Title: A Fistful Of Warm Rain (3 of 4)
Author: jesse
Fandom: Law&Order (original flavor)
Pairing: Briscoe/Logan
Rating: R this chapter, for adult language, dreaming, scheming and action
Summary: A cold winter night, a hot sauna ....
Archive: Yes to Rareslash, yes to list archives, anybody else please ask
Email: jesse.bee@lycos.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making money
Author Notes: The blame can be laid at the feet of culturevulture73, as always, for hooking me into this g, but a little of the blame for posting can be tossed at Python, who was kind enough to tell me she thought one of my previous stories was hot. Well, this one's a little hotter.eg
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A Fistful Of Warm Rain
10/20/03
jesse
Chapter Three
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//Holy Mother of God.//
That Lennie wasn't conventionally handsome didn't matter. Neither did the fact that he was nearly fifteen years older than Mike, and had obviously stopped working out a while ago -- none of that mattered. It never had. And now the flex and arc of the practically naked body that housed the man he was so attracted to shot Mike's internal temperature up from damned hot to approaching nuclear. He realized distantly that Lennie was watching him, but he couldn't make himself look away.
The older detective was long and rangy, almost slender for his height except for his shoulders and the little extra he was carrying around his waist. Graying chest hair gleamed silvery against skin that was a warm, glistening gold everywhere under the sweat that sheened him, everywhere Mike could see. Which was *everywhere* except for that bit covered by his towel; the bit Mike couldn't quite look away from. Because under that towel his partner was sporting an erection that was making Mike's mouth water and his own groin ache, and if he didn't get out of this hotbox really damn soon there was gonna be heat generated in here from a source other than electrical.
Breathing was becoming more difficult, both from the hot humidity and his own inner turmoil. He ducked his head, finally managing to tear his gaze away. "I think I'm well-done, Lennie. I'm gonna get out," he said, absurdly pleased when his voice didn't crack.
"What? I'll bet you're not even to medium-rare yet. It's just getting nice in here." Lennie's voice was still lower than normal, rich and lazy.
//God, Lennie, if you ever quit the force you can make a freakin' mint on the 900 lines.// "Yeah, you would say that. I'll go, you can broil as long as you want."
"But it'll be so lonely." Lennie reached out and laid his hand on Mike's calf. "Really, Mike. What's the hurry?"
The touch stopped Mike dead in his tracks. His body shrieked both lust and panic at his brain, and the conflicting signals jammed his gears. Hot as the room was, he was ready to swear Lennie's hand was hotter -- he felt each individual finger like a brand. A whole new round of perspiration sprang up and ran ticklishly down his spine.
He stared at the lean fingers tan against his own paler skin for long, long moments before he managed to swallow and grope for a smartass remark. "You should probably move that hand, or I might start thinking you mean something by it."
The fingers tightened. "Who's saying I don't?"
Mike's eyes snapped up, and suddenly there was even less air in the room. Lennie's dark eyes were nearly black, and his expression was -- interested. Very. Blatantly. Interested.
"You ... do?" Holy Mother, had he really just said that?
Lennie swung his legs around into the small space between their seats, his motions easy, as if the heat of the room had taken off years. A lock of salt and pepper hair came free of his normal combed back style and fell wetly over his forehead. It made him look oddly younger, and sexy as hell. His hand never left Mike's leg; in fact, it began sliding slowly north. "Uhm-hmm. Shall we dance?"
He had said that. Oh, God. And Lennie was, was --
It smacked him all at once, and now Mike was truly struggling to breathe around the overwhelming surge of desire and elation and something that felt oddly like despair. Yes, this *was* happening. His partner, Lennie Briscoe, was a switch-hitter.
And Lennie was coming on to him.
But he didn't, he couldn't, want this the same way Mike did.
//You're on the edge of an emotional minefield, Mikey, you gonna take the walk anyway, keep it friendly? Is having him for just a while worth the pain?//
//Yes.//
//God Almighty, don't let me screw this up.//
"What makes you think I'm so easy?" Mike got out finally, knowing he had arousal written all over his face and almost giddy with the fact that finally, he didn't have to hide it.
"The fact that you haven't loosened my teeth, among other things." Lennie's smile was the one that Mike loved and rarely saw, full and even and wicked, showing off the very white teeth in question.
Lennie leaned in closer, his long fingers now curved over Mike's knee. His thumb began to rub slow circles on Mike's sweaty, tingling skin. "Whadaya say?"
That smart, sarcastic tongue was now just too damned close. "I'd say do something with your mouth 'sides talk."
~~~~~
~~~~~
And another Author Note: I regret that I must say to you who have read this far, that this is as much of this story as will be posted on FanFiction.net. The policy of this site prohibits stuff that crosses the line into NC17, and darlin', this story surely crosses that line. But if you are of legal age in your place of residence to read this kind of crap, and are willing to drop me an email to that effect, I will be happy to send you the end of the tale.
jesse
Author: jesse
Fandom: Law&Order (original flavor)
Pairing: Briscoe/Logan
Rating: R this chapter, for adult language, dreaming, scheming and action
Summary: A cold winter night, a hot sauna ....
