Maybe The Rain Was Really To Blame

[pinkdoom]

Hello all!! Consider this an early Valentine's Day present :) It was supposed to be part of a bigger cliche-fic set, but I've been so busy lately that fic-writing has had to be put aside for a while, unfortunately. So hopefully you all enjoy...it's complete and utter smut, and absolutely plot-less. :)

Title: Maybe The Rain Was Really To Blame
Author: pinkdoom
TV/Book-Verse: TV
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,672
Warnings: Complete cliche-fic with some kink and lots of porn thrown in
Summary: See Harry and Bob getting groceries. See Harry and Bob get horny while in grocery store. See Harry and Bob leave grocery store in lust-enduced haze, get caught in the rain, and then attempt to get dry. ;)
Beta'd by: moonchildetoo--quadruple thanks to her for all her lovely comments and advice!!



We'd gone out with the intention of getting groceries. The kitchen was sorely under-stocked and Bob had been subtlety complaining that he was tired of the same thing for dinner every night. So out we went.

There was a little grocery store just a block from the apartment and I told Bob we'd probably find more food to suit his taste there than at one of the bigger chain stores. His response to that had been a disdainful sniff and a raised eyebrow, as if he were questioning the meaning behind my words just as we walked in the door of the small shop.

I laughed, putting some bananas in our cart. "Please, Bob. Don't tell me your taste in food isn't snooty. I had to practically cajole you into eating those brownies last week."

He turned from the display of apples he'd been poking through and crossed his arms. "Well, I'm sorry if my palate doesn't include powdered chocolate mix that has sat in a box for six months."

I had to bite my lip to keep from chuckling at him again. This was just too funny. I steered the cart to the left and picked up a tomato and an onion. Stir-fry didn't sound half bad, and my rumbling stomach heartily agreed. Now if only I could get Bob to agree. I glanced over at him as he bagged four apples and sealed it shut with a twist-tie. Behind him were two young women looking at the bagged salad, and I caught one of them elbowing the other and gesturing to Bob with her head.

Suppressing a grin, I sidled up to Bob and said, "Don't look now, but those two very pretty young ladies behind you are staring." I let my voice become a little sing-songy at the end, sure to annoy Bob.

His eyebrows furrowed and he gave me a sharp look. "Why in the world would they be doing that?"

Okay, I had to grin at that. "Uh, Bob, in case you haven't checked a mirror in a while, you're hot. Those women know a good looking guy when they see one." Bob didn't respond verbally, but the confused and somewhat pleased look on his face told me he didn't understand why they thought he was hot, but he knew I was absolutely certain he was the most gorgeous thing on the face of the planet.

The two women moved from the bagged salad and over to the oranges, both casting fleeting glances at Bob, and more curious ones at me. Unable to help myself, I put my hand on Bob's arm, gave it a soft squeeze, and winked at the two girls. They looked mortified for a moment, knowing they'd been caught, and then they started grinning.

Chuckling to myself, I gently nudged Bob in the direction of the next aisle, pushing the cart as we went. My ears caught a quiet, "Oh my god, they're so gorgeous together" as we walked away. Bob waited until we had rounded the corner and stopped to get a loaf of bread before turning to me.

"Is it just me, or do young women today have a fascination with those whom they suppose are gay men?"

I shrugged. "We're something different, something interesting. We love as deeply as women do, but we're guys." I put the bread in the cart and snagged a can of coffee from the other side of the aisle. "They're probably thinking about us right now, wondering if we're going to get caught in the rain."

Bob blinked. "What rain?"

I gestured toward the front of the store with my head, and he turned and saw the swiftly darkening sky. "The rain that's currently barreling down on Chicago as we speak."

He still looked confused. "All right, there's rain coming. Why in the world would they think about us getting caught in the rain?"

I snorted. "Apparently, you've never seen the one where the two lovers get rained on and have to go home, soaking wet, and change clothes." That shut him up for a few moments while he contemplated what I'd just said, and I watched as a flush crept up his neck. Keep thinking on that one, Bob.

I went into the next aisle and called out for him to follow, and when he caught up with me, I saw several things I recognized right off the bat. More rigid body posture, eyes a darker green than normal, his gaze fixated on my mouth. Hello, horny Bob.

We rushed through the rest of the store, dumping items into the cart. More than once, when he thought no one but the security camera was looking, Bob's hand cupped my ass and squeezed. The last time, I jumped, dropping the box of cereal I had in my hand on the floor and growled at him. Of course, he just laughed and walked ahead of me, leaving me flustered and fumbling and visually fondling his ass.

