Work Text:
Maybe he should get him flowers? No, guys don’t like flowers.
[ENCYCLOPEDIA: Some do.]
[EMPATHY: Kim doesn’t.]
Harry had been thinking about this for months now, how to segue into explaining how he felt for Kim, how to broach the subject past a mountain of repression and self-worth issues, and past Kim’s stolid professionalism, never mind that the world was ending soon…
The old Harry would have suggested they go out drinking, but that was a non-starter. He was doing better, going to meetings now. Not alcoholism counseling meetings, communist planning meetings, but still, it gave him purpose and kept him away from the bottle.
Hmm. Perhaps food?
Dinner maybe?
Or cupcakes?
[ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY: Mmm cupcakes. Get two. No, ten. No! Thirty of them.]
Harry pulled out a tarnished half reál and dropped it with a muffled thunk into the vending machine tucked away in the laundromat near his apartment. He fat-fingered the number pad and had to reselect, waiting impatiently for the spring to spin and force the confection he had selected down into the chute for him to collect. He pulled the slightly crumpled package out and collected the change someone else had accidentally left behind with a self pleased smirk.
Harry unpeeled the preservative-filled chocolate cupcake with unhinged glee, his eyes glittering, his tongue resting on his bottom lip as he surveyed the three thin white swirls of royal icing delicately piped (via mass production icing guns) atop a thick layer of cocoa icing that covered the top of the cake.
Oh yeah, he deserved this cupcake.
He had, for all intents and purposes, gotten control over his life again. He had stopped drinking, stopped doing drugs and stopped pining for a woman who had probably never really loved him.
The amnesia had helped, but even he doubted he could have cleaned himself up the way he did without Kim. Kim had extended a helping hand when everyone else had given up on Harry. It was, of course, probably a bit easier since he hadn’t seen Harry at his worst, hadn’t experienced Harry screaming in his face as Jean had, hadn’t seen him stumble into work four hours late and high like Judit had. Still, he had seen Harry after a weekend so bad he literally drank his memory away, and despite that, gave him the benefit of the doubt each and every time he pulled some stupid shit because he couldn’t remember how to be a functional human being.
So, while it had been incredibly difficult, Harry had done better. After his terrible bender, he hadn’t picked up drugs again, or alcohol, had simply stopped, cold turkey. Much as he would like to say he had done it on his own, Harry knew that a massive part of his motivation for staying clean was to not disappoint Kim.
Kim, he thought warmly, thinking of the small, thin man as the warm feeling he got in his belly after a good meal.
[LOGIC: Wholesome.]
[EMPATHY: Comforting.]
[ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY: Delicious.]
He replaced his former vices with things like exercise, reading, volunteer work. And cupcakes. Chips. Sodas. Of course, he also ate good, filling food, but he had developed quite a craving for snacks. So he happily munched on his cupcake as he walked past the crew of construction workers that were working on rebuilding some of the old bombed-out Revachol apartments.
“There he goes, a snack in his hand just like every day,” he heard one of them comment.
“Yeah,” laughed another one, “‘Thickums’ himself.”
Harry’s chewing froze, his gait faltered, but he forced himself to continue without engaging, despite how the authoritative voice in his head railed against it.
“‘Thickums’? Where the fuck did you come up with that?” one of them asked.
“It’s what the crew’s been calling him,” came a laughing voice. “The little guy that’s sometimes with him’s ‘Bino,’ that one’s ‘Thickums.’”
One of the workers belted out a cackle.
“Heh, ‘Thickums.’”
Harry looked down at himself, at his belly. It had once been a beer belly, clear evidence of internal organs swollen and tortured by copious amounts of alcohol, hard and riddled with tortured veins that spider-webbed across the unhealthy tissue. Now, however, his belly was soft fat that he carried lower and broader, on his lovehandles and hips, squishy and pale over a layer of hard muscle a few inches beneath. His stomach sank and he tossed the remains of the cupcake in the next trashcan he passed.
‘Thickums.’
It was such a ridiculous insult, he wasn’t even sure why he found it hurtful, but he did. He wasn’t morbidly obese, hell, he wasn’t even out of shape. Beneath the soft layer of fat, he was nearly six feet of solid muscle. His legs were long and possessed remarkable endurance, though his ass and thighs had also developed their own layer of padding that hid the muscles beneath.
‘Thickums.’
It played over and over in his mind his entire walk to work, over the bridge, past the Samaran restaurant Kim liked, all the way into the old silk mill that now served as the base of operations for Precinct 41.
“Good morning, Lieutenant double-yefreitor,” Judit greeted. “Do you have any big plans for today?” He studied her for a moment, his mind preoccupied with inane insults and self-hatred and wondering if maybe he should get on a diet and remembering that speed was a great weight loss drug back in the day…
“No. Should I?”
“Er, no. Probably not,” she said, and Harry could tell that he was missing something in the conversation, but couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Harry, what the fuck is this, ten more cases stacked on my desk? Fucking shit,” Jean took a drag off the wilted cigarette dangling from between his lips before he removed it with two fingers and pointed it accusingly at Harry. “I’m glad you have been doing well, but your caseload is fucking ridiculous. I’ve been picking up your slack for months now. Don’t you think maybe it is time to get back into the game, especially now? Today?” Jean hounded.
“Will you get off my ass, Jean? I’m working on it. Shit,” Harry mumbled under his breath, feeling, as he usually did, the urgent need to cry when Jean spatted with him. He couldn’t remember all he had done to Jean, but he remembered shame, remembered flashes of hurt looks from the younger man, remembered Jean cursing him and begging him to get help he couldn’t provide.
Jean sighed and thrust his box of cigarettes toward Harry. It seemed like some sort of peace offering, so he took one, allowed Jean to light it. His old partner surveyed him, scanning over his face, then his belly and legs. The look wasn’t lascivious, but assessing, true detective work. He was trying to decide if Harry was still clean.
“You’re looking better. Filled out a bit. I’m sure actually eating has helped,” Jean commented begrudgingly, but it was the wrong thing for Harry to hear this morning.
“I’ll tighten up my caseload next week, Jean. Just… not today, alright?”
Jean nodded, backed off immediately, which was unlike him. Again, Harry felt as though he was missing something, but he was in too poor a mood to care.
Harry sat down at his desk and tried to focus. He had kept his caseload fairly light, trying to ease himself back into work around managing the rest of his life, and despite the department being stretched thin, he was a talented enough detective that thus far Captain Pryce had tolerated such behavior. The largest case he and Kim were working on was someone stealing condenser coils and wiring out of air conditioning units. Nothing particularly exciting, though it was proving challenging to find the culprit. Everyone had a motive – times were hard and food costs money.
With a shock of guilt, Harry thought of the discarded cupcake, but he quickly pushed the thought away and got a cup of coffee to fill the void instead.
Black, at least six hours old, strong enough to hold a spoon upright. He winced as it touched his tongue.
[PAIN THRESHOLD: The warm liquid is acrid on your tongue, stinging your newly regrown taste buds. It would cause actual pain if you took another sip.]
[DRAMA: Spit it on the floor, sire, your taste buds are too good for it.]
[LOGIC: DO NOT spit it on the floor. These people are finally starting to respect you again.]
[ESPRIT DE CORPS: At least five of them would find it funny and agree about the quality of the coffee, but the rest would be annoyed about the mess and all of them would wonder if you have been drinking again.]
Harry set the mug down on his desk and pulled out a pair of readers, perching them at the very end of his nose as he looked over his paperwork again, the mood of his morning thoroughly ruined. He tapped the fluffy ash from his cigarette into the toilet-shaped ashtray on his desk, taking another puff as he looked through paperwork and notes and tried to replace the taste of terrible coffee with the taste of cigarette smoke.
He tapped his foot.
Where the fuck was Kim?
Harry wiped a tired hand over his face and forced himself to read over a list of witnesses they needed to follow up with. The next time he ashed his cigarette, he did so into the coffee mug, watching as the ash sank to the bottom of the dark black liquid. He pondered for a moment on metaphors and his feelings before taking another drag.
‘Thickums.’ What a fucking stupid and unnecessary nickname. For reasons he couldn’t yet suss out, he thought it might not have bothered him if they’d just called him ‘Fatty’ or ‘Lard Tub.’ It was something about the laziness and stupidity of the name, combined with a vaguely sexual reference regarding his weight that really bothered him.
Fortunately, before he could internalize the thought much further, the loud purr of the Kineema sounded outside and Harry felt his heart skip a beat. Kim walked in, greeting a few of the officers who looked up with a small upwards rise of his hand. In his other hand, he was holding a greasy cardboard box. He scanned the room and spotted Harry at his desk. His expression softened, warmed.
[SAVOIR FAIRE: Stand up on your chair and do a back flip. He’ll think it’s sexy.]
[HAND/EYE COORDINATION: You would almost certainly break your neck if you attempted a back flip off your chair.]
