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“You always have to make my life more difficult, don’t you, detective?” Barba sighed as he packed away the relevant case files he had brought for Amaro’s practice testimony run.
Standing over by the Defence table, Amaro was putting on his coat. He turned squarely to glare at the prosecutor when he broke the silence.
“Your life?” He exclaimed in disbelief, “We would’ve been out of here an hour ago if you actually trusted me up there.”
Amaro pointed at the witness stand behind them.
Barba didn’t even look up, just collected the remaining loose papers spread across the prosecution table in the courtroom, straightening them against the wooden surface with a couple of efficient taps. He reattached the paper clip and filed them away in the safety of his briefcase with more force than necessary.
“Trust doesn’t come into it,” Barba said dismissively.
He heard Amaro’s huff of laughter.
“Of course you’d say that.” The detective muttered under his breath, but in the empty courtroom, Barba had easily heard him.
Barba’s eyes shot up and across the space. “And that’s supposed to mean…?” He asked, eyeing Amaro like a challenge.
After a second of calculating if what he had to say was worth the argument, Amaro faced him head-on, crossing his arms over his puffed chest and lifting his chin in self-righteousness.
“It means,” he started clearly, “that you wouldn’t choose to trust me even if someone was holding a gun to your head.”
The laugh that spilt from Barba’s throat was short and pained. He shook his head and busied himself with closing his case. Much like he always did.
“And in this imaginary scene of yours, would that gun wielder be you, Amaro?” The counsellor retorted, side-eying him. He tore his eyes away when he saw Nick take a step in his direction.
“You know damn well it isn’t,” Amaro growled.
Again, Barba found himself shaking his head.
“You sure detective? Because it certainly feels like if I don’t say I trust you, that you're going to try making me.” He drawled, a ghost of a smile on his face. He clicked his briefcase shut and set it up on the table.
When Amaro next spoke, his voice rumbling deeply, Rafael found him a lot closer than he expected. In fact, he sounded as if he was right behind him.
“Not make you, I’m gonna fucking show you.”
Rafael Barba felt a strong hand grab his shoulder and twist him round. The next second, a pair of persistent lips were upon his.
Nick Amaro was kissing him.
Rafael blinked dumbly at the pair of screwed-up eyes and dark furrowed brows. That was all he could see. But what he felt? God, even unmoving, Amaro’s lips were something else. How could something that produces the most impertinent sweeping statements feel so right against his.
And then there was the revelation that up close, the detective smelled like spearmint and sandalwood. The scent struck him as soon as Rafael sucked in a breath of surprise, the same breath he was now holding onto.
He refused to melt into this, whatever the hell this was.
Barba, finding that his hands still worked, planted them on Amaro’s chest, ignoring how toned muscles flexed beneath them and pushed the man off him.
“What…” Rafael tried to ask, finding that his breath wasn’t coming as easily as he thought it would, given that he no longer had an angry detective attached to his mouth. He tried again. “Why would you do that?”
Amaro, who had been somehow caught off guard by Barba pushing him away, looked at him, bewildered, his face stripped of anger and replaced by messy emotion.
Did he seriously not know why he had been stopped, or had he even surprised himself by kissing him?
“I…I…” Nick stuttered, his hand rising shakily to brush his fingertips over his slightly inflamed lips as if he had been punched and expected blood. When he touched them, he jolted, his dark brown eyes refocusing and locking with Rafael’s. “I don’t know. That’s what I should say.”
Barba didn’t have it in him to hide the confusion he felt, nor the biting frustration.“You’re making no sense.”
Amaro sighed raggedly and stared at his feet. “Stupid of me to think I could get you to see sense.”
“Is that what you were trying to do? B-by kissing me?”
“I said don’t fucking know okay!” Amaro suddenly bellowed, darting to leave.
“Wait! Wait! Damnit. Just stop, Amaro!” Barba shouted exasperatedly, sidestepping in front of him and grabbing onto his coat sleeve when the detective tried to move around him.
Amaro reluctantly ground to a halt in front of him.