Fuck.

We didn't have to wait in line long at the cash registers, and the cashier must have realized we were in a hurry because while she was normally chatty, this time she was polite but quick. We grabbed our bags and dashed out of the store only to be met with a torrential downpour.

Bob and I reached the Jeep, already soaked, water dripping in our eyes, and tossed the groceries into the back. I went to open his door for him before rounding the vehicle and jumping in, but his hand on my arm stopped me.

"It appears to be raining," he said dryly, eyebrows raised slightly.

It took me a minute to hear the implication in his words, but once I did, I couldn't help but laugh. "You're terrible." I swooped in for a quick kiss, giving him just a little tongue before I yanked away from him and ran around to hop in the Jeep.

Once inside, I turned the engine over and peeled out of the parking lot. I didn't want to look over at him, dripping wet, thin shirt sticking to his chest, hair matted down, green eyes blazing...but I did it anyways.

I turned back quickly, eyes on the road, and sucked in a deep breath. A low, soft chuckle came from him and I fought not to squirm in my seat. We stopped at a light, my fingers anxiously drumming on the steering wheel while we waited, the sound of my heavy breathing and the slightly squeaky swish of the wiper blades filling the Jeep.

When his warm fingers curled around my thigh and rubbed wet, rough denim into my skin, I jumped slightly and bit my lip. "Bob," I said warningly.

Like he ever listened to me. Those fingers crept up my leg and over, brushing over my hardening cock. I groaned, my foot slipping on the gas pedal and making the Jeep lurch forward, almost putting us in the back of the station wagon in front of us. The woman driving the station wagon turned around and flipped us off, then took off as the light turned green.

I turned right at the light, back to home, and a muffled snort made me look at him again. "What?"

"You almost ran into that poor woman," Bob said, his expression even but his voice full of laughter.

"It was your fault!" I mock-protested. "You and those fingers of yours..."

My voice trailed off because as I eased into a spot across the street, Bob undid his seat belt and leaned over to nuzzled my neck. The tip of his tongue touched my neck right when I grabbed the keys to shut the engine off, and I closed my eyes for a moment, letting him lick up my neck. I shivered and made a grab for him, but he shied away from me, smiling.

"Bastard," I said lovingly. "We better get inside."

The look on his face made my hand pause on the door handle, and his eyes slid over my body, across my face, and back down again before he said in a low tone, "We'll get even more wet if we go outside now, Harry. And if we go inside the apartment, dripping the way we are, we'll have to take our clothes off before we do anything else."

I curled my fingers into the collar of his shirt and leaned down. "Say that to me once we're inside," I whispered against his lips.

And I let go of him, flung open the door, and took off across the street, keys dangling from one hand so I could get the door open as fast as possible.

I was huffing a little once I unlocked the door and stepped inside, and the sound of steady wet slaps against the pavement had me turning around. Bob was walking across the street in the pouring rain, eyes locked onto me standing in the doorway. He wasn't trying to hurry, he was just walking like he normally would, rain beating down on his body, hazy yellow light from the streetlamp illumining his white hair. His gray, cotton button-down was stuck to his upper body, and his black slacks were clinging to his legs and hips. A thrill went through me as he got closer and eyed me carefully, gaze landing on the bulge underneath my jeans.

Once he reached the door of the apartment, he stopped, and I didn't give him the chance to say anything. I hauled him in by his arm, slammed the door shut, and shoved him against the door. His hands gripped the back of my shirt, pulling, and I ran my fingers through his wet hair. We were a hair's breadth away from kissing, both of us breathing harder than normal, holding onto each other's wet, chilled bodies.

"Upstairs," I growled, peeling myself off of him. "Now, Bob."

"We're wet, Harry," he reminded me in a sultry voice. "We'll drip all over the place."

I gave him a fierce smile. "I'm going to fuck you on every surface of this house if you don't get your ass upstairs right now and get me out of these wet clothes."

Bob blinked, startled by my bluntness. "Fucking me on every surface is a threat?"

I ran my lips over his jaw and down, flicking my tongue over his pulse point. "It is if I tie you up beforehand and not let you touch me while I fuck you for two hours straight." Bob outright gasped, his eyes wide, and I chuckled. "I've been thinking about that one for a while."

"Apparently," he said, voice lower. Then he arched an eyebrow, a tiny smile on his face, and grabbed my hand. "How about we get out of these wet clothes?"

