the evening. "Then I suppose my only worry is of them finding you in that outfit when the ambulance comes to get me."
"You don't like it?" Finn picked at the ruffle at the edge of the apron, lifting it teasingly, but not quite enough to expose himself.
"I like it, kid," John chuckled. "I just know Benji would be asking me a whole lot of questions once I came to in the hospital, is all." He pulled Finn closer and ran his hands down the kid's back and over the firm globes of his backside, squeezing as he did.
"You could just say you hired a maid," Finn purred, rubbing the front of his body against John's as the man's large hands touched him. "But you were too cheap to buy the uniform."
He lowered his head and slowly began nibbling the tender skin at Finn's throat. "Gee, that really paints me in a good light, kid." John's words were sarcastic, even if he was forgetting why he was talking in the first place. There were so many other things one could do with one's mouth besides talk, and he was inexplicably in the mood to try some of them out.
"She's a cop, too. She'd understand you have a budget," Finn gasped. He leaned back a little, letting John's mouth go where it would. It was so unusual that he didn't have to physically throw himself at the older man to get any contact at all, so Finn was trying not to chance it by rushing things.
Finding the pulse in Finn's pale neck, John found himself nipping softly at it, before smoothing the bite over with his tongue. His hands, meanwhile, played with the soft twin globes of Finn's ass, enjoying the warm feel of them and knowing that just between them was an area Finn would moan and groan over if he only dared to touch him there. It was a major turn-on, and it was the one thing lately that made his jeans so tight he couldn't breathe without feeling the pressure.
Finn rocked softly back into John's hands, which in turn rocked him forward, the flimsy apron doing little to disguise how much he enjoyed John's attention. His erection bumped against the front of John's jeans, and Finn sighed. With one hand, he unbuttoned and then unzipped John's pants, then slipped his small fingers inside.
John moaned as the slender fingers found his erection, his body pressing itself into that slim hand. His hands caressed the cheeks of Finn's backside just a little more before he let one finger dip between them and lightly play at the small puckered opening he found, while his lips stayed on Finn's throat.
"Nnh... yes," Finn breathed, panting as his hips continued to gently pump back and forth into John's touch. He wanted very much for the man's big finger to press inside, prepare him for more. Encouragingly, he wrapped his hand around John's cock and started to stroke it slowly, bringing it up over the waistband of his boxers to free it for more touches.
With a groan, John pulled away from Finn's slender neck only long enough to thoughtfully slick one hand with his own spit. He then trailed his hand down and brought the slick digit against the tight ring between Finn's cheeks. Pressing his lips deeply against Finn's once more, he slipped one finger inside, almost crying out at the incredibly tight warmth that enveloped his finger.
Trembling, Finn moaned into John's mouth, immediately opening and seeking his tongue. When he coerced it into his own mouth, he sucked vigorously, reminding John of his ability to suck other things, such as when they had been in the dressing room at that boutique. He pushed back onto that welcome finger, accepting the entire digit hungrily, and still wanting more. He moaned again as he pressed his thumb to the crown of John's cock, running the pad of that finger through the leaking slit.
Moaning his reply into Finn's mouth, John took charge, allowing his tongue to tease the other man's while attempting to stretch out his smaller partner. While doing so, he eventually managed to make it two fingers inside the tight sheath of his soon-to-be lover. His fear had banished everything (including good sense) from his mind. Boy hustler, stripper, whatever. Finn was willing and welcoming and wanted John. Right at that moment, only these things mattered, and John continued to work Finn while his lips and tongue waged war on that sticky mouth.
Anyway one looked
at it, Finn was small, so it was not unusual for him to be overwhelmed
in sexual situations. But even with John's mouth aggressively sucking
and thrusting at his own mouth, and the man's large, rough-knuckled
fingers stretching him, Finn didn't feel intimidated at all. It felt
rather perfect to him, really, in the way that imperfect things sometimes
John gasped in gulps of air, and kissed Finn once more before lifting him up and carrying him over to the couch, two fingers still inside him as he moaned and settled Finn over his lap. His erection grazed Finn's backside slightly from its still mostly confined grip. His fingers moved in a scissors-like motion, opening Finn wider for him. "Yeah, kid," he panted. "We're really gonna do this. No backing down, no phone calls, no anything. This is it."
