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Rafael doesn’t get off on victory. Not per se. He’s not intoxicated by his own awesomeness after the guilty verdict has been announced; nine times out of ten it’s sheer relief that’s flooding his veins. The healthy light-headedness of a monumental weight falling off his shoulders. He didn’t let the victim down or Liv or Lady Justice or himself, he did it. On to the next impossible case.
He is, however, aware that the feeling of ‘I did it’ looks good on him. He’s not humble after all, he knows he’s good at his job and when he’s proven right once again – ‘We the jury find that the prosecution nailed it.’ – he enjoys it.
‘I knew I could do it.’ – Not a good look on every man. The line between appealing self-confidence and hubris is very fine indeed, the key, of course, as always being obliviousness regarding the effects triumph has on one’s sex-appeal.
Rafael is reasonably oblivious: he doesn’t outright think ‘I bet I look hot right now. Oooh, 30 to life? Nice. Scratch hot, I’m smokin’!’ but he’s also not surprised when Nick gives him a look as he walks past him towards the exit.
A look.
It makes his blood bubbly like a glass of champagne on an empty stomach, heat prickling at the back of his neck. Nick’s the sweetest, gentlest partner Rafael has ever had, but he does enjoy calling Rafael a good boy on occasion. And, on occasion, Rafael enjoys being a good boy. It’s something he never explored in any relationship before (mostly because he had a tendency to pick men who enjoyed calling him quite the opposite) and it makes him feel safe in a way he chooses not to dwell on for fear of realizing that he never felt safe before period.
Nick makes him feel safe and not just in the sense that Rafael knows Nick wouldn’t hurt him, in fact Nick would protect him from anything, but safe in allowing himself to soak in the full effect of that look: Nick’s turned on by Rafael winning. Quite a turn on. It definitely makes Rafael feel like a very good boy indeed.
It’s a slow day in court despite their big win, not many people around aside from their group. Rafael and the victim’s family declare justice having been served to the press, shake hands and part, Liv and Fin tell him to drop by at the bar for celebratory drinks later and head back to the precinct.
Nick’s nowhere to be seen; it’s a bit of a disappointment, but Rafael got that look to go back to for the rest of the day like touching a smooth stone inside one’s pocket – a reminder of a relaxing day at the beach amidst the blur of a workday. The look promised good things to come (or just Rafael to come, really) later and Rafael is smiling about it to himself as he walks back inside to hit the men’s room real quick before going back to his office.
He likes to have a moment of quiet contemplation in front of a mirror after a tense day like this; adjust his tie, check his face, make sure the relief hasn’t washed away the confidence in his eyes. There’s no need to let ‘I knew I could do it’ look like ‘thank fuck that worked’ when he walks down the hallways of Hogan Place. It’s his little ritual, nothing big. Just a nod at his reflection, a deep breath and out again.
Upon stepping into the men’s room Rafael meets Nick’s eyes; as the door falls softly shut behind him he can feel his body going into Nick’s-giving-me-that-look-mode like a dormouse sitting very still in happy anticipation of a sexy snake devouring it whole.
It’s one of the few situations where Rafael’s glad he’s somewhat on the small side, because the second Nick gets closer and slightly looms over him Rafael’s as hard as a teenager at a pool party. He and Nick are roughly the same age and when he told Nick after their third date, ‘You make me feel young and by that I mean I haven’t been this hard this fast in decades’ Nick just nodded, said, ‘Same,’ and rolled him on his stomach for round two.
So no surprise at Nick being rock-hard as well, something Rafael becomes highly aware of standing so close to him, head craned back to not miss a moment of that look being directed at him.
Rafael knows what’s going to happen, as incredulous as he is at the prospect. He should maybe say something, a breathless little quip about public spaces, but all he can do is watch Nick grab his tie and tug him towards the stall at the far end: the dormouse-ishness is strong within him.