I let him tug me upstairs with only one protest. "You couldn't have acted on this five minutes ago when we were teasing each other in the car, or, you know...fifteen seconds ago when I was threatening to fuck you on every surface?"

"I do things on my own terms many times, love," he growled in my ear.

"Not without my help," I said, nipping at his neck and shoving him up the rest of the stairs. Bob, rather ungraciously, stumbled for a moment, and I took that opportunity to yank his shirt from the waistband of his slacks. I wanted to undo the buttons, but instead I ran my hands around his ribcage, feeling muscle and bone shift as he leaned into my touch, and bent my head. Bob's breathing hitched at the touch of my mouth to his nipple, and I sucked hard, pulling on the fabric of his shirt and the skin underneath.

Bob's hand wrapped around the base of my head, the other one scraping nails down my back, making me arch against him.

"Harry," Bob panted as I bit down. He keened and whimpered, clawing at me in fevered desperation. I ignored him, happily sucking away on his nipple, listening to his harsh breaths and feeling his body shift anxiously under my mouth and hands.

"Harry," he said again, his voice furnace-hot and as smooth as velvet, his fingers dug into my hair. "Oh, Harry...gods..."

He trailed off when I bit down, making him squirm and pant. Grinning, I moved to the other nipple, sucking on it until it was a pointed, sensitive nub. By this point, Bob was writhing and pulling on my hair, groaning loudly and thrusting his hips. I stood and looked down at him, taking in the flushed cheeks and parted lips. Not to mention the black eyes that were staring back up at me, unabashedly open in their lust.

Bob's hand crept down my neck and yanked my head down. Crushing my mouth to his, his other hand snaked around my waist and pulled me close, fingers finding their way up under my soaked Henley. Lovingly, Bob stroked my back with gentle fingers while he devoured my mouth, his tongue battling with my own.

I pulled away when I felt his erection against my thigh, and I grinned at him. "How about we get rid of these wet clothes?" I purred in his ear. Bob gave me a fiendish smile before quickly unbuttoning his shirt and flinging it aside. His skin was damp and he smelled like summer rain, those black eyes of his never leaving me as I shed my Henley and tossed it aside. Two steps and he was on me, tackling me to the floor, his hands everywhere.

We've made love in all kinds of positions, on and in several different surfaces and rooms of the apartment, and in varying states of desperation, lust, and mindful/mindless-ness. We'd made love in the shower, sure...with the hot water pounding down on us as one of us got pounded against the shower wall, but this was different. This was wild and needy, the storm's power making my hair stand on end while Bob kissed his way down my neck, hands caressing my chest. He was driving me crazy, sliding his slick skin against mine, licking and biting every spot he knew would make me writhe.

The light above us flickered, faltered, then went out completely, encasing us in darkness, and Bob froze for a moment. Lightning flashed, and I saw him reach out to send some power at a few candles, so I put my hand on his arm to stop him. "Just one, far away" I whispered, bringing him back down on top of me. "We've always made love with some kind of light, Bob. I just want to feel, you and the storm and your skin."

I heard his breathing hitch just for a moment before he flicked his hand out and one sole candle on the dresser in the corner flared to life. Then he laid on top of me and put his lips on my ear. "Whatever you want, darling," he cooed, hands soothing the skin on my shoulders. I shivered, reveling in the way his voice rumbled in my ear, and he chuckled darkly. Fingers tipped my head up and he met my lips again, kissing me more gently this time. I sighed and let him touch me, kiss me, the way he wanted to.

Once we broke, I smiled deviously at him, but it probably didn't have the full effect because it was rather dark in the apartment. "Aren't those wet clothes getting cold?"

"As a matter of fact..." He smiled briefly at me before frantic fingers tore at my pants, not unlike how I was tearing at his. Once naked, Bob stared down at me, blatant awe on his face. I squirmed under his scrutiny, feeling heat creep into my face at the way he was looking at me. The hands on my shoulders clenched a little to stop me from moving, and he bent down, lips brushing my cheek. "Nothing to be embarrassed about, love," he whispered gently. "You're beautiful. I love every single thing about you and I'm not afraid to admit that." His fingers trailed down my chest, soft and sensual, but his eyes never left mine as he whispered, "I love touching you, Harry. All those years spent without being able to touch anything, literally hundreds of thousands of moments where I craved even the simple feel of air on my skin. And now I have you, and I cannot help but need you with me, all the time." He kissed me gently and then said, "Your hands hold me, your body supports me, your lips tell me things that I've never been told before, beautiful, wonderful things, Harry...and underneath all that, I know it's your heart that runs it all." Hand stopped over my heart, Bob smiled softly for just a brief moment before his gaze dropped from my face and landed between my legs. "And since I'm such a confessional mood, I must also admit that your cock is the loveliest I've ever seen."