"Oh, good," Finn breathed, writhing on the fingers that tugged and stretched his muscles deliciously. The apron was barely still on him, ruffled straps flopped down off of his shoulders and across his arms, the bow in back all tangled. Groaning, he wiggled against John's hand and licked his rough cheek. "Hurry, Daddy, I feel so empty. Hurry and fill me up."
Somehow, in a fantastic move that he wasn't certain how it happened, John managed to free himself with one hand and bring Finn up with the other. Then, with surprising ease, he shifted the other man so that he rested right over his erection. Even with the stretching, he felt some resistance at first. Yet he soon felt gravity take over, and eventually he was impaling Finn with himself. The feelings made his head tip back in indescribable pleasure. He moaned Finn's name for a second before slowly raising the boy up once more.
"You like that, don't you, kid? You like Daddy filling you? Making you take all of me?" He wasn't normally one for all this dirty talk, but it seemed to affect Finn, who in turn damn sure affected him. Smiling through his panting breaths, he brought Finn back down.
"Uh-huh," Finn panted back at him, russet eyelashes fluttering uncontrollably as his mouth slackened. He rested both hands on John's shoulders for balance, trying to process and catalog and keep each sensation. This was Detective John Stonebrook beneath his hands, against his lips, inside his body. Finn wanted to make sure he would never forget what it felt like.
"You're a big man, Daddy," he cried softly, the breath being pushed out of him as John lifted and tugged him back down strongly. "You're all big and hard, and you feel so good inside me."
John couldn't stop the groan that passed his lips. He didn't want to stop it. Instead, he really wanted was to make Finn moan and gasp his name as pleasure coursed through both of them. He began lifting and bringing Finn down on his aching shaft with what he realized was still a practiced ease. Like riding a bike, he thought wryly. He kept the pace steady and slightly hard. Just enough to make the kid jiggle slightly with each move.
"Take me, Finn. All of me," he whispered hoarsely as he continued to move inside of Finn's warm channel. It was so tight and hot, he didn't know how long he could hold out. Taking a risk and freeing one hand from Finn's hips, he brought it down over Finn's over erection, playing with the tip and collecting the gathering moisture before using it as a lubricant over Finn's own hardness, pumping it in time to his thrusts.
"Oh, yes, please, play with my toy, Daddy," Finn wailed, his whole body starting to quake as he was rhythmically slammed back down onto John's cock. He squeezed his arms around John's shoulders, pressing his sweating neck to the roughness of John's evening stubble as he was bounced up and down repeatedly. As John's big hand stroked him, all kinds of indescribable noises passed Finn's lips: moans, pants, squeaks, groans, sobs, and more.
John relished every second as Finn made the most erotic sounds he'd ever heard in his life. Taking Finn faster now, he could feel the tension tightening in his gut, threatening to spill before the kid could. John realized that even with everything that had happened between them before, this was still a lot for him to take after being celibate for so long. Panting heavily, he leaned foreword to tease Finn's neck, his teeth lightly scraping.
"Come for me, kid. I want to feel you tighten around me as you spill all over my hand," he growled, barely restrained. "Daddy wants it all."
Groaning open-mouthed around his fingers as he hugged John's neck, Finn nodded. "Yes, Daddy," he gasped, then ground his hips down into John's lap until he felt the thick head of John's erection inside him dig into his gland. With a keening shout, Finn's thighs shivered and he came, the warmth in his tummy spurting out over John's rough hand and the ruffled edge of the apron.
John felt Finn come, and relief flooded him as he couldn't hold himself back any longer. Moving with a few more erratic thrusts, John shuddered and felt his fluid fill Finn, then slowly begin a trail back down. Yet John didn't care. As they both lay there gasping and panting, he could only pull Finn close against him, holding him tightly.
