One Night, One Felony

Author: Rysler
Date: 06/09/05
Genre: Law and Order: Trial by Jury
Pairing: Hector Salazar/Chris Ravell
Challenge: For the "Aliens (Criminal Justice) Made Us Do It!" challenge by crowie
Rating/Warnings: Hot explicit gay sex! Voyuerism! Racist comments! Drug use! Fairly fluffy undercover cop stuff, otherwise.

Since this is a fairly obscure fandom, some screenshots (1 2) of the happy couple.

* * *

Hector stood outside of the bar and gazed warily at the neon sign proclaiming "C.C. Blooms." He glanced at his partner. "What kind of name is that for a gay bar?"

"Well, I don't know, Hector. But isn't it kind of...gay? I mean, maybe that's the point."

"Deep, Chris." Hector shrugged. "The only C.C. I know of is the chick from Beaches."

Chris glanced at him. "You know her from Beaches?"

"What?"

Chris just shook his head.

Hector turned up his collar, bracing himself against the cold New York air. The bar blasted warmth every time someone went through the door, but the pounding bass and the shrill screams weren't inviting, even against the elements. He sighed. "Why are we here, again?"

"Tracey needs a felony charge so she can subpoena the financial records of the club owner, to see if there's a trace-back to the drug money. We're here to go at it from the side."

Hector smirked at from the side, but said, "I don't like the subterfuge. Prosecutorial underhandedness... Not really in my training manual."

Chris shrugged. "We work for Tracey, now. But we're still cops." He patted Hector's back. "We're in this together."

"And we do the demon woman's bidding." Hector rolled his eyes. "I wonder if she wins her cases like this."

"Almost every one. Hey, I don't like it either, but... I'm apathetic."

"Can you spell that?"

Chris snorted, and said, "I wonder why they couldn't get Vice, or hell, the Gay and Lesbian Task Force, on this gig."

"Like you said before, it's off the books. Just us and the prosecutor's office."

Chris sighed. "Yeah. The damned prosecutor's office."

Hector studied the neon. "You ever been to a gay bar?"

"You know, once or twice, on the job."

"We're on the job, now."

"Yup."

"So, I've been noticing, you have a thing for Kelly."

"Who wouldn't? She's gorgeous. Blonde, sweet, puts Tracey in her place..."

"I dunno, she's great and all, but Tracey's the one who looks at you and sees you. She's got those eyes that just... say so much. And she has that classic stage actress look to her."

"I wouldn't kick either one of them out of bed," Chris agreed. He straightened the collar of his overcoat, and said, "Heterosexuality reaffirmed?"

"Yup."

"Let's go."

* * *

The bar's interior was nicer than Chris expected. Clean, with polished floors and neon décor, a large dance floor in the center and quieter bar areas along two sides, and a mesh-enclosed upstairs level. Strobe lights shone down on the center, but despite the ambient pounding music, he found it decidedly anti-industrial, despite being in a non-descript warehouse in Jersey.

"Bet the bathrooms here are cleaner than at the courthouse," Hector commented, as they sidled onto barstools "You think it's true what they say about--"

"I think this isn't a good place to say 'You think it's true...' Remember where we are."

"Yeah, about that." Hector shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled at Chris. "Why are you always the suave businessman and I'm your hot Latin leather boy. Is it because I'm Latin?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "It's because you're shorter than me. And I look better in a suit."

"Oh, come on. I look damned--"

"Fine, it's because you look better in leather."

Hector nodded. "That's absolutely true."

Chris chuckled.

A skinny, half-naked, pierced and shaved white boy came over and looked at them expectantly.

"Heinkein," Chris said.

"Margarita." Hector offered the bartender a wink

The boy winked back and turned away to start drink preparations.

"What was that about?"

Hector shrugged. "I like salt?"

"I'll say. That guy's package is clearly showing. Think we can bust him for indecent exposure and get the hell out of here?"

"Tracey would kill us. I fear her more than I do a room full of men in spiked collars who could beat me up."

"Sissy."

Hector grinned.

The bartender set Hector's margarita down in front of him. "So, you boys new in town?"

"I'm in from Philly on a conference. Just met Hector here at the seminar," Chris said, patting Hector's thigh.

Hector smiled amiably.

"Oh, Philly. You get to Orville's much?"

Chris shook his head. "When I'm taking in the local flavor, I stick with Mary's."

The bartender nodded. "Cool." He went to the other end of the bar.

Hector raised his eyebrow.

"He's scouting us, probably for the boss. Hope what Tracey told me to say was right."

"How does Tracey know so much about gay bars?"

"Do you really want an answer?"

"No." Hector took a gulp of his drink.

Chris nodded.

The bartender returned. You know, it gets rowdy after awhile. If you want to stick around, there's a disclaimer you gotta sign. And a safe word."

Hector choked on his drink.

Chris leaned back against the bar. "Got a pen?"

The bartender handed one, and a form. He signed it. The bartender went away.

Hector recovered his ability to breathe. "This is a sex club?"

"Hey, I had no idea."