[AUTHORITY: Don’t wait for him to walk over to your desk. Approach him, yank his pants down, bend him over Jean’s desk and show them both you’re the alpha male here.]
In lieu of these options, Harry extinguished the cigarette in the toilet ashtray and waited for Kim to approach before responding.
1. “Good morning, Lieutenant. What’s that you’ve got?”
2. “Hey, Kimball, you’re late today. Finally take the stick out of your ass and loosen up a little?”
3. “Yo Kim, you ever had your asshole licked by a fat man in an overcoat?”
Kim was a bit out of breath, his forehead shiny with a thin sheen of sweat. He spared Harry a small, secret smile.
“Good morning, Harry. I bought these for you. They are fresh, it is why I am late,” he said sheepishly, offering the box. It was from a pastry shop across town, far out of the way of Kim’s morning commute. Harry had mentioned in passing during one of their investigations that it was one of his favorite places.
[DRAMA: Profess your adoration, sire. Kiss his hand.]
[PERCEPTION (SCENT): There are cake donuts in this box, specifically cinnamon sugar cake donuts, your favorite.]
[BOX OF DONUTS: You should probably share with the rest of the officers, shouldn’t you, ‘Thickums’?]
[COMPOSURE: Don’t let him know you are bothered about anything. Take the donuts. Thank him.]
“Thanks, Kim,” Harry said warmly. He intentionally bumped his fingers against Kim’s gloved ones, just to feel his touch. The voice of the construction worker this morning still taunted him as he set the box down on his desk. One of Kim’s brows raised slightly.
“Well, aren’t you going to eat one, Harry?”
“Oh, um, I sort of already ate on my way to work,” he said, only a half lie.
[EMPATHY: He despises tardiness and risked it specifically because he wanted to buy you these donuts. His feelings are hurt. He has never seen you turn down food.]
“Alright, then. Who would you like to follow up with first?” Kim opened the box of donuts, glancing over the selection before he plucked a particularly plump one from the middle and brought it to his lips, biting into it delicately. He chewed the donut, contemplating its flavor for a moment, as though trying to determine if the effort and tardiness was worth it.
Harry felt the urge to cry again, which was, of course, ridiculous. He was a grown ass man. Grown ass men did not cry over donuts, or because they had disappointed the man that they had a crush on. They certainly didn’t cry because someone had given them a rude nickname.
“Harry, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Harry forced out, pushing back all the other voices and opinions in his mind. “Let’s get to work, we’ll follow up with the little old lady off Melbornt.”
Kim raised one brow staunchly.
“Harry. I was late to work today because I drove across town to get you donuts from your favorite bakery. Eat one.” Kim’s face was neutral, but his stance was imperious.
[EMPATHY: He will not be taking ‘no’ for an answer.]
[MID-THORACIC BUZZ: He cares about you.]
Harry swallowed, pushing back his emotions and the constant replay of “Heh, ‘Thickums’” in a gravelly construction worker’s voice.
“I didn’t ask you to do that, Kim.”
[MID-THORACIC BUZZ: Please don’t push him away like you have everyone else.]
Kim blinked, his jaw ticked almost invisibly and he nodded. Glancing down at Harry’s desk, he noticed the coffee. Kim loved black coffee, the blacker, the better. Before Harry could intervene, he dipped the edge of his donut into the terrible ash-contaminated black beverage and popped it into his mouth.
A cough and a wheeze from Kim later and Harry was around the desk, patting his partner roughly between the shoulder blades to help him dislodge the offending object from his throat. Kim swallowed hard, his eyes watering slightly.
“The coffee is worse today than usual,” he wheezed out.
“Yeah, it is,” Harry said a little breathlessly. Kim was usually the one who touched him, not the other way around. He supposed that he knew Kim would be muscular despite being thin, but he was surprised at how dense Kim was under that puffy jacket of his.
Kim collected himself and looked at the box, expression still insistent. Harry scowled, but obeyed, choosing and then taking a bite out of the donut. It was sweet, spicy with cinnamon, dense, chewy, soft, greasy. It was delicious. He let loose a little moan of pleasure, his eyes sliding shut. As he began to chew, he opened them again and realized that Kim’s face had gone a bit slack, his lips ever-so-slightly parted, looking almost reverent.
“Kim?” he asked, unsure how to read the expression on his partner’s face.
“We should go,” Kim said, seeming to shake himself.
They spent most of the day questioning witnesses, but formed no new leads. Harry was more than a bit annoyed. He was in quite a mood all day, hazy and distracted. Every moment of silence was haunted with that stupid fucking nickname – Thickums.
Kim seemed to have noticed his mood, and was more quiet, a little less teasing or chiding than usual when Harry made slightly inappropriate or crass comments to the witnesses. He had seemed concerned when Harry turned down his suggestion that they go get lunch and now Harry could hear Kim’s stomach rumbling with hunger and felt guilty.
A call came in about a drunk man exposing himself behind a store near where they were questioning witnesses, but the caller was anonymous and no one was in the short alley when they arrived. They were alone and Kim had his arms folded behind his back.
“Well, it seems as though the case has solved itself. We should go and get some dinner.”
“Nah,” Harry forced out, once again feeling the urge to cry rising and hating himself for it. “I’m good.”
“Detective. You are not ‘good.’ You have been struggling with something all day.”
Kim did not enjoy talking about emotions, but the “talk to me” was strongly implied at the end of his sentence. He raised a brow to put pressure, but not too much.
All at once, Harry deflated.
[INLAND EMPIRE: The stars align. Infinite galaxies crash together and then separate. Soft lips press against your own, careful, unsure. A thin hand caresses the side of your face, eyes questioning through thick lenses. Beneath your fingers, he trembles, wondering if this is a mistake or the best decision he’s ever made. His skin is slick and his oil-scented jacket is rough as you push it off his shoulders, touching freckled golden skin. He breathes next to your ear, murmuring your full first name softly. He wants this. He wants you.]
[EMPATHY: Kim really does want to know what is going on with you. He never lets too much emotion show on his face, but between his hunger and the uninspiring day of police work, he feels defeated. Telling him what’s bothering you would make him feel better.]
[CONCEPTUALIZATION: It might make you feel better as well.]
[MID-THORACIC BUZZ: His skin looks golden despite the relative darkness of the alley. He is beautiful. He is kind. He is what you’ve been missing all your life.]
1. “Some idiot called me a mean nickname earlier today.”
2. “Some idiot called me a mean nickname earlier today. I’ve been letting it get to me.”
3. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
4. “I don’t want to talk about it, please push me up against the wall and kiss me instead.”
5. “Please push me up against the wall and kiss me, Kim.”’
6. “Kim, do you ever wonder if cats show off their assholes because they’re narcissists?”
“Oh.” Kim blinked, as though trying to process how a mean nickname could ruin an entire day. “What was the nickname?”
1. “Some idiot called me a mean nickname earlier today.”
2. “Some idiot called me a mean nickname earlier today. I’ve been letting it get to me.”
3. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
4. “I don’t want to talk about it, please push me up against the wall and kiss me instead.”
5. “Please push me up against the wall and kiss me, Kim.”
6. “Kim, do you ever wonder if cats show off their assholes because they’re narcissists?”
[MID-THORACIC BUZZ: That line there between his brows is concern. Deep concern. Concern he wouldn’t show for anyone else, especially regarding something so seemingly insignificant. You should talk to him about it, see where the conversation leads. If you figure out why he’s concerned, you might stumble on something you haven’t become conscious of, something important.]
Kim still seemed to be waiting for an elaboration, but Harry just shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter. Sorry for being such a miserable asshole today. Maybe we should go back to the station, see what else we can work on.” Kim observed him for a moment. He had said he didn’t have a council of voices in his head, but maybe his were just more abstract, Harry thought as he felt his partner’s piercing eyes on him, assessing him and perhaps trying to decide what to say.
“No,” Kim’s voice was firm. “We should go and get some dinner. There is not much left to be done today anyway.”
1. “ I’m not really that hungry. Just drop me off at my place .”
2. “Alright, you’ve talked me into it. Dinner would be nice.”
3. “I don’t ever want to eat food again. I’m just a fat sack of shit anyway. I should just waste away and let myself starve.” (Start crying).
4 . “ Fine. I’ll buy.”
5. “Kim, do you ever wonder if cats show off their assholes because they’re narcissists?”
Harry said it quickly, trying not to make a big deal out of it. If he established from the get-go that he was buying, Kim couldn’t give him shit about not eating much, couldn’t critique his choices. Kim nodded, folding his notebook into his inner jacket pocket.
“Where would you like to eat?”
“Wherever you want, within reason,” Harry responded neutrally. He climbed into the passenger’s side of the Kineema and let Kim decide, but Kim only started the motor carriage, he didn’t take off the parking brake yet.
“What about the diner? You seem to like their food. Or maybe the sandwich shop?”
Harry met Kim’s eyes seriously.
“You choose.”
