DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fan fiction. The characters are borrowed from the series Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (SVU). The author of this story makes no claim of ownership to these characters or any others referenced therein. The owners of this intellectual property are probably unaware of this story, which is written purely for entertainment.
The characters do not in any way belong to the author of this story, and the owners of this intellectual property have nothing to do with the development or publication of this story. It is written purely for entertainment, and there will never be an attempt to profit from it. The plot of the story is the author's own work.
Copyright, Boy Mercury X, 2024.
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SUV: SUB ROSA
OPEN.
Dr. George Huang sets a vase on the fireplace mantel of his Manhattan office. It's an affectation from the days when he saw clients there, in the front room of his brownstone. The office and its furnishings are elegant and orderly, but betray nothing more of his own personality. There is a pocket door that securely separates the office from his own personal apartment. A good boundary between personal and work lives is essential.
When his guest arrives he opens the door promptly. "Detective Stabler. Please come in."
He hasn't seen the detective for a year or so, since he ended his time with the Special Victims Unit. Stabler is little changed from his memory, still tall and handsome. An intimidating presence, which can be an asset in his work. He seems agitated, however, in a way George had not often seen before, not even on the job. Stabler was one of those detectives who lives under pressure the way fish live in water, though how long that could last has always concerned George.
"I was surprised to get your call," George says, after locking the office door and offering Stabler a hot beverage - he chooses coffee - and offering him a seat.
"Nice digs," said Stabler, scanning the room. "Classy."
"Thank you," says George. It shouldn't, but it gratifies his ego to have the rough-edged cop notice the care he put into the space. He makes a mental note to add this topic to his own next counseling appointment, his habit of enjoying the approval of heterosexual men like Stabler.
"Detective Stabler. As you know, I'm not with the force any more. And when I was, I didn't often think you respected me, much less trusted me. So I'm curious about you seeking me out, now."
"Those were... professional differences," replies Stabler. "And you're the only one I can talk to. About this."
"I'm a psychiatrist, Elliot, but I'm not really practicing. I do more consulting now. You have friends and family. Why am I the only one?"
Stabler explains that his marriage had gone badly. He could never discuss this with Kathy anyway. He'd rather die. A police counselor was impossible too. It would mean his career, no matter what confidentiality they promised. Olivia was the one possibility, but she had her own problems now. And how could he tell her without changing everything?
"I know your faith is very important to you. Confession..."
"No," Elliot says, cutting him off. "Not that. I couldn't stain the confessional with this."
He puts down his coffee cup and looks out the office window, pursing his lips.
"I've been carrying this around," Stabler continues, "and it's wrecking me. It's taking my focus off work. You know what that can mean. I can blow a case. Someone can get hurt. I can get hurt."
"Detective... Elliot. Even though I'm not a colleague, and you're not my patient, as a... friend, maybe, what happened?"
Stabler stands to remove his blazer and folds it over once to set it on the side table. He looks bigger in the chest and shoulders since George saw him last. He removes the magazine from his gun and rocks back the slide to be sure it's empty. He locks it and places it on the folded blazer, strips out of his shoulder holster and adds it and his shield to the pile. Seated again he rolls his shirt sleeves up to his thick forearms, one inked on the interior, just as Huang remembers. He's set aside his defenses.
"Let's start at the beginning."
ACT ONE.
"The crew at the precinct had been looking into this high end sex trafficking ring," Stabler explains. "Gay guys mostly. No offense intended."
"None taken," replies Huang, raising an eyebrow. He's never quite understood the detective on this point.
"This wasn't street level prostitution. No selling scared runaway kids, no shady pimps. This was real high end. They were running guys, some pretty young, but still guys, through a circuit catering to gay men. Some are just well off." He glances around the office. "Some super rich."
"I'm a little surprised there's much of a market, frankly," says Huang. "Gay men are not known for being sexually unavailable. I'd think there's be ample free opportunities."
"There's always something that's easier to buy than to get the usual ways," Stabler explains. This guy, Huang. He's still naive, even after everything he's seen in the SVU. "If you don't have the looks or the income or the time, or the... personal ability, then getting laid is easier as a transaction. And if you feel the need, you can indulge in some fantasies no one else would go for. And for a lot of guys there's just a thrill in paying"
"It doesn't sound as awful as so much of what you deal with."
