| Stef's Stuf |
| Too Many Lives: Chapter 4 |
| "Excuse me," Jack heard the woman snap to the man standing on her purse strap. The bus turned the corner, and everyone leaned a bit to the left. He sighed. Another day, another trip home to an irritable heater that burned half the rooms and left the others icy. Another dinner of pasta and sauce from the jar. Another *NBC Cop show* on TV. Perhaps one of the children would call. He thought of the box in the closet with his ex wife's things. He had packed most of them and send them to her in California, but he still had 28 years of little gifts, faded photos of their wedding and of the kids growing up, tiny signs of a time when he still meant something in her life and wasn't just a nuisance in an otherwise fully satisfactory life. He hadn't managed to get rid of them yet and kept looking at them as they were the memorial plaque of the failure of a whole lifetime devoted to someone who eventually had dumped him for a brighter career and a kinkier sex life. He jerked his thoughts away, tired of the pain that accompanied them every time. This was the night, he decided. He was going to go home and get rid of that pile of knick knacks once and for all. He'd ask the kids if they wanted their pictures and then he was going to burn everything else, Yeah, he was going to do just that or, even better, he was going to walk to the shore and throw everything in Lake Michigan, one piece at a time. He smiled sadly. That was the same plan he had plotted everyday for the last 823 days. It was getting as stale as his own life. Jack became aware that someone was looking at him. Frowning slightly, he looked to his right and encountered a pair of friendly, probing eyes. "The ride home only gets longer when you think such sad thoughts," a deep baritone said softly, reaching him with surprising ease over the noises of the engine and traffic. "It's always the same," Jack responded without thinking. Yet even as he asked himself why he was talking to a stranger, those dark eyes changed, pooling with empathy, and he felt an inexpressible feeling of relief and connection. "It doesn't have to be." The bus turned again and suddenly the stranger's strong form was pressed against him. He felt warmth, and something 'alive' there, something he'd been without for too long. Confused, he let his eyes drop and turned slightly away. The stranger didn't respond, but when the bus stopped to pick up more passengers, the crush became almost unbearable. Except that his back was now pressed against the stranger's front. It was hot in the bus, and yet the warmth was again so welcoming and welcome. Breath was tickling his neck, and with incredulity he realized a hand was lightly touching his hip. As he stood there, stunned and yet somehow not enraged, not even annoyed, the hand slowly moved down and back until it cupped his backside and very, very slowly caressed him. Oh, God. He should do something about this. He should stop it... He should beg for more of it. He 'wanted' more of it. For blocks and blocks the bus continued on, and he became aware of himself as a man who would stand and let a stranger fondle him in a crowd. "Don't be ashamed," that voice said in his ear. "We've just figured things out quickly, that's all." "I...I don't..." "Shhh. This is my stop. Let's get something to drink and talk about it." Jack couldn't quite remember agreeing, but he was quickly moving with the stranger off the bus and onto the sidewalk. Briskly, the man walked towards a large brownstone, smoothly drawing out his keys as he climbed the stairs to the front door. And then they were inside. As simple as that. Jack followed the man into the front room, wondering where the hell his sanity had gone. If being picked up by a total stranger on a bus wasn't courting disaster, he didn't know what it was anymore. The man seemed to read through his doubts and moved in front of him, extending his right hand in Jack's direction, smiling. Jack saw him completely for the first time. Mature, maybe older than him. Tall and long limbed. Impressive without being arrogant. The amused light in his eyes made him more impish than really dangerous. He seemed to promise a lot of fun. Jack's cock stirred and he almost gasped. It had been so long, and now...out of the blue... "Let's do this right," the man said jovially. " I'm Lennie Briscoe. Pleased to meet you." Jack couldn't help smiling back. "Jack McCoy... And I'm frightened beyond belief." "Yeah." Lennie nodded. "I know." Jack swallowed again. He had to explain. He had to excuse what was going on without his permission, in his pants. "I'm not..." he told himself and Lennie. "I know." "I don't..." Briscoe smiled properly. "I know." "Not...not with men..." "Does it really matter?" Lennie asked. "If we care about each other, does it really make so much difference to you?" "I don't..." Jack thought of escape. He thought of pasta and sauce from a jar in that mouse's hole he called home. He thought of being held by someone who meant it. "I don't know." Lennie smiled, and there was such warmth and delight there Jack felt a little dizzy. Jack