Kim exhaled a little louder than he ordinarily would, but removed the parking brake and began driving. They drove for a long while, farther and farther until Harry, despite his mood and despite the fact that he was mostly focused on what a fat sack of shit he was and how he definitely deserved to be called ‘Thickums,’ finally turned to Kim and asked,
“Where the fuck are we going?”
“To my apartment.”
1. “I thought we were going to dinner?”
2. “You’re supposed to buy a guy dinner before you take him back to your place, Kim.”
3. “Are we finally doing this? It’s not just me that feels this way?”
4. Say nothing.
“ Aren’t you going to argue with me? Make an inappropriate sexual comment or something?”
Harry lazily turned his head toward Kim, still feeling miserable and sorry for himself, hating himself for wanting to fill his fat face with cupcakes and chips to tamp down the feeling.
“Do you want me to?”
“Maybe,” Kim hedged.
“Alright, then, want a little road head on the way?” Harry blurted with no further thought. He watched as Kim’s ears turned a fascinating shade of maroon. Kim cleared his throat softly and reached out to the radio knob, turning it on and tuning out any other conversation with the obnoxious music he so enjoyed.
Harry hid a toothy grin behind his hand at that. He could still make the other man squirm, even when he wasn’t on top of his game. He enjoyed making Kim’s ears turn red, enjoyed the way the little lines at the side of his eyes would crinkle in cringing embarrassment. He enjoyed the small, chagrined relaxation of Kim’s face that he now recognized as a small, secret smile of amusement.
[MID-THORACIC BUZZ: You want to touch those little wrinkles, want to stroke his cheek with calloused hands, and you know he wouldn’t mind, he’d lean into the touch, kiss your palm.]
[PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: You’re overweight, filled up with junk food and broken dreams. Your body is too tired for whatever this is.]
[MID-THORACIC BUZZ : No, it isn’t. Give yourself a chance.]
Harry watched Kim’s slim fingers moving over the gear lever, his eyes drawn to the green lines of veins on the back of his hands. He wondered, in a brief moment of personal indulgence, what those fingers would look like wrapped around his cock.
He had long since given up denying that he was attracted to Kim, and was well into “feel very strongly for Kim” territory. Prior to being insulted this morning, he had been working up the nerve to tell Kim how he felt. Still, this new buzzing voice that had begun resonating in the center of his chest recently scared him, especially with how low he was feeling today. Someone like Kim wouldn’t want him. He put one of his own hands on his plush belly, pinching the fat beneath his shirt.
Briefly, he imagined Kim putting his hand over his belly, pushing it up, his fingers sinking into it, pressing the soft fat and skin out of his way as his lips slid down over…
Oh fuck, he was getting hard. He took a deep, calming breath, glancing at Kim’s face, which was impassive, as always, paying close attention to traffic as he wove through it with ease, always the cool, collected professional. His ears had gone back to their usual pale golden brown color and he seemed lost in thought.
When they arrived at his apartment, he got out and led the way, ever the cool and casual answer to Harry’s constant self-doubt and stumbling idiocy. Harry had been here before, recognized the simple brown tenement building, the deep orange door with a small sign that read “Welcome” in bold lettering. Kim unlocked the door, and allowed Harry to follow him in.
[EMPATHY: He’s taut, nervous, suddenly.]
[SUGGESTION: Offer compliments about his house.]
[ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY: Offer to suck his dick again.]
Harry looked around the efficient space, at the floating shelf of remarkably healthy house plants in matching white pots, at the wood and glass shelf containing books like Fine Motors and Their Components and A Brief History of Aerostatics. He ran his finger along one of the spines and turned toward Kim, who was pulling things out of his refrigerator after kicking his boots off at the door .
“I really like coming to your apartment, Kim. It’s nice. Clean. Uh, not like my place,” he added with a bit of chagrin, scratching at the back of his head.
“Thank you, Harrier.”
Harry blinked and watched Kim’s back, seeking some sort of indication of why Kim had just called him by his full first name, not ‘Detective’ or ‘Officer.’ Even when they spent time with one another off the clock, he had still referred to him as ‘Harry.’ Kim peeled his gloves off and folded them neatly before tucking them into his jacket pocket.
“Could you hang this in that closet there, please?” Kim asked, sliding the bright orange jacket off his shoulders. It was pornographic, the way the sleeves teased down his shoulders, the way an expanse of wiry muscle was revealed, little freckles dusting the tops of Kim’s shoulders where they peeked out of his shirt and Harry found himself wanting to lick the place where Kim’s arm met his torso.
1. “Yeah, no problem.”
2. (Lie) “I’ve never seen you take this off.”
3. “You should work out more, bulk up those muscles. We could go to the gym together.”
4. Lick the place where his arm meets his torso.
Harry took the jacket, still warm from Kim’s body, and hung it in the closet he had indicated. Harry allowed himself a moment of nosiness. He had been in Kim’s apartment before, had come to play board games occasionally, or just shoot the shit rather than shooting up, but something had shifted since the last time he’d been here.
[LOGIC: You spent an additional seventy-two hours thinking about your sexuality and realized that you are bisexual and desire your partner carnally .]
[MID-THORACIC BUZZ: You’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about Kim.]
There was a long, navy overcoat, a couple of hats and an umbrella in the closet, as well as a couple of other pairs of shoes aside from Kim’s usual boots. There was also the ‘Piss F----t’ jacket, though it hadn’t been worn since Harry had forced it into Kim’s possession. He was astonished the man still had it. Harry turned back to Kim where he was sliding out of his shoulder holster before hanging it up by the door .
1. “Need any help in the kitchen?”
2. (Lie) “I’ve never seen you take this jacket off.”
3. “You should work out more, bulk up those muscles. We could go to the gym together.”
4. Lick the place where his arm meets his torso.
“Huh?” Kim responded without looking up. “You have seen me without my jacket several times .”
“Yeah, but I’ve never seen you take it off.” Harry realized how stupid the comment was only after it had left his mouth. He felt his cheeks reddening. He was an awkward, stupid, fat idiot. He wished he could sink into the carpet and vanish. He wished he could have a drink. He wished he could be anywhere else suddenly.
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about it like that. You’re right. And what did you think?”
“Huh?” It was Harry’s turn to respond. Kim turned and leveled a cheeky look at him.
“About how I took it off?”
Harry’s cheeks were blazing. Was Kim flirting with him?
[EMPATHY: He is.]
[MID-THORACIC BUZZ: He definitely is. Now’s your chance. Don’t fuck it up.]
“It looked… pretty great.”
“Mmm.” Kim looked back to what he was working on, but Harry saw his cheeks raise slightly in silhouette. He was smiling. He was at ease.
“Harrier?” Harry asked stupidly, realizing too late that enough time had passed that it would be extremely unclear what he was asking. Kim understood anyway.
“Do you prefer not to be called that? I have heard Detective Vicquemare use your full name at times.”
“I mean, no, I don’t mind it, I guess, it’s just…the first time you’ve called me that.”
“Do you like it?”
Harry thought for a moment.
“From you? Yes. From others? Maybe not so much. When Jean calls me that it’s sort of like when your mom or dad calls you by your full name because you’re in trouble. Er, well…” He was fucking this up. Kim’s parents had died when he was young.
“I know what you mean,” Kim assured in an amused tone. “Come help me cut up these potatoes.”
“Thought I was done with work for the day,” Harry said, but he was already walking into the room. There was an island in the middle of Kim’s kitchen that provided extra counter space, but the apartment was so small that everything was closer together that was entirely comfortable.
[PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: You will have to suck in that gut or it will rub across Kim’s back as you slide past him.]
“Oh shit, sorry Kim,” Harry winced as his belly drug against Kim’s back and slim ass. It was fucking embarrassing.
“There is nothing to apologize for, Harrier. You are allowed to take up space. Something there is not much of in this apartment,” he said, his own tone apologetic on the last statement.
TAKE UP SPACE.
Harry began internalizing the thought. It was such a simple way of putting it, but was it that simple? Was he entitled to taking up so much space? He felt as though he was enormous but – the thought grew – hadn’t he also been enormous when he had been a solid wall of muscle and sinew? How was being fat any less valid? How was the use of space any less fair? Why was one kind of large presence considered a virtue and the other a sin?
“Do you prefer fried potatoes cut thin, or like shoe strings?” Kim asked, interrupting Harry’s reverie.
“I prefer potato wedges,” Harry admitted, and Kim nodded.
“Good, then you can cut them how you like.” He passed Harry a knife and a basket of potatoes. Kim’s shoulder was bumping against Harry’s, and he once again felt like he should be smaller, more out of the way, but he realized after a moment that the touch was intentional.
Harry had noticed these touches here and there before, little moments where it seemed unnecessary that Kim’s hand or shoulder or leg be against him. Shoulder pats, a hand pressed to his side, or in the small of his back as Kim passed by him.
