#gordlock

 Harvey Bullock had no intention of coming back to his sorry apartment after that night, and with all the alcohol he had on him, it almost didn't matter anymore. Best case scenario Jim Gordon actually managed to do something good and honorable, and he would go home knowing he helped. Bad case scenario he'd go out knowing he'd tried, and that was more than Harvey could say of himself for the past decade or so.

 In the meantime, alcohol helped. Alcohol and sex. 

 "Hello, gorgeous." He said when he walked in the bedroom —Jim's bedroom, part of him recognized—, the Duchess laying confidently and comfortably on the large bed —Jim's bed, another part chimed in, and he ignored them. If he'd wanted to sleep in his own bed he shouldn't had embarked on a suicide mission—, the straps of her birthday nightgown falling elegantly down her shoulders. Taking her hand he kissed the back of it as she giggled, before dragging him back down with her.

 Kissing languidly, sometime between his hands greedily mapping her wide body and him actually taking his clothes off, the Duchess asked, conversationally, yet interested.

 "Is your friend not coming?"

 It took Harvey a second to realize who she was talking about.

 "Who, Gordon?" He snorted. "Nah, the kid's got too much on his plate."

 "Shame..." He raised an eyebrow, and she elaborated with a sly smile. "He looks like he needs to wind down a bit."

 Harvey laughed, his hands never leaving her body but still indulging her conversation. Might as well be the last they ever had.

 "He really does, doesn't he? Hmm..." Now that the Duchess planted that idea on his mind, some part of him felt tempted to invite him over, if only for a laugh, the fact that they were screwing on his bed notwithstanding, but a number of thoughts piled in in quick succession. How Jim was married and had no intention on cheating (Gotham's first); how Jim was having troubles with his wife (as far as he knew); how Jim was straight as an arrow (and, well, that didn't really matter, did it? Straight men like them had sex all the time, it simply canceled out when a beautiful woman was involved, Harvey knew that)…

 If they survived the coming day, Harvey promised to himself that he would find a girl for Jim to let out some steam with. He would refuse, because James Gordon was a fucking knight in shining armor, but it didn't matter. Harvey knew best, and he wanted to see that—

 feeling the Duchess encompassing body pressed tightly against his, rocking against him, while he picked the unmistakable smell of aftershave impregnated on the pillowcase made him feel dizzy.

 —him winding down, that is. It'd make his job easier, for one. Maybe that was what his partner needed, one hard fuck for him to relax, turn down a notch. God forbid he wanted to help him on his own style.

 Harvey swallowed, already hard, and wishing to attribute that to the woman's heavenly body and fingers.