Word Count: 2,026
It'd been a while since he'd had a one-night stand. It wasn't really his thing. Any itches he might get usually managed to subside with time until the proper outlet was discovered. He hated the club scene, the exchange of numbers, knowing you'd never call or if you did that the number given was a wrong one.
He'd been out with a small group, celebrating the guilty verdict brought down on one of his cases. Domestic disputes weren't glamorous or front page headline worthy so the case was just a blip on the radar, one of several. The victims usually recanted once they'd had a day or two to think things through. Or to realize that the person they were pressing charges against could kill them before a trial ever got underway.
This one, though, the vic had stayed strong and true until the very end. The man who had beaten his daughter to within an inch of her life because she wore the wrong colored shirt to school one day was now behind bars. Mike hated when children suffered, those were always his hardest cases. The ones he couldn't leave at the door when his shift ended. It wasn't just because it reminded him of his own childhood either; he just hated to see children the victims of crimes. Their whole lives effected by something they had no control over at an age that they should have been worried about collecting baseball cards or Barbie's instead of violence.
The blonde caught his eye immediately upon entering the bar, sitting alone as she was. She was young, younger than he usually went for but there was something about her sitting by herself that got to him. Everyone else there was with someone else at the very least. All were having a good time at the end of the day, unwinding before heading home. She was pretty, dressed nicely, and didn't appear to be there to pick anyone up. A business traveler stopping to have a drink before returning to a lonely, generic hotel room perhaps. She had an air of confidence to her that added to her physical appeal. She wasn't looking around the bar nervously or as if she was looking for an easy mark to buy her the rest of her night's drinks.
His partner saw Mike eyeing the blonde-haired woman and encouraged him to send her a drink. So he had, assuming she'd accept courteously and that would be that. He hadn't expected her to come over to their table or to be somewhat knowledgeable about detective work. She wasn't a police officer, she'd admitted as much. She knew stuff about fieldwork that only those who'd logged hours out there on the street could know.
He'd expected her to turn her attentions to one of the other cops at his table. A younger one, one who had a long career in front of him instead of someone who'd seen as much as he had. He wasn't on the verge of retirement but he wasn't fresh out of the academy either. She hadn't, though. She'd talked to them, sure, but he had gotten her attention the same as she had his.
They'd closed down the bar, but he didn't get the impression she was drunk when she invited him back to her room. He wouldn't have gone with her if that was the case. She was from out of town, staying at a hotel not far from the bar. He accepted her invitation for that reason. A hotel was neutral, anonymous, and since she wasn't from here they both knew what they were signing up for.
They'd barely gotten her door closed when he had her pinned against it. His lips were on hers, urgent and needy. It had been far too long and he was sure his kiss betrayed that fact. He would have felt bad except it seemed as if she was on the same page. He broke for air, taking a minute to assure himself this was really happening and not a dream. She found something else to kiss. His neck, an ear, his throat, his jaw, and the sensitive spot under his chin.
Hands fumbled in the dark for clothes, shedding them without preamble or any talk of what this was. What it meant. Unfamiliar with one another's body, but for what they were after familiarity wasn't necessary. And a lack of it didn't prevent them from finding the necessary parts once clothes had been discarded.
He hadn't been particularly gentle but she hadn't seemed to mind. In fact, he was pretty sure a couple of the bites he'd been on the receiving end of weren't going to be gone for days. She seemed to thrive on it, encouraging him with her body to stop holding back. He wasn't a violent guy, very rarely toeing the line between consensual sex and something with a more violent slant to it. His past and his line of work kept him on the up and up. He hadn't been able to stop from giving into her prompts for him to thrust harder. And harder. And still harder to the point he thought the door supporting her might give.
Eventually, they'd ended up on her bed for more. Though not as urgent as their first time, there was nothing more to it than what it was. Sex. Need. Lust. It'd been a while since he'd let his cock do the decision making for him, but this was one time he was glad he had. And that he had enough condoms to let it make quite a bit of it before the night was over.
They drifted off with nothing but the hotel bed's comforter covering them. The top sheet and blanket were in a tangled heap neither seemed willing to take the time to deal with figuring out. He didn't sleep long. It wasn't his bed and he didn't want to complicate matters by being there when she woke in the morning. Not that he was against sharing breakfast with someone he'd spent the night with, but the invitation hadn't been made.
