Fic: Punching Bag
Title: Punching Bag
Author: Pass Crow
Pairing: David/Joel
Rating: R
Warnings: Slash, Swearing, Violence
Episode: Post Ep for Execution
Summery: "You know I'm right. Jesus Christ, David, why do you think you drink so much, fight so much, and fuck so much?" He took another swallow of the whiskey. "Because you know, you know that it's all an illusion. We're just giving people the ability to think they're safe, not actually keeping them safe.
Disclaimer: Not Mine, please don't sue. No profit made, just playing with the guys a little for my own gratification.
Author's Note: I know, it's an old show. But there should be more fic. Because it was a great show. And David McNorris is incredibly attractive on his road to self destruction. There is more to this if anyone has any interest.
There was a single minded repetition to the way he worked the heavy bag. He kept his stance low and centered, reaching out to connect just like he would if he were in the ring. The thud of his wrapped fists striking the canvas was crisp and rhythmic, changing up every so often as he tossed in an extra punch or traded a jab for an uppercut. It was a soothing and honest sound. He usually had some kind of music going but tonight the garage was silent except for the sound of his fists against the bag and the controlled hush of his breath. Tonight was less about exercise and technique and more about punishment and exhaustion.
“Figured you'd be at the bar.” David tried to hide the jump of his body with a lumbering follow through, bad form breaking the senseless rhythm he'd built over the last three hours. Joel noted the lurching step and the way the other man's wrist bent into the awkward punch as he closed the small garage door. “Or getting your ass beat at Sharkey's.” The detective stepped farther into the open space. “Drink or punch away that Catholic guilt...isn't that your usual MO?”
“Kinda busy.” David staggered another punch into the heavy bag, scowling when it landed gracelessly and shot a twinge of pain through his forearm. Huffing a breath he swiped his wrapped hands across the thick scrim of sweat that coated his forehead and stepped away from the swinging bag.
“I see that.” Joel half smiled into the way the other man ignored him, the hollow expression aging against his tired eyes as he watched David move to the corner and center himself in front of the smaller speed bag. “I'd think sparring would be more your thing.”
“Excuse me?” David sighed and dropped his hands, easily stripping off the yellow hand wraps and letting them fall to the floor. He settled back against the counter that ran one wall of the garage, fingers shaking slightly as he scooped up a half full glass of whiskey.
“Hitting something that doesn't hit back, where's the fun in that? The bag's not gonna bloody your nose, spring a rib.” Joel gestured at the lightly swinging heavy bag before stepping into it and throwing a punch. He swung half hearted jabs into the sweat stroked canvas and watched the older man.
“Dunno what you're talking about.” David returned the look blandly, his fingers clutched whitely on the glass. “How about you say what you're here to say?” He bolted the whiskey, letting it burn down his throat before continuing. “So you can leave.”
“They hung him from a meat hook.” Joel's eyes were dark, shaded towards flat black as he hooked one arm around the bag and leaned into it. “I can still smell the blood.” He blinked and tipped his head down, forehead resting on the worn punching bag. “I hope that fucker felt every goddamn drip of poison they put in his veins.” There was glimmered hope in the younger man's eyes when he looked back up. “Did he?”
“I don't know.” David forced the words out though numb lips, his breath tightening and wheezing as he searched blindly for the bottle. “I don't know, Joel.”
“What the hell good are you then?” The detective shoved the bag hard, swinging it towards the other man and stepping out of the path of the rebound. There was light in his eyes now, a burning, frustrated gleam of anger as he crossed the oil spotted floor.
“Don't know that either.” David tipped slightly to one side and let the whiskey glass fall to shatter in the sink before dropping his arms and letting the other man come. He had the advantage in height, weight and skill but he didn't press any of them, standing stoic as Joel battered against him.
“You were right fucking there!” The punches were unschooled, flat anger instead of any kind of skill. “Right in the goddamn room! You were the only chance we had to find that kid.”
“I know.” David's head snapped back as Joel's fist glanced off his jawbone and across the bridge of his nose. The bleeding was instant, the pain an echo from hours ago. “I'm sorry.”
“I was kneeling in his blood. A twenty three year old kid.” Joel shoved at the bigger man's body, jogging them both back a full step and pinned David's arms to the racked metal shelving that lined the wall.
“I tried.”
“You didn't try hard enough!” Shifting his stance he drove back harder and David went lax in his hold, accepting the punishment with a blanked and blue stare. “Fifteen more minutes. If you could have gotten us fifteen more minutes he'd be alive. We could have saved him.”
“You couldn't have saved him.” David bit the words off slowly, his jaw clenched and tight. “That kid was dead as soon as they took him. Even if Chronic had gotten a stay the kid would still be dead. If you'd gotten there fifteen minutes sooner he'd have died fifteen minutes earlier.” In one motion he broke Joel's grip and stepped forward full into the other man's chest. “Samuel Norvel was dead the second he walked into that house.” The young officer's name rasped in his throat.
“He bled out in front of me.” Joel glared the taller man down, their faces a matching pale. “There was so much blood you could taste it, like sucking on new pennies.” There wasn't enough space between them for a decent swing but he tried it anyway, slapping out randomly, a breath away from clawing his fingernails into the other man's face. “His blood was all over my hands.”
