Title: Actus Reus (The Guilty Act)
Author: Franco Veja Roker (How fun are anagrams?)
Summary: "He sees himself as the grounding force." Semantics and sentiments. Goren/Carver slash
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Solve this equation: let x equal the amount of money we are making off of this ($0), let y equal writing fanfiction, let z equal not owning any of the characters we use, and let w equal the fact that we have no reliable source of income. (y+z)/w=x If you're no good at math, we'll break it down for you: Don't Sue!
Authors' Notes: Further proof that if Analogy makes a stray comment, TC will bring it one step further, and Analogy will actually make her write the fic. With a little help from her, of course. Also, further proof that we will write any and every pairing, given enough time, byte space, and food. Props to the usual crew, and extra high fives to Senza, for liberal rants and kicking TC in the butt when she moaned about the downfall of the earth as a whole and her writing in particular. Further ramblings at the end.
Warnings: This is SLASH. S-L-A-S-H. Proto-slash, no less; first of it's kind in this fandom, baby!
Actus Reus
Carver calls it making love. Goren calls it fucking.
Goren can't seem to tear his mind away from the job, to bring his brain back to the normal plane of existence for other human beings. Carver knows it's egotistical of him, but he sees himself as the grounding force to Goren, the one who keeps him from floating too far above reality. Carver watches him wherever they are, in the precinct, in the DA's office, from the front of the courtroom as Goren sits impassively next to that slavering blonde he has the gall to call his equal. Goren's not equal to anybody, and Carver knows this. It's Carver's habit to observe Goren, to observe anybody, really, but always Goren, closely scrutinizing him to reassure himself that Goren is, indeed, human.
Carver called Goren his lover once, and watched as Goren squinted his eyes and twisted the corner of his mouth up into something between a sneer and a grin. Goren calls it fucking for more reasons than one. Fucking is what you do with a stranger. Fucking is what you do with someone you have no emotional attachment to. Fucking is what you do when you don't want your name remembered the next morning, or when you don't want there to be a next morning at all.
Making love, Carver calls it, and watches Goren out of the corner of his eye. A full-fledged sneer this time. But Carver still watches him, and the sneer softens, Goren turns and places a heavy hand on Carver's shoulder, and lets his arm drop to his side as he drifts from the room, following his departed partner.
And later that night, with Goren's lips pressed to the hollow of his throat and his hands fumbling with Goren's belt buckle, Carver hears him mumble, "I'd make love to you, but I've only ever fucked."
And Carver understands, because Goren exists on that higher plane. So he nods, and finishes with the buckle, and they fuck. It's not making love. It's cold, calculating, clinical, each move plotted beforehand, what passion there is coming forth in quick bursts like a faulty sink occasionally letting the pressure leak a few drops of water out. It's the pressure building, and the need for release. It's not making love; it's fucking.
A few evenings later Goren shows up at his door, jittery with caffeine and nearly insane with pent up frustration and anger. They fuck, just like they always have, but this time it's different somehow, raw emotions pouring forth, animal fury and something a few stages below lust mixing together in a heady aphrodisiac, and something new, someone who is not quite Goren, sinking his teeth into Carver's shoulder to keep from crying out. Goren's letting his tight grip on his self-control relax a little, but on purpose or through necessity Carver can't be sure.
Carver calls it passion. Goren calls it need.
/fin/
TC: ::giggling:: dude, that was more fun than it should've been.
Lee: What, writing slash?
TC: ::snickers:: No, slashing Goren.
Lee: Hey, at least he didn't die in Riverside Park.
TC: But if we begin to hate him, there's always that option.