"You're mine kid. To hell with what could be said or thought of it," he said gruffly, breathlessly. "I don't do this lightly. I hope you know what you just got yourself into."
"I know, John Stonebrook," Finn panted, his heart calming slowly in time with the frantic beat of John's as they stayed stuck together. "I'm glad that you meant it." Finn's shaky arms tightened and he sighed.
But you already
belong to someone else.
John smiled faintly
before using what strength he had left to lift himself and Finn off
the couch and get them into the bathroom. He carefully wiped them both
clean after he ditched his sweaty clothes and Finn gave up on the wrinkled,
sticky apron. Taking the redhead into the bedroom and laying him down
on the bed, John self-consciously joined him.
Finn's smile was bright, and satisfied. He caught John's hand and brought it to his mouth, then placed a kiss in the palm. "John Stonebrook," he replied softly.
He swallowed thickly before brushing his lips over the soft cheek. His words were low and soft as he spoke, almost as if afraid to speak them aloud.
"I was so scared I would never see you again, Finn. Then there you were, waiting for me. I was forced to realize something today. I care about you. A lot more than I should." He rubbed at his eyes nervously. "Yet I can't find fault in that. I would love you no matter what Finn. I've come to admit that, to myself and now to you."
"You would...love me?" Finn breathed, completely still, not daring to move. "Without being made to?"
John flushed slightly, turning away from Finn, but still keeping his arms around him. "You say the strangest things, kid, but yeah. There was no denying it when I felt like my whole world had died, again, when I believed it was you I would see in that bodybag. There was some kind of sick relief when it wasn't you. I wasn't glad the kid was dead, but I was glad he wasn't you."
Finn was glad too,
but more because, if John cared for him that much, he would hate to
have been the cause of John's suffering, even over his death. Or disappearance.
But it also opened him to feel.
It made both of
them vulnerable, and it was dangerous. It wasn't perfect.
John raised an eyebrow at those words. "You really are an odd kid, you know that?" He then pressed a soft, loving kiss to Finn's lips. It was nothing like the other ones they had shared. This one carried all the love he held for the man in his arms. And yes, he had thought love and man in the same sentence. Finn had been right, so long ago. Love was love, who should say if it must be with a woman or another man? Certainly not himself, not anymore.
Smiling against John's mouth, Finn whispered with their lips touching. "I'm not a kid, John Stonebrook."
Then, John grinned. "No, no you're not. You're a young man. You're," he hesitated, but then let it out, a pressure leaving his chest he hadn't noticed until it was gone. "You're my young man."
"Really?" Finn asked. "I thought I was your maid."
"Are you kidding? You cause more destruction than you can clean."
"No I don't!" Finn squeaked in indignation. "I've never made a mess in your apartment, ever!"
"What about almost burning dinner?" John said skeptically, unable to help teasing when Finn flushed that way.
"You're the one that grabbed me and trapped me on the couch," Finn huffed, pouting.
"You didn't have to come over there in the first place, you know."
"You were sad. I couldn't not cuddle you. That would be like a crime."
"Then cuddle me now, Finn." John felt a little dumb saying it out loud, but it was true, and Finn hadn't made fun of him yet. "I need that a lot right now."
"I had better do it then, huh? After all, if I didn't, you would have to arrest me as a heinous criminal." Relaxing, Finn pressed his face to John's chest and rubbed closer, practically purring.
When John laughed, the sound rumbled deep in his chest. "The only thing I'd be able to take you in on is stealing my heart," he said, waggling one dark eyebrow.
It was the lamest, cheesiest, dorkiest, sweetest thing anyone had ever said to Finn.
"If I pay you back, will you drop the charges?" he asked, blue eyes deep and bright.
"Sure, kid. You can start by getting me another one of those doughnuts. I'm starving."
At the mention of food, Finn's stomach growled loudly. "Be right back," he squeaked, jumping out of the bed and running, naked, through John's apartment in search of his doughnut stash.
John would be lucky if there was a sprinkle left for him after his Finn got through with the bag.
He could live with that.