“It's on mine too.” David licked against the red that was threading down from his split lip. “Doesn't fix a thing. He's still dead.” He forced his face calm, ducking his head to the side and wiping blood against the sweated cotton that stretched his shoulder.
“Don't you do that.” Joel was at him again, all grabbing fingers and slamming palms. “Don't just shrug it off you son of a bitch.” The heel of his hand cracked against the blond's cheekbone and the skin instantly welted, watered tears glossing across bright blue. David laughed, the sound empty and loathing between them as he snapped his hands up and caught both of the other man's wrists. The flex and press of his fingers was enough to press bruises into Joel's skin.
“They're both dead, Joel.” He clenched his hands tighter, handcuffing the smaller man with his fingers and drawing their hands up in front of his face. “You can't change it.” David dropped the words and his hands at the same time, his body slumping. “If beating the shit outta something makes you feel better then you go for it.” He scrubbed his palm into his still bleeding lip. “But I've been out here beating my fists bloody for three hours and I can still taste the air of that place and see the smile on his face.”
“Ya know what kills me?” Joel's hands flared back into fists before he opened them, offering his empty palms to the other man. “That kid went out there to clean up the streets, get the bad guy, all those fucking cliches. He thought he was gonna make a difference.” David flinched slightly when the other man moved, automatically tightening and lifting his jaw as he braced the muscles in his neck for a punch that never came. Joel reached past him and hooked shaking fingers against a whiskey bottle that stood on one of the rusted shelves. “And he got taken out by a guy on death row, a guy some other delusional schmuck of a cop 'cleaned' off the street.” Sarcasm twisted his words and he washed them back with a swig of the amber liquid. “None of it matters. I've spent my entire adult life doing something that isn't worth a shit.”
“Joel--”
“You know I'm right. Jesus Christ, David, why do you think you drink so much, fight so much, and fuck so much?” He took another swallow of the whiskey. “Because you know, you know that it's all an illusion. We're just giving people the ability to think they're safe, not actually keeping them safe. Throw a drug dealer in jail?” He shrugged and tipped the bottle back. “Five more take his place. Catch a murderer? Put him to death? There's ten more who just haven't pulled the trigger yet.”
“True.” David reached for the bottle and Joel gave it up willingly, his fingers sliding off the glass. “But we need the illusion. Because without the illusion there's no hope...and without hope, what're we supposed to do?” The liquor burned and he hissed a breath through his teeth as he swallowed, holding a solid glance on the other man.
“Drink too much, fight too much, and fuck too much.” Joel sighed the words. “It's easier to pretend when you don't have blood on your shoes.” He rubbed both hands up against his temples, fingertips digging harshly back into his hair. David winced at the image and downed more liquor before passing the bottle back. The shorter man's eyes narrowed at the motion, the lines of his jaw stacking and flexing as he clenched his teeth. A nearly inscrutable run of emotions chased across his features, furrowing at his brow and thinning his lips as he studied David's face. The blond's cheeks were pale, his eyes a matched bright from the booze even as his ears burned red from exercise and emotion. There was still a drying rill of blood at his nose that nearly matched the dribble of red on his split lip, a blaze of color against sweated pale. Joel didn't realize he was going to reach out until the ball of his thumb ran against the flared swelling that ran the older man's lower lip.
David accepted the touch the same way he'd accepted the punches, with stoic calm. It was an abrupt and noticeable difference from the usual jittered energy that the attorney gave off, an exhausted lull against his tired frame. Joel sighed into the ease of it, wiping away the blood he had drawn before settling the tips of his fingers along the strong shelf of David's jaw. “We've done the fighting, we're doing the drinking.” His thumb stung into split skin and he offered an imitation smile that failed to lighten against his eyes. “Fucking comes next.”
“Does it?” There was honest inquiry in the hushed voice. Instead of answering Joel stepped closer, setting the whiskey back into the counter so that he could replace his thumb with his lips. “I'm bleeding.” David tried to turn his head but the fingers at his jaw firmed into the motion and held him still.
“I don't care.” He had to rise up slightly to adjust to the stubborn tilt of the larger man's jaw, fingers braced and urging as his tongue lashed on cool skin. He bit into the tainted taste of spent copper, digging his teeth against the split he'd already left. David shivered into the flash of pain and pulled a huge breath through his nose. There was a noticeable pause, a purposeful moment before he returned the kiss, hands coming up to catch at the back of the other man's head. As soon as he responded Joel let him lead, content just to lean against his broad chest as thick fingers threaded through his hair.
David thoroughly explored the other man's mouth, tongue running the smooth surfaces of his teeth before sliding back to lick at liquor flavored lips. There was nothing hesitant about his actions after the initial stall, his movements practiced and forceful, a smooth rush to lust as he backed Joel into the wall. His palms rounded fabric covered shoulders to press against his chest and in one seamless movement he had the other man pinned to the same shelves that had drawn pained lines into his back moments before. Now he did use the advantage of his size, easily holding the detective motionless with one hand as he rushed the other in a straight and harsh line down his body. His fingers dug and caught into the soft fabric of the Henley the other man was wearing before his nails scratched into wash worn jeans. The heel of his palm pressed near pain into Joel's growing erection before skimming his hip and kneading at his ass. “Jesus Christ.” The younger man's voice cracked rough and coarse.
