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Not all police-wives were created equal. Contrary to the popular stereotype, many did not involve themselves with the force at all, if it could be avoided. Some simply did not, or could not, know about that part of their partner’s lives, and so it was not questioned when they did not come to family events, to the policeman’s balls or the fundraiser picnics. Sebastian and Myra had been highly unusual exceptions to the norm, both envied as an ideal and rued for the potential their relationship had for causing unrest within the workplace. They knew that, both of them, and so they did not push the issue when Joseph would show up alone to what had been intended as family get-togethers, or when he would cancel what had already been tenuous plans to finally see his place, have dinner with the wife and kid. It wasn’t unusual. No one questioned it.
Sebastian hadn’t been this bad in a while, not since the early days, when he had yet to reach the point where the level of alcohol in his blood stabilized as his new average and he’d learned better how to mask the smell on his breath. Joseph expected it, to a degree, as he always did when the anniversary neared, but even then it had caught him off guard, just how gone Sebastian was. He didn’t need to be told which bar he was at, which was good because Sebastian was barely coherent and the security who had first made the call was having difficulty mustering up the energy to care enough to be clear. He would have known even if he hadn’t been keeping a special eye on his superior officer due to the season. He knew every one of Sebastian’s haunts, the frequent and the unusual.
“Come on, watch the step.”
By the time they left the elevator, it was clear that Sebastian was not going to be able to walk the rest of the way himself. He’d pushed Joseph off several times angrily on the way from the car, insistent that he didn’t need help and that he’d rather be alone, but the ride up had his head swimming in a way that had him halfway slumped down the wall. He was a big man, but not as heavy as he looked, and Joseph didn’t find it particularly difficult to shimmy himself under Sebastian’s eternal slouch to lift him on his shoulder. He was radiating heat like a furnace in the evening chill, clammy with sweat. Joseph could smell it on him, even under the acrid stink of whatever he had been drowning in tonight, the heady must of misery.
“There, just a bit further.”
“Fuck off.”
Sebastian wasn’t talking to him, not really. Joseph doubted if he even recognized who he was with, or if every face blurred together as one single antagonist trying to take what little autonomy he was left with. He started fishing around in his pockets for his keys, already having forgotten they had been given to Joseph before the drive, cursing to himself. They made it to his apartment door somehow, the push and pull dance of their stumbling painting wild scenes in the dull hallway lighting. He and Myra had meant to be here only temporarily, after the fire, but they’d had enough money between them for their in-between choice to be a good one, a clean place, one where they turned down the ambiance in the corridors at night. They were both glad for it, because Sebastian’s guts were audibly churning and florescence was a poor mixer.
When he saw Joseph was opening the door he tried to swipe for the keys, to do it himself, even though he could barely hold up his own body weight. They fell into the room, grunting and hissing at one another like beasts exhausted by battle. Joseph had to shift him off to close the door and by the time he did Sebastian was halfway to the bathroom, already making sounds that closed Joseph’s throat in sympathy. He ran ahead to push clear the way and Sebastian burst past, collapsing into the toilet with a violent retch. Recovering from the struggle, Joseph stood in the doorway and stared for a while before he collected himself, nose wrinkled. It was obvious from the state of things that Sebastian had been sliding into this mess for a while, longer than he expected, and he mentally berated himself for the lack of diligence in his observations. He looked so pathetic there, slumped awkwardly on his hip, clinging to the porcelain, that Joseph was beside him in seconds despite the stench and the strain of exertion pinching along his spine, pulling back his unruly hair.
He didn’t have much solid in his stomach, but Sebastian still managed to impress with the sheer volume of his regurgitation. Luckily he had made it in time, mostly, only having splattered a little over the side of the bowl. Joseph eased himself into a comfortable enough kneel behind him, rubbing Sebastian’s back soothingly. Neither of them were in their work clothes anymore, which was good because it would have been hell trying to grapple with all the buckles and buttons. He could feel Sebastian’s firm musculature heaving beneath his palm, the peaks of his shoulder blades shifting. They were so close, like this, nothing but thin linen keeping Joseph’s rapid heartbeat from meeting with his superior’s skin. Sebastian groaned, taking in deep breaths between heaves.