"Isn't that enough?"

"We need the drugs."

Hector sighed. "I'm sure we'll see ecstasy go up someone's ass tonight. Christ, it's going to be a long evening."

"Yup. Think of it as male bonding."

"Please don't go there."

Chris took a sip of his beer. He looked at himself in the mirror over the bar. Hector was slouched on a stool, pouting. A man dressed in a polo shirt with a gold chain around his neck sauntered over, giving Hector a once over. Chris smirked into the mirror.

"Want to dance? I'm James."

Hector glanced at Chris.

James looked over at Chris. "Sorry, is the spic yours?"

Chris noticed the bartender watching them, and realized it was time to put up or be marked as cops. He turned around, and smiled widely at James. "I like to see Hector dance."

Hector rolled his eyes, but slid off the barstool. "You know how they get, when they hit a certain age, and it's all about the little blue pills. Salsa's my heritage, man."

James licked his lips. "Word. You're the hottest guy in the bar."

Hector smiled, and followed James onto the dance floor.

Chris frowned to himself. "I'm hot, too."

The bartender leaned over and smacked him sympathetically on the shoulder. "You like to watch? You've come to the right place."

Chris tossed some bills onto the bar. "Another beer."

The music was some remixed Shakira Afro-Colombian punk that Chris thought he'd heard on a porno tape once. Hector was really getting into the song, lifting his arms and swinging his hips. James danced close to him, not touching, but bending his body into Hector's. Chris could see sweat on Hector's forehead, almost glittering under the disco ball light. The leather jacket and the tight blue jeans showed off Hector's compact, musclar body--a body made for movement.

Chris wondered what had pushed Hector into the police force. Lack of opportunity? Or maybe he was overgeneralizing. Hector might be from a cop family, or his guidance counselor might have thought it was a good idea. Chris decided he'd just ask. For now, watching Hector move was drawing up strange feelings--curiosity, and jealousy. Hector was his partner, but he sure looked like he was having a lot of fun with James, and they were on a case, for Christ's sake.

Hector's head was thrown back. His eyes were closed, like there was just him in the music. Chris finished his second beer. The song ended, and Hector grinned, accepting an enthusiastic hug from James, who swung him around. When Hector started walking back toward the bar, Chris noticed that he seemed, in his jeans, slightly hard. Chris blinked, as much at Hector as at his own reaction, which was a twitching in his cock inside his trousers. He cleared his throat and turned back to the bar, starting on his third beer. "Have fun?"

"James is really cute, but I know who the sugar daddy is," Hector said, wrapping his arm around Chris's shoulders and settling onto the bar stool.

Chris scoffed.

The bartender refreshed Hector's drink. "So, you guys met at a conference?"

"I run a security firm down in Philly. Hector works for a joint up in the Bronx, I was thinking about hiring him on for when my merchandise travels."

The bartender nodded. "How'd you get into that? You a cop?"

"Yeah, back in the day. Right when I got out of the army, you know? I found I was better at the business side."

Hector smiled. "Guess what side I'm good at."

The bartender chuckled. "So you're just here for pleasure."

Chris leaned back, feeling the pressure of Hector's hand on his coat. "As much as I can get."

The bartender nodded, and pushed a small piece of paper toward Chris. "There's a back bar, if you're interested in more fun. $200 cover."

"Holy shit. That's pretty steep. I only had to buy Hector here dinner."

"Don't worry. Everything else is free." The bartender winked, and went to the next patron.

Hector leaned over to Chris. "Why'd you complain about the money? Tracey'll cover it."

"It was a test. If I'd jumped, they'd know I was looking for something. Businessmen are always thrifty. They even negotiate with $20 prostitutes, for crying out loud."

Hector shrugged, and looked toward the back bar. "If we go in there...we're in it all the way. I don't think this is what Tracey had in mind. She wouldn't ask..."

"I know. But hey, we're partners, right?"

Hector squinted. "I guess it can't be any worse than taking a bullet for you."

"Aw, you'd do that?"

"The sooner the better."

* * *

Chris waited an hour, when the weeknight crowd had thinned and the music became more trance. Hector danced a few more times with James and a few other boys, and each time Chris found himself compelled to watch. After a particularly skin-exposed and sexy version of Madonna's "Live to Tell," Chris's cock gave up on its dilemma and stayed hard, forcing Chris to adjust his pants as he walked toward the back room, Hector following at his shoulder and looking the part of a pretty, gay thug.

He knew he was playing it right. His expensive clothes and modest spending made him an appealing recruit for bankrolling, and the travel aspect probably had the owners salivating. Take it slow, don't look too eager, he thought. All he needed was to see, and tape, someone putting something up their nose. One night, one felony.

Hector had jokingly asked him if he'd been in I.A.B. before working in the prosecutor's office.

"Nope, Homicide."

"Funny, you were born for the lawyer shtick."

"Shut the fuck up, pretty boy."

Chris held the door open, and ushered Hector in. The inner sanctum was crowded, thirty or so men, some in various states of undress, with a quiet bar at the back of the room, several sofas and overstuffed chairs, all lit by lava lamps. Chris made his way to where the club owner was sitting in a chair, smoking a joint.