David repeated the motion, dipping his free hand around to rest at the back of Joel's head as he shoved him harder into the shelving with his hips. There was a steady but gleamed look in his eyes, the blue shined brighter than usual as he gnawed at the split in his lower lip, teeth easily drawing blood. “Stop it.” Joel thumbed against his chin and drew the swollen and bleeding flesh from between even teeth. “There's been enough blood tonight.”
With a grunt of disagreement David shifted, his body pulling back and dropping down in a single movement, knees thudding into the cement floor a second before his forehead pressed pressure and warmth against Joel's lower stomach. Eyes on the floor he stroked against the band that encircled the younger man's left ring finger while the fingers of his own left hand twisted aimlessly at the Claddagh ring he still wore.
“I want you to fuck me.” He breathed the words into denim and turned his jaw in half circles that almost perfectly mimicked the runs he was ghosting along clenched knuckles. He felt the other man's breath shudder, catch, and release. “But you need to be sure, because I won't ask again.”
“I'm sure.” Joel's opposite hand pulled red scratches over the collar of the plain white tee that David was wearing and settled firmly against close cropped hair.
“I'm not your wife.” He purposely ticked the metal of his own worthless ring against the brass zipper of Joel's jeans before working it halfway down. “When I say I want you to fuck me, that's exactly what I mean. I want hard and fast and--”
“Painful. I know.” Joel's fingers curled against his hair, yanking whitened blond as he forced the other man's head closer to his erection. His palm pressed in half support, half command. “I understand.”
“Do you?” It was in matched tone to his earlier question but there was a knowing shine of doubt in his eyes when he looked up. The pale of his skin and the blue of his eyes offset the tired and taut lines that drew against his jaw and the reddened welts that were starting to swell at his cheekbone and chin. “Because I don't.” Joel accepted the doubt without argument and flattened his palm, feeling the curve and turn of the other man's skull. The attorney blinked into the silence, tamping his jaw hard. “I need it to hurt.”
“Okay.”
“Just like that?” David tagged both hands into the other man's thighs and leaned back against the palm that stilled his head. His right eye was swelling shut, the welted skin dusking out to a bruised purple that traced the dip of his cheekbone. “I tell you I want you to hurt me and you just agree?”
“I'm not your wife.” Joel served his words back to him in an even tone and settled the tip of his finger against the bruise, barely skimming the darkening skin. “Or your priest. If you get off on pain, you get off on pain.” He trailed his touch up so that he could cage his fingers around the other man's ear. “But I've seen enough blood tonight. I won't make you bleed anymore.”
“Okay.” The beginnings of a true smile curved at David's lips, another echoed answer slipping between them. Shifting on his knees he used one hand to strip denim and cotton from warm skin., palming the mostly hard erection with the other. Joel's head tipped back, jaw going tight and clenched but he stayed mired in blue, holding David's eyes. Unconsciously he matched the slow strokes the other man was giving him with the press and rub of his fingers into short blond.
“What'd it feel like?” Joel's voice was mostly breath but David picked the words off his lips and sighed into them. “When they pushed the button? Was it--”
“Murder.” The older man's words were stolid, the form and substance of them darkening against his expression. “It felt like murder.”
“Yeah.” The muscles in Joel's throat worked hard and he rolled his eyes closed.
“It was murder.” David found a kind of comfort in the way Joel led him forward, fingers firm against the sides of his head as the other palm pressed warmth at the base of his skull. “Murder passed off as justice.” He licked his lips and lifted his jaw enough to press a kiss at the taut and tensed run of muscle that dipped Joel's hip. “Just another illusion.” His fingers spread against the other man's stomach, centering a bracing touch as he took the other man into his mouth. The stretch of his jaw made the bridge of his nose throb, an ache that centered in the middle of his face and spiraled out. He felt the sigh that rushed Joel's chest, the shivered sound of it tightening against his own breathing and the swelling of his nose tapered against the way he hauled air.
David left one hand at Joel's stomach while the other settled at the base of his erection, fingers working half strokes as he pulled back and huffed a breath across saliva slicked skin. “This? This is not an illusion.” He ducked closer and ran his tongue along the underside of the other man's length, purposely keeping the contact light. Even as he teased with his mouth he worked a strong grip with his hand. “I've told you what I want, now tell me what you want.”
“Your mouth.” Joel's fingers tightened against the side of his head, blunt nails digging into thin skin as he tried to control the lawyer's motions. “Use your mouth.”
“And do what?” He dropped the words purposely close, breathing them out before sucking against Joel's erection, his cheeks hollowing with the effort. He set his teeth lightly into the pulse and shift making the younger man's hips thrust forwards. “That?” On the next stroke he swallowed, humming against his own gag reflex and taking the other man fully into his mouth. He tightened the circle of his fingers and breathed heavily through his nose when Joel's palms covered his ears. Spots sparked in his vision, silver and red spangles that burned even brighter against his eyelids and the tease of suffocation flushed heat down to his stomach as he waited for the pressure of the younger man's hands to let up. When they did he leaned back, shunting his shoulders up in a stretch so that he could meet the other man's eyes. “Or that?”
“Yes.” Joel readjusted his grip, flexing his fingers and rubbing his thumbs along the outside of David's jaw. He rubbed into the lines that radiated out from bright blue eyes, skimming against drying sweat.