“What?” Amaro shouted down in his face, his jaw ticking and eyes burning with hurt, anger and… something else.
Could that something could be fed? Rafael needed to know.
Rafael stared straight ahead at lips that were pressed tightly together, but then seemed to slacken and part.
It was a split-second decision, a moment of throwing all reason out the window and just acting on pure impulse in a life of order and careful decisions.
Despite all the reasons he shouldn’t, Barba surged up, hands enveloping Amaro’s jaw as he pulled him down, kissing him soundly.
It was Amaro’s turn to choke on his shock. But shock was quick to be overcome by more hungry feelings. A split second later, Nick took Rafael firmly into his arms and held him there, pressed up against him.
With grip and intensity that matched every other part of their dynamic, they met in that aisle of the empty courtroom.
Both men’s hands sort the best anchor points, clutching shirts, gripping hair, splaying over backs, not wanting to feel the passion die but grow.
Amaro’s hand supported Rafael’s lower back and in return, Barba bowed into him, arching his back so that Nick was leaning almost impossibly over their shared centre of gravity to continue kissing him.
That kiss was one worthy of the word. No more frozen lips and awkward blinking eyes; instead, hungry mouths moved intently against one another like they wanted to consume every part of the other.
Rafael didn’t bother asking for permission. He was too desperate to taste him. Not that Nick seemed to mind in the slightest when he licked his tongue into his mouth, for he was already angling his head to grant Rafael better access.
Their breaths mingled, eyes easily falling and remaining closed as they lost themselves in the kiss.
It was truly something else. Like an explosion of fireworks in the night sky that had been barren and dull for far too long.
Warmth flooded Rafael’s body, an insatiable need rising and clawing at his skin. Nick seemed to feel the same thing, because the next thing he knew, Amaro was flexing his fingers helplessly against the fabric of his waistcoat, pulling him in over and over again, trying to get him closer, as if he needed more.
When Nick began blindly walking him backwards until his ass bumped into the corner of what had to be his prosecuting table, Rafael was relieved to have something tangible to steady him.
Not breaking the kiss for a second, Nick bent down and grabbed the backs of Rafael’s thighs, hauling him to make him sit on the top of the wooden table.
Rafael gasped into the mouth, claiming his, the show of strength alone turning it into a moan, nevermind the fact that Amaro’s hands next turned to possessively wrestling Barba’s suit jacket off his shoulders.
The article landed half on top of Barba’s briefcase, and apparently not liking how close it was to where he had sat Rafael down, Amaro broke the kiss to both breathe and to push the items off the table with a clatter.
Barba couldn’t find it within him to care, blinded to the irony that he was being manhandled atop his prosecuting table from the overwhelming lust he felt. He locked his legs around Amaro’s waist, crossing them at the ankle. Rafael squeezed his thighs, driving Nick’s hips to crash into his.
His palms slapped against the smooth wood beside Rafael’s ass as Nick scrambling for purchase. “Fuck…” he groaned into his ear.
Biting back the sound he made at feeling how hard he could feel Amaro was in his slacks, Rafael couldn’t stop his own cock growing, filling out his trousers obviously.
Barba, Amaro hunched over him, didn’t have to move at all, but simply turned his head to kiss, lick and bite Nick’s neck. His hands found the detective’s hips; unfortunately, his badge and holster were absent. Not sure why that was a disappointment given the circumstances. Something to unpack later.
“Coat. Off.” Rafael rasped, the command coming off serious even if it was muffled against the crook of Amaro’s neck.
Wordlessly, Nick did as he asked, not moving away or caring one jot as the dark coat fell into a heap on the floor.
There was no time to remove more, Rafael just wanted Nick pressed as close to him as humanly possible, pressed against his cock.
Nick went straight back to touching Rafael, his hands roaming everywhere.
Still, Barba mouthed at his throat, although that no longer was enough. He yanked on Amaro’s tie, tearing it from his collar so he could reach the buttons, popping them open. Rafael slipped his large hands over his pecs as his mouth journeyed down to nip and suck at his collarbone.