"It's not. But it's still illegal. And there's still victims, even if they come out a little less damaged than the ones we usually see.
"So we look into putting some officers in undercover, to get details, get some IDs. But the young guys are so green, and the brass doesn't want to risk something with them that could cause bad PR. It's always like that with gay shit. So I say it's too bad we can't put in someone more seasoned. Fin asks what about me, and I laugh and say I'm pretty sure there's no market for a guy pushing forty. That's when Fin says, `Unless you're a Bull.'
"I've been on this job for a while and thought I knew just about everything, but this was a new one on me. Dr. Huang, do you know what a Bull is?"
"Why don't you tell me?" replies Huang, setting his tea down.
"So Fin, you know his kid is gay, right? He says there's guys who want another man, not a boy. Even an older guy, or especially an older guy. Someone to dominate him, or them, if they're a couple who have been together a while but don't..." Stabler gestures awkwardly.
"They have a `dead bedroom'," Huang offers. "It's not uncommon for long term gay couples to lose intimacy with each other, even if they have high libidos. Some opt for open relationships, but that has risks too. And the feelings between partners are not always in sync. Bringing in a third party, especially a professional, who knows the rules and the boundaries, can seem like a safer alternative."
He feels he's said too much, but works to maintain his neutral face. He'd need to be more careful. Elliot Stabler, whatever else he might be, is a masterful interrogator. He could elicit your most guarded secrets before you realized they'd passed your lips.
"Right," says Stabler. "So we work it out. There's this big party on The Island. A huge party, for the richie rich gay guys. So big they need to bring in extra help. Get loaners from others in the business, maybe rush through some screening, which is how I get in, through a prostitution front we operate for purposes like this."
Stabler takes a long pause, and Hung lets the silence rest there until Stabler is ready to continue.
"Doc," he says, "since my marriage went south, I was just putting myself into work. Every day was work, go to the gym, sleep and repeat. I put myself into more and more risky spots every day. Someone has to go in, sub rosa, so I volunteer. I guess in part because of Fin's Bull idea."
"We all do what we can to cope, Detective. Sometimes not in the most adaptive ways, but to get through."
"Doc, there's some things I have to tell you that... I have to know will never leave this room."
George inhales. "I'm a psychiatrist, Detective. Not your psychiatrist, but still, I respect the confidentiality of this office."
He looks at the vase on the mantel he'd placed just moments ago.
"Elliot, do you know the origins of the term `sub rosa?'"
Stabler shrugs. "I know it means an undercover operation, like mine was. I know there's rules about admissibility in court."
"Sub rosa literally means under the rose," explains Huang. "Roses have a long history of association with the hidden. In myth, the god of silence was given a rose as a bribe to keep the sexual activities of Venus to himself. There were banquet rooms were decorated with rose carvings, to remind guests that what was said while drinking was confidential. Christians even incorporated roses into the woodwork of confessionals to signify that the conversations would remain secret."
Huang nods to the vase filled with roses, just a few feet away from them both.
"Detective, please continue. Between us."
ACT TWO.
"So I'm brought in," Stabler continues. "The whole thing is managed chaos. They check me out like a horse being sold. They can see I'm in pretty good shape, verify I'm clean for disease. I'm given an... outfit. And the rules. Basically anything goes. Keep the customers happy. Tell them they're hot even if they're ugly as sin. If they want to get handsy, let them. If they want a kiss, give it.
"The only thing is anything that involves the mouth more than a kiss, anything cock or ass is premium service. There's guys like pit bosses stationed everywhere, and if someone wants something premium, the pit boss okays it and it gets charged to the John's account. Or Johns. And once they pay, they get what they want. Of course the caution is that as a guy, once you cum it limits what you can make for a while, so you need to be judicious."
"And the outfit?" asks Huang.
Stabler chuckles. Huang noticed him pause when he mentioned it. "A lot of guys are getting outfitted. There's tight jeans, spandex, some I don't even fucking know what they are. Even police uniforms." He laughs again.
"And for you?" asks the psychiatrist.
"For me, Doc, there's this... jockstrap. Black leather. And outside the pouch there's kind of a cup, a metal exterior..."
"A codpiece."
"Yeah. And the strap has snaps so it can be opened and closed for easy access. And there's leather boots and a cap. And a kind of..." - Stabler mimics something wrapping around his chest - "leather harness that goes around the shoulders and across my chest. You know what I mean?"