“Yes to which?” David enjoyed the way the other man's eyes were half closed and the way his jaw clenched with every stroke thick fingers made against his erection. He could feel the way Joel's hips were starting to shiver and wondered if it was the tease, the tension, or novelty that had him on the edge so quickly. “Detective Stevens?” There was a bit of a drunken lull to his voice. Blinking slowly, purposefully, he held the other man's eyes and licked at his lips, letting his tongue scrape and linger at the cut that marred the nearly flawless line of his bottom lip.
“You really are a bastard.” Joel bent his fingers, scratching into David's scalp as he drew him closer, hips thrusting out of rhythm even as he tried to diffuse the heated roll that was flushing down his chest and coiling in his stomach.
“I never said I wasn't.” David kissed the words into heated flesh before letting the younger man draw his head down awkwardly. His breath stuttered and stalled at the forced way Joel thrust against the back of his throat. There was a solid minute where breathing was impossible, when hands were crushing against the sides of his head and all he could do was run roughened and stunted pulls at the base of the other man's solid erection. His nose was throbbing and bent, crushed hard into the jut of one pelvic bone, swelling and sheer force cutting off his breath as Joel pulled him tighter.
The other man's palms were locked behind his head, holding him painfully still and preventing him from drawing back enough to pull even a slip of breath. Just as his chest started to ache and panic started to flood his tensed muscles with adrenaline warmth washed between them and Joel's body tensed hard. David swallowed reflexively and reached back with one hand, fingers digging at the hold Joel still had on his head. Almost instantly the crushing grip eased, shaking hands running down to rub and knead at the flared muscles that tapered along the line of his shoulders.
“Sorry.” David breathed into the gritted apology, angling his jaw back enough to haul air through his nose as he continued sucking lightly at the other man's tip, curled palm easing shortened strokes into his softening length. “That was,” Their breathing was nearly matched, skipped and shuddered. “It's been...a long time.” A flash of frustrated almost shame turned the words. “I'm sorry.” The sound was familiar, a known tone and timber that the blonde soothed against, hands gentle as he licked a line against the younger man's thigh and pressed his forehead to the flare of one hip.
“It's fine.” His own voice was harsh and thick, throat raw and dry. “Let's not do apologies.” He sighed into the way Joel worked at his shoulder, feeling the ache from the heavy bag fade as strong fingers prodded and rubbed the line of muscle that stretched down to his chest.
“Even if I owe you one?” The smaller man tweaked at his ear, drawing blue eyes up.
“Even if. Apologies are like pity, after awhile they don't mean a goddamn thing.” David braced both hands at the other man's hips and shifted off his knees. He rose slowly, intentionally rubbing himself into Joel's body and holding eye contact. “Promises, pity and apologies. All crap. Worthless.” He skimmed fingers into dark hair and his teeth into the warm skin of the other man's jaw. “Unproven, untrustworthy, society bullshit.” Deepening the bite he sucked the taste of salt and aftershave, lashing his tongue into the mark. “Touch, taste, pain, lust. That's where truth is. In sensation, action.” Joel lurched forward when David stepped back, the larger man stripping off his sweated tee shirt with quick hands, wadding the fabric and tossing it to one side. “I like a look of agony, because I know it's true--” His voice rose as he quoted and Joel recognized the courtroom tone, the measured inflection of his words and the confident set of his jaw. “Men do not sham convulsion, nor simulate, a Throe--” He stepped back another step, fingers tagging into the wash soft blue Henley that stretched Joel's torso before sliding up underneath the warm fabric. “Come inside with me.” Turning his wrists he curled the fabric into his fists, knuckles running warmed lines along Joel's ribs. The blue of his eyes was liquid, wet and bright against the bruise that rushed one cheek and the bulge and sideways cant of his nose. “Don't run away.”
“I'm not.” But he was thinking about it. His body was lulled and tired, everything burned away in the rush of orgasm that still ached at his hips. His anger was long gone, ashes that lingered in the back of his throat along with guilt and remorse. He knew his wife was asleep, isolated from his misery by her own, insulated by pills and distance. He knew that if she dreamed of blood it would be her own, dripping against the floor in a bathroom he could barely bring himself to use. Knew that she wouldn't even know he hadn't come home. “I'm right here.”
“Liar.” David breathed the accusation into silence, watching the way the other man's hazel eyes seemed to darken. He pulled his arms tighter, leading Joel a step forward. “What to do, what to do?” The snide tone of his voice reminded him of his father. “You came here, Joel. I didn't come to you.”
“I know. I'm sor-”
“Shut up.” David jerked hard enough to tear the thin fabric at the neckline. “I won't make the decision for you.” As suddenly as he had grabbed, he let go, his hands falling down to his sides. “And I'll pass on a pity fuck as recompense for a blow job.”
“David.”
“Figure it out, Joel. I've already been fucked once tonight.” David swung a punch into the heavy bag as he stepped away, the sound of his fist against the canvas flat and painful. “The eyes glaze once-and that is death-Impossible to feign.” He stopped the swinging of the bag with his chest, holding it for the space of a dozen breaths before turning back, face lined and tired. “But he died smiling. He saw it in my face. He died knowing he'd beaten me. You wanted to know if he felt it? Yeah, I think he did...and I think he liked it.” His movements were lagged as he leaned off the bag and towards the door. “Make a choice. I'll leave it unlocked.”