I stared at him for a moment, part of me wanting to laugh at that last statement of his, but I knew he was serious. "You talk too much," I growled at him, secretly thrilled, and maybe just a little overwhelmed, at his affectionate statements. I yanked his head down and kissed him deeply, stroking his tongue with mine, feeling him move above me. My fingers dug into his wet hair, combing it off his forehead. His warm hands rubbed the clammy skin on my arms, then slipped down my chest, massaging warmth back into my body. I arched against him, wanting more.

Bob shoved me back down, his face a mask of pleasure, dark eyes never leaving mine. I could barely see his face in the looming darkness, but the occasional flashes of lightning gave me the briefest of chances to watch him. But I didn't need to watch him constantly...I could feel him, every shift of his hips, every clench of his muscles, every shiver that went down his spine. His hands and body and mouth were all telling me things--heated whispers and dirty suggestions and affectionate murmurs and even the occasional full-out erotic scream.

His hand slid down my body, fingernails trailing over my skin, and grasped my cock. I bucked and cried out, my body instantly heating at his touch. Lips followed the trail made by his fingers, and while my lust-addled brain barely registered that, it certainly registered his thumb circling the tip of my cock. "Like that, do you?" he purred at me, smiling against my stomach.

I let out a few harsh breaths and was finally able to pant out a strangled, "Yes, hell's bells, Bob....gods, yes."

Bob laughed lightly, thumb teasing the slit. I moaned and grabbed at him, latching my fingers around his upper arms. "Think those women in the grocery store are wondering what we're doing right now?" He thrust against me, his cock rubbing the inside of my thigh. "Do you think they're sitting in their bedrooms, picturing us together, locked in an intimate embrace..." Bob's lips brushed my ear and he continued, his voice lush with arousal. "Do you think they're picturing us naked on our bed, moaning and writhing and screaming for each other? Perhaps they're touching themselves, imagining us making love." Bob nipped at my ear, then bit his way down to my jugular vein. "Maybe they're touching each other and imagining us making love, hearing our moans of pleasure while their hands move over their beautiful bodies...while they kiss soft mouths and tangle their fingers in long hair..."

Images of the those two women together raced through my mind while I clung to him...dirty blonde and auburn hair tangled on a pillow, two feminine hands laced together, soft sighs and gentle moans filling the room...

"Bob, fuck me," I said in a ragged voice. "Now, please--" I grabbed his hips and shoved him down.

"No making love tonight?" he teased, thrusting shallowly, agonizingly slowly against my hips. "No gentleness, no tenderness, no soft caresses?"

"Fuck me now, I savagely growled, clawing at him, begging for him.

Bob eyed me carefully, stilling my frantic movements as best he could. His eyes narrowed just slightly in thought before his hands grasped my legs and drew them up over his shoulders, bending my body back on itself. I said his name wantonly but he shushed me with a kiss and whispered, "I will do anything you ask me to, Harry. And if you want me to fuck you, I will....hard and fast and as deep as humanly possible. I will fuck you without hesitation or second thought because I know that even while you beg and scream, with every thrust, you know I love you."

A finger traced over my entrance and I shivered violently, closing my eyes when a few seconds later I felt the cool slick of lubricant. I held onto him for all I was worth, trying not to buck too much against him as he prepped me. I wanted a good, hard fuck, but I wasn't completely insane. I did want to be able to walk in the morning. Maybe. Bob's version of a good, hard fuck was one that left you speechless, your body a pile of mush and bones, and every nerve in you totally satiated after being set ablaze.

One finger became two, and then three, and I was on the verge of sobbing from the way he was teasing me. Bob noticed my increasingly frantic movements and slowly withdrew his fingers, and without hesitation or warning, he grabbed my hips and thrust in. I let out a yell, my mind shutting down all higher functions and focusing solely on the feel of him inside me.