Joseph eased Sebastian’s posture somewhat, helping him sit more directly in front of the toilet, and as he did so his thigh crept just slightly to the side of Sebastian’s, so that he was seated almost in Joseph’s lap, the buttons on his jean pockets catching on his slacks. He combed his fingers through Sebastian’s hair, slick with sweat and a little puke that had caught on his bangs. Joseph couldn’t feel it through his gloves, but he smelled it, harsh enough to burn in his nostrils. Even so, he pressed his forehead against Sebastian’s back and inhaled deeply.
He had always had a sensitive nose. It was something his wife complained of often, he would tell his coworkers, because she could never keep secrets from him – new flowers, what was for dinner, a lunch meeting with her friends. Their daughter seemed to have inherited it from him, to her bemused chagrin. No more sneaking vegetables into her macaroni and hoping she wouldn’t notice. There had been a period of time, right after it had happened, when Joseph worried that he should not talk about these things at work anymore. It might be too raw, too painful for Sebastian. He had been all business in hopes that it would keep things between them from becoming too strained by the sudden imbalance in their personal worlds, but it was Sebastian who had first brought up the topic again.
On a night similar to this one, someone had cared enough to call the first ICE number in Sebastian’s phone because he was too belligerent to get a cab. Joseph had let it ring three times before he picked up so that it wouldn’t show that he had been waiting for it, so that it would seem like he hadn’t been expecting it, that he had anything else on his mind. Sebastian had been much more coherent, just angry, sober enough that he could have given good directions if he’d had to but far too proud to admit to it. The first ten minutes of the drive had been filled by his complaints, only eventually petering out to silence and the low buzz of the radio. Joseph didn’t want to say anything for fear that his emotions would get the better of him. It was a hard thing to wrangle anger at a man so clearly already suffering, to want to beat the fact that he had something to live for into his head without causing him any more pain.
“I’m sorry they called you,” Sebastian said suddenly, “I’m sorry they pulled you out of bed so late.”
He wasn’t any more sober, but the hum of the motor had loosened his frown.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Joseph.
“Myra would kick my ass,” Sebastian laughed, almost genuinely.
“Not as hard as I would have if you drove home yourself.”
It had become easier, from there. How were things at home, he asked, how was school coming along? She’s almost in first grade now, isn’t she? He was unusually animated in asking, the liquor dulling his defenses, and Joseph realized that he really wanted to know, genuinely. Everything was fine, he said, and told an anecdote about helping memorize the ABC’s, and Sebastian looked out the window, his soft smile just barely reflected against the glass. It was a sight Joseph had burned into his memory, vivid and glowing to this day.
After a few minutes it seemed Sebastian had got out everything that had been in his stomach and then some. He lay panting and draped over the bowl, kept from passing out in a mess on the floor by virtue of Joseph’s support alone. As the fight drained from him, Joseph’s arm wound around his waist carefully, keeping Sebastian secure.
“Seb?” he whispered, rubbing his temple.
Sebastian did not reply. He was still breathing irregularly, moving every now and then as if attempting to pull away for a moment, but there was nothing but alcohol swimming between his ears. Joseph would be shocked if he remembered any of the past three hours tomorrow. Sebastian’s toned ass was sat right up against him, legs sprawled.
“You’ve gotta stop doing this, Seb.”
His gloves hands snaked up Sebastian’s side to his chest, hooking beneath the low opened collar of his button-up against the hem of his undershirt. Sebastian spat, stomach rolling audibly, but he had nothing left inside him to puke. Joseph laid his head against Sebastian’s shoulder, glasses awkwardly pushed up on his nose as he deeply breathed in the hot air at his throat.
“I don’t think you get it.”
He was so hard already. Hugging himself to Sebastian tight, so that every inch of them he could manage touched, Joseph ground his hips against him in slow, needy motions. Sebastian was the strongest person Joseph had ever met. Stern, devoted to his unshakable convictions, pulling the answers he needed from whoever or wherever he had to. But first Lily, and then Myra’s leaving him, it was destroying him, and the drink did the rest, and Joseph couldn’t stand it. The crook of his cock pressed into the tight seam between Sebastian’s ass cheeks, fitting so perfectly as Joseph humped him, like they were made to fit together like this.