Author: Pass Crow
Pairing: David/Joel
Rating: R
Warnings: Slash, Swearing, Violence
Episode: Post Ep for Execution
Summery: "You know I'm right. Jesus Christ, David, why do you think you drink so much, fight so much, and fuck so much?" He took another swallow of the whiskey. "Because you know, you know that it's all an illusion. We're just giving people the ability to think they're safe, not actually keeping them safe.
Disclaimer: Not Mine, please don't sue. No profit made, just playing with the guys a little for my own gratification.
Author's Note: I know, it's an old show. But there should be more fic. Because it was a great show. And David McNorris is incredibly attractive on his road to self destruction. There is more to this if anyone has any interest.
There was a single minded repetition to the way he worked the heavy bag. He kept his stance low and centered, reaching out to connect just like he would if he were in the ring. The thud of his wrapped fists striking the canvas was crisp and rhythmic, changing up every so often as he tossed in an extra punch or traded a jab for an uppercut. It was a soothing and honest sound. He usually had some kind of music going but tonight the garage was silent except for the sound of his fists against the bag and the controlled hush of his breath. Tonight was less about exercise and technique and more about punishment and exhaustion.
“Figured you'd be at the bar.” David tried to hide the jump of his body with a lumbering follow through, bad form breaking the senseless rhythm he'd built over the last three hours. Joel noted the lurching step and the way the other man's wrist bent into the awkward punch as he closed the small garage door. “Or getting your ass beat at Sharkey's.” The detective stepped farther into the open space. “Drink or punch away that Catholic guilt...isn't that your usual MO?”
“Kinda busy.” David staggered another punch into the heavy bag, scowling when it landed gracelessly and shot a twinge of pain through his forearm. Huffing a breath he swiped his wrapped hands across the thick scrim of sweat that coated his forehead and stepped away from the swinging bag.
“I see that.” Joel half smiled into the way the other man ignored him, the hollow expression aging against his tired eyes as he watched David move to the corner and center himself in front of the smaller speed bag. “I'd think sparring would be more your thing.”
“Excuse me?” David sighed and dropped his hands, easily stripping off the yellow hand wraps and letting them fall to the floor. He settled back against the counter that ran one wall of the garage, fingers shaking slightly as he scooped up a half full glass of whiskey.
“Hitting something that doesn't hit back, where's the fun in that? The bag's not gonna bloody your nose, spring a rib.” Joel gestured at the lightly swinging heavy bag before stepping into it and throwing a punch. He swung half hearted jabs into the sweat stroked canvas and watched the older man.
“Dunno what you're talking about.” David returned the look blandly, his fingers clutched whitely on the glass. “How about you say what you're here to say?” He bolted the whiskey, letting it burn down his throat before continuing. “So you can leave.”
“They hung him from a meat hook.” Joel's eyes were dark, shaded towards flat black as he hooked one arm around the bag and leaned into it. “I can still smell the blood.” He blinked and tipped his head down, forehead resting on the worn punching bag. “I hope that fucker felt every goddamn drip of poison they put in his veins.” There was glimmered hope in the younger man's eyes when he looked back up. “Did he?”
“I don't know.” David forced the words out though numb lips, his breath tightening and wheezing as he searched blindly for the bottle. “I don't know, Joel.”
“What the hell good are you then?” The detective shoved the bag hard, swinging it towards the other man and stepping out of the path of the rebound. There was light in his eyes now, a burning, frustrated gleam of anger as he crossed the oil spotted floor.
“Don't know that either.” David tipped slightly to one side and let the whiskey glass fall to shatter in the sink before dropping his arms and letting the other man come. He had the advantage in height, weight and skill but he didn't press any of them, standing stoic as Joel battered against him.
“You were right fucking there!” The punches were unschooled, flat anger instead of any kind of skill. “Right in the goddamn room! You were the only chance we had to find that kid.”
“I know.” David's head snapped back as Joel's fist glanced off his jawbone and across the bridge of his nose. The bleeding was instant, the pain an echo from hours ago. “I'm sorry.”
“I was kneeling in his blood. A twenty three year old kid.” Joel shoved at the bigger man's body, jogging them both back a full step and pinned David's arms to the racked metal shelving that lined the wall.
“I tried.”
“You didn't try hard enough!” Shifting his stance he drove back harder and David went lax in his hold, accepting the punishment with a blanked and blue stare. “Fifteen more minutes. If you could have gotten us fifteen more minutes he'd be alive. We could have saved him.”
“You couldn't have saved him.” David bit the words off slowly, his jaw clenched and tight. “That kid was dead as soon as they took him. Even if Chronic had gotten a stay the kid would still be dead. If you'd gotten there fifteen minutes sooner he'd have died fifteen minutes earlier.” In one motion he broke Joel's grip and stepped forward full into the other man's chest. “Samuel Norvel was dead the second he walked into that house.” The young officer's name rasped in his throat.
“He bled out in front of me.” Joel glared the taller man down, their faces a matching pale. “There was so much blood you could taste it, like sucking on new pennies.” There wasn't enough space between them for a decent swing but he tried it anyway, slapping out randomly, a breath away from clawing his fingernails into the other man's face. “His blood was all over my hands.”