Huang nods.
"And the thing is, it's stupid, it's just this leather thing someone hands me at random. There's a few other guys with similar get ups." Stabler takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "But mine goes on like a dream. Like it's made for me. Some other guy look ridiculous. But this harness they gave me just snaps into place and just fits perfect. Even I can tell. It suits me."
"Like your shoulder holster?" Huang asks. "You're accustomed to wearing something like a harness. And the codpiece you described is perhaps like... a badge? No offense intended."
Stabler shakes his head and laughs. "You're a smart guy, Doc. I guess so. You could always see right through me."
"Go on, Detective. Please."
"So anyway," Stabler continues, "it's party night. There's all these gay guys. They're the elite, so a lot are older, because that's where the money concentrates, right? But there's a lot of tech bros too. Younger than you or me, but rich as fuck. And maybe lacking some social skills."
"There's a high incidence of individuals in tech on the spectrum," Huang confirms, "people who have difficulty negotiating social situations. And gay men often have a delayed adolescence due to the pressure to be closeted as teens. So you have some people who are not malign, but who now have significant financial freedom, and maybe some long frustrated desires that are now... unbridled."
Stabler nods.
"Compared to a lot of what I've seen," the detective says, "this is almost innocent. But again, selling sex is illegal.
"So they've got us working the party, soliciting. Guys half my age. Trans. Bodybuilders. Guys that are hairy like gorillas. Whatever you're into, there's something for everyone. Just get the Johns to buy a premium service, so you make bank."
Stabler takes a longer pause, and looks away before he continues.
"Doc, when you're undercover, the thing you have to do is find yourself in the character you're playing. You can't carry off total BS. There's got to be something in the bit, however sleazy, that could be you, and bring it out. Maybe the someone you could be if your life had gone differently."
"It's easier to conceal one truth beneath another than an outright lie," Huang agrees. "More convincing. Easier to maintain."
It occurs to Huang that he and Stabler each wear masks in their professions. Stabler's mask is a fiction that reveals something ugly but true about himself, Huang's purports to be his true identity, but is a false face of neutrality that often hides his ugly judgments, arousals and revulsion.
"So I'm in character. I'm there to be an alpha male. A Bull, right? But also to serve and to flatter. To look good and to charm. And there's something in me that, I don't know, can get off on that. It's not something I think about, but..."
"You know how you look, Detective. You dress to flatter your looks and build. You use your appearance to your advantage. This isn't a criticism. Just an acknowledgement that you do have a certain self awareness."
Stabler continues, "So I wander around the party. It's like a huge fucking disco and pool party and orgy all in one party. There's booze and loud music and they're passing out Viagra like candy. And there's different tents for everything.
"I make small talk. `Hey stud,' and whatever. But it's not my words they're interested in. Everywhere I go, these guys are getting handsy with me. They're grabbing at my crotch and... tits." He's never used that word to describe his own chest, but in the context it feels right. "Some want to kiss. Doc, you know how long it's been since I really kissed someone other than Kathy?
"Guys are grabbing my ass from behind, and where I'm from... I have every impulse to turn around and crack someone. But I have to be into it, so I try to sink into the bit.
"Doc, here's the thing. I do kind of enjoy it. I don't know how to say this, but it's not like how I think of it when sleaze bags do it to women, to kids. It's not fucked up that way. I mean yeah, they're paying for access to my body like I'm some kind of whore, but also it's like they're looking up instead of down."
"There's a different power differential," suggests Huang. "Men already have more social status in common, and more often physical strength as well. And among gay men, physical beauty is so desired in the other but also aspirational for the self. In the situation you described, you're beneath them as a prostitute, but in some ways above them as an ideal. It must be a heady mix."
"And for a guy," Stabler continues, "a guy like me, who shut away so many parts of myself to be a husband and a father... and for a guy my age too, to discover this thing...
"I never had this feeling, to be wanted this way."
Huang isn't accustomed to seeing Stabler so introspective.
"So, Doc, the party goes on. And there's stuff I never thought I'd do, not even undercover. I'm not even going to say some of it, because it's not important to where this is going. My body isn't mine anymore. It's theirs. Anyone who wants a piece of it. And they take it, and I enjoy it.
"One guy begs to... blow me. To suck me off. I tell him he needs the pit boss's go ahead, which he gets.