“So, what are we making, exactly?” Harry asked, to distract himself from dissecting every touch Kim had ever laid on him and imagining more. He made quick work of cutting the potatoes and placed them on a baking sheet Kim handed him, their fingers bumping together again in a way that made the buzz in Harry’s chest purr with pleasure.
“Burgers with baked fries,” Kim said.
“Oh.”
“Problem?”
“It’s nothing,” Harry lied, ignoring the reemerging litany of ‘Thickums,’ ‘Thickums,’ ‘Thickums’ running through his mind in a jeering voice of some nameless bully from his childhood.
Kim turned on the oven and grabbed a cookie sheet upon which rested two perfect balls of brioche dough. He pulled out an egg and separated white and yolk expertly before washing the outside of the buns with the yolk. The white he set aside, movements precise and efficient. Harry liked that about him, liked how Kim was the carefully measured foil to his own attitude of excess.
“I made the dough for these yesterday,” Kim advised as he popped them into the waiting oven above the tray of wedged potatoes. As he bent over, Harry couldn’t help but appreciate the narrow, but finely shaped curves of his ass. “They take a while to rise. Bake them too soon and they do not grow to their full potential. But too long,” he went on, catching Harry’s eye as he turned back around and began dashing seasoning onto meat he pulled from the refrigerator, “and they will explode.” He added the egg white he had reserved to the meat and formed two patties.
“Any particular reason you’re telling me this?” Harry asked dryly, though he was certain he could ascertain Kim’s intent.
“No reason. Other than stating my hope that the buns turn out well,” Kim answered as he formed the patties, intentionally not looking at Harry.
“Uh huh. I suppose your bun analogy has to do with my timing on something?” Harry pressed. If Kim wanted him to talk about his feelings, he was going to have to come right out with it. “Or are you trying to say something about the shape of my ass?”
Kim gave a small sigh, but his eyes betrayed his amusement.
“I have been called many things throughout my life,” Kim went on sagely, as though he had always intended to despite Harry’s interruption. “Some of them to do with my small stature. Some to do with my race. Some to do with the ‘secret underground movement’ I am a member of,” he said with irony. “Some to do with my glasses. Speaking of which, would you mind, Harrier?” Kim leaned his head toward him, his glasses having slid down the sheer cliff of his down-turned nose.
Harry rinsed his hands, reached out a careful finger and pushed Kim’s glasses back up, touching the hard bridge of it as he did so. The temptation was strong to move his hand to cup Kim’s jaw, to stroke his thumb on his upper lip. He yanked his hand away before it overcame him and he gave in.
“Thank you. So. What was this name someone called you?” Kim asked, washing his hands with a soap that filled the area with a strong scent of lemons and spring flowers.
Harry swallowed audibly.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
[EMPATHY: He’s not.]
“If you are insistent that we not discuss it, I will not force you. But you mentioned it and you are obviously bothered by it. I…” His face went stony and his body stiffened. This was verging far too close to ‘emotions’ for Kim to be comfortable. “I care about you- your well-being.”
Ah.
So that’s what this was about. Kim didn’t want Harry to become a stumbling, incoherent drunk again. Harry swallowed and picked up a tomato, cutting it into slices as Kim turned away and began heating a skillet on the stove. Harry felt a hard lump forming in his throat. He could not cry right now, crying would be too pathetic, and, he was self aware enough now to know, it could also come across as manipulative. Before he could respond, Kim spoke again.
“To be clear, it is not just that I do no t want you to start drinking or doing drugs or harming yourself again, Harrier. I care about you as a person. Not just as a co-worker.”
There was a long, but amiable silence as Harry tried hard not to cry, which was made doubly challenging by the fact that it was time to cut the onions into slices.
He sniffled and felt Kim touch his back very gently.
“Harrier.”
“‘Thickums.’ They called me ‘Thickums.’” Harry felt the hand on his back stiffen and he flinched. Of course such a mild insult would sound like nothing worth being upset about to someone who had experienced hatred in many forms. He shouldn’t have brought it up, he should have just had Kim drop him off at home. “It’s, look, I know it’s not that bad. It’s not like they called me a slur or something. Sorry. Forget I mentioned it. It’s fine.”
Kim abruptly took the knife from Harry’s hand and pushed him so that he was facing him. Before he could object, Kim wrapped his arms around Harry’s middle.
“I, um, oh.”
“Harrier.”
“Yeah?”
“Hug me back.”
Harry did so, despite how his hands smelled like vegetables, he wrapped Kim up in his arms and just enjoyed the moment, enjoyed feeling the side of Kim’s face buried in his chest. But then, he realized that his chest and belly fat were probably suffocating him and he twitched, starting to loosen his embrace. Kim hugged him tighter and… did he just make a little umph noise and cuddle his head deeper into his chest?
[PERCEPTION: He did.]
“Uh, Kim?”
“Don’t overthink it, Harry,” Kim advised, sounding annoyed that Harry was trying to analyze a hug.
“Oh. Yeah.” After a few moments, Kim released Harry and stepped back. Unsure what to say, Harry returned to the task of cutting vegetables and Kim scooped the patties into the now hot skillet where they plopped with a loud sizzle. They smelled amazing. Harry considered what to say, or if he should just let Kim talk next, but self-control did not come to him in great quantities.
1. “Did someone drug you or something? You’re not a hugging type person, Kim.” (laugh awkwardly)
2. “Glad you enjoy being held by me. I’d like to do that again sometime, but in bed.” (wink)
3. “If there weren’t burgers on the stove, I’d bend you over it, Kimmy boy.”
4. “Thanks. I really needed that.” (try, very hard, not to cry)
“I know,” Kim said simply. “I thought today might be hard, but, not for the reason you said.” Harry frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Kim looked at him seriously through glasses partially obscured by the reflection of the kitchen window. His brow tightened in confusion.
“Did no one tell you? Or say anything? They must have been afraid of a relapse.” Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. What important thing had he forgotten? Why would he relapse? “Harry, today is your nineteenth anniversary at the RCM.”
“Oh.”
It was all Harry could think to say.
No one, not a soul had congratulated him about it this morning at the station. Kim looked at him with an expression of deep compassion.
“They did not bring it up because they are worried about you, Harrier.”
“Just call me ‘Harry,’” he interrupted something about it still feeling too much like he was in trouble, like he’d just been caught out in a lie, or having broken something.
“Harry,” Kim said, tone gentle. “I think they are approaching you like glass. Fragile. Easy to break. Are they wrong?”
It was clear from his tone that this was not intended to belittle or insult him. It was not an implication. Kim was genuinely asking if Harry had a handle on himself.
[LOGIC: You have partied excessively in the past, used any opportunity to get high or drunk or both.]
[CONCEPTUALIZATION: This would cause many to want to avoid encouraging you to celebrate.]
[ESPRIT DE CORPS: It makes plenty of sense that Jean would try to broach the subject with you and then abandon it when you got snippy this morning. The precinct might have celebrated you, had you not taken celebrations too far in the past.]
[ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY: Yeah, baby, you could get down with some partying. Fuck up a cake, preferably with a stripper hidden inside it, no, better – Kim hidden inside of it. No, wait, BETTER –Kim hidden inside it ready to strip!]
Harry blinked. For the first time in a very long time, more than six years, he wasn’t really that interested in drugs or alcohol to celebrate something. There was the mild urge to have fun, to socially lubricate himself, but, why do that when he could be the life of the party without it? Why do something that would make Kim upset or disappointed with him?
“Yeah. Yeah, they are,” Harry said after a long moment of thought. “They’re wrong. I would have loved a cake or something. And I had a really shitty day. I threw away a cupcake this morning and I didn’t even know it was my work anniversary,” he said, voice wavering a bit as he thought of the loss.
Kim chuckled softly, a thing he seemed to do with more frequency now that they had known one another for half a year.
“I am glad to hear it. I wondered all day if you did remember and were upset that no one threw a party. I got you the donuts, just in case you did remember. And I decided to have things ready to make you dinner if you didn’t want to go somewhere.”
Harry swallowed, forcing himself not to dwell too long on how incredibly kind Kim had been today, both because of and in spite of his nasty mood.
“Truth be told, I don’t really care much about the actual anniversary,” Harry admitted. “It’s a job. It’s a job I’m good at, and I think it’s a job I’ve always liked but…the anniversary isn’t that important. It’s just another day. Still. Fucking sucks that no one, not even Jean, came out with it and reminded me of it, just because they were scared of me drinking.”
Harry’s stomach twisted uncomfortably and he felt the urge to stuff his face with chips or cake or hell, even some of the veggies he’d cut, anything to tamp down feelings he didn’t want to feel. He blinked.
“And now I feel like shit because I think maybe I’ve replaced drugs and booze with food. Because all I want to do right now is eat something.”
Kim flipped the patties, the space filling with loud sizzling sounds.
“I think you are wrong. You said you threw away a cupcake this morning. Did you do so after you were insulted?”