“It's on mine too.” David licked against the red that was threading down from his split lip. “Doesn't fix a thing. He's still dead.” He forced his face calm, ducking his head to the side and wiping blood against the sweated cotton that stretched his shoulder.
“Don't you do that.” Joel was at him again, all grabbing fingers and slamming palms. “Don't just shrug it off you son of a bitch.” The heel of his hand cracked against the blond's cheekbone and the skin instantly welted, watered tears glossing across bright blue. David laughed, the sound empty and loathing between them as he snapped his hands up and caught both of the other man's wrists. The flex and press of his fingers was enough to press bruises into Joel's skin.
“They're both dead, Joel.” He clenched his hands tighter, handcuffing the smaller man with his fingers and drawing their hands up in front of his face. “You can't change it.” David dropped the words and his hands at the same time, his body slumping. “If beating the shit outta something makes you feel better then you go for it.” He scrubbed his palm into his still bleeding lip. “But I've been out here beating my fists bloody for three hours and I can still taste the air of that place and see the smile on his face.”
“Ya know what kills me?” Joel's hands flared back into fists before he opened them, offering his empty palms to the other man. “That kid went out there to clean up the streets, get the bad guy, all those fucking cliches. He thought he was gonna make a difference.” David flinched slightly when the other man moved, automatically tightening and lifting his jaw as he braced the muscles in his neck for a punch that never came. Joel reached past him and hooked shaking fingers against a whiskey bottle that stood on one of the rusted shelves. “And he got taken out by a guy on death row, a guy some other delusional schmuck of a cop 'cleaned' off the street.” Sarcasm twisted his words and he washed them back with a swig of the amber liquid. “None of it matters. I've spent my entire adult life doing something that isn't worth a shit.”
“Joel--”
“You know I'm right. Jesus Christ, David, why do you think you drink so much, fight so much, and fuck so much?” He took another swallow of the whiskey. “Because you know, you know that it's all an illusion. We're just giving people the ability to think they're safe, not actually keeping them safe. Throw a drug dealer in jail?” He shrugged and tipped the bottle back. “Five more take his place. Catch a murderer? Put him to death? There's ten more who just haven't pulled the trigger yet.”
“True.” David reached for the bottle and Joel gave it up willingly, his fingers sliding off the glass. “But we need the illusion. Because without the illusion there's no hope...and without hope, what're we supposed to do?” The liquor burned and he hissed a breath through his teeth as he swallowed, holding a solid glance on the other man.
“Drink too much, fight too much, and fuck too much.” Joel sighed the words. “It's easier to pretend when you don't have blood on your shoes.” He rubbed both hands up against his temples, fingertips digging harshly back into his hair. David winced at the image and downed more liquor before passing the bottle back. The shorter man's eyes narrowed at the motion, the lines of his jaw stacking and flexing as he clenched his teeth. A nearly inscrutable run of emotions chased across his features, furrowing at his brow and thinning his lips as he studied David's face. The blond's cheeks were pale, his eyes a matched bright from the booze even as his ears burned red from exercise and emotion. There was still a drying rill of blood at his nose that nearly matched the dribble of red on his split lip, a blaze of color against sweated pale. Joel didn't realize he was going to reach out until the ball of his thumb ran against the flared swelling that ran the older man's lower lip.
David accepted the touch the same way he'd accepted the punches, with stoic calm. It was an abrupt and noticeable difference from the usual jittered energy that the attorney gave off, an exhausted lull against his tired frame. Joel sighed into the ease of it, wiping away the blood he had drawn before settling the tips of his fingers along the strong shelf of David's jaw. “We've done the fighting, we're doing the drinking.” His thumb stung into split skin and he offered an imitation smile that failed to lighten against his eyes. “Fucking comes next.”
“Does it?” There was honest inquiry in the hushed voice. Instead of answering Joel stepped closer, setting the whiskey back into the counter so that he could replace his thumb with his lips. “I'm bleeding.” David tried to turn his head but the fingers at his jaw firmed into the motion and held him still.
“I don't care.” He had to rise up slightly to adjust to the stubborn tilt of the larger man's jaw, fingers braced and urging as his tongue lashed on cool skin. He bit into the tainted taste of spent copper, digging his teeth against the split he'd already left. David shivered into the flash of pain and pulled a huge breath through his nose. There was a noticeable pause, a purposeful moment before he returned the kiss, hands coming up to catch at the back of the other man's head. As soon as he responded Joel let him lead, content just to lean against his broad chest as thick fingers threaded through his hair.
David thoroughly explored the other man's mouth, tongue running the smooth surfaces of his teeth before sliding back to lick at liquor flavored lips. There was nothing hesitant about his actions after the initial stall, his movements practiced and forceful, a smooth rush to lust as he backed Joel into the wall. His palms rounded fabric covered shoulders to press against his chest and in one seamless movement he had the other man pinned to the same shelves that had drawn pained lines into his back moments before. Now he did use the advantage of his size, easily holding the detective motionless with one hand as he rushed the other in a straight and harsh line down his body. His fingers dug and caught into the soft fabric of the Henley the other man was wearing before his nails scratched into wash worn jeans. The heel of his palm pressed near pain into Joel's growing erection before skimming his hip and kneading at his ass. “Jesus Christ.” The younger man's voice cracked rough and coarse.