"You know how undercover is. I could have made an excuse. Put him off. Found a way out. But I didn't."
Huang nods.
"Doc, oral sex with women is good. Really good. But especially after you're married a long time, it's... polite. But the things this guy did to my dick, right there in front of anyone who walks by... I've never had anything like this. I was down his throat, to the root."
Huang shifts in his seat, crossing his legs at the thigh.
"He keeps gulping and swallowing my dick, grabbing my ass and pulling me in. And Doc, I'm not saying this to brag, but I've got eight inches here so it can't be easy. And he's making all this spit and... mucous that makes it so easy for me to slide in and out, even if for him it's not all easy. It's not nice, like with a woman. It's rough. I'm throat fucking him, hard. And the more I do it the more he wants.
"I'm standing there in this harness and boots, the jockstrap hanging open for access, and a pool of saliva and precum under me from what this guy is doing. And other guys gather around. Old, young, fit, fat. And I can feel hands on my chest and prying my ass cheeks open as guys are touching me there too.
"Someone puts a bottle of poppers under my nose, someone else holds one nostril shut, and I take a hit. And then another.
"I get my hands on the guy's head and I pull it down on my cock. I can hear him gagging and choking on it, but like in the distance. And I don't give a fuck because it feels so good. And the room is spinning and I think I'm made for this moment, and then I'm shooting. I mean, like I've never cum before. My hips are forcing it down his gullet, and I don't care if he can breathe or not, I just have to breed that throat till I'm drained."
George shifts again in his chair.
"So, it's a couple hours in," Stabler says, "and I've already broken half the undercover rules. But I never felt anything like it before. The intensity of men being men together that way. Not worrying about any feeling. No shame. No fucking self control."
"Go on," invites Huang.
ACT THREE.
"So after I get a masterclass in getting my cock sucked, I wander away to find a place to get my head together for a few minutes.
"Before long I'm getting grabbed again. It's a party, right? I know for some guys, most guys, you cum once and you're done for the night. I have a little faster recovery rate, you could say.
"And even while my dick is recovering, the other parts are good to go. There's guys kissing me. Adoring me. Like I should feel like a woman with all these men at me, but I just feel like more of a man. And my dick is getting responsive.
"I'm told by a pit boss two guys want me to Bull for them. They're a couple. One's a white guy, a little older than you and me, one's younger, Latino I think. They don't seem like sleazes, like I'm used to thinking of Johns. They seem... nice. They want me to come with them. So I do.
"There's bedroom tents available for whatever guests want, at a cost, and we get one.
"The guys say they've been together a while. The older one, nice looking for his age, fit, wants to see his boyfriend get fucked.
`You want that?' I ask the boyfriend, and he does.
"He's short, but built like fuck. He's dark skinned, and good looking. He's already working his dick and it's so dark it's almost purple, like his tits. He's almost salivating.
"I let him warm me up by sucking my dick, while the boyfriend watches. And I'm just about there.
"I tell the boyfriend to lube up my new bottom, and they're eager to comply. The bottom is on all fours, and the older guy pours it and works it into his boyfriend's hole, till it's dripping onto the bed. His pucker is pulsating, and it's purple too. I get up on the bed on my knees, and my boner is stiffer than it has any business being. I press the crown against his slicked up hole, teasing him with the head, and he's begging me to put it in.
"`You want me to fuck your man?' I ask over my shoulder to the older guy and he says God yeah.
"So I let my hard-on sink into him, and it's like an anchor, slow, steady, and going in one direction only. I don't know what I was expecting, but it's like my dick is in heaven.
"I've never fucked a guy before. Obviously."
"Obviously," Huang replies, nodding.
"But I start pumping into him, like I was born to it. I'm fucking him hard, Dr. Huang. No thought about his comfort. And he's loving it. He's moaning and grunting, but begging `fuck me, yeah, fuck me'.
"And I see his boyfriend watching, licking his lips, stroking his own cock. And it's not small. But it's not mine, because mine is lodged in his man's ass, slamming him like there's no tomorrow.
"I grab his hips and pull him back so he meets every thrust I put into him. He's almost crying, biting his own arm, hiking his ass up. `Please cum in me, please'
"I'm gonna shoot in your man," I call to the boyfriend. `When I do, you can clean up.'