At least Nick locks the door – one-handed, never letting go of Rafael’s tie – before he crowds Rafael against the wall, a cage of solid muscles and over-warm skin, and kisses him. If Rafael had ever entertained any fantasies of being kissed in a restroom stall it would have been like this, held fast by the love of his life, pinned against a cold tiled wall and completely helpless in his desire to be taken, used, filled, consumed, wrecked. He’s kissing back, of course he is, but it’s just a matter of opening himself up, offering his mouth, his tongue, whatever Nick wants to take. He’s totally relaxed in Nick’s hold, his hands merely resting on Nick’s hips, no grabbing, no hold of his own.
When Nick breaks the kiss, visibly straining to keep his panted breaths quiet – or maybe not to growl, he looks like he’s feeling very growly – Rafael stares up at him, mouth still open, waiting. He must have been doing SO well in court judging from the unmasked lust in Nick’s gaze. Not that he’s ever wondered if any jury members go home to jerk off to memories of him but maybe that thought’s worth exploring some time.
Nick’s not known to waste time, so while Rafael’s still trying to grasp the reality of himself about to get nailed in the courthouse men’s room (Will it pavlov him? Is he forever going to get aroused just walking past it now? Would that be good or bad?) he’s already tugged off Rafael’s jacket, letting it drop at their feet, something Rafael shouldn’t find this hot, he owes his clothes some respect, he should protest, but Nick’s dragging down Rafael’s suspenders now and who gives a shit about clothes? By now he’s trying to help, pawing at Nick’s fly with shaking hands. Nick lets him, doesn’t even acknowledge Rafael’s fingers as he opens the first few buttons on Rafael’s shirt, his tie hanging low, then unzips Rafael’s pants and roughly drags them down.
Rafael hasn’t yet managed to get to any skin himself, he’s opened one button, but it’s okay, Nick’s in charge, anyway. With a faint smirk that conveys ‘it’s cute of you to want to help’ as clear as if he said it out loud Nick puts his hand over Rafael’s on his crotch and presses Rafael’s palm against his bulging erection. Rafael slightly curls his fingers just to show he can play, too. Nick clearly appreciates the gesture, closing his eyes and leaning in, muffling a tiny moan against Rafael’s jaw before crushing their lips together again in a hungry kiss.
Pre-come is making Rafael’s boxer-briefs slightly sticky, he reflexively reaches for his cock and whimpers into Nick’s mouth when Nick rocks forward, both their cocks and hands trapped between them. Nick’s urgency is driving Rafael insane, the way his whole body trembles with tension, his sharp hot pants against Rafael’s skin when he runs his open mouth over Rafael’s jaw down to his neck as he’s unzipping his pants and shoves his dick against Rafael’s hand seconds later.
They’re kissing mostly to stay quiet by now, frantic fingers tugging at Rafael’s boxer briefs, shoving up his shirt, Nick’s arm reaching around Rafael to drag him flush against Nick – still fully clothed from his waist up, which is doing things to Rafael’s whole business like he can watch his mind actively dissolve into caveman goo – and then Nick’s kneading Rafael’s butt, one finger brushing at the edges of his crack.
Moving as one, they break the kiss, breathing in each other’s gasps, eyes meeting. Rafael doesn’t need to nod. His hands are already up to catch himself against the wall when Nick spins him around and scooches closer, impossibly close, his face in Rafael’s neck, licking, sucking, the wet tip of his cock hot against the small of Rafael’s back. The fingers of Nick’s left hand are interlaced with Rafael’s on the wall, his right hand finds Rafael’s eager, open mouth.
With Nick rocking softly against him, the gentleness in the middle of this whole porn-fantasy endeavor making Rafael’s heart squeeze like it’s too much to ask to pump happiness through his body along with all the ‘fuck me now!’-hormones, Rafael sucks two fingers into his mouth, giving them the thorough treatment usually reserved for Nick’s cock.