“Yeah,” Harry answered, voice small.
“Then I think, perhaps, you want to eat something right now simply because you are hungry.” As if to illustrate his point, Harry’s stomach grumbled loudly. A timer went off and Kim carefully opened up the oven and pulled out the now cooked brioche buns and adjusted the temperature to brown the potatoes. “Are you finished chopping the rest of the vegetables?”
“Yeah, they’re done.”
“Good. The fries will need a few more minutes. As I was saying, I don’t think you replaced one vice for another, not this time, anyway. Food is necessary. I’ve seen you snack. There is nothing wrong with snacking or junk food. You are no larger than you were before, though your belly doesn’t feel like your liver is about to burst through it. To put it quite bluntly, you look good.” Kim turned away from him abruptly, as though looking at him burned. His ears were going maroon again.
Harry blinked, processing what had just been said.
1. “Y-you think I look good?”
2. “I’ve been waiting for you to realize it. Let’s go to the bedroom.”
3. “So you’re saying I can drag both my belly and my nuts across your face?”
Kim turned and raised one brow, clearly trying to discourage this line of conversation, possibly realizing what a can of worms he had just opened. Harry crossed his arms over his plush chest.
“Oh no, you’re not derailing me from this train of thought with your pretty little eyebrow. You think I look good.”
Kim’s face softened and he gave a small smile.
“Yes, Harry. I do.” He offered Harry nothing else, instead turning back to the beef patties he was frying. “How do you like yours?” he asked.
“Run through a warm room,” Harry answered immediately.
“Hmm,” Kim made an unhappy noise. The patties were already medium. “Cheese?”
“Please,” Harry answered, and before Kim could retrieve it, Harry stepped up to the refrigerator and opened it, mouth opening to ask where the cheese was located.
“Harry, wait!” There, sitting just at the front, was a half-empty bottle of a cloudy rice wine with a bright pastel label printed with cherries. Harry shrugged and reached in. Behind him, he heard Kim let out a hiss of breath as the bottle clattered.
[ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY: Here’s your chance, baby, shove that bottle out of the way, grab the cheese and let’s eat these fuckin’ burgers and then make sweet, sloppy, greasy sex at Kim. If he wants to celebrate, let’s fucking celebrate! Fuck all night! Suck meat juice off his cock! Fuck it, let him fuck you, what’s the worst that could happen?]
“Here we are,” Harry said, pulling the package of sliced cheese from behind the bottle and handing it to Kim, trying his best not to pop a boner at the thought of sucking hamburger grease off Kim’s cock.
Kim’s face had gone quite pale.
“I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have that in there. I’m sorry.”
Harry shrugged.
“Nothing to apologize for. I don’t want it. Haven’t in a while. I… I think, overall, I’m doing pretty good. And, I’ve… uhm… I’ve got you to thank for it, Kim. Look, I’m not saying I couldn’t have quit if you hadn’t transferred, but it certainly helped. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
Kim was silent, scooting a little pat of congealed grease around in the skillet with his spatula as he waited for the cheese to melt onto the two patties.
“That was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it?” Harry asked.
“It was not wrong to say, Harry. I was just thinking.”
“About?”
Kim again raised a brow, refusing to answer, and he had the chance to avoid further eye contact with Harry as he cut the buns, pulled out plates and began to construct the burgers.
He pushed past Harry and pulled out some sparkling water, pouring it into two matching, utilitarian looking glasses. A few moments later, he pulled out the potatoes and plated them as well.
“Come, sit,” he insisted, leading Harry out of the kitchen and to the small table where they had frequently played board games. “Happy anniversary, Harry. To many more.” He raised his glass and Harry clinked his against it. It felt like muscle memory, but he pushed aside any further thought about that.
All he wanted to think about at the moment was how fucking delicious this burger was. He took a bite and groaned, a deep, truly animal sound that would have been more appropriate to make during sex than during dinner. He chewed luxuriously, his eyes closed, licking grease and mustard off his lips.
Harry opened his eyes and gestured with the burger in his hand.
“This is fucking incredible, Kim,” he said, mouth full. He noticed that Kim’s ears were bright fucking red and that the movement of the burger to his mouth had been halted halfway there. “You okay?”
Kim swallowed.
“I am fine.” He forced a bite of burger into his mouth and made a small noise of pleasure himself. “Mmm. This did turn out well, didn’t it?”
There was pride in his voice and a nearly predatory look in his eye as he watched Harry take another bite, lick his lower lip sloppily and make another small groan in his throat.
“So fucking good,” Harry mumbled through a mouthful of burger.
“I… have to go check on dessert,” Kim mumbled, excusing himself.
Harry nearly dropped his burger. Though he tried to hide it, Kim was very clearly sporting the beginnings of an erection, the crotch of his pants slightly tented. He waited for Kim to return, which he did, finally, seeming to have calmed himself. Maybe now was the time to admit it, Harry thought, wondering if he could turn one anniversary into two.
They ate, the conversation turning a bit more casual, chatting about the butcher where Kim bought the meat and how long Kim had been planning this – it turned out he had been planning this evening for a while. He looked embarrassed when he admitted this. He had even gotten a new game for them to play, something new he’d found and purchased, thinking Harry would enjoy a new game.
The buzzing in Harry’s chest was practically giddy, drunk on all of the stimuli it was receiving tonight.
They finished eating and Kim suggested pulling out the game as he gathered their plates and dumped them in the sink.
“Sure, after dessert.”
“Dessert, right,” Kim muttered unhappily. Harry frowned at that, unsure why he suddenly looked flustered. It was cute on him, the way his glasses slid down his nose a bit, the way he nervously brushed his thinning hair back. “I, uh, I did not purchase or make dessert, Harry.”
He pointedly avoided Harry’s gaze and Harry had to try very, very hard not to laugh at Kim’s expense.
“No worries,” he said flippantly, letting Kim entirely off the hook. “So, about that game?”
They set up the pieces and read over the rules. It was a fairly simple game of commodity and chance, the goal of which was to harvest gems to have the biggest hoard and thereby win the throne.
Harry spent a lot of time complaining about how wealth and power should not be so strongly correlated, griping about how universal income and democracy was the only way forward, emphasizing the importance of communities and the people owning the means of production, and Kim politely listened, and, in some cases, agreed with the points Harry made. Nevertheless, Kim beat Harry four times and Harry won only once before the short-paced game began to get boring.
Harry was watching Kim stroke his chin, brushing at a few bristles of five o’clock shadow as he tried to decide what combination of gem colors he wanted to use to score.
“Hey Kim,” Harry said, his heart pounding.
“Yes, Harry?”
“I care about you, too. A-As a person.” Kim looked up in surprise. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I know, I know, you’re going to tell me that it’s not professional, or that we shouldn’t because I used to be an addict, but I can tell you care about me too. They don’t call me the Can Opener for nothing. So, I just wanted you to know, after the effort you went to today, I care about you and I-I’d be open to… more,” he finished lamely.
Harry wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe for Kim to tell him that they couldn’t, or for him to give a neutral response, or maybe even correct him and tell him that he didn’t care about him like that at all.
What he certainly was not expecting was for Kim to throw down his game pieces and half tackle him, mouth opening to puff out a hard breath. For a moment Harry wasn’t certain if Kim was going to punch him or kiss him, but he did neither yet.
With Kim, it was everything or nothing, no response, or a passionate one and right now, he was passionate, all his quiet resolve to be professional and calm gone.
Kim yanked Harry out of his chair and shoved him backwards, his knees going out from under him and he flopped onto the sofa with a surprised grunt. Kim climbed up onto his lap, one hand going behind Harry’s head to tangle in his hair, the other cupping his cheek as Kim leaned in and pressed a kiss to Harry’s soft lips.
“Oh,” Harry huffed when Kim pulled back, his expression unsure, a small crease between his brows, but his lips slightly parted with want.
“Yeah,” Kim muttered, his ears nearly glowing. Harry turned on the charm, giving a toothy grin that was a more pleasant version of The Expression.
“How long have you been wanting to do that?”
“Ever since the swings after we found your MC. Seeing you come to terms with who you were and who you want to be.” Kim’s hand was fisted in the lapel of Harry’s jacket and his thumb stroked the material nervously.
Harry’s bushy brows rose.
“Shit. You’ve had that answer ready.”
“Possibly, yes,” Kim allowed in a shaky voice.
“So,” Harry murmured, putting his hands on Kim’s hips. “What now?”
“I don’t want to think or analyze tonight, Harry. What would you do, were you in charge of the rest of this evening?”
“Oh, I am so glad you asked, my friend,” Harry purred, pulling him forward for another kiss. This one was deeper, searching for boundaries. Kim allowed Harry to lap his thick tongue into his mouth and to his shock, Kim sucked on it, pulling it deeper within his mouth. Harry let loose a moan, reaching a hand up and burying it in Kim’s short hair. It was softer than he had imagined, and yes, he had imagined it plenty of times, but it was so much better than he thought it would be. Soft and silky beneath his big fingers.