"I hear the boyfriend say yes. His voice is trembling, he wants me to put my seed in his man so bad, and that triggers me. I shove up into the bottom like I'm going to break him in two, and I start shooting my load into his ass. I can hear him saying `Oh fuck me, fuck yeah,' and gasping, and I know he's cumming too, because his hole is like a vice, squeezing it out of me fast as my balls can pump it, making me shudder and sweat. It's like he's milking it out of me, and we do that till there's nothing left but all my load in him."
Huang nods.
"I step back and my head is spinning. But I see the boyfriend follow where I was, to eat his man's ass, because he's so hungry for the nut I left there.
"Doc, it's not like women. They want our nut in them if they want to get pregnant, but otherwise it's inconvenient. And even when they want it, it's not because it's something precious, but because of what they can get with it, to make a baby. Otherwise they'll use IUDs and whatever other shit to keep your cum from getting to where it wants to go, to keep it from doing its job.
"But this guy. He didn't even know my name, he just wanted me enough to be starving for the part of me that even my wife just put up with most of the time.
"And as if that wasn't enough, after he ate my seed out of his boyfriend, he came to where I was sitting, got between my legs and started sucking me off. I was pretty spent, but he cupped my balls and worked them to get any last jizz out, swallowing while he jerked himself and came on the floor under us.
"And I was done. I couldn't get that hard again right away. But I could still get felt up, and I did, gladly, while I collected information, got faces and names. I did my job.
"But I had to wonder why. Sure there were pervs there, and probably some younger guys pressured to do things they didn't want to do. But others, like the two I Bulled for. Who were they hurting? They weren't sleaze bags. They just wanted something with someone that they were willing to pay for.
"Is it so different from anything anyone else pays for?
"Is it so different from seeing a psychiatrist?"
ACT FOUR.
"That sounds like a wild night," Huang says. "It must be a lot to process. It might be considered a traumatic incident, even if you consented.
"But Elliot, we all have different facets to our personalities."
"Do we, Doc? Do you? Because you always seem so controlled. Or so unmoved."
Huang opts to not reply.
"You can see now why I came to you," says Stabler. "Why I couldn't tell anyone else. But the thing now is I can't shake it. I did things I never imagined I'd do. I acted like a whore because I was a whore. I let strangers use my body and I used theirs. And I liked it.
"This thing in me that I pulled out to play the part... I can't get it back in its cage. And it wants more.
"And I didn't even do everything I wanted to do. Not yet. I felt those guys hands on my ass, but not in my ass. I was sucked and I fucked. But I didn't get fucked. And I want to."
"I wouldn't think you would have much problem if that's an experience you wish to pursue," says Huang. He thinks, but does not say, especially now, when the already fit detective is more built than ever.
"Well. That's the other reason I came to you."
"How so?" asks Huang.
"Well, the years we worked together," Stabler says. "I knew you were into me."
"Detective," interrupts Huang, "I don't think..."
"Doc," says Stabler, "I knew. I could feel your eyes on my ass. I could see you lingering when I was getting out of the shower. I didn't make much of it then, for either of us. But if you're going to say that I, of all people, can't recognize lust... Don't insult me."
"Detective, I have to wonder if your feelings..."
Stabler interrupts Huang with a sigh. "I fucking hate this," he says. "You have no idea how much I hate this. Communicating like this makes me feel so exposed. This is your territory, words and feelings. I'm in the lion's den now. After all I told you here today, don't you lie to me."
It was true.
Huang's feelings for Stabler never impeded his work, though it may have contributed to the friction between them. He was ashamed that an Asian man of his accomplishments would yearn for a white married heterosexual, like some sort of grotesque latter day Madame Butterfly. In the end it wasn't the only reason he left SVU, not by a long shot. But it was a contributing factor.
"Elliot, even if so, I don't think... If you want to explore that, you'd have no trouble finding a sexual partner."
"Doc, who could I trust but you? I'm not ready to become the gay cop of the squad just because I need to know what this feels like."
"There are, well, toys. Devices. I can suggest sources..."
"You don't think I tried?" asks Stabler. "A butt plug, a dildo. They can fill your ass but they don't give you desire, like I felt that night. Or like I used to feel from you. And maybe still do.
"Doc, the thing I felt that night. The thing I know I'm not done with. The first inkling I had of that was from you. I'm not smart the way you are, but I'm not stupid. I know what I know."
