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especially-heinous-ada · 6 years

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Special Bonus! Original Part 3

Hey guys! As you may have read in my previous fic posts, my laptop stopped working the day I finished writing parts three and four of my fic, A Police Gala. I was afraid it would be permanent and I had lost the work forever. As a result, I re-wrote Part 3 and 4, but I was so in love with my originals that neither felt as good re-written. However, because my boyfriend is a wonderful, amazing person, he was able to fix my laptop, and I now have regained my original fics! So as a special bonus while you wait for Part 5, I present the original Part 3! Let me know which version you prefer in the comments.

(photo is of the reader’s TV room) royalty free image found at https://www.pexels.com/photo/apartment-ceiling-chair-decoration-276653/

Rafael strode down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. He was in no hurry to return home to his empty apartment after spending the better half of his night with such pleasant company. For a moment, he contemplated stopping for a nightcap, but decided against it, as he was soaked to the bone. His sopping-wet suit clung to his skin in an unpleasant manner as he walked and he cursed the cab driver under his breath. Luckily, it was a short trip from your apartment to his. He found it an amusing twist of fate. You lived so close to him, you were both involved in the law enforcement world, and yet, the two of you had no idea the other existed until now.

Once Rafael was under the building’s awning, he retracted the umbrella and gave it a hearty shake to slough off the rain before bringing it inside. He entered the building and nodded to the doorman.

“Good evening, Giles.”

“Good evening, Mr. Barba. Have a rough night?” Giles smiled, with a jovial twinkle in his eye.

“Actually, it was lovely. Until this, of course.” Rafael motioned to his entire body. “But it…perked up again at the end.” Giles nodded. The older man seemed to mull Rafael’s words over in his head.

“Take care not to catch cold.” He offered, before looking back out toward the street. Based on his expression, Rafael thought Giles might have inquired further about the events of his night, but he didn’t. He found himself wondering why. Though, he supposed he, himself, was probably to blame for that. Although Giles was a kind man and Rafael enjoyed the occasional conversation, it was rare that he had enough time to spare more than a line or two. He was always in a rush in the morning and upon the brink of exhaustion once he returned home.

Rafael stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. It was divided into two large suites—his, and that of an eccentric young tech guru. He had seen his new neighbor a few times, but they never interacted beyond a nod of acknowledgement. That was fine with him. He suspected they had nothing in common, anyway. The elevator dinged and the door opened to a hallway packed with people. Rafael groaned. Not another party. As soon as he exited the elevator, people from the hallway packed it full. He approached his door and unlocked it, wasting no time slipping inside. He placed his umbrella in its holder by the door and kicked off his shoes on the mat, too tired to take care of them properly. He sighed and crossed over toward his bedroom, wanting desperately to change into something dry and warm.

Entering his bedroom, Rafael quickly strips off the wet, heavy suit pieces and hangs them over a rack to dry. He sighs, wondering if he should even bother picking out pajamas to wear as he swaps his underwear for a dry pair. He decides it isn’t worth the trouble and slips underneath the covers of his bed. He stares up at the ceiling. Although he’s tired, his mind won’t stop racing. He’s thinking of your singing voice. Your dainty hand inside of his. The warmth exuding from your body as he stood close. The sweet nectar of your perfume commanding him to drink you in and never leave. The softness of your skin as his lips brushed against it…

Abruptly, Rafael sits up and throws the covers off of himself. He crosses the room back to where he hung up his suit. He reached inside his breast pocket to retrieve the piece of paper you had given him, wanting to store your number in his phone before he forgot. He felt the paper between his fingers and slid it out of the pocket carefully, to avoid ripping it. A frown crossed his face when he laid eyes on it. The ink had smeared and the phone number was no longer legible.

He began to laugh, unsure of how else to react. He wanted to shout, to cry out in frustration. This was just his luck.

I finally meet someone. She gives me her phone number, tells me to call her. I agree to…then I lose her phone number.