Archive: Yes to Rareslash, yes to list archives, anybody else please ask
Email: jesse.bee@lycos.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making money
Author Notes: The blame can be laid at the feet of culturevulture73, as always, for hooking me into this g, but a little of the blame for posting can be tossed at Python, who was kind enough to tell me she thought one of my previous stories was hot. Well, this one's a little hotter.eg
######################
A Fistful Of Warm Rain
10/20/03
jesse
Chapter Three
######################
//Holy Mother of God.//
That Lennie wasn't conventionally handsome didn't matter. Neither did the fact that he was nearly fifteen years older than Mike, and had obviously stopped working out a while ago -- none of that mattered. It never had. And now the flex and arc of the practically naked body that housed the man he was so attracted to shot Mike's internal temperature up from damned hot to approaching nuclear. He realized distantly that Lennie was watching him, but he couldn't make himself look away.
The older detective was long and rangy, almost slender for his height except for his shoulders and the little extra he was carrying around his waist. Graying chest hair gleamed silvery against skin that was a warm, glistening gold everywhere under the sweat that sheened him, everywhere Mike could see. Which was *everywhere* except for that bit covered by his towel; the bit Mike couldn't quite look away from. Because under that towel his partner was sporting an erection that was making Mike's mouth water and his own groin ache, and if he didn't get out of this hotbox really damn soon there was gonna be heat generated in here from a source other than electrical.
Breathing was becoming more difficult, both from the hot humidity and his own inner turmoil. He ducked his head, finally managing to tear his gaze away. "I think I'm well-done, Lennie. I'm gonna get out," he said, absurdly pleased when his voice didn't crack.
"What? I'll bet you're not even to medium-rare yet. It's just getting nice in here." Lennie's voice was still lower than normal, rich and lazy.
//God, Lennie, if you ever quit the force you can make a freakin' mint on the 900 lines.// "Yeah, you would say that. I'll go, you can broil as long as you want."
"But it'll be so lonely." Lennie reached out and laid his hand on Mike's calf. "Really, Mike. What's the hurry?"
The touch stopped Mike dead in his tracks. His body shrieked both lust and panic at his brain, and the conflicting signals jammed his gears. Hot as the room was, he was ready to swear Lennie's hand was hotter -- he felt each individual finger like a brand. A whole new round of perspiration sprang up and ran ticklishly down his spine.
He stared at the lean fingers tan against his own paler skin for long, long moments before he managed to swallow and grope for a smartass remark. "You should probably move that hand, or I might start thinking you mean something by it."
The fingers tightened. "Who's saying I don't?"
Mike's eyes snapped up, and suddenly there was even less air in the room. Lennie's dark eyes were nearly black, and his expression was -- interested. Very. Blatantly. Interested.
"You ... do?" Holy Mother, had he really just said that?
Lennie swung his legs around into the small space between their seats, his motions easy, as if the heat of the room had taken off years. A lock of salt and pepper hair came free of his normal combed back style and fell wetly over his forehead. It made him look oddly younger, and sexy as hell. His hand never left Mike's leg; in fact, it began sliding slowly north. "Uhm-hmm. Shall we dance?"
He had said that. Oh, God. And Lennie was, was --
It smacked him all at once, and now Mike was truly struggling to breathe around the overwhelming surge of desire and elation and something that felt oddly like despair. Yes, this *was* happening. His partner, Lennie Briscoe, was a switch-hitter.
And Lennie was coming on to him.
But he didn't, he couldn't, want this the same way Mike did.
//You're on the edge of an emotional minefield, Mikey, you gonna take the walk anyway, keep it friendly? Is having him for just a while worth the pain?//
//Yes.//
//God Almighty, don't let me screw this up.//
"What makes you think I'm so easy?" Mike got out finally, knowing he had arousal written all over his face and almost giddy with the fact that finally, he didn't have to hide it.
"The fact that you haven't loosened my teeth, among other things." Lennie's smile was the one that Mike loved and rarely saw, full and even and wicked, showing off the very white teeth in question.
Lennie leaned in closer, his long fingers now curved over Mike's knee. His thumb began to rub slow circles on Mike's sweaty, tingling skin. "Whadaya say?"
That smart, sarcastic tongue was now just too damned close. "I'd say do something with your mouth 'sides talk."
~~~~~
~~~~~
And another Author Note: I regret that I must say to you who have read this far, that this is as much of this story as will be posted on FanFiction.net. The policy of this site prohibits stuff that crosses the line into NC17, and darlin', this story surely crosses that line. But if you are of legal age in your place of residence to read this kind of crap, and are willing to drop me an email to that effect, I will be happy to send you the end of the tale.
jesse