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Hank had imbibed way too much alcohol, and he knew it. He knew a lot of things at this particular second: first, that he should leave the DPD formal before he embarrassed both himself and the entire precinct, and second, that he was drunk enough to stagger into a table full of dirty glasses but not drunk enough to stifle the boner he sometimes got with the buzz.
In fact, he was incredibly horny on this particular evening and if Gavin Reed gave him the eye one more time, he was going to take him into a side room and stuff his dick down the man's throat. He knew Gavin had a thing for him, but normally he wasn't interested in a prick like Detective Reed, all bluster with no real substance or guts to back it up. He'd ignored the cocky guy's advances until now, knowing nothing good could come of it. He hated Reed almost as much as he hated himself.
Tonight he wasn't picky, though. He'd spent too much time finalizing his divorce in the past few days to be in a good mood, and Cole's memory was never far from his mind. Not to mention his dress uniform was too tight, especially now his boner was pressing up against the front of his pants. Everybody attending had brought their partner or spouse, and more than a few people had talked at length about their children, leaving a sour taste in Hank's mouth.
He nodded to Gavin, who followed him into a side room. Hank shut the door and angled the handle up, stuffing a chair underneath it so nobody could enter. Spare chairs for the event hall were stored in this closet and it was unlikely anybody would walk in on them, but Hank wasn't taking any chances. It was stupid enough that he was here in the first place, abusing his power as Gavin's senior officer to let off a little steam. He didn't need to get caught doing it.
"What are you waitin' for?" Hank growled. "Get down on your knees before I change my mind." He leaned against the wall and unbuckled his belt, shoving his pants and his boxers down to his knees. His heavy dick flopped out and Gavin's eyes lidded with desire as he knelt on the tiled floor.
Gavin managed a smug sneer. "Finally changed your mind, huh? Guess I just had to get you drunk enough. Not that that's difficult, these days." Gavin had to get in his two cents, making sure Hank knew that he wasn't submitting to him despite the hungry look in his eyes. Hank knew all about Gavin's twisted internal logic—he wasn't gay, he just liked to suck dick from time to time—but it was fine. Hank didn't want anyone to love him and he sure as hell wasn't hoping for a relationship with Gavin. He just wanted to nut in Gavin's mouth, and it was a mutually beneficial arrangement he'd refused until now because of some semblance of morality.
Morality hadn't gotten him very far, had it? He'd worked his ass off to reach the top, only to find success meant practically living at work. He'd given his wife anything and everything she'd asked for. Raised his son with as much love as any father could, but it hadn't been enough. One truck on the highway in a snowstorm had told him how much the moral high ground really meant to God. Now he had to mingle at a banquet and pretend like his personal empire hadn't burned to the ground, leaving him with nothing but ashes when it was too late in his life to start over. He would die leaving nothing behind, so why shouldn't he say yes to the hedonistic pleasures he'd previously turned down because he was still legally married? He was free now. He didn't have to pretend to be anyone else any more. That freedom was empty in the wake of all that he'd lost, but small comforts like these might help him get through one more day, at least.
Gavin took as much of Hank's huge cock past his lips as he could manage, sucking Hank off loudly and quickly. Hank grabbed his head, tangling his fingers in Gavin's hair as the younger officer blew him with enthusiasm. Gavin thrust his pants down too, jerking off his average-sized dick as he bobbed on Hank's shaft. Gavin was smarter than Hank realized. He knew Hank didn't give a damn about getting him off. He moaned on Hank's cock, sending shivers up Hank's spine.
"Take more of it," Hank complained. Gavin tried his best, his eyes watering as he deep-throated Hank's cock and gagged hard. "Don't fuckin' puke on it, now." Hank eased him back a little. "I'm gonna cum in your mouth, Gavin. Don't deny that you want it. You've been making eyes at me for months, you little slut. I was still married, but it wouldn't have mattered to you, huh? You'll take a cock wherever you can get it."
Gavin whined, and wrapped his dominant hand around the length of Hank's cock he couldn't fit in his mouth, stroking Hank as he fumbled to touch his dick with his left hand.
"Ah!" Hank came, pumping his semen into Gavin's mouth. Gavin swallowed, letting Hank's cock slip from his mouth to focus on his own. Hank watched him desperately jerk himself off until he came on the floor, whimpering and gasping with Hank's semen dribbling out of the side of his mouth. He looked pathetic in the aftermath, like a rat kneeling in front of his puddle of filth.
A sudden impulse flared through Hank's veins. He had no power in his own life. Everything had happened to him against his will, but here, he could be God. Gavin was pathetic enough to do anything he asked, even if he liked to pretend he didn't kneel to anyone.
"The formal dinner's about to start. I could use a cockwarmer to get me through the boring fuckin' speeches and posturing assholes," Hank said, managing a smug smirk.
Gavin let out a derisive snort. "You want me to keep your dick warm under the table? Forget it."
