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rwryterTitle: Miles Away
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hawkeyecat
Fandom: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Cragen/Huang
Theme: M is for Mars, the fourth planet from the sun.
Rating: Mature for non-explicit sex
Word Count: 1,258
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Sometimes, George feels a million miles away. He floats in happiness, basking in pleasure. It’s usually right after the sex is over, when Don is supporting himself over George before rolling off to the side. It lasts through the cuddling, when he’s curled on Don’s chest and Don is running his fingers through George’s hair, murmuring nonsense about love and commitment and forever. George doesn’t care if they make sense then—he’s not even completely there. The sound of Don’s voice soothes, and Don’s caresses make him melt. Inevitably, something interrupts—Don’s phone, or George’s, or, on one memorable occasion, the smoke detector.
This time, George wants the feeling to last. He’s already called his boss, claiming food poisoning, and now he dials Elliot’s apartment. When the machine picks up, he leaves a vaguely threatening message about making certain no one would call either himself or Don. When George is about to hang up, Elliot answers, sounding mildly pissed.
“Stabler.”
“Elliot, can you make sure no one calls Don this evening?”
“Why?”
“We need some, ah, personal time.”
“You mean like what you just interrupted?”
George winces. “I’m sorry.”
“Tell you what. I’ll fix that if you’ll get the captain to do the same for me sometime.” George hears another voice in the background. “Hold on.” Elliot’s voice sounds muffled. “No, it’s not the precinct. Huang. Yeah, he says he’s sorry.” His voice returns to normal. “Sorry about that. Interrupting lazy, boneless pleasure time earns you death threats.”
“Homicide detectives shouldn’t threaten death.”
“Yeah, I know. So tonight, right?”
“Thanks, Elliot. I owe you.”
“No problem.” There’s a click, and George hangs up the phone, feeling far more pleased than he logically should that Elliot agreed. He flips open his cell phone and nearly calls Don before remembering the meeting Don mentioned this morning. Instead, he writes a note and tapes it on the wall across from the door.
When George gets home from the grocery store, Don’s car is in the driveway and the house lights are off. He makes as little noise as possible unlocking the door, but hears the television in the living room as soon as he’s inside. After putting the bags on the kitchen table, he enters the living room, smiling at the sight of Don in his shirtsleeves, shoes kicked onto the floor beside the couch and tie loosened, dozing through the commercial. George shakes Don’s shoulder gently, and the older man starts awake.
“You’re missing your show.”
“It’s a commercial, not the show.” Don seizes George’s wrists and tries to tug him down to the couch.
“After I put away the groceries, I’ll join you.”
Don tries to pout, which only makes George laugh, and loosens his hold. George leans down to Don, detouring to kiss his forehead at the last minute. At this, Don really does pout, and George is apologetic.
“Your ice cream is going to melt if I don’t put it away now.”
Don looks suspicious. “You never buy ice cream.”
“Almost never,” George corrects him, and watches as a delighted grin spreads across Don’s face.
“Want any help?”
“There’s not much. Your show is back on.” George returns to the kitchen, where he only puts away the perishables—everything else can wait. Back in the living room, he slides next to Don, spooning against his chest. Don shifts and leans over George, then captures his mouth. It’s gentle and sweet and exactly what George wants. He runs his tongue along Don’s lower lip, feeling Don’s mouth part and Don’s tongue slip into his own mouth.
“Hello,” Don murmurs when they break apart.
“Mm, hello,” George replies, pushing back into Don. “What are we watching?”
“That Fox show—you know, the new one.”
“The one with all the sexual tension between the main character and what’s-his-name, the best friend?”
“Yeah, even though the female assistant is interested in the main guy. She’s pretty, too.”
George snorts. “The best friend is prettier, and the assistant is so one-dimensional. Have we seen this one?”
“It’s from last week. They’re showing college basketball instead this week.”
George tries to roll over on the couch and ends up lying on Don—a position which opens new, and interesting, possibilities. “So that’s a yes?”
“Well, I did sleep through part of it last week,” Don replies, trying to look innocent.
George refuses to be baited. “I’ll watch the rest with you, then.”
Don actually looks like he’s considering the offer. Then his hand slides down George’s back and glides over his ass, and George can feel Don’s arousal. He stands and offers a hand to Don, who takes it but doesn’t use it for leverage. They walk to the bedroom like that, Don running his thumb along the back of George’s hand.