“Seb.”
Sebastian needed to get cleaned off, to get to bed. Joseph could only imagine how his throat must feel after that. He needed water. He knew that, but he was trapped by his desire, limbs made of lead. Only with great effort did he drag himself back, breathing hard, pulling Sebastian with him.
“Come on.”
He flushed the toilet and flipped down the lid, urging Sebastian to sit down atop it. He was half asleep by now, had to be lifted and carried, a heavy sack of meat and bone, but he did it, staring at Joseph with clouded eyes that did not see. Vomit had gotten on his shirt at some point, so Joseph busied himself taking it off. Sebastian just sat there limply, allowing his arms to be lifted. His jaw was wet, hanging loosely, tears born from pure physiological strain dampening his dark eyes. Hunched and panting, it was like he was in between bouts of a hard, long fight. Joseph swept back his hair again, grimacing at the way it stuck in clumps where it had been dirtied.
“Hold on a second.”
Sebastian’s bathroom was not in total disarray, but it was obvious he hadn’t washed the towels in a while. Finding one that wasn’t damp and gray, Joseph ran it under the sink, keeping a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder so that he wouldn’t keel forward onto the tile. He knelt, running it across Sebastian’s face, across his scarred cheek to his lips, which parted dumbly under the pressure. Despite knowing how it would taste, Joseph imagined himself pushing in closer, going where the cloth could not and letting his tongue sweep clean the rest. It was disgusting, and Joseph was not so far invested in his fantasy to forget that, but the idea of taking something so vile and yet so totally of Sebastian’s body into himself sent goose flesh up his arms.
Removing the thought from his mind, Joseph wiped him down the rest of the way. Sebastian hadn’t shaved in days, something that he could pull off in that sort of gritty, noir detective way he had about him when he was well. Right now, he only looked sick, and tired, and lost. Joseph held his head steady, re-wetting the towel and working the grease from the worn lines along his jaw. His cock was jutting out awkwardly between his legs, tenting his trousers in way that would have been impossible not to notice if Sebastian had been capable of looking. It was not the first time Joseph had prostrated himself before his superior officer, always like this, trying to put him back together. That was what partners do for each other. It was normal. No one would question it.
Sebastian began to protest when Joseph pulled at his undershirt, unrolling it from the waistband of his jeans. It wasn’t a particularly heartfelt attempt at pushing him off, more annoyed than anything, and Joseph batted away his hands easily, pursing his lips.
“I’m not letting you sleep in this,” he hissed, as casual as any sober conversation would have been, “you’ll thank me in the morning.”
Acquiescing, Sebastian raised his arms in a sarcastic imitation of a child waiting to be undressed, only for them to fall back limply, head lolling with a groan. Barely awake, he scowled at the wall sourly even as the fabric caught on his face and had to be wriggled free, a mess of angry wrinkles and white scars. Joseph ran the mug by the sink under the water a few times until he felt certain it was clean before filling it, never taking his hand off Sebastian’s shoulder.
“Here.”
Sebastian drank without question, deeply. It could have been anything, handed to him by anyone. Joseph’s brow creased with worry, unafraid of showing it. How could Myra have left him like this? It was cruel, not something he would have expected of her. Sebastian was romantic, passionate, even in anger. Even if she came back now, Joseph would not forgive her. Sebastian would, though, because he needed someone, and she was all he let himself know he had.
Once Joseph was certain he was not going to see the water reemerge, he looped Sebastian’s arm over his shoulder again and lifted him to his feet. Sebastian grumbled something at him that Joseph did understood despite its unintelligibility: bed. His heart was thundering in his chest, dizzying. Sebastian’s body had been hard to make out hunched on the toilet seat, but he could feel it, the clean cut peaks of his musculature pressed hard on his back. His solid waist, the trembling ripple of his abs, his rounded breast, the snake like coil of his bicep where it hooked on Joseph’s neck-
The bedroom was a mess. Joseph elected to ignore it, kicking aside discarded clothing to make a path to the bed. Sebastian collapsed, a corpse on the unmade sheets. Joseph had to drag him to the middle of the mattress, worried he would fall off if one of his nightmares hit hard, climbing up with him. If he wasn’t already asleep, Sebastian was close to it, eyes closed, breathing even. Joseph let him lay on his back a moment, just looking.