Despite his shitty day, Harry wasn’t dwelling on how fucking fat he’d gotten, or what a piece of shit he was. All he wanted was to show Kim pleasure, and it seemed that his desire was mirrored.
Kim’s fingers grabbed at the soft dough of Harry’s lovehandles, massaging as he kissed Harry. He was slowly pulling up Harry’s shirt out of his waistband, then tangling his fingers into Harry’s belt buckle. He undid it and then reached in, palming at Harry’s half-hard cock through his underwear.
“Oh fuck, Harry,” Kim murmured in his ear, shuddering slightly.
“Listen, there was a reason a middle class broad tolerated me, baby,” Harry growled, pushing his hips up to press his cock into Kim’s hand. There weren’t many things he was proud of about himself, but he had lucked out in this department. He just had to show he knew how to use it, he thought, cheeks flushing.
[DRAMA: You do, sire. It is, in fact, one of the reasons she stayed for so long.]
[VOLITION: Push thoughts of her away for the rest of the evening. Tonight isn’t about her. No part of your life will ever be about her again.]
[INLAND EMPIRE: Through your mind runs a cacophony of faces and whining moans, the feeling of warm, wet fingers and the sensation of hot flesh clenching around your cock. Even when you were at your worst you knew how to do this. If they couldn’t love you for who you were, they would love you for the pleasure you brought them.]
[SAVOIR FAIRE: …]
Kim used his free hand to cover Harry’s mouth, interrupting the churnings of his mind. A small, slightly vindictive smile slid over his face.
“I don’t want to hear any more about her.” He held his hand against Harry’s mouth, silencing any verbal response.
Harry pushed his tongue out from between his lips and licked Kim’s palm. Kim pulled his hand away with a squawk of disgust, but Harry used the moment to pull him down for another kiss.
“Keep touching my dick and I’ll talk about whatever you want.”
“You’ve never needed suggestions for things to talk about,” Kim told him dryly. He slid down out of Harry’s lap and he was about to complain until Kim pulled his now erect cock out of his underwear and sucked the head after gently sliding his foreskin back.
“Oh shit, Kim. Oh fuck. Oh fffuck.” Kim’s mouth slid down his cock, his hand grasping at him to provide friction. He knew exactly what he was doing. Harry suspected that Kim had a couple of decades of experience doing this and oh fuck, Kim was making eye contact with him, looking into his eyes as he took Harry’s cock in his mouth. Kim took his time, methodically applying suction and friction, backing off as Harry groaned and then licking a stripe up the underside until Harry’s legs were trembling.
Kim returned to him, climbing into his lap and leaning against his belly, squeezing it with a hand and humming softly in his throat. He raised his eyes to meet Harry’s.
“Just so we’re clear, this is very attractive, Harry. You are soft, but strong. I like it,” he whispered in his ear, biting the lobe and worrying it in his teeth. “And kissing around this,” he went on, pushing his fingers up through Harry’s muttonchops, “is fascinating.”
“I’d be willing to bet it would feel more than ‘fascinating’ tickling your dick, Kim,” Harry growled and he felt Kim shudder under his fingers as he snaked his hand down Kim’s slim waist and cupped his hand over his crotch.
“Harry,” Kim sighed, mouth hanging open to draw in a ragged breath.
“Call me ‘Harrier’ again.”
“Harrier,” Kim cried as Harry grasped him through his pants hard enough to not quite be painful, forcing a hiss through Kim’s teeth.
“Come ‘ere.” Harry picked Kim up and Kim slung his legs around Harry’s waist, his socked feet locking together in the middle of his back. He kissed Harry roughly, biting his lower lip and humming.
“You still taste like dinner,” Kim said, an observation, and while Harry might have decided to be sensitive about it given his day, right about now eating one another sounded fucking incredible.
“It’s too bad you didn’t make dessert or I’d eat it off you,” Harry grumbled into his ear before he started sucking a hickey onto Kim’s collarbone. He felt Kim’s dick twitch against his belly and raised a brow. “I’d suck icing right off your dick and lick it clean,” he promised experimentally.
“Oh fuck,” Kim huffed, fingernails scratching at Harry’s back. “Let me down.” He wriggled in Harry’s grip for a moment before realizing that he could not overpower it. Harry smirked at him. Kim straightened his glasses and cleared his throat. “I have an idea.”
“Make it quick,” Harry ordered. Kim vanished into the kitchen and returned with a container of chocolate syrup for ice cream or flavoring milk. He had one brow raised as a question. “Holy shit, Kim, that’s kinky.” Harry barked an astonished laugh. “Yes.”
[ENCYCLOPEDIA: Sitophilia is a form of sexual fetishism in which participants are aroused by erotic situations involving food.]
[PERCEPTION: This is probably not something Kim usually gets off to. He is usually straight laced and clean in bed, not interested in wet and messy activities. You’re an exception. You are messy and much different from anything or anyone else he’s ever let himself have.]
Harry approached Kim and picked him up with one arm, ignoring his squawk of protest as his legs dangled behind him and he squirmed in his grip.
“Harrier, put me down!”
“Oh, I’m gonna do more than that to you,” Harry said in his gravelly voice, almost effortlessly toting Kim toward the bedroom despite his struggling.
[HAND/EYE COORDINATION: Throw him onto the bed.]
[EMPATHY: Throw him onto the bed gently. He won’t like it if you break his bed frame.]
[AUTHORITY: Throw him onto the bed and pin him down. Show him who’s in charge. Shove your dick down his throat until he gags.]
Harry tossed Kim onto the bed, where he landed, breathless, glasses askew, eyes wide. Harry followed him down onto the bed, pushing his pants and underwear off, shedding his shirt and kicking away his shoes. He grabbed Kim’s pants by the cuffs and yanked them off, Kim gasping at the sudden commanding direction Harry’s demeanor had taken. Harry was taking charge, showing him what he wanted to do with the evening, just as suggested.
Harry stripped off Kim’s white tank top and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard until it earned him a stifled moan. He licked the now erect point, brushing his facial hair against it intentionally. He heard a cap open and there was the sound of a squeeze bottle, then chocolate syrup dripped onto Kim’s chest. Harry looked up. Kim’s ears had gone nuclear, so red they could provide light to the room, and goddammit he looked fucking adorable holding the bottle guiltily in one hand.
“Are you taking advantage of my love of food, Kim?” Harry asked him in his gravelly voice.
Kim raised an authoritative brow and set the bottle down on the nightstand.
“If you don’t want it, you don’t have to eat it,” he challenged. In response to this, Harry squeezed him hard through his briefs, which Kim squirmed out of with a quick, impatient motion. Harry shoved him back hard into the mattress and Kim’s hands went out to his sides and sunk into the bedding, his fingers apart, his brows high. Harry licked a stripe from Kim’s navel to his sternum and then nipped him gently on the chin before he returned to his chest, lapping chocolate sauce off Kim’s skin as the smaller man jerked and keened beneath him.
“C’mere,” Harry purred, grabbing Kim’s wrists and holding them over his head as he suckled dark bruises all over his chest, beautiful, whining noises unlike any Harry had ever heard Kim make before poured out of his mouth as he gasped. He licked the syrup from his skin with the point of his tongue, grabbing his cock and pumping it as he worked. He could feel gooseflesh raising on Kim’s skin, watching his belly rise and fall as he panted under Harry’s ministrations.
Who needed drugs when he could have this? He thought hazily, biting Kim’s pec muscle and then laving over it with his tongue.
“Harrier,” Kim cried, his cock dripping precum onto his belly. Harry kept his hand on Kim’s wrists and grabbed the bottle of chocolate syrup. He drizzled the cold, sticky liquid onto Kim’s cock, eliciting a sharp hiss from behind Kim’s teeth. Harry continued the line of syrup up into Kim’s navel, up his sternum, to his neck, then his chin, his lips. One hand started a steady pace on Kim’s dick but his tongue was busy capturing Kim’s lips.
Kim gasped into his mouth, softly moaning, his hips pressing upwards into Harry’s grasp. Harry playfully licked his chin, then sucked on his neck for a moment before dipping back down, meeting Kim’s eyes as he licked his way down, down, down, taunting and teasing and leaving a trail of hickeys and sticky saliva behind.
Harry let go of Kim’s wrists and bent, his ass in the air as he stooped between Kim’s legs on the bed. He took the whole of Kim’s cock into his mouth, fighting back the urge to gag as it hit the back of his throat, but then he sucked, enjoying the sweet, chocolaty syrup he had anointed Kim’s cock with. He met Kim’s eyes where he watched, frozen with shocked arousal. Harry licked up and down Kim’s dick like it was a lollipop, like an over eager dog with a bone, making Kim’s hips thrust upwards, making him breathe hard, huffing and whining and then crying out when Harry sucked the whole of him down and swallowed against him as he bobbed his head.