"Thanks for the invitation."

"You the guy from Philly?"

Chris nodded.

"Welcome to our little bar. Make yourself at home." He offered Chris the joint.

Chris waved it off. "I'll stick to beer. That stuff just makes me hungry. Hector?"

Behind him, a man let out a low moan. Chris's already stiff cock responded instinctively to the sound, rising inside his pants.

Hector took the joint, inhaled, and passed it back.

If we go in there...we're in it all the way.

Chris got another beer and an Amaretto Sour, and sauntered over to a couch that had two men already on it at the other end. Hector had to sit against his thigh in order not to touch the other fellows. Chris sighed and put the glass to his lips.

The owner was looking at them. "You don't really seem the type. Your boy, here, he really seems the type. But you?"

"You don't know me," Chris said, keeping his tone easy, but his hand tightened on Hector's arm.

Hector met his eyes, with an expression so open, so trusting, that Chris didn't know how to respond. He wanted to smile, or clear his throat, or get the hell out of that room, but now it wasn't just about the case, it was Hector who needed him to make this work. He set his beer down, and curled his hand around the back of Hector's neck. "I'd say I'm not an exhibitionist," he said to the owner, "But I'd be lying."

He closed his eyes as he leaned into Hector, kissing him. Hector's mouth was hard, completely different from kissing a woman, and Chris was only getting used to the sensation of another man's tongue stroking his when he felt something hot against his thigh. Hector had shifted in his seat to face Chris, and now he could feel how hard Hector was. And soon, Hector would be able to feel... Hector's hand dropped into Chris's lap, covering his crotch. "Jesus," Hector breathed against his lips.

Chris exhaled. He opened his eyes to see the owner wink at them, and turn his attention to another couple groping on the floor. Chris licked his lips, tasting Hector's sweat on them. "This is..."

"We're just here for a bust," Hector said, pushing his face into the shoulder of Chris's coat. Chris heard him panting, muffled against the wool. "That's all."

"Okay. Don't overthink. I'm good." Chris inhaled through his nose. He glanced at the owner again. "What if he doesn't go for the magic powder?"

Hector straightened. "He will. I can see it in his eyes. He's not a voyeur. He's in it for the smell. And he'll need to get a fix."

"What did you do before the prosecutor's office?"

Hector grinned. "Homicide."

"You do look good in a suit." Chris sat back, his hips thrust out, no longer worried about exposing the lump in his pants. He unbuttoned his coat and Hector pushed it off his shoulders, before pulling loose his tie. He took a deep breath, grateful for less constriction on his body, and Hector grinned at him.

"Leave the jacket on."

"Leather fiend."

"I--" Chris's words were cut off when Hector yanked his shirt out of his pants, pushing it up to expose his stomach. Hector's lips descended, kissing bare flesh, and Chris groaned. He put his hands on Hector's head, unable to stop his hips from rolling, his cock pressing against Hector's neck, as Hector's tongue circled his belly button.

Hector laughed, tickling his skin, and slid lower. He got on the floor, perched on one knee, the other leg, the bad leg, stretched out behind him. Chris wanted to apologize for putting him in pain, but it didn't seem the time or the place, and Hector's hand was on his fly, squeezing him, forgiving all.

"Let me," Chris said, straightening up against the couch. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, knowing Hector was watching him, knowing the owner was watching him, and reaching for a kit on the table. "Do you want it?" He said to Hector, keeping his eyes on the owner. His hand moved rapidly, squeezing his slick, hot penis.

"Yeah," Hector said, breathing hard. "I want it.."

Chris grabbed Hector's head and pulled him forward. Hector's mouth encompassed his cock just as the owner lifted a mirror with a line of powder and inhaled. "Yes," Chris said. He kept his eyes open, fighting the need to succumb to Hector's wet, tight lips wrapped around him. He wasn't thinking about the case, or the job, or the past or the future, he was concentrating on his buddy, his partner, sucking on his penis because it was the right thing to do in the moment.

"God, Hector, I'm going to--" He said, and the pressure of Hector's mouth increased. Chris's balls tightened, and he gasped. Hector withdrew at the point of orgasm, so he spurted onto Hector's face, leaving wet streaks on Hector's skin. His cock jerked several times, and then he rolled back on the couch, panting.

Hector eased himself back into his seat. The owner had already lost interest, looking dazedly at a lava lamp, in his own world. "Did you get it?" Hector said.

"Yeah. Enough for a warrant. The interns will do the rest. We're done."

"It won't stand up in court."

"Doesn't matter. This was just a side venture, remember," Chris said. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his heart.

"A fishing expedition."

Chris rolled his head to the right and saw Hector looking at him intently. "The night's still young."

Hector asked, "How do you feel about fucking a man?"

"Never really thought about it, why?"

"I want you to take me home. Right now."

"Sounds good." Chris stood, and looked down at Hector. "You have come on your jacket."

Hector just grinned.

END