How To Be A Good Sport

[solutioning]

Regrettably, it was morning. Pale sunlight filtered through the blinds. Erwin tossed the file on his desk, set his mug (Number One Dad, though he was nobody's father) next to it, and sank heavily into his chair. The station coffee managed to be both watery and bitter-burnt, so it was really only bearable when it was still steaming. He had developed the trick of distracting himself while he drank so that he would notice as little of the scalding or the taste as possible.

Today's reading was the report Lieutenant Levi had put together after the nasty situation at the chemical plant a few weeks back. He leafed through the pages. A straightforward homicide case, disgruntled worker, two bodies, a co-worker and a supervisor, dumped into a vat of solvent in an attempt to hide the evidence. The suspect had been spotted on site and Levi had run him down on foot, apparently sprinting over a walkway and hauling his ass up a 15-meter scaffold to do so. The thought of it sent a familiar chill down Erwin's spine, not unpleasantly.

He'd see Levi soon enough. Probably he was cleaning up last night's paperwork, and waiting, in his cunning way, for Captain Smith to be awake enough to fully appreciate what was coming to him. And Captain Smith did wonder what it was going to be - ugly sweater? Silly hat? Levi's sense of humor was very strange and Erwin didn't put it past him to show up with some instrument of minor torture, like shoes in the wrong size.

But then, if he didn't want to be a good sport about losing a bet, he shouldn't have been betting with Levi in the first place.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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[solutioning]

Though his first instinct was to hold on, he watched Levi march away without a word. The taste of shitty coffee lay on his lips and a raging hardon struggled in his pants, and the ghostly imprint of a perfect body's weight still compressed his skin. He imagined he could feel the outline of every thread of lace.

He got up and slid open the blinds on an outside window and watched the parking lot until he felt like he could focus again. Then it was back to the paperwork which he failed to finish during the morning meeting, also due to failure to focus.

---

At 8:37 pm, in his comfortable, well-kept two-bedroom house in a quiet residential part of town, Erwin was preparing dinner. He had not yet changed from his work clothes; he'd only shed the jacket and tie. The TV was on in the other room and tuned to the news. He was in the kitchen with all the lights on, turning over a single chicken breast in a pan, and had all of the other accouterments of a responsible bachelor meal at hand: broccoli, salt and pepper, a dish of reheated rice pilaf, a tumbler of scotch. The last part was not customary.

A manageable anticipation leapt in his heart. Every now and then he looked to the back door, which opened onto the deck and yard. Whether or not Levi came, whether or not it was a bad idea, whether or not anything would happen, that was not something he could plan for. Whatever happened there was an inevitability; he couldn't seriously turn Levi away any more than he could demand that he come. However: he could plan for a good outcome and for a bad one, which he did, impartially, as the grandfather clock in the foyer ticked the minutes.

[freiflug]

The rest of the afternoon had been an exercise in discipline. It had taken him a moment (in the bathroom, by himself) to refocus, compartmentalize, get back to a frame of mind where Erwin's hard dick against his ass didn't feature quite so prominently.

He hadn't allowed himself to think about it again until he was leaving work. Even then, these were only vague thoughts about Erwin's house and the most efficient route there.

He hadn't taken said route, instead stopping in a bar -- not the same one they'd gone to last time -- for a moment with a beer. It was necessary, this time; because he didn't feel like rushing to Erwin's door like an overeager puppy, and because, more importantly, it would have felt wrong to invade Erwin's home with the crises and worries of the day freshly clinging to him, with his mercenary edges still so sharp.

At least tonight, this had to be distinct from their work.

It did not take long to find Erwin's house after that. He'd stared at the front door for a few seconds, and then, out of some unnamed instinct, jumped the low fence to pad silently towards the back deck instead. He could see Erwin through the glass door, tall and golden even in the artificial kitchen light. For another long moment, he just watched from the shadows -- the way his hands moved as he worked, his military-straight posture, the attractively open collar of his shirt.

The notion of still feeling this way had never seemed more laughable.

Levi's knock on the glass was sharp and brief. Then he waited, hands stuck inside his bomber jacket to ward off the late-autumn chill.

[solutioning]

The knock came just as he was about to flip his chicken again.

He turned off the burner instead and moved the pan off the heat, and reached for a kitchen towel to wipe his hands down. Nothing changed in his expression; there was no hitch in his step, no haste or reticence, as he came to the door and opened it.

An old saying crossed his mind: only lovers come to the back door. The front door might have been anything. The back door was an intentional trespass, an avoidance of prying neighbors and spies.

Levi's perfect lithe figure straddled the line between soldier and thug. Like this, with his hands concealed and the darkness slouching at his back, young-looking and dangerous, it was a little more thug. Erwin thought about touching him right away, lifting his chin and examining him, stripping off his coat and leaving it on the floor, having sex with him, maybe right up against the wall. A piercing hunger hid in his eyes. He didn't have to think about tomorrow anymore; it had already been planned for.

"Hello," he said, pleasant and neutral. That was the end of his cool act. One hand curled around the back of Levi's head and Erwin bent to him, serious, hungry, to give back the kiss he'd been teased with that afternoon.

[freiflug]

Levi stepped out of the night and into Erwin's solid warmth. A strong hand cradled him and he reached up, slipped his own fingers into Erwin's fine hair and held him there. No more teasing. No more dancing around.

Erwin's open hunger sent a sharp thrill down his spine; Levi tilted his body upwards, pressed into him, kissing back open-mouthed and filthy, like he could convey weeks' worth of fantasies and stolen glances with this gesture alone. His free hand had slipped down Erwin's side to find his perfectly muscular ass. His fingers skittered over it like he could feel the lace beneath, before squeezing with a slightly menacing, greedy glee.

Captain Erwin's ass had also featured prominently in his frame of mind, earlier in the day.