In their room, Don sits on the edge of the bed and pulls George between his legs. George kisses him, and it’s harder than it had been on the couch, but still sweet. George busies his hands with Don’s shirt buttons, and Don does the same with his. George breaks away long enough to take off his shoes and toss both their shirts into the hamper, pausing to drop the WET from the nightstand drawer onto the bed. Then Don’s hands are on him again, unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers to the floor, where Don’s land a moment later. He doesn’t see Don roll his eyes when he stops to fold both pairs, but George knows he does. He lays them on the armchair by the window. Don is naked when he turns back, and George savors the sight. He throws his own briefs and socks toward the hamper, not caring when they fall short, simply wanting Don now.
He returns to the bed and is about to lay down when Don clears his throat. George looks at him, and he’s actually blushing, looking at the carpet instead of George.
“Is something wrong?” George asks softly.
“I was wondering if, well…”
The Don George knows is confident and always knows what to say. This Don is nervous and tongue-tied. While it’s amusing, George wants to move on to the sex.
“What, Don?”
"I was wondering, if, well, if you want to top?"
George isn’t sure he understood what Don said. Don has always been on top, always, and neither has expressed any desire to try anything else until now.
“Do you want me to?” Don doesn’t reply, just shifts slightly. “I’m completely happy with how we’ve been, but we can switch if you want.”
That must have been what Don wanted to hear, because suddenly he’s George’s Don again, confident and easy with himself as ever. He climbs on the bed and pushes George down, and George knows he had only asked for his sake. When Don shifts from kissing George’s mouth to trailing his lips down George’s chest, George only thinks about his touch. When Don wraps his lips around George’s shaft, George stops thinking.
George is a million miles away when Don pulls out of him and rests on his elbows for a moment before rolling to the bed next to him. When he curls against Don’s chest, it’s an unconscious act of love. Don gathers George in his arms and wraps one hand in George’s hair, murmuring about how much he loves the younger man and always will. George falls asleep with his head on Don’s shoulder and his lover’s voice in his ear, and wakes still curled against him when their clock chirps at 6:30.
Author:
hawkeyecatFandom: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Cragen/Huang
Theme: M is for Mars, the fourth planet from the sun.
Rating: Mature for non-explicit sex
Word Count: 1,258
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Sometimes, George feels a million miles away. He floats in happiness, basking in pleasure. It’s usually right after the sex is over, when Don is supporting himself over George before rolling off to the side. It lasts through the cuddling, when he’s curled on Don’s chest and Don is running his fingers through George’s hair, murmuring nonsense about love and commitment and forever. George doesn’t care if they make sense then—he’s not even completely there. The sound of Don’s voice soothes, and Don’s caresses make him melt. Inevitably, something interrupts—Don’s phone, or George’s, or, on one memorable occasion, the smoke detector.
This time, George wants the feeling to last. He’s already called his boss, claiming food poisoning, and now he dials Elliot’s apartment. When the machine picks up, he leaves a vaguely threatening message about making certain no one would call either himself or Don. When George is about to hang up, Elliot answers, sounding mildly pissed.
“Stabler.”
“Elliot, can you make sure no one calls Don this evening?”
“Why?”
“We need some, ah, personal time.”
“You mean like what you just interrupted?”
George winces. “I’m sorry.”
“Tell you what. I’ll fix that if you’ll get the captain to do the same for me sometime.” George hears another voice in the background. “Hold on.” Elliot’s voice sounds muffled. “No, it’s not the precinct. Huang. Yeah, he says he’s sorry.” His voice returns to normal. “Sorry about that. Interrupting lazy, boneless pleasure time earns you death threats.”
“Homicide detectives shouldn’t threaten death.”
“Yeah, I know. So tonight, right?”
“Thanks, Elliot. I owe you.”
“No problem.” There’s a click, and George hangs up the phone, feeling far more pleased than he logically should that Elliot agreed. He flips open his cell phone and nearly calls Don before remembering the meeting Don mentioned this morning. Instead, he writes a note and tapes it on the wall across from the door.