David repeated the motion, dipping his free hand around to rest at the back of Joel's head as he shoved him harder into the shelving with his hips. There was a steady but gleamed look in his eyes, the blue shined brighter than usual as he gnawed at the split in his lower lip, teeth easily drawing blood. “Stop it.” Joel thumbed against his chin and drew the swollen and bleeding flesh from between even teeth. “There's been enough blood tonight.”
With a grunt of disagreement David shifted, his body pulling back and dropping down in a single movement, knees thudding into the cement floor a second before his forehead pressed pressure and warmth against Joel's lower stomach. Eyes on the floor he stroked against the band that encircled the younger man's left ring finger while the fingers of his own left hand twisted aimlessly at the Claddagh ring he still wore.
“I want you to fuck me.” He breathed the words into denim and turned his jaw in half circles that almost perfectly mimicked the runs he was ghosting along clenched knuckles. He felt the other man's breath shudder, catch, and release. “But you need to be sure, because I won't ask again.”
“I'm sure.” Joel's opposite hand pulled red scratches over the collar of the plain white tee that David was wearing and settled firmly against close cropped hair.
“I'm not your wife.” He purposely ticked the metal of his own worthless ring against the brass zipper of Joel's jeans before working it halfway down. “When I say I want you to fuck me, that's exactly what I mean. I want hard and fast and--”
“Painful. I know.” Joel's fingers curled against his hair, yanking whitened blond as he forced the other man's head closer to his erection. His palm pressed in half support, half command. “I understand.”
“Do you?” It was in matched tone to his earlier question but there was a knowing shine of doubt in his eyes when he looked up. The pale of his skin and the blue of his eyes offset the tired and taut lines that drew against his jaw and the reddened welts that were starting to swell at his cheekbone and chin. “Because I don't.” Joel accepted the doubt without argument and flattened his palm, feeling the curve and turn of the other man's skull. The attorney blinked into the silence, tamping his jaw hard. “I need it to hurt.”
“Okay.”
“Just like that?” David tagged both hands into the other man's thighs and leaned back against the palm that stilled his head. His right eye was swelling shut, the welted skin dusking out to a bruised purple that traced the dip of his cheekbone. “I tell you I want you to hurt me and you just agree?”
“I'm not your wife.” Joel served his words back to him in an even tone and settled the tip of his finger against the bruise, barely skimming the darkening skin. “Or your priest. If you get off on pain, you get off on pain.” He trailed his touch up so that he could cage his fingers around the other man's ear. “But I've seen enough blood tonight. I won't make you bleed anymore.”
“Okay.” The beginnings of a true smile curved at David's lips, another echoed answer slipping between them. Shifting on his knees he used one hand to strip denim and cotton from warm skin., palming the mostly hard erection with the other. Joel's head tipped back, jaw going tight and clenched but he stayed mired in blue, holding David's eyes. Unconsciously he matched the slow strokes the other man was giving him with the press and rub of his fingers into short blond.
“What'd it feel like?” Joel's voice was mostly breath but David picked the words off his lips and sighed into them. “When they pushed the button? Was it--”
“Murder.” The older man's words were stolid, the form and substance of them darkening against his expression. “It felt like murder.”
“Yeah.” The muscles in Joel's throat worked hard and he rolled his eyes closed.
“It was murder.” David found a kind of comfort in the way Joel led him forward, fingers firm against the sides of his head as the other palm pressed warmth at the base of his skull. “Murder passed off as justice.” He licked his lips and lifted his jaw enough to press a kiss at the taut and tensed run of muscle that dipped Joel's hip. “Just another illusion.” His fingers spread against the other man's stomach, centering a bracing touch as he took the other man into his mouth. The stretch of his jaw made the bridge of his nose throb, an ache that centered in the middle of his face and spiraled out. He felt the sigh that rushed Joel's chest, the shivered sound of it tightening against his own breathing and the swelling of his nose tapered against the way he hauled air.
David left one hand at Joel's stomach while the other settled at the base of his erection, fingers working half strokes as he pulled back and huffed a breath across saliva slicked skin. “This? This is not an illusion.” He ducked closer and ran his tongue along the underside of the other man's length, purposely keeping the contact light. Even as he teased with his mouth he worked a strong grip with his hand. “I've told you what I want, now tell me what you want.”
“Your mouth.” Joel's fingers tightened against the side of his head, blunt nails digging into thin skin as he tried to control the lawyer's motions. “Use your mouth.”
“And do what?” He dropped the words purposely close, breathing them out before sucking against Joel's erection, his cheeks hollowing with the effort. He set his teeth lightly into the pulse and shift making the younger man's hips thrust forwards. “That?” On the next stroke he swallowed, humming against his own gag reflex and taking the other man fully into his mouth. He tightened the circle of his fingers and breathed heavily through his nose when Joel's palms covered his ears. Spots sparked in his vision, silver and red spangles that burned even brighter against his eyelids and the tease of suffocation flushed heat down to his stomach as he waited for the pressure of the younger man's hands to let up. When they did he leaned back, shunting his shoulders up in a stretch so that he could meet the other man's eyes. “Or that?”
“Yes.” Joel readjusted his grip, flexing his fingers and rubbing his thumbs along the outside of David's jaw. He rubbed into the lines that radiated out from bright blue eyes, skimming against drying sweat.
