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Just the Two of Us
damien jamming
rogoblue
Title: Just the Two of Us
Rating: R
Author: rogoblue
Summary: Hanna and Jared are out of town. Peter is lonely and decides that Damien is just the person to pass the time with.
Spoilers: Minor throughout season 1, in particular 1.03 and 1.08.
Words:
Disclaimers: The toys are not mine but the idea is.
Dedication: To Missy who read it and showed me how to fix it--what I sensed but couldn't see.

Author’s Note: Be kind, it’s been a while since I’ve written slash.





“So, it’s just the two of us.”

“What?” Damien Karp looked up at Peter Bash, suddenly feeling very tired and fervently wishing he hadn’t decided to work late. “There are obviously more people here. There always are. Stanton has the phones and IT system monitored 24/7.”

Bash sauntered in, holding up a bottle of Wild Turkey 101. “Jared’s gone to pay his yearly dues to his mom at their family reunion. I have no piece of ass on the line and Hanna’s in Bali with her BFF.” Grinning, he perched a hip on the corner of Damien’s desk. “So … it’s just the two of us.”

“And a bottle of Bird.”

“The three of us, I guess I should’ve said.”

Feeling a bit reckless, Damien said, “Are we going to drink it straight from the bottle?”

“Someone as sophisticated as you has appropriate glassware hidden in here somewhere,” Bash countered. Lowering his voice, he added, “God, you’re beautiful.”

Absolutely sure he’d heard wrong, Damien said, “What did you say?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how good you look,” Bash said, sliding his hip along the short side of the desk to arrive at the corner closest to Damien. “Your cousin Lily is an appetizer. You’re a main course and maybe even dessert.”

“Need I remind you that you don’t like me and the feeling is mutual?” Damien said, recalling vividly how Lily had looked at Peter Bash and unable to see in him what she obviously had.

“Glassware?”

Damien sighed, turned to a narrow credenza behind his desk and pulled out two tumblers. “Glassware,” he said, planting both of them in front of Bash.

Bash’s smile was infectious but Damien resisted, for the most part, and accepted the tumbler Bash offered. When Bash raised his glass, Damien rolled his eyes. Bash waited, so Damien lifted his as well. “To loving the one you’re with.”

“I’m not going to drink to that,” Damien muttered, silently disappointed, because he wouldn’t mind a splash of bourbon.

“Why not?”

“Hanna and I have just made peace.”

Watching Damien as he drank his bourbon, he said, “The way I hear it; you’ve made more than that.”

Feeling a blush creep up his cheeks at Bash’s not so veiled reference to their having compromised the principle of not sleeping with people from work, Damien looked away. “Maybe,” he allowed. “More to the point, I don’t want you.”

“Not even for a night,” Bash cajoled. “C’mon, I know Lily must’ve mentioned that I had to muffle her screams, so Stanton didn’t know she was at my place when he visited.”

“He knew.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t know that and it was comforting.”

Despite himself, Damien laughed. “I hear you on that.”

“There’s a story behind that sentiment.”

“Not one I’d ever tell you.”

“Never say never,” Bash said and something about his posture or expression sent alarm bells ringing in Damien’s head. “Stand up.”

Damien asked, “Why?” even as he complied, because he couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. Deciding sufficient time had passed, so he wasn’t drinking to Bash’s toast, he lifted his bourbon to his lips.

“You are taller,” said Bash, frowning. “Jared said so, but I thought he was full of shit.”

“Not by much.” Once he’d spoken, Damien wondered why he had. “Look, Peter, this is … strange and I—.”

“Oh, good, you’re both still here, although I can’t imagine why on a Friday.” Stanton Infeld stormed into Damien’s office wearing a toga. Damien closed his eyes, counted to five and reopened them. Stanton still wore a toga. “No matter. The most unfortunate thing has happened. Millie McCall, you remember her, Damien, she tutored you in math very early on as a favor to me, has been accused of embezzling. She’s wily enough to have done it, but far too clever not to have covered her tracks. I want the two of you on the case Monday morning.”

