MMOM Day 25-"Admitted We Were Powerless" Hill Street Blues Rated-R Wordcount-700
Title: Admitted We Were Powerless
Fandom: Hill Street Blues
Characters: JD LaRue/Frank Furillo/Joyce Davenport
Rating: R-Strong language
Wordcount: 700
Notes: Dedicated to mad_jaks. Thanks to hllangel for the look-over. I don't think I've done an 80's TV Show in this year's Merry Month, so here goes.
My name is John and I’m an alcoholic.
Welcome, JD.
He came home from the meeting feeling both exhausted and elated. He’d come so closing to losing it all and here he was being given a second chance, hell a fiftieth second chance. Did that make a hundred?
Either way, he could get his shit together and keep his job, because no matter how badly he fucked up, he loved being a cop. Every day he could go out there with Washington and take down the bad-guys was one more day worth living. If he could just stay off the sauce, everything would be okay.
He’d do everything they told him to. The reading. The praying. The meetings. The sponsor. Only he didn’t want just any sponsor. He wanted Captain Furillo. As his sponsor. None of that funny stuff. He knew some guys who went to those meetings to grope the girls, so there were probably some who went the other way, because those alkies were all over you with the hugging.
But when Frank Furillo hugged him, it felt like redemption. If he’d wanted to stay there a for more minutes, if it made him sigh thinking about it just now as he undressed for bed, it was just his respect for the man.
Maybe just a little more than respect. At least he could still raise a stiffie, even after everything, which was more than some bozos. Plenty of boozehounds got so far into the bottle they couldn’t get it up anymore and by that time they didn’t care.
JD cared all right. He stroked Mr. Happy, promising he’d never let anything bad happen to him, and it responded by getting bigger and harder in his hand.
Frank Furillo. Damn!
And that hot public defender girlfriend of his. Cool. At least he wasn’t having homo fantasies. Threesomes were a whole other deal. That was something he could get behind. That Davenport chick was fine. JD would love to see all that long dark hair between his legs, feel that mouth on his cock. It would keep her from mouthing off about some scumbag’s civil rights for a change and she must have some serious talents in that field for Furillo to put up with the other crap.
Fuck, yeah! Joycie was sucking his schlong and Frank was watching the action with a smile on his face and a hand in his pants, but nothing showing, which was fine with JD. He just wanted that hot piece of ass all over him, while he celebrated his new lease on life.
She was on top of him now and she was some hot, tight pussy all right. Furillo really was a lucky of son-of-a-bitch, and he must be a helluva man as well, keeping this she-tiger satisfied. His cock was throbbing, starting to ooze a little as he imagined her riding him, the pleasure he was putting on her face and damn, he couldn’t even see Frank anymore, because this was all about him and Joyce now he was gonna show that bitch what this fucking game was really about.
Almost there, man. So close. He could draw it out, but he still had to show up for work tomorrow, on time. Show everybody that things had changed and he wasn’t the biggest screw-up in the precinct, so he let his stroke get as fast as it could, hips rising off the bed as though he really were screwing Frank’s girlfriend, felt his own body start to melt into the sweetest come he’d had in ages, and just as it hit he felt lips on his neck. Frank was behind him, holding JD in those strong arms that had given him warmth and safety,as he came growling and grunting with relief and need.
Shit. That was….well….that was something all right. Nothing he wanted to think about too closely, but something. Right now he could just roll over, get some Z’s, show-up for Esterhaus’ morning briefing looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Give the guys their first gander at the new and improved JD and still make a meeting by noon.
On the other hand, maybe Frank shouldn’t be his sponsor after all.
Fandom: Hill Street Blues
Characters: JD LaRue/Frank Furillo/Joyce Davenport
Rating: R-Strong language
Wordcount: 700
Notes: Dedicated to mad_jaks. Thanks to hllangel for the look-over. I don't think I've done an 80's TV Show in this year's Merry Month, so here goes.
My name is John and I’m an alcoholic.
Welcome, JD.
He came home from the meeting feeling both exhausted and elated. He’d come so closing to losing it all and here he was being given a second chance, hell a fiftieth second chance. Did that make a hundred?
Either way, he could get his shit together and keep his job, because no matter how badly he fucked up, he loved being a cop. Every day he could go out there with Washington and take down the bad-guys was one more day worth living. If he could just stay off the sauce, everything would be okay.
He’d do everything they told him to. The reading. The praying. The meetings. The sponsor. Only he didn’t want just any sponsor. He wanted Captain Furillo. As his sponsor. None of that funny stuff. He knew some guys who went to those meetings to grope the girls, so there were probably some who went the other way, because those alkies were all over you with the hugging.
But when Frank Furillo hugged him, it felt like redemption. If he’d wanted to stay there a for more minutes, if it made him sigh thinking about it just now as he undressed for bed, it was just his respect for the man.
Maybe just a little more than respect. At least he could still raise a stiffie, even after everything, which was more than some bozos. Plenty of boozehounds got so far into the bottle they couldn’t get it up anymore and by that time they didn’t care.
JD cared all right. He stroked Mr. Happy, promising he’d never let anything bad happen to him, and it responded by getting bigger and harder in his hand.
Frank Furillo. Damn!
And that hot public defender girlfriend of his. Cool. At least he wasn’t having homo fantasies. Threesomes were a whole other deal. That was something he could get behind. That Davenport chick was fine. JD would love to see all that long dark hair between his legs, feel that mouth on his cock. It would keep her from mouthing off about some scumbag’s civil rights for a change and she must have some serious talents in that field for Furillo to put up with the other crap.
Fuck, yeah! Joycie was sucking his schlong and Frank was watching the action with a smile on his face and a hand in his pants, but nothing showing, which was fine with JD. He just wanted that hot piece of ass all over him, while he celebrated his new lease on life.
She was on top of him now and she was some hot, tight pussy all right. Furillo really was a lucky of son-of-a-bitch, and he must be a helluva man as well, keeping this she-tiger satisfied. His cock was throbbing, starting to ooze a little as he imagined her riding him, the pleasure he was putting on her face and damn, he couldn’t even see Frank anymore, because this was all about him and Joyce now he was gonna show that bitch what this fucking game was really about.
Almost there, man. So close. He could draw it out, but he still had to show up for work tomorrow, on time. Show everybody that things had changed and he wasn’t the biggest screw-up in the precinct, so he let his stroke get as fast as it could, hips rising off the bed as though he really were screwing Frank’s girlfriend, felt his own body start to melt into the sweetest come he’d had in ages, and just as it hit he felt lips on his neck. Frank was behind him, holding JD in those strong arms that had given him warmth and safety,as he came growling and grunting with relief and need.
Shit. That was….well….that was something all right. Nothing he wanted to think about too closely, but something. Right now he could just roll over, get some Z’s, show-up for Esterhaus’ morning briefing looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Give the guys their first gander at the new and improved JD and still make a meeting by noon.
On the other hand, maybe Frank shouldn’t be his sponsor after all.