“Harry, what the fuck,” Kim groaned, “I thought you had never… I didn’t think you had… oh fuck…” One hand rested against Harry’s cheek, fingers buried in his facial hair, pressing until Harry knew Kim could feel his cock through the soft skin of his mouth. The other hand guided the back of Harry’s head, providing encouragement, but not force. Harry slid his lips off Kim with a loud slurp, a string of chocolate and spit connecting his lips to the head until he lapped his tongue out.
“I don’t remember if I’ve sucked dick before,” Harry said thoughtfully as he pumped Kim in his hand. “But I know what feels good to me. Though I’ve never added… flavor to mine.”
“I’ve never done this either,” Kim admitted, his ears refreshing their shade of bright red. “The noises you make when you eat were…it was a fantasy that got out of control.” He unhappily rubbed at a splash of chocolate syrup on the comforter beneath him.
“Feels good though, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. But the mess–”
“Hush. We’ll clean it up when we’re done.”
Kim wiped at something on his stomach, his face pulling into a grimace as his hand came away sticky.
[EMPATHY: He is deeply uncomfortable with the state of things, can’t stop worrying about getting more syrup on the bedding and the stickiness is a bit too much for him now.]
“Want to hop in the shower before we go any farther?” Harry offered with a toothy smile, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm.
“Please,” Kim said, seeming relieved.
“After you,” Harry allowed. He clambered off the bed and looked down at Kim. The man was running his eyes up and down Harry’s form, taking him in. His height, his now trimmed and well-groomed hair and chops, his broad chest with its thick coating of soft brown hair, his soft paunch and thighs, both of which were tiger striped in places with stretch marks, his large arms, down to his cock, which was standing starkly erect still.
“You are very attractive, Harry,” Kim murmured. Harry scoffed.
“No, I’m not. I’m a fat, washed up has been,” he argued, feeling embarrassed at being observed so thoroughly.
“‘Thickums,’” a little mean voice in his head reminded and he clenched his jaw. Kim climbed off the bed and approached Harry where he stood, looking up at him with an expression of both earnestness and authority.
“Harry, you are not a has been and besides that you are handsome. You are sexy. You threw me on the bed. Do you know how rare it is to find someone who can do that without breaking a sweat? Now stop putting yourself down and get in the shower.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry answered in a sassy tone, mood lightening again. Kim left his glasses on the counter, climbing into the shower before Harry did and adjusting the water temperature. He blinked like a bat, clearly having a hard time seeing. It was oddly endearing.
Kim scrubbed at himself in earnest, but Harry took the soapy loofah from him and took charge.
“I’ve been wanting to touch you like this almost since I met you, Kim,” Harry told him. He was standing behind Kim and reached his arms around to caress Kim’s pecs, feeling hard muscle there, lean and efficient. He wiped the loofah down, squeezing it over his slim abdomen, dipping a finger into his navel, then down into the patch of black (and a few silvery-gray) hairs before squeezing soap onto his cock. He rolled the soapy sponge over Kim’s balls, listening to the barely restrained huff that Kim let out. Kim’s eyes slid shut with pleasure, just letting Harry touch him however he pleased.
Harry got the sense that Kim had never allowed anyone this sort of intimacy, that he was usually guarded and reserved with his partners, only sleeping with someone to give himself a quick, if not satisfying release so he could focus on other things, like work.
[INLAND EMPIRE: A large man with clumsy fingers spreads narrow cheeks, movements coarse and careless. A small, uncomfortable sound spills from Kim’s throat as he is split open by a broad finger with little preparation. This is the sort of treatment he has come to expect from nameless one night stands, the safe kind of partners, the kind that don’t want to know what he’s thinking or feeling, the ones who don’t analyze him constantly. But he knows that at the end of the night, despite being thoroughly filled, he will feel empty and alone. It isn’t enough.]
Harry swallowed past the thought of Kim allowing men to be rough or careless with him, wondered what made Kim build the walls he seemed to have allowed Harry past. With aching gentleness, Harry slid the sponge between Kim’s legs, teasing and massaging, but not pressing or pulling at him.
“You’re so cool, Kim. Good, look at you, you’re like a damn sculpture.”
“You are blowing smoke up my ass,” Kim said without opening his eyes. A tight smirk pulled at his lips, however. He was enjoying this.
1. “I’d like to blow something else up your ass.”
2. “I’d like to blow something else up your ass.”
3. “I’d like to blow something else up your ass.”
4. “I’d like to blow something else up your ass.”
5. Say nothing.
Goddamnit, he didn’t want to make this crass. Kim was being so vulnerable with him, so gentle, and so very Kim. He couldn’t ruin this with his stupid mouth. His brain had to provide something else to say, anything.
“There is something else I’d rather you put in my ass,” Kim said after a moment with a sly smile that had the buzz in Harry’s chest hooting and hollering.
“I can make that happen,” Harry assured him, massaging his shoulder with the loofah while his other hand soaped Kim’s cock up, sliding up and down it, letting the more petite man fuck his hand. “But first.” Very cautiously, Harry dropped down to his knees, looking up at the gentle curve of Kim’s small but toned ass. His hands were nearly as large as Kim’s cheeks and he pushed into the small of Kim’s back to encourage him to lean his head against the shower wall and relax.
Harry spread Kim’s cheeks and laved his tongue across Kim’s hole, drawing a sharp whine from Kim.
“Oh fuck,” Kim huffed into his folded arm where he leaned against the wall. “Harrier.”
Harry felt his neglected cock spasm, spurting precum to the shower floor. Fuck, he liked it when Kim called his name while he touched him. He nuzzled between Kim’s cheeks, nipping and biting, reveling in the way Kim relaxed and collapsed some of his weight into his touch. He massaged the pucker of soft skin, waiting for Kim to relax before he pressed the blunt tip of his tongue inside of him.
“You don’t h-have to do that, Harry,” Kim advised, his ears glowing again as he looked over his shoulder at where Harry’s face was buried between his asscheeks, happily lapping at the clean skin.
“I want to. Want to eat you alive, Kim,” Harry growled, biting one of his cheeks gently. “Besides, I’ve definitely had worse things in my mouth.” Kim made a small sound of disgust, but it was clear from his expression that he was amused. Giving a small, whining huff, Kim leaned back against the ministrations of Harry’s tongue and fingers. Harry didn’t push him hard, knew better than to force much inside of him without lubrication, but he teased and pressed with his fingers.
“Much more of this and this evening will be over,” Kim admitted with regret, seeming shocked at how much pleasure Harry was bringing him.
That’s the key, though, when you’re a sad, kind of desperate, pathetic person, and more than a little bit in love, it makes you the best lay anyone’s ever had, Harry thought, deciding to analyze that thought later. He had other, more pressing matters at hand.
They dried off and came together again, kissing one another roughly, Kim’s fingers running over Harry’s belly, down his ass, squeezing and moaning happily.
“You are…fucking hot.”
[ENCYCLOPEDIA: You are what many in the underground society consider a ‘bear.’ Large, hairy and on the muscular and/or heavier side.]
“Hey Kim, are you what they call a ‘twink’?”
“Oh God,” Kim mumbled, ears going pink. “Before you spend too much time thinking about this, no, I am too old to be a twink,” he chuckled. “Now hush and get on the bed.”
Harry obeyed, sitting on the edge of the firm mattress. Kim climbed into his lap again, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He then reached a hand down between them and slid their cocks together, pressing the undersides of them together and slicking them with swipes of his thumb to spread precum. Harry put a hand on his ass, feeling the muscles tighten and flex under his palm as Kim thrust into his own fist against Harry’s dick.
Harry watched his face, the little line that sometimes appeared between his brows deepening as he slid his eyes shut so he could concentrate. Kim’s face held an expression of such pure pleasure it sent a jolt straight through his heart.
[MID-THORACIC BUZZ: Let’s revisit that thing you casually thought earlier…you’re a little bit in love?]
[VOLITION: You are more than a little bit in love with Kim Kitsuragi.]
[MID-THORACIC BUZZ LOVE: Kiss the end of his nose.]
Harry leaned forward and kissed the end of Kim’s nose, but it knocked Kim off balance and he started to fall backwards. Harry caught him in sturdy, powerful arms, giving him a winning smile.
“I gotcha. Come ‘ere.” With that, he flipped them further onto the bed, Kim on his back looking up at Harry with an unreadable expression. Before he could inquire about it, Kim reached up and sucked on one of Harry’s nipples, though he made a quiet ththpthp sound as some of Harry’s chest hair got into his mouth and he tried to get it out. Harry gave a chuckle and kissed him. “That doesn’t do much for me anyway,” he admitted.
“And what about this?” Kim asked, sucking on Harry’s neck just above his pulse. Harry gave a soft grunt of pleasure and he felt Kim melt beneath him, felt his hands grasp at him desperately, felt him thrusting frantically upwards to frot them together.