“Bash and me?” Damien asked. Stanton merely waved and disappeared.

“The third time’s the charm, Damien. So, it’s just the two of us.”

“Three,” he said, raising his glass, smirking at Bash, settling back down into his chair. “He was wearing a toga, right?”

“That he was.” Bash glanced sidelong at Damien. “Did you grow up here or in England?”

Surprised by the question, he answered, “Here for the most part. I was born in England and have spent a lot of time in Europe, but my home was here.” Damien stared into his bourbon. “It was hard when my mother returned to England.” Not questioning the impulse, he said, “She came here for my father and when he died she bolted. I was five.”

“She didn’t take you with her?” Bash asked, voice low, almost gentle.

“It’s harder to find a new husband with a child in tow. Stanton looked after me. I won’t say he raised me, because he didn’t pay enough attention to do that.”

“Did she find a new husband?”

“Several. My mother is spectacular.”

“So is her son.”

“Jesus, Bash, give it a rest. I’m not some coed who’s going to fall for your line.”

“Why won’t you accept the truth, Damien? I have no hidden agenda. I want you. I’ve been thinking about having you since you offered up your guitar.” Bash laughed, likely at the war between shock and wariness raging in Damien, and refilled both tumblers. “Yes, well in advance of cannabis packing Lily. Sue me. I appreciate beauty.”

Deciding not to worry about what Bash was really after, Damien said, “I will not hurt Hanna. She cheated on me the first time. I won’t repay her in kind.”

“Hanna will never know,” Peter said. “Besides, this isn’t even cheating, technically.”

“Ok, I’ll bite,” Damien said, wondering if he’d regret it. “How is sleeping with you not technically cheating on Hanna?”

“I can’t have your baby.”

Damien froze. “Hanna isn’t pregnant.” He thought. He hoped. Did he hope that? Did he, deep down in his heart of hearts, wish she was?

“That’s what I said,” Peter said, gesturing with his glass for emphasis or to regain Damien’s attention. “No one listened.” Bash laughed. “Birth date bets are being placed.”

Something akin to panic welled up within Damien, as he considered how to break that piece of news to Hanna.

“I’m kidding, Damien, but rumor does have it that the two of you might be in the baby making business sometime soon and that’s cool. Your children will be gorgeous.”

“Where do you hear these rumors? We’ve barely talked about kids.”

Bash relocated to the arm of Damien’s chair, leaning down as if to share a confidence. “Carmen pointed out how you look at each other. That’s what started the ball rolling.”

Nervous and not liking it one bit, Damien asked, “How … how do we look at each other?”

“Like you’d deal with a baby screaming at 3:00 am in a rational and fair way.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Face it, Damien. Bets are being made as to when you’ll go down on one knee and offer Hanna a ring instead of making her come.”

“Ok, whatever, I’m going home.”

“I’ll come with you.” Bash laughed, undoubtedly at the double entendre and clapped Damien on the shoulder. “You’ve had your Cartman moment. It’s only fair I get equal time.”

“When did this become about fairness?” Bash didn’t answer. He just sipped bourbon and watched Damien shut down his computer, tidy his desk and shove the materials he needed to review over the weekend into his briefcase. Bash fell in step beside him when he crossed the room and Damien was reminded of the moment the two of them escorted Isabella Kaplowitz into the courtroom for the first time, opening the doors in unison. “What are you doing?”

“Following you home.”

“You aren’t a lost puppy.”

“But I am.” Bash stepped into the elevator with Damien. “More specifically, I’m a lost puppy with bourbon.”

Damien’s eyes dropped to Bash’s two fisted action with the bottle tucked under one arm. “Good luck if you get pulled over. Franklin isn’t here and I won’t be posting your bail.”

“I’m not driving.”

“How are you getting home?”

“I’m not going home. I’m going to your place.”

“No, you’re not.” Bash followed Damien out of the elevator, down the escalator and around to the others leading to the parking garage. “You’re not coming home with me, Peter.”