When George gets home from the grocery store, Don’s car is in the driveway and the house lights are off. He makes as little noise as possible unlocking the door, but hears the television in the living room as soon as he’s inside. After putting the bags on the kitchen table, he enters the living room, smiling at the sight of Don in his shirtsleeves, shoes kicked onto the floor beside the couch and tie loosened, dozing through the commercial. George shakes Don’s shoulder gently, and the older man starts awake.
“You’re missing your show.”
“It’s a commercial, not the show.” Don seizes George’s wrists and tries to tug him down to the couch.
“After I put away the groceries, I’ll join you.”
Don tries to pout, which only makes George laugh, and loosens his hold. George leans down to Don, detouring to kiss his forehead at the last minute. At this, Don really does pout, and George is apologetic.
“Your ice cream is going to melt if I don’t put it away now.”
Don looks suspicious. “You never buy ice cream.”
“Almost never,” George corrects him, and watches as a delighted grin spreads across Don’s face.
“Want any help?”
“There’s not much. Your show is back on.” George returns to the kitchen, where he only puts away the perishables—everything else can wait. Back in the living room, he slides next to Don, spooning against his chest. Don shifts and leans over George, then captures his mouth. It’s gentle and sweet and exactly what George wants. He runs his tongue along Don’s lower lip, feeling Don’s mouth part and Don’s tongue slip into his own mouth.
“Hello,” Don murmurs when they break apart.
“Mm, hello,” George replies, pushing back into Don. “What are we watching?”
“That Fox show—you know, the new one.”
“The one with all the sexual tension between the main character and what’s-his-name, the best friend?”
“Yeah, even though the female assistant is interested in the main guy. She’s pretty, too.”
George snorts. “The best friend is prettier, and the assistant is so one-dimensional. Have we seen this one?”
“It’s from last week. They’re showing college basketball instead this week.”
George tries to roll over on the couch and ends up lying on Don—a position which opens new, and interesting, possibilities. “So that’s a yes?”
“Well, I did sleep through part of it last week,” Don replies, trying to look innocent.
George refuses to be baited. “I’ll watch the rest with you, then.”
Don actually looks like he’s considering the offer. Then his hand slides down George’s back and glides over his ass, and George can feel Don’s arousal. He stands and offers a hand to Don, who takes it but doesn’t use it for leverage. They walk to the bedroom like that, Don running his thumb along the back of George’s hand.
In their room, Don sits on the edge of the bed and pulls George between his legs. George kisses him, and it’s harder than it had been on the couch, but still sweet. George busies his hands with Don’s shirt buttons, and Don does the same with his. George breaks away long enough to take off his shoes and toss both their shirts into the hamper, pausing to drop the WET from the nightstand drawer onto the bed. Then Don’s hands are on him again, unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers to the floor, where Don’s land a moment later. He doesn’t see Don roll his eyes when he stops to fold both pairs, but George knows he does. He lays them on the armchair by the window. Don is naked when he turns back, and George savors the sight. He throws his own briefs and socks toward the hamper, not caring when they fall short, simply wanting Don now.
He returns to the bed and is about to lay down when Don clears his throat. George looks at him, and he’s actually blushing, looking at the carpet instead of George.
“Is something wrong?” George asks softly.
“I was wondering if, well…”
The Don George knows is confident and always knows what to say. This Don is nervous and tongue-tied. While it’s amusing, George wants to move on to the sex.
“What, Don?”
"I was wondering, if, well, if you want to top?"
George isn’t sure he understood what Don said. Don has always been on top, always, and neither has expressed any desire to try anything else until now.
“Do you want me to?” Don doesn’t reply, just shifts slightly. “I’m completely happy with how we’ve been, but we can switch if you want.”
That must have been what Don wanted to hear, because suddenly he’s George’s Don again, confident and easy with himself as ever. He climbs on the bed and pushes George down, and George knows he had only asked for his sake. When Don shifts from kissing George’s mouth to trailing his lips down George’s chest, George only thinks about his touch. When Don wraps his lips around George’s shaft, George stops thinking.
George is a million miles away when Don pulls out of him and rests on his elbows for a moment before rolling to the bed next to him. When he curls against Don’s chest, it’s an unconscious act of love. Don gathers George in his arms and wraps one hand in George’s hair, murmuring about how much he loves the younger man and always will. George falls asleep with his head on Don’s shoulder and his lover’s voice in his ear, and wakes still curled against him when their clock chirps at 6:30.