Stood between Rafael’s legs, Nick swayed back and forth, head lulled back, and eyes closed as he revelled in the feeling of Rafael’s fingers and tongue on his chest.
Nick’s hand blindly reached for Barba’s head, shaking fingers raking through his hair, pulling him closer.
When Rafael unexpectedly pinched his nipple, Nick gasped, fingernails digging into Rafael’s scalp. Barba moaned in encouragement and leaned down further to soothe the sensitive bud.
“Merida.” Nick groaned, both hands sinking into Rafael’s now tousled hair to drag him back up for a deep, needy kiss.
Amaro shoved his tongue into Barba’s mouth, swallowing the man's moan as he started to rock, maybe off balance as he lost himself in the moment. He instinctively began rolling his body against Rafael’s.
Each time their lower bodies collided, a jolt of arousal shot through Rafael and now his cock was beginning to strain uncomfortably hard against the zip of his trousers.
His hands moved from Nick’s hips, around to his ass, palms open as he slid them down, grabbing a handful of the abundant muscle he found there in each hand. Barba blindly yanked Amaro against him, his need skyrocketing at the hissing groan Nick spilt into his mouth and the unbelievably large, hard bulge he felt grind against the inside of his thigh.
Without hesitation, Rafael lifted his hips and the next time he guided Nick between his legs, more accurately this time, he thrusted upwards to meet him.
When their covered erections met, the same feeling surged through him, intensified by Nick fisting his hands in his hair, the pain of his hair being pulled only adding to the pleasure.
Amaro tensed, mouth falling open and shivered against him, letting out a sinful groan into his cheek.
Again, Rafael’s fingers dug into the flesh of Nick’s ass, greedily kneading it in great big handfuls.
When Nick recovered from the momentary shock of feeling a hard-on against his own for probably the first time and liking it, he made a move that Rafael didn’t expect.
Hands untangling themselves from Barba’s hair, they grabbed onto both of Rafael’s hips, fingertips digging into them hard before he propelled his own hips forward whilst lifting Rafael up and nearly off the edge of the table.
Nick slammed his cock against Rafael’s with so much pet up energy that the solid wooden table scraped against the polished floor. The sound bounced off the walls, echoing with their laboured breathing and the groans of unfiltered desire.
“Oh fuck that–that’s it.” Rafael couldn’t help the words spilling from his lips.
Once given the direction, Nick stopped holding back, unable to contain himself at the praise coming from the most severe man he had ever met.
Rafael was now unable to keep his mouth closed with how relentlessly Amaro was fucking against him. Each roll of his hips was heavenly, drowning out every possible thought except that he needed this as much as he needed the air in his lungs.
At every opportunity, Rafael bucked up into Amaro, his hands wildly clutching at his clothed shoulders and back as his ass was now an impossible moving target as Nick chased the addicting feeling of Rafael’s hard angles and soft edges pressed against his.
Heat swam up his back, his neck, his thighs. He was burning from the inside out, the delicious flame being fanned and fed, setting his skin on fire.
Rafael could feel his throat vibrating, sure he was making all kinds of shameful sounds, but all he could focus on was the frenzy happening between him and the broad, muscular body he clung to for dear life.
“Don’t stop,” Rafael ordered when he felt Nick’s hands shift, moving to hold up Rafael’s tired, draping thighs. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
Rafael scraped his fingernails down over the shirt on Nick’s back, extracting a guttural groan from the other man.
Amaro quickly wrapped Rafael’s thighs more tightly around his waist where they had drooped, keeping one hand to steady them there whilst his other grabbed the back of Barba’s throat.
Still thrusting and grinding against him, chasing the exceptional friction of each slide of his cock against Rafael’s own, Nick leaned into Rafael’s body, supporting his neck as they sank to the surface of the table.
Back now pressed against the cool hard of the table, his front completely covered by Amaro’s, Rafael could let himself go fully, let himself be worked on, could slide his hands into Nick’s shirt to pull at his chest hair, wrap his hand around Amaro’s own throat and pull him into another messy kiss, teeth catching on teeth and lip.