Rafael contemplated whether he might be destined to be alone forever as he sat down on his bed, feeling defeated. He had no idea how else he was going to get ahold of you, and he didn’t dare show up outside your building like a stalker. That was a sure-fire way to guarantee you filed for a restraining order. He contemplated the ways he might get ahold of you as he climbed back underneath the covers, but he knew that rich people like their privacy, making it very difficult to contact them directly. He groaned and laid down with a flop as he thought of what he was more than likely going to miss out on. God, you were fantastic: intelligent, funny, talented, warm, down-to-earth, intriguing, and incredibly sexy.

Rafael’s mind turned back to the pictures from your lingerie photoshoot and he found himself getting aroused. The combination of emotional and sexual frustration built up inside him. At least he could fix one of those problems tonight, he thought as he slid one hand down underneath the covers.

***

You let out a big sigh. Your breathing is still a bit jagged and your heartrate, accelerated. You chuckle, putting an arm over your face to hide it, as if someone were there watching.

“Rafael Barba, what are you doing to me?” you say to yourself before removing the arm to stare up at the ceiling. It had been three days and you hadn’t heard a peep from him. You even went to another charity event tonight, in hopes that he would be there. He wasn’t.

Your mind returns to the other night. The dance floor. You relive the feeling of his hands holding yours, dwarfing them in comparison. They’re big, vascular hands with thick fingers that just scream I am a man. Your memory flashes forward to those same hands cupping your jaw delicately, making you feel so tiny. His face so close to yours that you can see every detail of it, but you’re focused on his eyes…then his lips.

“Gah!” You let out a shout of frustration. He was driving you crazy. You thought that maybe after you had some release, you could get him out of your head, but to no avail. Neither your hands nor your toys were enough to satiate you when you thought of him—and you couldn’t stop thinking of him. You turned onto your side and looked over at your bedside table. The clock read 12:00 A.M.

With another big sigh, you rolled out of bed and made your way straight into the kitchen. Whistling a haphazard tune, you grabbed a fresh bottle of wine from the wine cooler and fished the corkscrew out of a nearby drawer. You opened the bottle, threw the corkscrew in the sink and walked off into the living room, drinking straight from the bottle.

“Ahh, that’s better,” you think aloud, sinking down onto your white leather couch. You take another drink as you turn on the television. If a little on-on-one time can’t chase away the thought of him, maybe wine and late night television will.

“And in other news, the ‘Date Night Ripper’ of Manhattan has been brought to justice. Today, he was found guilty on 12 counts, including rape, murder and mutilation of a corpse—”

“Sick son of a bitch.” You said, shaking your head.

“Following the verdict earlier today, the prosecutor had this to say.”

Suddenly, the live feed from the news station cut to pre-filmed footage from outside the courthouse. The caption stated that it was from earlier in the day. Descending the courthouse stairs was none other than Rafael Barba. You groaned. A reporter called out to him, and he stopped to answer their question. He talked about how the jury made the right decision and how the people of New York could sleep a little easier tonight knowing the killer was off the streets, followed by some generic fluff about justice.

It was a pretty typical statement from an A.D.A., but it was the only typical thing about him in that footage. He wore a stylish black suit with a peach, checked dress shirt and matching baby blue tie and pocket square. You were impressed by the fact that he dressed himself so fashionably. His hair was perfectly coiffed and his jawline was more structured than the five-year-plan your financial advisor had explained to you this morning in explicit detail. You let out a strangled groan. This had to end. Now. You took a large gulp of wine and stood off the couch, moving over to your entryway, where you had left your phone in your hurry to get to the bedroom. You kept drinking as you scrolled through your contacts, looking for someone tolerable enough to call to handle the situation for you, because you clearly couldn’t do it on your own.

“Damian. I miss you.” You purr, when the handsome man answers your call. “How soon can you be here?”

20 minutes was all it took and Damian was outside the door of your penthouse suite. You invited him in and wasted no time getting right down to business. You pulled him into your room and stripped down to nothing. Laying down on the bed, you pulled him on top of you. You moaned quietly as Damian kissed you and leaned into you, positioning himself between your legs.