opened his mouth to speak again. "I don..." Was all he managed before Lennie's mouth covered his. Two hands, his hands to be precise, jerked in surprise on Lennie's back, and his belly rolled over then tightened. Lennie's hands on his face and ass held him in place while he was firmly and thoroughly kissed. Out of control with curiosity, his brain fired questions at him in an insane spray of demands, while his body tried desperately to sort out the torrent of physical input. Was this how it felt to be kissed like a woman? Was this the way he did it to his wife? Was it any different? Lennie's mouth was hot. And wet. And hard. And pleasant, Jack told himself. This man sure knew how to kiss. A silky tongue was sliding in and out of his mouth, sending waves of lust down to his groin and clouding his brain. His dick throbbed. Jack angled his head to allow Lennie to go deeper. Completely focussed on giving and receiving the best kiss he could recall in ages, Jack leaned in and gave as good as he got. Which was pretty much everything, and very nearly too much. With a gasp, he pulled away. Air. His chest heaved in protest. His cock ached in protest. His logical mind had given up protesting in the face of such naked, furious lust. "Oh boy... " he gasped out. He ran his tongue over wet lips and stared at the face in front of him, studying it as if for the first time. Deep, probing eyes regarded him. "What the hell is this?" Jack muttered, out of breath. There wasn't a hint of indignation in his voice, just an astonishment impossible to conceal. "It's a yes." Lennie answered, softly, without breaking eye contact. "A Yes to what?" "To whatever your question is, Jack. Yes if you wish to leave right now and pretend you never met me. Yes if you're up to try to walk on the wild side for one night. Yes if you want to know me better before we go for the whole nine yards and the" 'till death do us part'. Yes if you want to leave the sex out of the equation and just enjoy the company. I'm a good listener too." "Wow! That's quite an answer." Lennie smiled. Jack reached for Lennie again, pulling him forward. But instead of letting himself be kissed, he kissed this stranger from the bus as though the fate of the world depended on giving him passion and pleasure. Then Lennie moaned slightly, deep in his throat, and Jack felt heady with power. He remembered how things worked, after all. He could show this bold seducer something more than hesitant desire -- trembling like a child and fighting something he wanted desperately. He would 'take' what was offered and count himself lucky. With a growl, he simply dragged Lennie, who did not resist, to the soft carpet and began getting his clothes off as quickly as possible. Oh! that warm skin, so smooth to his fingers! Lennie was groaning loudly now, moving with him, getting his own clothes off until they were naked and pressed together. Laughing, feeling wonderful, Jack enclosed Lennie's left nipple in his lips and sucked gently, running a light touch over the erection he found just as he wanted it, so incredibly soft to the touch and hard in his grasp. He began to stroke, thinking that he would first get this stranger to come, then turn him over, spread his legs and, carefully, fuck him senseless. Oh, but that would feel so 'good'. Jack laughed, feeling more alive than he was able to remember. *** And he woke up. He was nothing but an erection and a prostrate body to support it. His face was flushed bright red. He pushed the sheets away and lay there on his back, hard as a rock, and simply felt his own arousal, seeing clearly in his mind the image he made. Slowly, sighing, he brought his hands to his stomach and lightly trailed his fingertips over his own flushed skin. He felt a stab of loneliness. His body was crying out for touches his own hands couldn't fully satisfy, and his hands were wishing fiercely for the soft skin of someone else near him. A someone who was definitively taking the shape and the form of his friend Lennie, whatever that meant. Jack grunted and moved his hands to his nipples, pressing hard, enjoying the sensation as he rarely did. He played a while longer with his nipples before his hands lightly trailed down the rest of the way and reached his own hard, throbbing cock. "Ohhhh," he breathed as his own hands covered him, caressed him. "So good." And it was. There was no harm in this, no need to hold back, no need to worry or feel guilty, just himself giving himself pleasure. Just for that pleasure alone, he was glad for the sudden unstoppable flood of dreams in which he was drowning. He came quickly, his whole body convulsing with the pleasure of it, and then he lay there a long time, ignoring the semen drying on his body, pleasantly sated, the lonely feeling gone as everything oozed contentment. <Good thing it isn't usually this good,> he couldn't help thinking, <or I'd never have made anything out of my life.> Continue on to Chapter 5 Send us some feedback Back to the Story Index Disclaimer: These characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC; we're just borrowing them for fun, not profit. |