“Sure I am. You called me Peter.” Gesturing grandly with the bourbon in his right hand, he said, “First name basis is a dead giveaway.”

“You aren’t taking bourbon in my car.”

“We are and you’re going to nestle your glass between your legs so I can pretend I’m concerned about it tipping over when I stare at your crotch.”

Damien whirled to face Bash. “Do women actually fall for this crap?”

“It’d be vodka, rather than bourbon and I’d have said legs, rather than crotch, but, yeah.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Not really,” Bash said. He shifted his burdens to free a hand and grinned when Damien remotely unlocked only the driver’s side door of his car. Snatching the keys, the junior partner unlocked the other doors and slid into shotgun position, all without spilling a drop of alcohol.

“Get out of my car.”

“If I do, I’m taking the keys with me, Damien.”

“Fine.” Damien got in and held out his hand. Bash put a glass of bourbon in it. He thought about chugging it, but Bash had refilled his glass. Damien tried to put it in the cup holder, but the base was too broad. Sighing, Damien put it between his legs and held out his hand again. Laughing, Bash gave him the keys. “I’m taking you home.”

“Yep.”

“To your home, Peter.”

“That’s not a good idea, Damien.”

“Why not?” he asked, using his cardkey to exit the garage.

“I won’t get out of the car. Carmen will eventually come to investigate and see the three of us and draw certain conclusions about what I attempted and the dismal failure thereof.”

“Three? Oh, right, the anthropomorphized bourbon.”

“Words with that many syllables always make me hard.”

“I’ll dumb things down for you, then,” Damien countered.

“I wouldn’t make that right turn, if I were you.” Bash dramatically raised the back of his hand to his forehead. “Who knows how much of what she sees Carmen will relay to others?”

Feeling the conversation sliding out of control, Damien said, “She’s not going to see anything.”

“I’ll kiss you full on the mouth and you’ll have a decision to make.”

“Where to hit you?”

Bash smiled broadly, looking pleased and content. “C’mon, Damien, if the sex thing doesn’t work out, we can order a pizza, watch the game and finish the bourbon. I just don’t feel like rattling around the mancave without Jared tonight. Ok?”

His house had seemed awfully quiet without Hanna this past week. “Ok.”

After raising his glass to Damien, Bash took a drink.

Damien groaned softly. “If we get pulled over, I’ll never be a judge.”

“We won’t,” Bash said, running his forefinger from just below Damien’s ear to the collar of his shirt, “because the responsible one is driving.” He smirked. “Or so it appears.”

“What does that mean?” Damien asked, accelerating through an intersection before the yellow light turned red, thinking how tired he was about being referred to as “the responsible one.”

“Lily and her sisters have a theory about you,” Bash said, grinning and pointedly staring at Damien’s crotch. “She told me they think the staid, conservative, dare I say boring persona is a front, but she was unwilling to risk testing the premise when she was here. I believe them, because Hanna so wouldn’t go for that and she’s gone for you twice.”

“Hanna knows me better than any of my cousins ever will,” he muttered, strangely pleased that Peter Bash didn’t think of him as boring.

“Tell me something the hot Hanna knows that the fair Lily hasn’t a clue about.”

“Why should I?”

“To make conversation.”

Damien lifted his bourbon to his lips. Catching himself only after he drank, he wondered how in the hell he’d ended up in this crazy situation. Everything had seemed more or less normal before Peter had entered his office and started trying to play him. Bash merely watched and waited, expression expectant and attentive, as if he was on the level, a concept Damien tentatively entertained. If he really wanted to have sex, that was … well, flattering in a way and Lily had incessantly proclaimed that he was good at it.

“You think too much,” Bash said, snapping Damien out of his contemplations. “Tell me one of your and Hanna’s secrets instead.”

Deciding there was no time like the present to reaffirm that he wasn’t boring, Damien said, “Hanna went to undergraduate school with the singer Ariel. They shared everything back then, apparently, or at least that’s what they told me when they pitched a three way a few years ago.”