No one had ever wanted Harry like this, he realized. Kim wasn’t lying. He really did think Harry was attractive, he really did find the warm coating of fat on his muscular frame sexy.
He completed the thought from earlier in the day – he did deserve to take up space. He deserved to be happy. He deserved this second chance.
He would make the best of it, he decided, mumbling a question about where to find the lube.
“Top drawer,” Kim panted. Harry rolled a condom on and finished prepping Kim, feeling him relaxing around his fingers, and then he slowly, gently pressed himself inside of his partner.
“Are you alright?” he asked as the head of his cock disappeared within Kim. Not that any other part of this evening was any more professional than this, but this really did feel like the point of no return, felt like now that he was pushing himself inside Kim, nothing could go back to how it was before. It scared him a bit.
“I’m fine. Harry. Stop overthinking and fuck me.”
“You got it, bud,” Harry said with a cheeky grin and with that he pushed himself the rest of the way in, reveling in the bark of pleasure the movement punched out of Kim. Fuck, he was so hot. Harry nearly came just sitting there inside of him, had to bite down hard on his bottom lip.
[ENDURANCE: Don’t be a one pump chump, please.]
[DRAMA: Ejaculating immediately upon insertion will demonstrate your love for him, sire.]
[PAIN THRESHOLD: If you nut right after sticking your fat prick inside him, you’ll never be able to look him in the eye again. Think about something else.]
[LOGIC: I’ve got nothing.]
“Ah, oh fuck, ah shit, it’s, move, please,” Kim begged and Harry obliged after he gave himself a chance to focus, to calm. Kim’s legs were bent up out of the way and he could reach down and grab at his waist, thrusting into him with powerful strokes that had Kim saying his name like a prayer with every thrust. “Harrier, Harrier, Harrier,” again and again in his soft accent, in his deep, gentle voice and Harry couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand how much he loved this man, fuck, he was so in love with Kim and no amount of self-loathing or confidence issues or idiot construction guys giving him stupid nicknames could ever take away from the fact that Kim was here, open and vulnerable beneath him and he was inside of him, making love to him in long, intense strokes, taking him apart slowly.
Harry watched as Kim bent an arm over his eyes. He stuttered in his thrusts.
“Hey, hey, are you okay?”
“I…” Kim swallowed hard, “I am fine, Harry. This is a lot. It has been so long since I let myself… with someone I care about. Please, continue. Go slow. I want to feel you.”
Harry felt himself tearing up at Kim’s admission and had to hold it in. He would not cry during sex, goddammit. He did as Kim asked, slowing his pace, filling him with gradual movements of his hips. He leaned forward and let more of his weight press down onto Kim, gauging his reaction. Immediately, Kim grasped at him, pulling him closer, fingers sinking into fat and massaging at muscle.
“This is… so good,” Kim mumbled, his lips swollen, his eyes hazy since he had forgotten to grab his glasses from the counter. Some of his usually slicked-back hair had fallen over his forehead. Harry brushed it back with his fingers and then took one of Kim’s hands, kissing the back of it, and then the palm. Kim’s breath shuddered as Harry took one of his fingers into his mouth and sucked, beginning a rhythm on his finger that matched the speed he was thrusting. His belly fat enveloped Kim’s cock, but he reached between them and grabbed at it, putting all his concentration in keeping the rhythm of thrusting, pumping Kim’s cock and sucking his finger.
Finally, Kim’s mouth fell open with a half-frightened sounding noise, as though his orgasm had snuck up on him and startled him. His body went stiff, his toes curling, Harry’s name falling reverently from his lips and Kim came over Harry’s knuckles, his hole pulsing around Harry’s cock. Harry kept thrusting into him until his moans turned to cries of discomfort as pleasure turned into pain from too much stimulation.
Harry pulled out of him, fully prepared to finish himself off with his hand, but Kim bent, meeting his eyes as he slipped the condom off and then lowered his mouth, his head bobbing up and down, his fingernails scraping the insides of Harry’s thighs until, with a strangled yelp, Harry came down his partner’s throat, his cock twitching as Kim hollowed his cheeks and sucked him dry. They both flopped back, Kim halfway on Harry’s chest, both of them panting. Kim wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and blinked blindly.
“I should go get my glasses.”
“In a minute,” Harry gasped, sweaty and out of breath. “Enjoy the afterglow.”
The afterglow was somewhat tinged by Harry’s abrupt realization that now that this activity was over, Kim would probably retract himself, probably spout something about professionalism and about how he should request a new partner. Maybe they could date, but it was unlikely that things would ever be the way they had been. Kim was too much of a professional to allow himself to fraternize with a work partner. That, or this would be the last and only time they ever slept together.
After a few minutes of silence, Kim got up and retrieved his glasses before padding into the kitchen with the bottle of syrup in his hand. Harry wondered if he should follow, but before he could, Kim returned with glasses of water for them both. Harry accepted it wordlessly, sitting up and chugging the water like a man in the dessert. It had been a while since he had exerted himself like this. His heart was still thundering in his chest and he was unsure if it was because of the activity or because of his emotions. Regardless, he stayed quiet.
“I think maybe,” Kim began and Harry felt his stomach drop to the floor, “we should keep these activities under wraps.”
“What?”
“I don’t think anyone at the Precinct should find out about this. There are forms we could submit to allow for a sexual relationship, but it would require reassignment to a new partner. And I do not want a new partner,” he said vehemently, though he was looking out the bedroom window, pointedly keeping his gaze away from Harry. Maybe he was just as afraid of rejection.
1. “I want the boys at the Precinct to know I got laid, though.”
2. “I’m not much good at keeping secrets. Maybe we shouldn’t do this again.”
3. “I am in love with you and I can’t stand the thought of seeing you die in the line of duty. I don’t want to be a cop if it means I can’t grow old with you.”
4. “What if we quit? Left the RCM and did something else, maybe go to another isola?”
5. “Yeah, it’s probably for the best no one finds out.”
6. Say nothing.
They sat in silence for a long moment, but Kim still did not turn to him, instead he pulled out a box of cigarettes from a drawer and placed one between his lips before offering one to Harry. Harry took it and stood, pulling on his underwear as Kim did so as well. It was clear they were heading to the small patio that hung off the bedroom side of the apartment. They lit their cigarettes and stood in quiet stillness. Harry glanced around the small patio. There were several tomato vines and some sort of flower. Harry wanted to ask what kind it was, but he stayed silent, feeling his guts roiling with emotion. He still owed Kim a response.
1. “I want the boys at the Precinct to know I got laid, though.”
2. “I’m not much good at keeping secrets. Maybe we shouldn’t do this again.”
3. “I am in love with you and I can’t stand the thought of seeing you die in the line of duty. I don’t want to be a cop if it means I can’t grow old with you.”
4. “What if we quit? Left the RCM and did something else, maybe go to another isola?”
5. “Yeah, it ’s probably for the best no one finds out.”
6. Say nothing.
“That doesn’t sound like it is what you actually wanted to say,” Kim murmured as he tapped the ash from his cigarette over the rail, looking out over the apartment courtyard like it was his kingdom. He was being aloof, retracting back into himself.
“It’s not, exactly,” Harry admitted. “I’ve been wanting to tell you how I feel for a while, but I wasn’t expecting,” he shrugged to encompass the evening, “this.”
Kim nodded, leaning against the railing.
“Nor was I. It was impulsive.”
Harry put his hand on top of Kim’s on the rail.
“No, please. Please, don’t do that. Don’t talk yourself out of it, Kim. Please.”
“Harry,” Kim murmured, pulling his hand away. Again, there was silence as they stood, puffing away at cigarettes, smoke punctuating hard breaths until Harry finally broke.
“I wanted to say that I’m in love with you,” Harry blurted. “And that I don’t want to see you get hurt in the line of duty. And that maybe we could run away together. But I know that’s all stupid.”
Kim blinked, a surprised look taking over his face before he reined it in, forcing a neutral, but gentle expression.
“It’s not stupid,” Kim whispered. “But it is impractical. We are members of the RCM. It doesn’t pay well, but it does pay. We are both good at it. It is a job you enjoy. Why run away? Why not make things better where we are, Harry? Do what we can? Why isn’t that good enough?”
“Can any one man make anything better?” Harry asked miserably, a question he often struggled with.
“No. But perhaps two working together could make accepting the inevitability of failure a little easier. We are partners. I don’t want that to change. We can watch one another’s backs, just like we did in Martinaise. And… if I do fall in the line of duty, I can’t think of anyone who’s arms I’d rather die in,” Kim told him with a small, sweet smile, taking Harry’s hand and nuzzling it against his cheek. “In the meantime, come inside. We should go to sleep. Next time, you’ll have to bring a change of clothes.”
What Kim was offering wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was more than Harry could have hoped. He’d said ‘next time.’
Hope was a powerful thing. He would internalize that thought tomorrow, but for now, he lay down and pulled Kim into his chest, holding him close for as long as he could.