Hank smiled, but there was no mirth in it. "Scared they'll find out you're gay, Gavin? Don't worry, we already know."
"Fuck you!" Gavin stood up and lunged at Hank, shoving him back into the wall with surprising strength. It knocked the wind out of Hank's sails, but this felt good. Better than the blowjob, even. Hank recovered quickly and pushed Gavin backwards. Gavin tried to grab him in a headlock, but Hank was too tall for it and he slipped free, grabbing Gavin around the waist and using his leg to sweep Gavin's foot out from underneath him. Gavin hit the puddle of his own semen and he spat as Hank's huge hand forced his face into it. Gavin's pants were still unzipped, and Hank could see that Gavin was hard again.
Gavin kicked up at Hank, knocking him backwards. He rolled over and got to his feet, wiping his face on his sleeve. "You fuckin' prick!"
"Don't look so angry, Gavin," Hank said, licking his lower tip and tasting the familiar tang of blood. "I know you want my dick up your ass. It's all you've been thinkin' about for months."
"Don't flatter yourself, Hank." Gavin lunged at Hank, but Hank was ready for him, spinning him around and thrusting him into the wall face first. Hank yanked Gavin's pants down around his ankles. "I hate you. I fucking hate you," Gavin whined as Hank pressed his dick against the cleft of Gavin's ass. "You gonna fuck me dry, is that it?"
Hank looked around. There was a small metal shelf right next to them with some maintenance essentials on it—an old can of white paint, a roll of duct tape, and there, in the back, a jar of petroleum jelly. Hank pinned Gavin to the wall with one hand while he reached for the small jar.
"What the fuck are you—oh…" Gavin gasped as Hank slid one slick finger into his asshole. Hank bit and sucked on his neck enough to leave a mark, hoping everyone at the dinner would know what he'd been up to.
Hank leaned up to growl low into Gavin's ear. "I'd ask if you want a condom, but this stuff fucks 'em up and I know guys like you don't care for them anyway. You want a man's semen to leak out of you for days, don't you? It makes you feel alive."
Gavin thrust back onto Hank's finger and he withdrew it. Gavin struggled against him but Hank only chuckled as he slicked up a second finger and pressed them both inside Gavin, keeping Gavin pressed against the wall with his body so he couldn't thrust back onto him or pleasure his trapped dick.
"What do you say?" Hank asked. Power flowed through his veins, a dark energy he'd never allowed himself to indulge. He liked seeing Gavin like this, helpless and wanting, trapped and desperate for touch. He could do nothing but beg and plead, and Hank finally had some control here. This rat belonged to him, and he was going to fill Gavin up with his cum until he sobbed. He was done with love in his life but this grim joy filled the empty spaces inside him better than the alcohol.
Gavin was silent. Hank pulled his fingers free and slicked up his cock, pressing the head to Gavin's puckered asshole. He only went in as far as the head, listening to Gavin's whimpers as his hole stretched around Hank's thick cock.
"I said, what do you say, Gavin?"
"Fuck you!" Gavin clawed against the wall, nails raking the painted cinderblocks. "Fuck you… I'm not gonna beg for this." Gavin squeezed his eyes shut.
"Never mind, then." Hank withdrew. "Guess you don't want it that bad." He pulled up his shorts and pants, zipping up his fly and making himself look respectable.
"Wait!" Gavin said, grabbing Hank's arm. "Please… don't go."
"The meal will be starting any moment. They'll wanna know where I am." Hank reached for the chair and pulled it out from underneath the handle. He looked back at Gavin, rock hard and dismayed, and his own cock twitched at the knowledge he'd done that to the man, turned his pride inside out and transformed him into this needy, whining, cock-hungry mess.
He wasn't cowed that much, though, as Hank discovered when Gavin's hand closed around his arm and yanked him back. There was a mixture of desire and anger in his eyes, and Hank relished it. He pulled free from Gavin's grip and left the room, slamming the door behind him and wandering to the restroom to wash his hands.
***
The formal dinner went on forever, and Hank felt Gavin's eyes burning into him the entire time as he cut into his steak and pretended not to notice. He drank more—not enough to get himself wrecked, but enough to stop himself sobering up—and pretended to look interested as Fowler talked for a good half-hour up on the podium.
The evening started to wrap up, officers politely excusing themselves and leading their partners to self-driving vehicles that were idling out front. Hank took his time and sipped at his champagne before pushing his chair out from the table and standing up. Gavin followed him into the hallway like a stray puppy.
"What do you want, Gavin?" Hank asked.
"Nothin'. Forget it." Gavin leaned against the wall, slouching. The hickey on his neck looked ridiculous, and Hank was sure the entire department would be talking about it in the morning. Hank could be satisfied with that. He'd shamed Gavin, dragged him down into the pit of despair and misery that he himself inhabited, and it felt good. Yet Gavin was still clinging to his pride, apparent by the fact that his pants still tented in the front and he lingered as though he wanted to say something.