He hadn’t turned on a light, but the curtains were open. The city looked black and lifeless, but the moon hung full and heavy, illuminating the room with an eerie hush. Sebastian’s chest rose and fell, glimmering with sweat. The light played on his chest hair like fingers, so that Joseph was almost jealous of it, wishing too to draw his hands across him. It turned his gaze down, to where the trail was lost beneath Sebastian’s waistband. He undid the button of his jeans and the zip was already halfway down, making it easy for him to come around to the foot of the bed and shimmy them the rest of the way off. Sebastian would sleep comfortably now. He didn’t bother putting away his pants nicely. It would probably be better if his part in this was left ambiguous. Sebastian was a proud man.
After some consideration, Joseph rolled Sebastian onto his side, facing the window, just in case he vomited again in his sleep. He was out cold now, absolutely, expression slack. Joseph would not call his appearance peaceful, but it was closer to it, and it eased him in turn. Slipping off his shoes, he joined Sebastian on the mattress, sliding in close again in mirror of their earlier positioning on the floor. He didn’t want to jostle him too much and so didn’t attempt to work an arm underneath Sebastian’s body, embracing his waist one way and then cupping beneath his shoulder the other. He had to stifle a moan when his clothed crotch met Sebastian’s ass again, throbbing.
Sebastian’s thick hair fanned out before him, and Joseph buried his nose in it, glad to finally find a part of Sebastian untainted by the smell of sick. He ran his hands everywhere, tugging off his gloves with his teeth so that he could finally meet him skin to skin. It didn’t matter now, when no one could see his delicate fingers, his manicured nails. Sebastian wouldn’t know. He didn’t take off his glasses, even though he should, for their sake, because he wanted to be able to see everything, just in case. Now that everything was taken care of, to the degree that it was, Joseph rutted into Sebastian with little restraint.
He felt so good, every time. Every part of him was toned and thick and masculine in a way that curled Joseph’s toes. He was losing weight, which worried him, the light dimples of fat a father earned the right to evaporating off his hips as he lost time in a bottle, but Joseph had been working out better ways to offer food to him during the day, get him a little steadier in his habits again. His wife was always making too much, because their daughter was in a picky phase, and he wasn’t the type to waste leftovers. He was just being responsible. His fingers stroked down Sebastian’s stomach worshipfully, curling to run his nails gently down the path to glory. He wouldn’t go beyond the band of Sebastian’s underwear, though, never had. That was a line he was not going to cross, no matter how tempting the bulge between his legs was, how it curved against the worn fabric, so large it seemed to strain even flaccid, pink and eager.
They weren’t beat cops, didn’t share a locker room. He’d seen it, of course; out of the corner of his eye at the urinal, behind a tree on a stakeout. He could imagine its taste, the way one could almost sympathetically manifest the image of a good meal on a menu upon their tongue when hungry enough. When he was tense, drawn too tight, Joseph wanted to ease his mind from between his thighs, envelope himself in that manly musk completely. Sebastian’s face would flush the way it did after a hard run, his jaw firmly shut to keep from letting anything slip, but he wouldn’t be able to resist when Joseph took him all the way in one go, unafraid of his size, when he peeled back his foreskin and lavished his cockhead with attention. Arching his hips, he would curse – would he beg? - but he wouldn’t grab Joseph’s hair or pull him down harder, because he had always been afraid of showing when he was in need. Joseph would know, of course, without being told, and he would give Sebastian what he really wanted, suck him dry until he was aching sore from it.
