I decided to write five fics and ficlets inspired by my RPs with Ada-RafaelBarba on Tumblr since my muses are often still raring to go while he's not posting. This is a mixture of angst, fluff, smut and MPreg. Yes, we really do RP that wide a variety of stuff and it is awesome. :D Stories 1 and 4 have BDSM, though 1 has a different plot than that, and story 5 has MPreg. If you don't like those, don't read those stories.
For reasons of pure shallowness, we're gonna pretend George still looks like he did in S10. Because I'm shallow. Seriously BD Wong must have pissed in the SVU hairdresser's Cheerios because the hairdos they have been giving him his last three appearances... That is the only reason for those to exist.
Feel free to send prompts if you have any! I will be posting these on Tumblr, FFN, and AO3.
1.
At first he'd thought the only reason he liked wearing Rafael's collar was sex. BDSM is hot. The humiliation of the collar is hot. Belonging to Rafael is hot.
But then there comes a night where Rafael keeps the collar on him, but doesn't as much as touch him sexually. He just sits there, stroking George's hair and murmuring soothing words. They'll come around eventually and You're perfect the way you are and You have nothing to be ashamed about, and if they can't see it...
Normally proud of who he is and uncaring of those who judge him for it, George is still prone to hurt like anyone else, and his parents' continued rejection has been a source of pain for more than 25 years. Rafael knows, and tries to do what he can to comfort him, but there's nothing that can ease the sting. So this is all he can offer; taking the trust George gives him as his submissive and using it not to give him sexual pleasure but to assure him that it's all okay.
It had confused him terribly for the first few minutes, when Rafael had told him to put the collar on and try to find that headspace, but made it clear that no sex would be happening tonight. Without the erotic pain and humiliation he was used to, he didn't know how to find the contentment the collar usually granted. But then, stroking his forehead, Rafael had softly told him, "Let it all go, cariño. Let me do the worrying for you. Let me take care of you like I do."
And now he finally understands. The collar isn't just part of a sex game. It's trust and safety. It's a way to surrender his responsibilities and worries to Rafael. He isn't just trusting Rafael to control his body; he's trusting Rafael to take care of him. Trusting Rafael to know what will make him happy, trusting Rafael to know him and his reactions better than anyone else. Trusting Rafael to take control of both their lives in ways he wouldn't consider otherwise.
He strokes the collar. He feels relaxed and protected just like he's supposed to. Rafael wants his happiness more than anything, probably even more than Rafael wants Rafael's own happiness. When has he ever had that before?
His parents certainly hadn't given it to him. He's nothing but a disappointment to them and that's how it will be unless he pretends to be attracted to some nice Chinese girl and settles down with lots of babies, preferably sons. Their wants always have and always will be first in their eyes. From when he was little and they'd told him in no uncertain terms that he would be a doctor, to that day 20 years ago when they'd told him he was nothing to them anymore.
But Rafael is the complete opposite. All the people at work who call Rafael a selfish, heartless bastard don't know him. Only a select few do and George is the one who knows more than anyone.
He closes his eyes a moment, feeling Rafael stroking his hair. He rests his head on Rafael's thigh and gives a deep sigh.
Rafael cares. All those years George had spent alone, feeling unloved and a bit touch-starved are over now.
Rafael loves him.
As the realization settles firmly inside him, he whispers, "I love you, Rafael."
And though Rafael repeats the words, George doesn't need them. He already knows. The collar says it all.
2.
Honestly, George doesn't choose to take the bullet for Rafael. It isn't that he would put his life above Rafael's; he would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat. It's just that he doesn't have the time to actually make the conscious decision.
it happens so fast. They're standing together outside the DA's office. Someone snarls Rafael's last name, says something about the hood. Rafael pales and nudges George to the side and that's when George knows it's time to be afraid because anything that can scare Rafael Barba is absolutely horrible. But before that can sink in he's getting punched in the gut, except he isn't because punches don't leave gaping holes, bullets do.
He falls back immediately, gasping. Rafael catches him, cries, "Médicito!" with a trembling voice. In trying to save him, they both realize, Rafael had accidentally saved himself and pushed George into the line of fire instead.