The sun was far from coming up when he found his clothes with the aid of the bathroom light. He tried to keep quiet as he dressed. His cock gave a little twitch of protest when he caught sight of her in the mirror. Naked on her side, she made an inviting picture. It didn't matter that she was asleep. The covers had pooled in such a fashion that he saw the swell of her breasts and the taut belly he'd lavished kisses on earlier before going down on her.
"Aw fuck," he cursed under his breath, taking her up on the unspoken invitation. Enough clothes shed so he could take her one last time he returned to the bed.
She stirred when he grabbed hold of her hips and shifted her to her stomach. She said nothing until he slid inside of her. She pressed against him, grinding her ass against him, telling him she hadn't gotten enough either. He wasn't the most gracious lover this go around, but evidently she didn't need his help to get off this way as most women did.
He left not long after that. He'd gone home to shower and dress for the day, making his way to the 27th for the start of his day. He felt better rested than he had in some time; sleep wasn't something he got enough of. He doubted it was the amount of sleep he'd gotten that led to his feeling good today.
"So, I see the night went well."
"What makes you say that?"
"You have that look in your eye, Mikey."
Mike sipped from his coffee cup, regarding his partner. He didn't want to get close, but the guy had gotten under his skin. You had to have someone that you could let loose with once in a while after a hard day at work. Working the streets wasn't easy for detectives. Lennie didn't drink, but he still knew how to have a good time. And seemed to know when Mike needed the company.
"What look's that?" he asked.
"The look of someone who didn't get much sleep, but in a good kind of way."
"Yeah, yeah," Mike said.
"So, where's my compensation?"
"If it weren't for me, you would have gone home alone last night."
"I did go home alone."
"Yeah? You saying I'm wrong?"
"Well, it was before the sun had come up anyway."
"Now that's what I'm talking about," Lennie said with a chuckle.
"Logan, Briscoe, in my office," Cragen said.
"No rest for the wicked. Maybe we could tell the Lieutenant you deserve a day off in light of you getting lucky and all."
"Lennie, quit will ya. It hadn't been that long."
"As long as you remembered how to use it."
"I don't think she woke up this morning complaining," Mike said, taking a last sip of his coffee before heading into the captain's office.
He shook his head as Cragen told them about yet another vic who was backing away from pressing charges. It went against everything Mike believed in to let an abuser get away with it. Perhaps that stemmed from his own dealings, the helpless feeling he'd experienced as a child. Knowing something was wrong, not at all right, but not having anyone to turn to for help.
These days, well, things weren't kept so hush-hush. Teachers reported (or were supposed to anyway) suspected abuse. Children were encouraged to talk about bad touches and things that when Mike Logan had grown up remained a secret. There were options, alternatives. Shelters, assistance, attorneys willing to take a cut in pay to help someone out of a dangerous situation. Granted, it wasn't always easy. Mike knew for a fact the red tape that stood in the way of people getting help had cost more than one person their lives. It wasn't a perfect system, but he was one cop who did what he could for those in abusive situations. Not everyone was willing to help themselves, though.
This case was particularly bothersome. A young teenaged girl's father had beaten her severely because she stayed out past her curfew. Mom had her head buried in the sand, denying anything was wrong. Their only hope for a conviction against the bastard was the daughter testifying as to what had happened. Without it, well, the father could lay the blame on anyone in their gang infested neighborhood. (And thus prove his point that she shouldn't have been out late.)
Briscoe and Logan left Cragen's office neither happy about the turn of events in the case. Expected as it was, both just hoped they wouldn't be called back to the house for a murder next time.
"What are you going to do? She wants to keep a roof over her head."
"And I told her we could find her a good place to stay."
"Her mom, too? Mikey, you know how it goes."
"Yeah," he said, taking a seat at his desk. He took a sip of his now cold coffee, wondering if there was anything more to do.
"We can't help her if she doesn't want it."
"I thought she did."
"Hopefully she'll get to that point soon."
"Yeah, because the next time he may not stop at putting her in the hospital."
"He knows we're onto him."
"Like that does her any good, Lennie."
"Maybe it will. Maybe he'll think twice the next time he gets mad."
"I doubt it," Mike said, speaking from personal experience. Of course, he'd never had anyone on his side or that knew what his mother was doing, so his experience was biased to some degree.
"Well, that's all we can do. Hope that it does. It's done."
"Maybe," he said with a shake of his head.
"Don't interfere, risk making it worse for her. The last thing you want is her ending up in the morgue and having that eat at you for the rest of your life."
"I know, I know," he said.