“You slept with both Hanna and Ariel? Damien nodded. At the same time?” Damien nodded again, even though he didn’t understand the need for clarifying questions. “Dude, don’t tell Jared. He’ll cry. He has a tiny thing for both of them. I hate it when he cries.”

“Jared Franklin crying is not an unappealing image.” Damien held up a hand to forestall the wrath of Bash. “I won’t tell him, because this bizarre evening never happened, so how could I have told you anything or discovered that he’d take the news badly?”

“Tell me something else.”

“No, you tell me something Jared doesn’t know about you.”

“I want you, Damien.”

“Awesome, now tell me something Franklin doesn’t—.”

“I just did.”

Fortunately, they were at a stoplight, so Damien could take a long hard look at Bash. “What would Franklin of Franklin and Bash say if he knew we were together and what you think you have planned?”

“Peter, it’s a dead Karp. Who knows where it’s been.”

Thinking he could almost hear Franklin delivering those lines, Damien asked, “To which you would reply?”

“I’m going to do him until he begs for mercy.”

“I don’t beg.”

“Let’s see if I can dial up that new experience for you.”

Puzzled, Damien asked, “Are you ever serious? Ever sincere? Do you ever want anything other than sex for the sake of sex?” Bash sipped his bourbon and smiled enigmatically. Damien shook his head and pulled into his driveway. “What about the DA? Janie whatever? What about with her?”

“We don’t talk about her?”

“Maybe Franklin and Bash don’t … or doesn’t. I do.”

“I loved Janie, so I get how you feel about Hanna.” Peter followed him into his modestly sized, aggressively modern kitchen.

“I never said I loved Hanna.”

“You don’t have to.”

Curious as to how far Bash would push sex and what form his strategy would take edged out the decision to definitively prove he wasn’t boring. Now on a fact finding mission, Damien said, “This is a bad idea, Peter.”

Bash slipped past Damien and halted just inside the living room. He put the bourbon and his glass down on what he couldn’t possibly know was the liquor cabinet and slipped off his suit coat and worked at his tie. “This is incredible,” he declared. “We have to have sex in here first. Your big screen is bigger than ours. I’m jealous.” He glanced back at Damien and looked to the heavens. “This is exactly why we should spend the night together.”

“This?” Damien asked.

“Look at me,” he said, spreading his hands wide before rolling up his shirtsleeves and kicking off his shoes. “Then look at you.” Bash closed the distance between them. “You’re all buttoned up and battened down. You can’t watch a game and eat pizza in that state. It isn’t right.”

Seeing no reason to admit he agreed, Damien said, “What do you suggest?”

“Thank you for asking,” Bash countered, swooping in to unbutton Damien’s suit coat and slip it off of his shoulders.

“Give that to me and I’ll—.”

“Damien, I don’t expect you to be comfortable with it dropping to the floor, but we can drape your jacket over the back of a chair instead of hanging it up.” Bash acted as advertized. “Now for the tie.” Damien backed up a step. Bash followed. “Let me loosen it and unbutton the top button of your shirt, please.” Because he wouldn’t mind that happening, Damien nodded and met Bash’s stare the entire time. “Better?” Bash asked.

“It’s fine. What channel is the game on?”

“Shoes,” Bash countered, pointing at Damien’s feet.

“Why do I have to take off my shoes?” he asked, even as he complied.

“For the same reason I did,” Peter said. “To put our feet up while enjoying our drinks.”

Damien followed Bash’s gaze. “That coffee table is fiddleback maple, handcrafted in Italy.”

Bash draped an arm across Damien’s shoulders. “Even I know shoes don’t belong on furniture like that.”

“Where did I leave the remote?” Damien mused.

“Let’s not jump directly to television. We haven’t even ordered a pizza yet.”

“I doubt our taste in pizza overlaps at all,” Damien said, mainly to see if he could direct the conversation.