Rafael's shaking and it's clear he wants to kill the guy, but the police are already there and there's nothing he can do in front of all these witnesses. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he screams, and there's anger and pain in his voice like George has never heard before, making him think this might not only be about him, that there's more history between Rafael and whoever this is. Because if there wasn't Rafael would be at least trying to stay calm and he just isn't; if anything he's more panicked than George.
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Rafael looks down at him and shakes his head. "Don't try to talk," he says in what's meant to be a soothing tone but comes out clipped. "Save your strength." He looks up again.
George follows Rafael's gaze. Sees the unis gathering the gun into an evidence bag. He got shot less than a minute ago and this is already a case to them. He looks up at Rafael again and tries to get his attention.
"We've hated each other since we were children," Rafael says, picking up on his thoughts. It's why they're so good together; their bond is just this side of telepathy. They know each other's thought better than they know their own. "When I was younger I got him put away- not as a prosecutor but as a witness. That was what made me want to be a lawyer in the first place. He's been in jail more than half his life because of me."
The pieces fall into place. "He..." He groans. Talking hurts more than he'd think for a stomach wound. Every breath, every movement jostles those muscles in his abdomen. Until now, he had never realized how much his stomach muscles really moved. "He killed..."
"Mi papá," Rafael says, nodding, the pain clear on his face.
Rafael's father had been killed when Rafael was a young adult, about to go to Harvard. But that was all George had known before now.
George takes in a deep breath, gritting his teeth. Exhaling, he manages, "Well... then I can't... let him... kill your fiancee... too..." He touches the cold metal on his finger. And then he's crying out because the words have spurred Rafael too, and Rafael is suddenly pressing on the wound.
"No. We can't," Rafael agrees, looking down at George, eyes so full of pain and fear but also a spark of determination. "He can't take you too. And he won't, I know he won't, because you're the strongest man I know and I know you don't want to go down like this. And no one can make you do something you don't want to do. I know; I've tried."
George laughs weakly and then whimpers. Rafael reaches up for a fraction of a second and strokes his forehead.
He's weak and shivering by the time the ambulance arrives, and they cover him with a blanket as they quickly load him onto the stretcher. He doesn't even have to ask Rafael to stay with him; they both just know.
His strength drains with every drop of blood that gushes out the wound, and by the the time the ambulance is at the hospital he can't even respond to Rafael's voice. But Rafael understands.
Nearly a full day later, when he opens his eyes and feels an immediate high from the morphine that removes any semblance of a filter from his mind, he rasps, "I think the lesson here is, 'Don't try to protect a damn FBI agent.'"
Rafael gives a humorless laugh. "Either that or, 'Try to keep an eye out when your enemy makes parole.'" He looks sad and hurt and scared still.
George nods his agreement. At some point, he thinks as the drugs pull him back under, the drugs will wear off and he'll help Rafael work this out. But for now he can't do much but sleep.
3.
George has a lot of cats. It doesn't surprise Rafael; George being a cat person had been obvious. It doesn't surprise him that one of the cats is having kittens, either.
What does surprise him is the fact that somehow, Mei Li- the cat closest to George and, naturally, the one who hates Rafael most- is pregnant by Hunter, Rafael's cat.
"He's the only unfixed male who's been around here," George says simply when Rafael protests.
"Great," Rafael says sarcastically, but inside he feels kind of proud of the little guy. You go, Hunter, he thinks. Mei Li and Hunter had fought for a while too- Rafael had thought Mei Li hated Hunter due to his association with Rafael, being that Mei Li had decided Rafael was her mortal enemy- but apparently the two have found a much better use of their time.
"So we're going to be cat grandpas," he says with a hint of sarcasm and shakes his head.
Weeks later, Rafael helps George set up the box for Mei Li's litter. When, a few days after that, George invites him over to see the newborn kittens, he looks down in awe.
"You'll have to find really good homes for them," he murmurs, watching an orange one shivering and mewing pathetically as he or she gets separated from their litter mates.
George reaches into the box and gently moves the kitten back to Mei Li. "No," he replies. "Just one good home, I think."
"You're keeping them?" Rafael asks, amused for some reason. Of course George would be unable to give up the kittens.
"No. You are," George says, and just like that it's settled because Rafael really can't argue with him.