“Yes to which?” David enjoyed the way the other man's eyes were half closed and the way his jaw clenched with every stroke thick fingers made against his erection. He could feel the way Joel's hips were starting to shiver and wondered if it was the tease, the tension, or novelty that had him on the edge so quickly. “Detective Stevens?” There was a bit of a drunken lull to his voice. Blinking slowly, purposefully, he held the other man's eyes and licked at his lips, letting his tongue scrape and linger at the cut that marred the nearly flawless line of his bottom lip.
“You really are a bastard.” Joel bent his fingers, scratching into David's scalp as he drew him closer, hips thrusting out of rhythm even as he tried to diffuse the heated roll that was flushing down his chest and coiling in his stomach.
“I never said I wasn't.” David kissed the words into heated flesh before letting the younger man draw his head down awkwardly. His breath stuttered and stalled at the forced way Joel thrust against the back of his throat. There was a solid minute where breathing was impossible, when hands were crushing against the sides of his head and all he could do was run roughened and stunted pulls at the base of the other man's solid erection. His nose was throbbing and bent, crushed hard into the jut of one pelvic bone, swelling and sheer force cutting off his breath as Joel pulled him tighter.
The other man's palms were locked behind his head, holding him painfully still and preventing him from drawing back enough to pull even a slip of breath. Just as his chest started to ache and panic started to flood his tensed muscles with adrenaline warmth washed between them and Joel's body tensed hard. David swallowed reflexively and reached back with one hand, fingers digging at the hold Joel still had on his head. Almost instantly the crushing grip eased, shaking hands running down to rub and knead at the flared muscles that tapered along the line of his shoulders.
“Sorry.” David breathed into the gritted apology, angling his jaw back enough to haul air through his nose as he continued sucking lightly at the other man's tip, curled palm easing shortened strokes into his softening length. “That was,” Their breathing was nearly matched, skipped and shuddered. “It's been...a long time.” A flash of frustrated almost shame turned the words. “I'm sorry.” The sound was familiar, a known tone and timber that the blonde soothed against, hands gentle as he licked a line against the younger man's thigh and pressed his forehead to the flare of one hip.
“It's fine.” His own voice was harsh and thick, throat raw and dry. “Let's not do apologies.” He sighed into the way Joel worked at his shoulder, feeling the ache from the heavy bag fade as strong fingers prodded and rubbed the line of muscle that stretched down to his chest.
“Even if I owe you one?” The smaller man tweaked at his ear, drawing blue eyes up.
“Even if. Apologies are like pity, after awhile they don't mean a goddamn thing.” David braced both hands at the other man's hips and shifted off his knees. He rose slowly, intentionally rubbing himself into Joel's body and holding eye contact. “Promises, pity and apologies. All crap. Worthless.” He skimmed fingers into dark hair and his teeth into the warm skin of the other man's jaw. “Unproven, untrustworthy, society bullshit.” Deepening the bite he sucked the taste of salt and aftershave, lashing his tongue into the mark. “Touch, taste, pain, lust. That's where truth is. In sensation, action.” Joel lurched forward when David stepped back, the larger man stripping off his sweated tee shirt with quick hands, wadding the fabric and tossing it to one side. “I like a look of agony, because I know it's true--” His voice rose as he quoted and Joel recognized the courtroom tone, the measured inflection of his words and the confident set of his jaw. “Men do not sham convulsion, nor simulate, a Throe--” He stepped back another step, fingers tagging into the wash soft blue Henley that stretched Joel's torso before sliding up underneath the warm fabric. “Come inside with me.” Turning his wrists he curled the fabric into his fists, knuckles running warmed lines along Joel's ribs. The blue of his eyes was liquid, wet and bright against the bruise that rushed one cheek and the bulge and sideways cant of his nose. “Don't run away.”
“I'm not.” But he was thinking about it. His body was lulled and tired, everything burned away in the rush of orgasm that still ached at his hips. His anger was long gone, ashes that lingered in the back of his throat along with guilt and remorse. He knew his wife was asleep, isolated from his misery by her own, insulated by pills and distance. He knew that if she dreamed of blood it would be her own, dripping against the floor in a bathroom he could barely bring himself to use. Knew that she wouldn't even know he hadn't come home. “I'm right here.”
“Liar.” David breathed the accusation into silence, watching the way the other man's hazel eyes seemed to darken. He pulled his arms tighter, leading Joel a step forward. “What to do, what to do?” The snide tone of his voice reminded him of his father. “You came here, Joel. I didn't come to you.”
“I know. I'm sor-”
“Shut up.” David jerked hard enough to tear the thin fabric at the neckline. “I won't make the decision for you.” As suddenly as he had grabbed, he let go, his hands falling down to his sides. “And I'll pass on a pity fuck as recompense for a blow job.”
“David.”
“Figure it out, Joel. I've already been fucked once tonight.” David swung a punch into the heavy bag as he stepped away, the sound of his fist against the canvas flat and painful. “The eyes glaze once-and that is death-Impossible to feign.” He stopped the swinging of the bag with his chest, holding it for the space of a dozen breaths before turning back, face lined and tired. “But he died smiling. He saw it in my face. He died knowing he'd beaten me. You wanted to know if he felt it? Yeah, I think he did...and I think he liked it.” His movements were lagged as he leaned off the bag and towards the door. “Make a choice. I'll leave it unlocked.”