Nick shifts ever so slightly and pre-come smears over Rafael’s ass. Rafael can’t hold back a whine, and Nick’s feathersoft “shh” against his ear isn’t helping at all, it only makes him realize that he desperately wants for Nick to speak, to tell him how hard he makes him, how good he’s going to make Rafael feel, how much he needs Rafael now, right now. So as Rafael keeps on fellating Nick’s fingers, he conjures up Nick’s voice in his head, draws from memory.
‘Tell me you’re mine, venadito. Tell me how much you need me.’
And Rafael would tell him, moan for him, beg for him. He is feeling it now, the need deep inside him, the emptiness that needs to be filled; his body craving completion.
He wonders if his voice is in Nick’s head, too, if Nick’s using his own memories of Rafael moaning in Spanish as he’s wont to do during sex. ‘Take me, let me feel you. Mi amor. Deeper, I need to feel you.’
As if Nick’s been listening in on Rafael’s thoughts, he moans into Rafael’s skin suddenly, a quiet, strangled sound that makes Rafael’s cock twitch, and withdraws his fingers from Rafael’s mouth. In a swift move, he shifts again, pressing harder against Rafael, holding him completely immobile and puts his left palm over Rafael’s mouth. It’s so hot Rafael thinks he might come just from that. He closes his eyes, savors the feeling: restrained, wanted, held, desired.
When Nick opens him up, it’s urgent but still gentle, still thorough. He doesn’t need to fuck Rafael, he needs to make him feel his want for him and it’s clear from the way he takes a little more time prepping him than one might think appropriate in a restroom stall.
To be fair though, Rafael’s long past caring about them doing it at his workplace. All he cares about is Nick’s fingers inside him, finding that spot. And then he cares about Nick’s cock, the familiar moment of stretch and burn that leads to something popping inside his mind, that bright all-engulfing light washing through his very being. Rafael’s not a very spiritual person and while he’s got serious rhetorical chops he’s not very poetic, either. He’s not confusing great sex with enlightenment, but since Nick he has been secretly wondering if sleeping with a person one truly loves is supposed to feel like being a puzzle piece put into place by a benevolent cosmic hand or if that’s just him.
One day he’ll find the courage to admit to Nick that his dick is literally driving him insane – ‘When you fuck me I feel like I'm one with the universe. Both ends, by the way, there’s no universe-hole, both are good.’ – and who knows maybe Nick will respond in kind. Maybe having Rafael’s ass squeeze around him makes Nick feel like touching the stars.
Maybe Rafael’s just the tiniest bit poetic after all. Not right now, mind. Right now he’s not thinking much past ‘deeper, harder, more, please please please, more’ on a loop as Nick’s rocking him into the wall.
Since Nick’s in charge, it’s his job to make sure they’re not being too loud and he’s surprisingly good at it. His hand’s on Rafael’s mouth, his own is locked on a spot on Rafael’s neck, sucking hard, desperate, harsh short breaths burning Rafael’s shoulder. There’s no slapping of skin on skin, mostly because they’re both still wearing so many clothes, but also because Nick’s not thrusting into Rafael but grinding deep inside him, one arm wrapped around Rafael’s chest to keep him as close as possible.
They’re both damp with sweat, the heat between them as scorching as the one inside Rafael’s very core where the need for release is coiling ever tighter, ready to completely overtake his remaining actual-words thoughts. Part of him still wishes he could beg. Nick’s doing everything right, he is taking Rafael so hard and deep and it’s perfect, but Rafael’s almost bursting with the need to tell him so. ‘I love you so much. I want you so deep inside me. Never let me go. I’m yours, I’m always yours, make me yours.’
Later, Rafael will have to admit to himself that being silenced turned him on more than he feels comfortable acknowledging, but even later than that Nick will ask about it and it will lead to a lot more being one with the universe.