He sits down and tries to start naming the- his- kittens, but he isn't all that creative with names. The only names that come to him for the orange one are Pumpkin and Creamsicle.
"You'll think of names," George assures him, grinning.
"Yeah, yeah," Rafael says, leaning back.
4.
The collar feels perfect, like it belongs. Like it should be there by default and taking the collar off should be the change.
Rafael nods in approval and gestures for George to stand instead of kneeling as he had been.
"Lie on your stomach with your legs spread, slut," Rafael growls. George shivers at the insult. It feels so good to be humiliated and insulted like this. He gets off on it; the deeper Rafael can make his face flush, the harder he gets. In fact, he'd been the one to convince Rafael to take the insults this far. Rafael had hesitated, not wanting to upset him, and George had had to promise him he wouldn't. Rafael had slowly eased into it and now he loves it almost as much as George does.
He complies with the order, a red blush creeping up his face and neck as he settles himself on the bed. Rafael moves behind him. It's clear from the sound of the tube of lubricant opening that Rafael intends to fuck him, but he takes his time, running his fingers over George's ass. After a moment he smacks his ass, drawing a sound that's something between a squeak and a moan.
"You know what, slut? I was going to fuck you... but I want to see how long it'll take before this makes you come like the dirty whore of a fuck toy you are," Rafael taunts.
He groans, cock throbbing. Not only is being insulted amazing, but to have Rafael Barba of all people talking this dirty to him...
His collar is being tugged. "Acknowledge me when I speak to you, slut, before I decide you need another month of training during which time you will be kept in a cock cage 24/7," Rafael snaps.
The idea has him just short of whimpering in desire. "Sorry, Sir," he says, shuddering. "T-That's a good idea. Spanking me till I come," he says, face burning.
"How badly do you want it?" Rafael taunts, smacking his ass again.
"S-so badly," he moans, feeling the arousal overwhelming him. He knows what he's expected to add and just thinking about it makes him almost unable to continue, but he does. "I'm such a sl-slutty fuck toy, Sir. I'll come no matter what you do but I want this. Please, Sir."
He feels so wrong for how turned on he gets by being humiliated. But it feels so good. It's so freeing and it drives home that as long as they're in the bedroom, he's just a toy there for Rafael's amusement. Rafael can do whatever he wants to him and his only options are either to use his safe word and end the scene or to take it. He'd not only agreed to that part of their arrangement, he'd been the one to suggest it. He tends to be the one to suggest the more extreme parts of their relationship.
He would never judge anyone else who told him they were into BDSM and yet sometimes he struggles with the conflict of what he likes versus who he's supposed to be. He's a forty-five year old man, a doctor, an FBI agent. A forty-five year old doctor/FBI agent who likes being dragged around by a leash and collar, spanked, called a slut and a whore, used as a fuck toy, and all the other humiliating things his dom, his owner can think of.
Another slap to his ass brings him out of his thoughts and he moans his delight. It always feels so amazing, the way it both stings and tingles with warm pleasure at the same time.
At this rate, it'll take no time at all for Rafael to bring him to orgasm. He craves it; craves the release and Rafael's inevitable mocking about how he's such a slut that he doesn't even need his cock touched. He starts pushing back to meet Rafael's smacks, and the insults Rafael throws at him in response have his face red and his cock dripping pre-come.
He feels incredibly humiliated and turned on. But he also feels so free. And he can't get enough.
Finally he comes, whimpering as he shudders hard. This makes Rafael laugh, and he traces his finger over the red, hand-shaped marks on his ass. "God, can you imagine if the others could see you? Knew what a little whore you really are?"
He moans and hides his face in the blanket. It isn't that he actually wants people he knows to see him, but the idea of being humiliated this way in public is something he secretly does want, and it makes him shudder. He isn't sure if Rafael knows about this fantasy of his, but he seems to realize he's onto something.
"Oh, you'd like that, shameless slut you are." Suddenly two fingers are pushing inside him and he groans again, pushing back. He's sensitive and with a remarkably fast recovery time for someone his age, so it doesn't take all that many brushes across his prostate to get him hard again. "What would they say?" Rafael's other hand moves under him, pinching and twisting his left nipple until he whines. "'What a nice whore you've got, Rafael. So slutty that only you could keep up with him.'" He brushes George's prostate again and makes his legs shake. "'Look at that, Rafael's little fuck toy just came a minute ago but he's already hard again and begging for it, waiting to be filled and used.'"
