#rockon

It's Rocker's day off and for once he chooses to stay home and reread Oblomov. He is in that same state of mind, frankly. Living out a life without having a single worry is tempting, even though he knows the inertia would murder him before boredom did.

But he isn't Ilya Oblomov. He is Andrei Schtoltz, set to fix things where he can, cursed with duty and discipline, and he can't even blame his father for that, because Thomas James Kinard was an abusive sonuvabitch who let alcohol be his excuse. Rocker still wishes his mom tried harder to get Tommy from their father.

He should call Tommy later. Maybe they can have dinner, commiserate over their pathetic personal lives.

He's about a third into the story and Olga has just appeared on the scene when the doorbell rings. Rocker frowns and checks his phone. Nothing there. He doesn't have a delivery today either. Setting down his Kindle, he peeks through the peephole and is startled enough to open it without waiting.

Deacon gazes at him, clearly nervous. "Hi. I, uh... I came to apologize."

Rocker's fingers twitch where he is holding the doorknob. "Okay. Apology accepted. Bye." He starts to close the door but a boot keeps him from shutting it. He looks down at it and then back up at its owner.

"Rocker, wait." Deacon says, not moving his foot. "Please. Let me in. I want to clear the air, set things right between us."

Even though it's obvious that Rocker can easily shove Deacon back and slam the door in his stupidly handsome and distinguished face, Rocker steps back and lets Deacon in.

Folding his arms over his chest once the front door shuts, Rocker waits. He is not going to make it easy for Deacon, even if he already can't help the warmth spreading through his limbs that the older man is here in his apartment.

"I, uh, I was... I was wrong, that day."

Rocker raises his eyebrows and tilts his head slightly. He's seen Tommy do it, and the effect is so bitchy that Rocker never does it himself. But he knows it is effective.

Deacon flushes and averts his gaze. "I was a hypocrite. You were right. I... I'm the one who initiated, both in Sydney and... and the other times, and the last time, a-and I should stop."

The shame in his voice is palpable. Rocker exhales and looks up at his ceiling, wishing his Nonna would come and give him or both of them a whack across the head.

Rocker's jeans and briefs are down around one of his ankles, his t-shirt somewhere in the passenger seat, and he's pressed face down against the leather of his own back seat, his breathing harsh in the silence. Deacon shoves his cock into Rocker roughly enough to earn a snarled whimper, and his fingers dig into the thick muscle of Rocker's trap with every thrust.

"C'mon, old man, you haven't- ngh. You said you're gonna make me cry," Rocker slurs out, his words blurring even more than usual.

Stifling a feral grin, Deacon leans down, forehead pressed to the middle of Rocker's back. "Do you ever shut up?"

"When I'm fucked the way I was promised, sure," Rocker snipes back. He shudders when Deacon bites into his shoulder blade and arches his back even more. "Deac, come on, I need you, you know this. Or do you need me to call you Daddy?"

"Don't," Deacon warns. He pulls back. In the dusk, he watches his erection sliding out of Rocker's pink hole with a fascination that he doesn't know how to confess to. If it is even something to confess to.

He knows what he should be confessing to. But Rocker walking around with his ass in those jeans and that snug tee, so pretty with his tousled curls and cocky expression, his blue blue eyes skimming over a shirtless Deacon in the locker room...

Deacon isn't a strong man. He can't resist temptation, not when it comes in such an enticing package.

"Boss?" Rocker is trying to shift his hips back, though he has hardly any leverage.

"No," Deacon replies, pushing in an inch. He feels the desperate way Rocker's body is gripping him and he is lightheaded with dark delight. He is desired, he is so wanted by this gorgeous man who should be on magazines and billboards, not risking his life in shootouts with criminals.

Rocker whines again, a high, breathless sound, and chokes out, "Sir."

Deacon snaps his hips forward, his ears buzzing and his blood singing.

"Oh, you liked that," Rocker sing-songs. Peering over his shoulder, his heated gaze locks on Deacon's face. "Sir, please, I need you to fuck me the way I deserve."

"Hang on to something," Deacon grits out. The image of Rocker listening to his commands, obeying his orders... a ferocious hound on a leash... Deacon licks his lips and lets his control go.

He fucks single-mindedly, seeking that pleasure that he knows waits for him, even as Rocker's breath stutters and his whines and whimpers grow. He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts, pushing as deeply as their bodies allow, knowing that Rocker can take it, has taken it, loves taking it like this-

"Sir, Sir, please, please, god fill me up, Sir, Deacon, Deac, please fill me up, I swear, I'll be obedient, I won't-" Rocker's babble is cut off with a choked gasp and then Deacon feels the clenching around his cock, hot and tight and wanting, and he carves his fingertips in in in as he comes inside Rocker, a hot inward rush that leaves him a little lightheaded.

"Holy fuck." Rocker whispers. "You really liked that."

Deacon tries to catch his breath even as his cock softens and he has to pull out. Come dribbles out of Rocker's hole and he makes a face. He wants to shove it all back in, make Rocker keep it in his body like it means anything. Like it will make Rocker belong to him.

"Tissue's in the back," Rocker says quietly.

Deacon snaps out of his thoughts and grabs a couple of sheets to help clean Rocker up. "Sorry."