At last, Nick’s movements become as frantic as Rafael’s heartbeats. He presses his sweaty forehead against Rafael’s temple and releases his mouth only to hastily stuff the end of Rafael’s tie into it. Crushing Rafael against the wall, he wraps his hand around Rafael’s cock and now, from this new angle, he’s thrusting in earnest, sharp, deep thrusts that never miss to hit Rafael’s prostate and make him bite hard on his tie. Rafael clings to the back of Nick’s thigh, trying his best to rock into the thrusts, but mostly all he can do is take it. Nick’s sweat-slick hand is working Rafael’s cock and when Nick whisper-gasps ‘I want to come inside you’ into Rafael’s ear, Rafael comes over his fingers, his ass squeezing so tight around Nick’s dick it’s definite permission to do so.
Being effectively gagged was hot, but nothing could have prepared Rafael for the surge of post-coital aftershock when Nick buries his face in his hair, holding him so close against himself, trembling with he efforts not to sob when his orgasm hits. His come is hot inside Rafael, he’s clinging to him, breaths shaking, and Rafael wants to keep him inside himself forever. He turns his head, searching for Nick’s lips, squeezes the back of Nick’s thigh.
The kiss is soft this time. They part and come back together a few times, breaths evening out, hearts calming down. Nick’s still inside Rafael and a giddy, come-drunk part of Rafael wants to rock back, urge Nick to get hard again, start all over. He’s sticky and hot, his hair is a mess, his shirt has cum on it, his tie’s wet with saliva, and he’s overwhelmed by love, everything is perfect, he wants to stay in this stall and be held and fucked by Nick for all eternity. He’ll tell Nick later when they’re in bed, showered and naked and in each other’s arms, ‘I want you to fuck my mouth next time. I want to see you try and stay quiet while you give it to me.’
‘Only if you promise to come untouched,’ Nick will say and Rafael will promise.
Now, Nick gently turns Rafael around so he can kiss him properly. Rafael’s exhausted. He’s leaning back against the wall and let Nick straighten his tie, run his hand through his hair. When he drags his eyes open, Nick’s smiling at him, pets his cheek.
Rafael makes no move to dress himself, he wants more kissing, more petting, he wants Nick to hold him again and he knows Nick can tell. With the speed of someone trained to get dressed in locker rooms, Nick takes off his shoes, pants and boxer briefs, then puts his pants back on. Under Rafael’s amused mock-disgusted watch he uses his underwear to clean Rafael up as much as possible and then drags up Rafael’s clothes, tugs his shirt into his pants, slips his suspenders over his shoulders. Rafael can’t see it, but he’s pretty sure there’s a massive hickey on his neck where Nick used it to muffle his groans and his suspicions are confirmed when Nick licks over the spot before he buttons up Rafael’s shirt. At least it’s going to be covered.
For a finishing touch, Nick readjusts Rafael’s tie, brushes his palm over it before he grabs Rafael’s jacket off the floor and helps him into it.
Their eyes meet. Rafael rolls his up as if trying to look at his hair. With a soft snicker, Nick brushes his hand over it, this way and that, probably trying to somehow fix the damage done. Eventually, Rafael grabs his wrist to make him stop and tugs him close for a deep kiss.
Nick stuff his soiled boxer briefs into his pocket and whispers, “Congratulations, counselor.”
Rafael rolls his eyes, earning a grin so loving he’s seriously considering asking to play hooky for the rest of the day and just go home to fuck on the couch. To keep himself from it he presses a quick peck to the corner of Nick’s mouth, then reaches around him to unlock the door.
He briefly stops in front of the mirror to take in his appearance – hopefully it’s raining outside so he can take a walk and let himself get completely soaked; his hair looks like he was just fucked in a restroom stall. Carmen will know after one look at him. He’ll have to wait until her lunch break to sneak into the office.
On the courthouse steps his phone pings with an incoming message from Nick: ‘told liv need to g home’.
Rafael stares at the message, his fingers absently brushing over the end of his tie.
He texts Carmen first, ‘sth come up, back in tomorrow,’ and then, because now he can, he texts Nick all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t earlier, adds ‘meet outside’ and waits.
THE END