That would only be the beginning, of course, because Joseph knew where that core of tension really lay. Sebastian had probably never been touched there before, never even thought about it much. They saw and heard all kinds of things on the force, but there was a way in which such things were externalized that kept them from thinking too hard on it. It was the freaks and low-lifes who acted so brazenly, not them, and if they did, it was at home, in their other lives, partitioned neatly away. Even so, Joseph was sure Sebastian would take to it quickly. That was one of his skills, after all, adaptability, something necessary for the job. They wouldn’t talk about it, outside of Sebastian’s initial gruff complaints, he was sure, but Sebastian would open up like a flower for him, with the right nurturing care.
He was sliding hard against Sebastian, gripping one pectoral firmly in his hand. Precum was staining his trousers, hell to drive home in. God, Sebastian’s asshole, how it would smell, how it would taste, bitter, unapologetic. Joseph would bury himself there and give Sebastian everything he deserved, everything, lavish affection on him as he should. He could feel the folds under his tongue, the hair tickling his cheek, the weight of Sebastian’s taut balls on the bridge of his nose. Sebastian would be obstinate as always, turning his face away, wiping his brow in that way he did when he didn’t want to admit the pressure was getting to him. He’d been like that as long as Joseph had known him, hiding his emotions behind a stiff brow and hard eyes, even at the best of times. It was so unfairly tantalizing, the scent of that sweet, soft meat behind a tough shell begging to be cracked. The furrows in his skin cut by years of scowling, the nicotine stains on his teeth, the way the muscles in his jaw twitched when he held back his thoughts.
How was it possible for his superior officer to be so cute?
Sebastian’s briefs were riding up his buttocks from the force of Joseph’s thrusting. Bracing himself on his bountiful chest, Joseph grabbed Sebastian’s ass, sinking his nails into the skin harder than he should. He spread him as best he could, slotting himself in between, still clothed but able to feel the heat nonetheless. How would Sebastian sound, when Joseph pushed inside him? Just broaching the question had him squeezing his eyes shut, lip between his teeth in a futile attempt at staying silent. He knew Sebastian would be tight, guardedly so, but as pleasure took him he would give himself up. He could entrust his back to Joseph, couldn’t he, and this would be no different, really. Because that’s what he needed, someone to take care of him, and Joseph would take such good care. He would fuck Sebastian until the pain of the world melted away, ride his ass for hours if he needed it. Back to chest, like they were now, digging in so deep and so hard, slamming his prostate with every thrust, or missionary, like husband and wife, so that Joseph could bury his face between Sebastian’s perky pecs, feel his hard cock prod his belly needily.
Joseph could feel himself unraveling. Sebastian’s chest was growing tender beneath his fingers, the peak of a nipple begging for attention. He knew the way it would look when Sebastian was close, how his stomach would tremble, the flush of sex drawing ruddy under his tanned skin. Would he beg? Would he beg? Would he wrap his arms around Joseph and trap him there, caged within his grip as he was pleasured? Would he open his mouth for him and allow Joseph to pass on a glimmering thread of spit? Gasping, Joseph mouthed the back of Sebastian’s neck, desperate to bite but knowing better. He wanted to hold Sebastian like this forever. He wanted to bend him over that nice big desk in his office. He wanted to suck the powder burns off his fingers every time Sebastian fired his gun. Sebastian was the first thing he saw in the morning and the last at night, and he wanted it to be mutual, finally, after all these years, to pull him past the thin membrane of lies and fabrications and make it real.
“Seb,” he prayed, “Seb, Seb.”
He came in his pants, a sound almost akin to a sob bubbling up his throat. His hips continued to shudder against Sebastian for several minutes, hot throbs echoing through his body in a way that left him momentarily boneless. In this moment he was totally, purely happy, elevated in a way unique to Sebastian. Safe in each other’s arms, unbreakably bonded.
Sebastian snored, open mouthed, entirely unresponsive. Managing to pull away, Joseph sat up on his hip, looking down at him. Despite his unattractive state, Joseph felt a pang of afterglow in his gut at the sight, of Sebastian mostly nude, stretched out in repose. There was a reddish imprint on his left pectoral where Joseph’s hand had been, something that would fade by morning, evanescent evidence of his crime. Brushing Sebastian’s bangs from his cheek, Joseph leaned in, so that his lips almost, but not quite, met his temple. It wasn’t time for that, yet – their first kiss would be special. Empty, but yet longing, his balls contracted in anticipation, amplified by the uncomfortably warm wetness that now spread across the front of his groin.