The new angle allowed Nick to thrust against Rafael even more forcefully. Rafael’s hips widened, falling open to let Amaro grind and rest further between his thighs. The speed picked up, the tempo and volume increasing as they chased the mounting feeling, propelling them on.
Nick was now panting erratically against his mouth, his fingers gripping him even tighter over Barba’s suit that was still on.
Rafael could tell that he was close, his own impending orgasm building the pressure coiling low in his gut.
He fisted one hand into Amaro’s shirt, the other in his hair, with the last of his energy not being used to bump and grind his way to what he could already tell was going to be one hell of an orgasm.
Then Nick’s thrusts were stuttering, his voice breaking and brows furrowing as the heat and friction of his bulging front pressed harder into Rafael’s for the last several thrusts.
He could tell the moment Nick’s orgasm took over his body, surging through him and causing him to groan and moan against the crook of Rafael’s neck that he had at some point slipped into.
A second after Nick's hit him, Rafael’s own climax peaked, every muscle seizing and spasming as the intoxicating rise and fall of pleasure rippled through him. His back arching helplessly, pressing him even firmer against Amaro’s similarly overridden body, jerking against his.
Rafael’s vision was hazy, bright lights still flashing as his eyelids fluttered shut.
He was floating. Bathing in warm rays of light as he floated away from the burning heat of the sun.
Weightless but breathing hard.
The amount of time it took for them both to come down and return to their bodies was remarkably long. Not that either of them realised this at the time.
But when their breathing did slow, and the lingering aftershocks faded, neither moved away.
Was it exhaustion, or was it that they knew that if they moved, the spell would be broken and they’d have to face this.
What the hell had just happened? Rafael thoughts caught up with him. Had they really– Yep.
If the fact that Amaro was still half slumped on top of Barba wasn’t confirmation enough, the taste of him that was still lingering in his mouth was.
Then he felt Nick's hands searching for the unchanging cool surface of the table, pushing himself up and off of Rafael.
When he pulled back, Barba could see clearly for the first time just how debauched the detective looked, his lips raw and red and swollen, his hair sticking up in crazy places, and his eyes, Christ, his eyes were still so deep and dark, his pupils remaining as large discs in his brown chocolate eyes.
Neither of them said a word. Just stared at one another.
Then Barba clocked the new sickness that had uncomfortably settled in his pants. In fact, he could clock the moment that Amaro’s own brain registered the damning evidence.
Predictably, the detective scrambled off him and away from the table.
“I–shit, that–“ Nick cut himself off when he looked back at where Barba remained laid out on his own prosecution table. “Fuck. I–I didn’t–“
Didn’t what? Didn’t mean for that to happen? Didn’t you want that to happen?
“You…” He continued to stutter.
Rafael knew what was coming.
Barba pushed himself—probably quite undignifiedly by how lightheaded he suddenly felt—up from where Nick had left him on the table.
“Just forget it Amaro. Pretend this never happened if it makes it easier for you to stomach.” He was relieved at how cold he sounded as he rested his feet on solid ground. He wasn’t sure if the blood had returned to their normal faculties enough to keep him on his feet if he tried standing.
But when Amaro started blurting sentences he couldn’t finish, Rafael decided, stumbling slightly was worth it if it meant he could get out of there fast enough, before the detective regained his ability to speak his mind and tell him how it had all just been a mistake, that kissing him had been just a way to shut him up and nothing more. And the sex? That was just a one off, a mistake, a product of unresolved professional tension that signified nothing.
Barba located his jacket and briefcase, which had slid onto the chair, snatching them up and fleeing from the courtroom, ignoring Amaro, who was calling his name.
He let the courtroom doors slam behind him, making a beeline for the elevator. He needed to get out of there, find a bathroom, clean himself up and catch a cab straight home.
Shower, drink and then bed, where he would not cry himself to sleep.
At least that’s what he told himself.