“Tabling the issue of pizza for a second, you accused me of never being serious and taking sex as it comes,” Bash said. “That’s me and I accept myself. I like to do things that are bad for me. I challenge you to do likewise, just for a few hours. What do you say?”

“We’ll see.” Damien thought he could work with Bash’s concepts. “Returning to the food issue, there’s an awesome pizza place that delivers here. It’s Chicago-style deep dish, so it’s horrible for you, but it’s worth it for the smoked salmon and Montrachet cheese.

“Fish and unpronounceable cheese? There’s something pure about pepperoni and mushroom, dude.”

“Pure bland and predictable,” Damien countered. “I’m ordering the pizza.”

“After,” Bash said.

“For the last time, we aren’t having sex, Peter.” Knowing that he meant it differently than Bash would interpret it pleased Damien.

“Lighten up. Hanna won’t know and, even if she finds out or you confess, she’s gorgeous personified. I couldn’t compete with her, if she was here, and she damn well knows it.” Bash grinned and beckoned Damien further into his own living room. “Hell, she might even like to watch.”

In his mind’s eye, Damien could see it. Hanna reclining on the far side of the bed, while he and Peter sweated and swore on the other. She’d love it and wouldn’t particularly care that he’d auditioned Bash for the role while she was on vacation.

Laughing, rubbing his hands together, Bash said, “Oh, yes, oh, yes, if Ms. Linden wants to see us fuck, I’ll oblige you both.”

Not knowing what in his expression had given his thoughts away, Damien instinctively said, “Why would you think I’d have sex with you in front of Hanna?”

“Why not?” he asked, looking genuinely curious. “Is the problem that you haven’t done it with a man before?” Damien poured himself more bourbon rather than dignify that with an answer. “Say it isn’t so, Damien, because I figured you for an experiment or two. Jared says no, but I don’t agree.”

“I have experimented along those lines a couple of times, but you are something else again.”

“What’s that mean?” Bash challenged.

Incredulous, Damien laughed. “Is it so hard for you to believe that not everyone wants to fuck you?” he asked, thinking that it probably was if even half of the women Bash slept with were as effusive with praise as Lily had been.

“No, it’s hard for me to believe you don’t.”

Thrown, Damien demanded, “Why?”

“Why don’t we put that black leather couch and fancy coffee table to use?” Bash said, grinning, completely at ease. Damien sat in the corner facing the view windows. Peter plopped down right next to him. Neither man put their feet up. “You and I are compatible. I sense it.”

Damien snorted derisively. “We’re nothing alike. You’re an immature manipulative womanizer.”

“You’re an insecure aggressive romantic.” Bash kissed Damien on the cheek. “Match made in Heaven.” He laughed, resting his hand over the spot he’d just kissed as if protecting it. “Not for a grand passion or a committed relationship of any respectable duration, but for a one night stand or a wild weekend, we’d be amazing.”

“You’re making even less sense than usual, Bash, and that’s saying something,” Damien said, even as he pondered his next move.

“What happened to Peter? Lily always called me Peter.” Bash shook his head. “She freely, and I do mean freely, offered. I like that you’re making me work for it.”

“Glad you approve,” Damien muttered.

Draping an arm around Damien’s shoulders again, he said, “Tell you what, I’ll make you see God in a safe and non-threatening way.”

“No thanks,” Damien said, thinking safe and non-threatening didn’t sound very exciting.

Looking as though inspired, Bash bounced on the couch in order to face Damien. “You’re looking at this the wrong way,” he said. “Damien, it’s not about me. It’s about you loosening up a little. Now, I admit, you go a little crazy in the pizza category and that’s cool, but I’d like to see you broaden your horizons.”

“How is having sex with you not about you?” Damien asked.

“This is about a blast from the past,” Bash said. “Imagine your 16 or 17 year old self making out with the girl of your dreams, assuming she’d have you. The only consequence the two of you worried about was her parents finding out.” Bash frowned and his eyes unfocused slightly. “Although if my father were to drop by tonight, he’d probably tell you to ride me hard and put me away wet.”