George can't deny it, so he sits back in his seat doing what he does best, putting on the facade to hide his true feelings.
"I know you're a good guy, You're a good man. I can trust that. That's why... that's why I came to you. That's why I'm here now. For you to fuck me."
"Elliot, if this is some novel new way to punish yourself I can't be a party to it. I..."
Stabler stands up and unbuttons his shirt, and peels it off one shoulder and then the other, and slides it off his arms to expose his lean muscled torso. He really does look more remarkable than ever before. There are sparse hairs on his chest and stomach, leading to a dirty blond bush that appears as he drops his trousers, and then his fat cock, very credibly an eight incher, thicker toward the top and growing stiff before Huang's eyes.
"This is me, Doc," he says. "No punishment. No gun, no badge. No harness."
He turns to show his firm pale ass, and slaps it once, the muscled mound springing up and down just once before settling back in place.
"Do you really not want to?" he asked
Huang weighs the ethical considerations. Stabler wasn't a patient, now or ever. He wasn't a colleague. His marriage was over, and so was George's. There are so many near-issues that might preclude what Elliot asks of him. And yet there's also Elliot standing there with his longing.
Huang rises up and crosses the few feet between himself and Stabler. He wraps his arms around the detective, kissing his back and pressing his face to it.
"More than anything I ever wanted in my life," he answers.
ACT FIVE.
George's apartment is behind the pocket door. He removes his shoes and leads Elliot through it. The space is more airy and well lit than the office, but meticulously arranged. There are dramatic white lilies in clear vases, art on the walls, including a framed Tom of Finland print, carefully placed modern furniture. His bedroom is particularly filled with natural light from the twin windows, and his bed is made with precision corners.
George unknots his tie and Elliot draws it off through his collar, then unbuttons the doctor's shirt and pulls it off. Shirtless he looks as Elliot imagined. Slim, fit and smooth, with tempting swells of muscle in his chest and shoulders and a slim waist. He has a faint treasure trail that draws Elliot's eyes down.
He opens George's trousers and pulls them down with his briefs. Dropping to his knees he's faced with a handsome cock, tawny brown, oozing precum. It's not as long as Elliot's but not far, and thicker at about half-length. He always thought George had the most beautiful face he'd ever seen on another man, and he has a cock to match.
Elliot licks the precum up and then swallows George's cock whole, and begins to let the shaft slide back and forth as he holds the doctor's balls. The first cock he's sucked, he thinks, and he's grateful it's such a good-looking one, not too big, but big enough to make it not easy.
When he stands up his lips are wet with spit and precum, and he kisses George. His head is turned to accommodate their difference in height, which is nothing new for him. But the way he kisses is. George is a deeper and more aggressive kisser than Elliot is used to, or expected.
When Elliot breaks away they look each other in the face. It seems so unreal to be finally doing this. Elliot is smiling more than George has ever seen in all the time he's known the detective.
"Doc," Elliot says with a smirk, "I know all cops are bastards, but this bastard needs you to fuck him."
He turns to climb into the bed and takes a position, elbows down, ass up. George follows, kneeling behind the detective. His heart races as he runs his hands over the meaty ass, the little blond hairs lit by the sunlight. He parts the twin mounds to find Elliot's pucker, ringed by blond hairs. When he plunges his tongue into it - into him - Elliot gasps.
He laps at Elliot's hole, teases it with just the tip of his tongue and then gently bites the cheeks. He digs his tongue in again, and hears Elliot's deep sighs. He feasts on the Irish cop hole, slathering it with spit and easing it open. When he parts it with his thumbs, he can see a hint of the rose pink inside, wet and receptive, over the detective's stallion balls hanging below.
He could wreck the detective's hole with his tongue alone, but there are other things he wants to do, and things Elliot wants done. He rises up on his knees and wipes the spit from his lips with his forearm. "You're delicious," he says, almost laughing at the idea of expressing this to Elliot Stabler, of all people.
"Fuck me," Elliot groans, his face and shoulders to the mattress, his hands pull his ass cheeks apart to give the doctor full access.
George leaves the bed to get his pocket sized lube, and when he returns he squeezes it out of the clear plastic bottle, straight onto Elliot's ass crack. He rubs it over the hole, and in it, probing with one, two and then three fingers. He pours more, and smears it onto his own erection.
"Fuck me," Elliot groans again, his face and shoulders to the mattress, his hands pull his ass cheeks apart to give the doctor full access.