"It was hot," Rocker says softly after Deacon is done wiping him clean as much as is possible. "We shouldn't do that again though."

"No, we should use a condom next time."

Rocker pulls up his briefs and jeans before he looks at Deacon. Even in the deepening dusk, Deacon can read the incredulity on Rocker's face.

"I don't mean the barebacking. I mean us having these... these trysts." He gestures between them. "You're a married man, Deac. This isn't fair to Annie. And you can't fuck her until you get tested, okay? I'm tested and everything is okay, but you... You have a responsibility to her."

Guilty rage flashes through Deacon. "You're the one who let me fuck you."

"You told me to come here like you wanted to talk!" Rocker retorted. "I wasn't expecting you to jump my bones the moment we were sure we were alone!!"

"You could've said no!"

Rocker's face goes still and strange. After a moment, he nods. "Yeah, I could've. Should have."

In the thick silence, Deacon can hear his pulse in his ears. Shame crawls up his spine. "Rocker, I..."

"Don't." Rocker folds his arms and exhales deeply. "It was my fault. I should... I shouldn't have let you. I shouldn't look at you and I shouldn't feel the way I do when you kiss me. I shouldn't... Yeah. You're right." He nods, more emphatically. "You know what I should do? I should go."

"Donovan, please, I lo—"

"—No. No, David. You don't get to do that. Not to me, not to your wife." Rocker turns around and gets in his car, slamming the door and drives away, the tires kicking up dust.

"You'll do great as 50-David," Deacon tells him. A day ago, he would not have said it and believed it; today, he knows it for a fact.

Rocker tilts his head and studies Deacon. "Didn't seem like you to give up the chance, though. You were in line for Buck's place." Almost playfully, he nudges Deacon's side with his elbow. "What gives?"

Deacon lowers his head. He doesn't hang out with Rocker in his spare time, though they are friendly enough, but they have worked together several times before either of them were tapped as seconds. With a heavy exhale, he makes his decision.

"I stole some money today," he confesses in a low rumble. The words stick in his throat and cling to his teeth. "A couple stacks of notes fell out of the car and... I picked them up, and I stuck them in my pocket. Only for a few seconds, less than a minute, before I threw them back into the burning car."

To his surprise, Rocker doesn't say anything. He stays right there and listens, his big hand still on Deacon's knee.

Deacon breathes out and chews on his upper lip. Admitting this to Rocker is hard. "That's why I dropped out of the running. When temptation came, I couldn't... I didn't do the right thing. I would not have been a good team leader."

Rocker squeezes Deacon's knee once, twice, and then pats it again. "A moment of weakness comes to everyone, Deac. Even a saint like you."

That makes Deacon smile. A saint. That has been his reputation, hasn't it? Righteous, faithful, loyal, honest Deacon.

"But money... that doesn't seem like you." Rocker shifts so he is looking directly at Deacon. "Why? Money problems?"

"At first it was the house, but Luca got me out of that one, so we thought it was alright, and then Victoria was born, and she needed surgery, and insurance wouldn't cover it. I just..." Deacon inhales sharply and shuts his eyes. He's a grown man, a father of four, and he is not going to cry in SWAT HQ, for Heaven's sake. "We already have a second mortgage, and I owe Luca. So I borrowed from an old contact, with interest."

"A loanshark."

"I would've been able to pay him back in three weeks, but then I got hurt on the Love All case, so I can't take OT, I can't take on side gigs, I can't provide for my family..." He blows out his breath slowly. "Bad decisions, one after another. And now the guy wants me to do something for him, or he'll go to Hondo. Maybe Cortez or Hicks. I don't know what to do."

When did his voice turn so soft and timid? When did he curl up on himself like he's about to be attacked?

Rocker hums tunelessly under his breath, and then stands up. "Alright, this is what you're gonna do. You are going to give me the address of the shark."

"What?"

"Give me the address. How much do you owe the guy?"

Deacon stares at Rocker, mouth agape. He snaps his jaw shut. "Rocker, you don't have to-"

"I don't have to, I want to. You're a good man, caught up in a bad situation. Now, whether you want to let Hondo know is up to you. But I'm taking that boot off your neck first, okay?" Rocker's expression softens. He looks almost gentle when he leans closer to Deacon. "Consider it a gift for the new baby girl. You shouldn't be worrying about money when you have a child to care about."

The relief that washes over Deacon is almost blinding. "You'd do that for me?"

"Well," Rocker says, the smile on his lips almost bashful. "I'm pretty sure that, were the circumstances reversed, you'd do the same for me."

Deacon is so grateful, the absurd notion of kissing that smile flashes across his mind. Instead he stands and hugs Rocker. They're about the same height, but the guy is a brickhouse of a man. And he smells good, too, though it's clear Rocker has been working hard that day.

"And here we thought we'd see you two posturing at each other," a voice from the door says. It's Hondo and Luca.

Deacon draws back and pats Rocker on the shoulder. "Thanks, Rocker."

"Thank you, Deac. Appreciate the vote of confidence," Rocker says. It's a cover story, Deacon realizes, in case Deacon doesn't want to let Hondo or Luca know. "Text me the link to the gift register when Annie's set it up."

The lie is so kind that Deacon's throat closes. "Will do. See you around, 50-David."