He groans into the blanket. He has no idea how humiliation and arousal became fused in his head but they are and it's too good, too damned good. Just as he thinks he might come again, Rafael pulls his fingers out. Something else, something painfully big slides inside him instead and then it becomes clear what it is when he feels the powerful vibrations.
"I know what a size queen you are, so I had to shop around for something big enough," Rafael taunts.
The vibrations against his prostate make him pant and whimper and beg. Soon he's on the edge again and suddenly Rafael is at his face, ordering him to open his mouth. He does, and Rafael's thick, heavy, perfect cock is being shoved into his mouth. He can't contain his own sounds of ecstasy and they reverberate against Rafael's dick, making him thrust faster, growl more filthy insults and make them both come hard.
When his orgasm finishes, George moves to sit back up, but Rafael tilts his chin up and snarls, "Where do you think you're going, slut? Did I say I was done with you?"
"No, Sir," George mutters.
"You didn't ask for permission to come either time. You didn't thank me for letting you suck my cock, for spanking you, or for buying you a new toy. And you tried to sit up without me telling you," Rafael scolds, counting each transgression on his hands. "You know better; I trained you better than this."
"I'm sorry, Sir," he says and hangs his head, genuine apology in his voice.
"I understand and it's okay, pet, but you still need to be punished. What do you think is a fitting punishment?" Rafael asks with a softer but still firm tone.
He bites his lip. "Y-you should edge me, Sir," he says, shoulders slumping.
"I think that's a good idea," Rafael agrees. "You won't be allowed to come until next Friday. I'll be teasing and denying you every morning and evening until then."
"I'm sorry, Sir," he says again. All that time during training that Rafael had spent stressing those things to him and he'd forgotten it all in his desperation for release.
Stroking his hair, Rafael says, "Listen to me, pet. You're newly trained and considering that, you're doing fantastically. I wouldn't want anyone else as my sub even if we weren't together."
George smiles and leans into his touch. "I wouldn't want anyone else as my dom," he says softly. "You're the only one I'd trust. And that means a lot."
"I know. And that-" he kisses George on the lips with surprising gentleness- "is why I'm your dom. Because I know your trust is hard to earn. It's special, and I'm happy to have it."
Smiling, George kisses him deeper. Rafael unhooks his collar, letting him know that the scene is over, and then pulls George into his lap and hugs him tightly. Rafael might not usually be the most affectionate man in the world, but he never stops stressing the importance of aftercare. He always makes sure George knows he never means the things he says when George is collared. He makes sure George knows he's Rafael's equal, that Rafael wants him safe and happy and healthy, and most of all, that Rafael truly and deeply loves him.
Resting his chin on George's head, Rafael murmurs, "you mean so much to me, Médico," and George knows he means it.
5.
Babies always used to be a touchy subject for Rafael. It wasn't that he didn't like them; rather that he couldn't like them. Because he was a big mean tough prosecutor and babies were little balls of pathetic cuteness. Admitting to liking them would have been somewhere between admitting to watching soap operas and announcing an affinity for ballet.
But now that he's about to be a father, he apparently gets a pass.
Only about 100 men in the entire country have the genes that allow them to carry children, and George is one of them, though he had been unaware of this fact until recently. How George hadn't gotten pregnant before is a mystery, but they don't really talk about it. What's important is that he is now.
Rafael sits next to him on the bed, setting his hand on George's stomach. It had made Rafael ache inside to watch George groaning in pain from the contractions, but now he's completely numb thanks to an epidural and as soon as the doctors are ready, they'll perform a C-section. And then they'll have their little girl.
"You ready?" Rafael asks softly.
"That doesn't really matter, does it?" George asks lightly and rests a hand on his stomach. "Whether I'm ready or not, this one is."
"True." Rafael laughs. "I was just asking."
"I know." Smiling, George leans up and kisses Rafael. "But yes, I am ready. In fact, I'm over-ready."
"Well, that will be taken care of soon," Rafael replies, feeling joy flooding him.
Him. Happy. About babies. His- their- baby. It makes him smile and shake his head in wonder.