Hank fixed him a curious glare. "You sure there's nothing you wanna say to me?"
"Yeah. There is, actually. You're fucking up, Hank, and when you go down, remember I'll be there to take your place as Lieutenant. You might think you own me, but you own nothin' but ashes."
Hank chuckled and grabbed Gavin by the front of his shirt. "So that's how it's gonna be, is it? You little shit." He shoved Gavin into the wall, grateful most of the guests had already left. The door to the back room was still ajar and he grabbed Gavin's tie, leading him to the open door like he was a dog on a leash. He pulled Gavin inside and slammed the door, jamming the chair underneath the handle again. He shoved Gavin up against the shelf face-first. Gavin fumbled with his belt but Hank sidestepped the entire thing by bunching up the fabric covering Gavin's ass and tearing his pants apart at the seam, moving his underwear aside to reveal his hole. He hitched Gavin's leg up to get a good look at him spread out.
His hands trembled as he reached for the open jar of petroleum jelly that was still on the shelf where he'd left it. He noticed that Gavin was still prepped, the petroleum jelly slick on his skin where it lingered. He coated his cock and pressed it into Gavin's hole as Gavin gripped the shelving rack, his knuckles turning white. He shoved a fist into his mouth and bit down on it as Hank buried his cock deep inside, slow enough not to hurt but fast enough not to let Gavin get comfortable before he started to thrust. The shelving rack wobbled and squeaked as Hank fucked Gavin relentlessly, Gavin's muffled cries loud even with his fist crammed in his mouth.
"Not so mouthy now, are you?" Hank growled. Gavin's ass was tight, squeezing him, and he realized how much he'd missed the feeling of fucking another man. Gavin smelled like fresh sweat mixed with overpowering deodorant, his dick slapping against his leg as Hank slammed into him. He was sure he could split Gavin apart with his huge cock and it was almost enough to make him forget his pain.
Almost. But not quite.
"Hank, please, touch me, I can't—" Gavin stopped biting his fist to cry out. Hank reached around and grabbed Gavin's cock, thumbing the bead of pre-cum from the head and slowly, carefully teasing it, making Gavin whimper. "Faster."
Hank stopped. Gavin wasn't going to start calling the shots. This was his show.
"Fuck you!" Gavin sobbed. "Fuck you and your huge fucking cock!"
A couple more thrusts and Hank came with a shout, filling Gavin up with his seed. He managed two hard thrusts before his overstimulated dick complained but it was enough to send Gavin over the edge untouched, his load spilling all over the floor as he came with a strangled sob. Hank pulled out and Gavin snatched himself away from Hank. His wobbly legs failed to support him and he fell to his knees. Hank realized, bewildered, that the man was actually crying.
"You win, Hank. You win. You broke me. Are you happy now? I'm gay. I'm gay and that's the best orgasm I ever had, with a man I like who absolutely hates my guts in return. I'd beg for more but I know you'll never touch me again as long as you live. Once you're sober you'll regret this. I know you're only here because you're drunk."
"I—" Hank didn't know what to say. He'd thought their loathing was mutual, two men who despised one another's work ethic and personal morals. Gavin liked him? The thought didn't register. It didn't make sense. Gavin had been nothing short of antagonistic this whole time, goading him, pushing him. That was his way of showing affection?
Romance was the last thing on his mind. He only wanted to forget his life and his mistakes, needed to drown his memories of Cole and the divorce and his own bitter failings. Gavin knelt on the floor, semen leaking out of his torn pants, and Hank realized he'd been nothing short of a monster because in his own self-loathing, he'd completely discounted the notion of anybody being interested in him.
So he said nothing, because there was nothing he could say. He hitched up his pants and zipped up his fly, and without a word, he left the room, shutting the door quietly on the way out and leaving Gavin behind with a final guilty glance.
Fowler stopped him as he neared the front door of the banquet hall. "You all right, Hank? You ain't drivin' home tonight. I called you a taxi."
Hank wondered if he knew about what he'd been up to in the back room—if remorse was written all over his face—but then he realized Fowler was only referring to his blood alcohol level. "Yeah, thanks." He caught his reflection in a glass window and saw how wretched he looked. He didn't see in himself what Gavin apparently saw in him. There was nothing left to salvage in that old face, his hair full of grey strands, his glory years behind him. How he wished Gavin had meant his words in the hallway about stealing his job. That he could have lived with.
Breaking Gavin's fragile heart that he'd sheltered behind a front of angry words and hateful jibes—that was just another stain on Hank's conscience, another cross he had to bear when his shoulders were already weighed down by the strain of hauling so many sins around.
The taxi arrived. Hank glanced behind him one more time before he climbed in, wondering if Gavin was going to chase him down, but of course he didn't. He had to find some way of covering up his ripped pants before he could even think about slinking home. Tomorrow he'd be back at work, pretending like his pride and his heart hadn't been shattered, and the best Hank could do for the both of them was pretend like their encounter had never happened at all.