Damian was a model you had worked with in the past. Neither of you expressed interest in a relationship, as he wasn’t exactly the type to settle down with, but when the nights were long and lonely, you could count on him to keep you company. Though you didn’t exactly need the stimulation; right now, you needed a distraction from Rafael. It was dangerous how quickly he’d taken up space in your mind. Damian kissed and licked his way down your body, stopping to suck on the tender flesh of your inner thigh. He moved up and let out a hot breath onto your renewed arousal before grasping your hip and taking you into his mouth.

You groaned at the stimulation, threading your fingers through his hair. Suddenly, your brain flashed a vision of Rafael’s perfectly coiffed hair on your TV screen and you imagined what it would be like to grip it as he put his head between your legs. The thought deepened your arousal.

No. You’re supposed to be taking your mind off him. You remind yourself. He’s a prosecuting attorney. He’s made it clear he’s too busy for relationships. There’s no way it would work out. That night was a one-time thing. A fantasy.

You let out a little gasp as Damian changed his rhythm, quickening a bit. Yes. Damian. Focus on him. He was rather good with his mouth. You had to admit, this was your favorite part of your encounters with Damian.

He looked up and grinned at you as he started to use his fingers to tease you. It was a cocky, one-sided grin that you’d seen before—on Rafael’s face. You growled in frustration and Damian mis-read it as arousal.

“Ay, mami. You’ve never made that noise for me before.” Now doubly annoyed, you put your hand on the back of his head and direct him back to your center. You needed to come. Now. He gladly resumes his position and continues where he left off.

“Rafael Barba, A.D.A., Manhattan.”

You felt your frustration bubble up.

“Would you like to dance?”

Damian quickened his pace and you feel the familiar pressure build inside you.

“It’s kind of romantic, don’t you think?”

Asshole.

“I’ll call you soon, if that’s still alright with you?”

Liar.

You let out a loud moan as you feel yourself near climax.

“That’s it mami, come for me.” Damian says. “Come for me.” After a few moments of resisting, you give in and let the waves rush over you. You panted and moaned and muttered things, but as you come down from your high, you don’t care enough to know what you said.

You scoot away from Damian, who sits up on his feet and looks at you with a confused look.

“Who’s Rafael?”

“What?” You reply, bewildered.

“When you came, you didn’t say my name, you said Rafael. So who is Rafael, and why is he not here instead of me?” He answers. You can tell he’s pissed off. Not that you could blame him, after you said another man’s name.

“Did I really say that?” You ask in disbelief. He sighs.

“I know I’m not exactly your boyfriend, but it’s awfully messed up to fuck someone when you’re wishing it was someone else.”

“I’m sorry, Damian.” You apologize, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You should probably go home. Sorry for wasting your time. You didn’t even get a chance to get naked. I’ll pay for your cab fare.” He shakes his head.

“It’s fine.” He thinks about it for a moment. “Actually, can I have the rest of that wine?” He motions to the open bottle on your bedside table. You laugh and agree. He downs a large gulp before looking at you once again.

“Good luck with this Rafael dude,” he says as he stands up and walks toward the door.

“Thanks.” You say. “I’ll need it.” The last part you mumble to yourself as Damian disappears and you hear your front door shut behind him.

You wake the next morning and resolve that something has to be done about Rafael Barba. You can’t spend the rest of your life obsessing over a man you spent one night dancing with and didn’t even fuck. You weren’t sure what would come of you contacting him, but you knew that you needed closure, whatever that happened to be. He was an attorney, so you knew that the only place you were sure to find him was work. Luckily, you were familiar with the DA’s office. You had toured it previously as a potential donor for the DA’s re-election campaign.

You sighed, glancing at your phone to get ready for the day. No missed calls or texts. You took your time picking your outfit, styling your hair, and applying your makeup. He needed to see what he’d been missing for the better half of a week. When you were finally ready, you picked up your phone and your purse and walked out the door like a woman on a mission. Dressed to kill and armed with charm—Rafael Barba wouldn’t know what hit him, you smirked.

#rafael barba #svu fanfic #barba x reader #a police gala #part 3 #original #smut

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