Something daring came over him, and he grasped Sebastian’s wrist, lifting his arm carefully as he hovered above. Limp and unaware, Sebastian offered no resistance as he bent it back, ever so slowly, towards where he offered himself up, until Sebastian’s clammy palm brushed his trousers. Cupping a hand over his, Joseph held Sebastian to where his softening dick twitched behind his fly, eyelids fluttering closed. It was so close to real. Very, very gently, he had Sebastian rub him, pressed his fingers down where he desired.
“Myra...”
Joseph jumped back off the side of the bed. Sebastian’s arm fell, the faintest glimmer of wetness visible on his palm before he shifted back into a more comfortable position, balling his fist against his cheek. Disheveled, Joseph stood in total silence, barely allowing himself to breathe as he waited for some kind of clarity to awake in his superior, but it did not. Minutes passed, and Sebastian slumbered on, nestled in the sheets with his underwear half askew.
Returning to the bathroom, Joseph made himself presentable. Darkness would hide what the material of his trousers could not, and with his hair and shirt straightened he appeared little more out of place than any man would at this hour. There was still vomit on the rim of the toilet, and a little speckled around the tile, but he let it be. It wouldn’t make sense for him to have stayed to clean, despite the strength of his urge to, and that was what mattered most. Things had to make sense for Sebastian, as he knew it to be. Once he was certain he would not catch any looks on his way down, Joseph returned to Sebastian’s room and found a wrinkled blanket that had been kicked to the foot of the bed at some point to throw across him.
He didn’t see anyone on the way out, which was a relief because hiding his discomfort at his soiled state made it more unpleasant that it already was. His car stank like the bar he’d picked Sebastian up at even still, but he left the windows up as he drove. It would have to air out overnight so that he didn’t arouse questions at work tomorrow, but he let himself indulge a little longer. Joseph had always been a patient man, slow and methodical in everything he did, and this would be no different. The palpitations of his heart did not change that. Sebastian was emotional, and wounds like these would take years to heal, years in which Joseph would be there, unwavering in his dedication and friendship. The reward was inevitable.
These thoughts and the lingering tingle of orgasm formed a thick, warm cushion about him. When he arrived home he could not hear his own footsteps, as if he were walking on air. The lights were off and he left them that way, easily picking through the darkness to put down his keys on the front hall table, to hang his jacket in the closet, neat, organized, nearly identical to every other beside it. He slipped off his shoes, peeled away his damp clothing, too numb to wince at the dried cum that glued him to his briefs. His hands still held Sebastian’s warmth, but he showered anyways. His waist had a red mark imprinted upon it from his vigorous activity earlier, trapped between he and Sebastian and finding Joseph’s skin the easier to penetrate. It stung under the water, not terribly, but enough to give him a little chill at the memory. He worried, briefly, that he had left some sort of friction burn against Sebastian, but even so there was little chance it would indicate anything to him but some mishap in the night. He would keep his eyes sharp tomorrow, when Sebastian sat.
The bed was cool, still made from that morning, and he slid into it missing the shared body heat already. Still, he allowed himself a small satisfied smile as he stared half-blind into the gray haze of his ceiling. Another night in which Sebastian had survived his demons, another night where he proved himself as a partner. In the morning, he would tell Sebastian not to worry him so much anymore, as he had done before, and Sebastian would refuse to speak about it, other than to ask where he had been and when he had gotten home. Joseph’s wife would pass on words about keeping her husband out of bed at odd hours, and Sebastian would look more sheepish than aggressive and slink back to his desk. It would hurt, but it would heal, and in time become nothing but a distant memory for Sebastian. For Joseph, though, this night would remain a brilliant treasure, as each before it, and every to come after.
And no one would question it.
Looking at the picture framed upon his bed side table, he fell asleep and did not dream.