"Turn over," he says.
Elliott flips onto his back and asks, "You like it better this way?"
He presses his cockhead to Elliot's slathered hole, teasing it, and says "When I'm with you, I want to see your face."
He presses the head in and slowly eases the rest, inch by inch, watching Elliot's face for his cues of when to stop, when to give him more. The detective groans and the initial discomfort of on his handsome face eases, inviting George to sink in with his full length.
"Oh my God," Elliot whispers as George slides his cock back and then in again, slowly and then with a stronger thrust. "Oh fuck."
"Is that okay?" George asks, picking up the pace of his thrusts.
"Unf, you always were a pain in the ass," Elliot answers, dropping his head back and panting.
George slides his erection out entirely, and Elliot says, "No, oh fuck, get back in me."
It was bad enough only imagining George in him. But now that he's had him there, he feels an empty ache without him.
George smiles and slides back in, going all the way in one stroke, making Elliot gasp again. The detective's insides are so warm and soft he wonders how long he can do this without cumming.
"Oh fuck yeah, fuck me," Elliot rasps, but George needs no incitement. He rests his hands on the backs of Elliot's thighs for leverage and fucks into Elliot with all his years of desire and aggravation, his resentments and wishes and longing. He fucks him hard while eyeing the detective with open lust
The detective urges him on, smiling, almost laughing. "Yeah, YEAH! Oh God, fuck me, fuck that cop ass."
Still the tough guy, George thinks. He slows his thrusts, and asks, "Where are you Elliot?"
"I'm in your bed, with you in my ass," Elliot answers.
"And you're here because I want you here," George says, his hips keeping a slow but steady pace. "And because I'm your friend, and in my own way I love you as a friend."
Elliot groans as George's cock prods his prostate, pulling at the bedspread in his fists. "Unnnnf, you're already in my ass and now you gotta get in my head, you fucking shrink."
George laughs. "We're not shrinking anything today."
He looks down to Elliot's big cock on his flat belly, thumping with every hit, and leaking precum that collects in the hollow of his navel, like a muscular cup.
As he hits the detective's prostate again and again, Elliot's bravado melts to pleading. His mouth is open, almost trembling with need and his eyes are plaintive. He can barely speak, but the message on his lips is clear. "Cum in me. Please."
George drums Eliot's prostate until he can't hold back anymore. His muscles all tense as his hips thrust in and he erupts, cumming deep in the ass of Elliott Stabler, sex crimes detective, marine, father, husband and, of late, discoverer of his own deepest wants.
George bends down at the waist to kiss the detective while Elliot strokes himself heatedly. When he looks down there's a streak of milky white in his precum. George's cock pushes into him again to nudge Elliot's climax and he floods his own belly and chest with a river of hot cum, George's fucking it out of him.
When Elliot's emptied, the doctor pulls out of him to lap his load, even the last of it in the tight pool of his navel.
Afterwards they sprawl in bed together, kissing and exploring each other's bodies.
George holds Elliot's cock, which is spent but firming.
His capacity seems limitless.
CODA.
Some time later as they lay there together, George studies the face of the silent detective who seems to be staring ahead.
"What are you thinking in that turbulent mind of yours?" George asks.
"What ifs," answers Elliot. "The things in me I had to tap into every time I did undercover work. The other people, the creeps I could have ended up as if things had gone a little different.
"I had so much of that bad stuff in me that it took Kathy and Liv and Cregan and you to tamp it down. When you left, maybe there wasn't enough to cage it."
"That might not be a bad thing, Elliot," George says, kissing the detective's shoulder.
Elliot takes George's hand, intertwining their fingers.
"Maybe," he says. "In another life I might have ended up on the other side of the law."
"A charming conman?"
Elliot scoffs. "In prison."
"Am I in this other life?" George prods. "Am I your cellmate? I don't think I'd like that."
"Nah, you're the prison priest."
"A priest?" George laughs. It feels good, lying there just talking. "I have too many vices for that."
"Oh well. You curse and you smoke, maybe." He turns to look at George. "But you take my confession. In every life."
"Do I absolve you?"
Elliot considers this for a moment.
"I don't know about in that life," Elliot says. "Maybe I don't deserve it there. But in this one, yeah."
He tightens his grip on George's hand, lying there in the best of all possible worlds.
- END -