"Oh, god," I moaned, my hips moving of their own accord to catch up with his. Bob was relentless, pounding into me from the moment he'd slid in. Hot and throbbing, I could feel every inch of him, and I watched through slitted eyes as he moved above me. The way he was growling and panting was making my eyes roll back in my head, but I wanted to watch him. This was a side of Bob I only got to see every now and then; most of the times when we made love, we took it slow and easy, dragging things on for what seemed like forever. But this was pure, wanton need, and I watched as every proper, civilized thing about him dropped away and all that was left was raw desire. A thrill went through me and I grabbed for him, tugging his head down and devouring his mouth.

Bob grunted in pleasure and let me bite his bottom lip, and it was only when he shifted slightly and tried that new angle that I broke the kiss. I should say the near-wail I let out broke the kiss, because the way he was moving now landed hit after direct hit on my prostate, and my entire body was one pulsing, throbbing, pleasurable ache.

"Harry...my...beautiful...boy," Bob panted, the words coming out jarred from the force of his thrusts. I couldn't summon enough brain power to speak, so I reached up and touched his face. Bob looked down at me, gave me a dazzling smile, and wrapped his hand around my cock. The touch of his hand was all it took.

Heat curled up from the base of my spine and shot out, encasing every inch of my skin in mind-numbing sensation. I cried his name and shuddered, barely aware of his hand milking my cock until it was spent. I reached blindly for him and felt his fingers lace with mine. "I love you," I gasped, quivering from rounds of aftershocks. Bob squeezed my hand, his thrusts shallower now that I'd found release, and I repeated, "I love you." Bob froze mid-thrust and let out a breathy roar, his entire body shaking from exertion and orgasm, and I felt a rush of heat inside of me. Feeling him tremble like that prolonged my own orgasm until it was past where it normally would have ended, enflaming my desire all over again.

The sounds of our ragged breathing and the smell of sex and power filled the room as we both fought to regain our senses. Bob pulled out as gently as he could and I brought him down to the bed so I could cradle him in my arms. He snuggled against me, arm draped over my side, legs tangled with mine. We lay there quiet for several minutes, stroking each other softly and pressing tender, lazy kisses wherever we could reach.

Bob finally brought his head up and looked at me, a warm smile on his face. I returned the smile and tossed the blanket over us, intending on falling asleep. Bob, and apparently Bob's hand on my thigh, had other thoughts. "I'm thinking about taking you up on your offer," he whispered into my neck.

"What offer was that?" I mumbled sleepily, gathering him even closer.

"You said you'd fuck me on every surface in this apartment, Harry...remember?"

"Uh huh," I replied, not really paying attention to his tone, not like I should have been. If nothing else, Bob's tone often gives away what he's thinking. I'd learned that early on, but I was tired and happily snuggled into bed with an armful of Bob, so I wasn't exactly in the most coherent frame of mind.

"Go to sleep now, Harry," he said, petting my hair. "But when you wake up, I'm expecting you to make good on that offer."

"Wasn't an offer," I said. "That was a way to get your ass upstairs so we could do what we just got done doing."

"I know, Harry, I know," he placated softly. I fell asleep just seconds after that, and awoke the next morning a little sore but with vivid memories of the night before. I rolled over and found the bed empty but still warm, and after a moment's hesitation (and thoughts about going back to sleep), I hauled myself out of bed and tugged on a pair of pants.

I went downstairs and didn't see Bob in the office or living room, so I tramped back to the kitchen and saw him, partially hidden, behind the halfway open door to the little closet-type thing where the washing machine and dryer are kept. I only saw his head and part of a bare shoulder, so I didn't think anything of it.

"Morning," I called out to him, pouring myself a cup of coffee. "We have to go down to see Murphy today so she doesn't think we completely abandoned her on that Fultz case."

"But not right away?" he asked from the door. I shook my head and he nodded, going back to the laundry I assumed he was doing.

There was an odd thumping noise and a few other sounds that I couldn't quite place, so I strode over to see if I could help him. "You need some help, Bob?" Hand on the door, I pushed it back and after a second's realization, gaped at what I saw.

Bob was indeed doing the laundry, throwing clothes into my very old and rather shaky washing machine, but he was naked....gloriously, beautifully naked. Bob spun and saw me standing there, and gave me a predatory smile. He grabbed something from the pile of clothes and tossed it at me. I snagged it out of the air and looked down. It was one of my old silk ties.

"Silk works rather well for tying someone up, Harry," Bob said matter-of-factly. "And it's now just a little after seven in the morning, so I figure we can make the police precinct by perhaps ten this morning, after the requisite two hours you told me the act would take." He patted the washing machine beside him. "I expect you to make good on your offer, dear boy."