“Bash, what the hell are you talking about?”

Peter shook himself, as if to throw off the image of his father showing up. “My point is that those youthful frantic kisses are some of the best you’ll ever have.”

“Are you preparing me to be disappointed?” Damien asked, lips loosened by the bourbon and suspecting his weren’t the only ones.

“No, I’m talking about kisses without consequences being fantastic.”

“Ah,” Damien said, “so sex without consequences can be … what? Transcendent?”

“You are so turning me on with the big words,” Bash breathed. Abruptly, he stood and murmured, “Cue music.” To no accompaniment at all, Bash did a slow, sensual striptease down to boxers that utterly failed to contain his anatomy. That probably explained why Bash tossed them aside almost as an afterthought.

“Are you looking for applause?” Damien asked when Bash gazed at him.

Strutting over to the bottle of bourbon, he said, “You watched rather than making run for it.”

“I’m not running out of my own house.”

Angling his body to display his chest and erection, Bash poured himself another. “Ok, you watched rather than locking yourself in the bathroom and calling 911.”

Laughing, Damien said, “I don’t need the grief of the cops trying to convince you to get dressed.”

Leaning on the liquor cabinet, Bash said, “You could’ve thrown my clothes out a window and showed me the door.”

Damien shook his head. “Throwing your clothes out the window would only encourage you.”

“You’re probably right.” Intensity radiated off of Bash, as he sauntered back to Damien. “Tell me your safe word.”

“I don’t need a safe word. If I tell you to stop and you don’t, I’ll make you.”

“Really?” Bash asked, sitting as close as humanly possible to Damien without touching him.

“Really,” Damien stated.

Slouching to be able to look up at Damien a bit more, Bash chuckled. “I doubt that.”

“Don’t.”

“You do realize you’ve been speaking as though you intend to have sex with me,” Bash said, smirking evilly.

“I do.”

Bash sat up straight. “You do what?” he asked. “Realize how you’ve changed your tune or intend to sleep with me?”

“Both,” Damien said, shrugging as nonchalantly as he could. “It’s been too quiet here. I need to hear somebody scream.”

“That will be you,” Bash announced.

“We’ll see,” Damien said, removing his tie and tossing it onto the coffee table. “I’m going to order the pizza now. I’m hungry.”

“Damien,” Bash nearly whined, as he straddled the senior partner’s lap. “I said after.” Peter Bash had a picture perfect pout. Who knew? “I’ve been hard since your office.”

“It’s … ah … been a while since I’ve done this,” Damien muttered, as Bash untucked his dress shirt, “and I’ve never done it with someone I didn’t like.”

“If you’re trying to kill my mood, it won’t work,” Bash said, unfastening the buttons of Damien’s shirt. “I’m very focused and goal oriented when it comes to sex.” He paused midway through his task, winked at Damien and gestured to himself with both hands. “Besides, what’s not to like?”

Unable to ignore an invitation that blatant, Damien gave Bash a slow once over and smiled at the low groan he seemed to have inspired. “The body’s fine,” he said. “Certain attitudes leave a lot to be desired.”

“Is that a really intellectual and civilized way of saying you want me?” Bash panted, rocking his lower body against Damien’s. “I hope so, because I haven’t been this stoked in forever.”

“Prove it.”

“I offer exhibit A, your honor.” Peter Bash swooped in and attacked Damien’s mouth, hard, hot and aggressive. He murmured, “Want you,” before striking again, gently biting on Damien’s lower lip before pulling back.

“You closed your eyes,” Damien observed, voice low, lazy and vibrant.

“Is that a problem?” Bash asked, renewing his efforts with regard to Damien’s shirt buttons.

“No, it was actually a pleasant surprise.”

“I’m full of surprises.” Bash smirked before pressing an open mouthed kiss to the base of Damien’s throat and grinding his crotch against his partner’s.

“You’re full of a lot of things.”

“Smart ass,” Bash said and made sure Damien couldn’t reply by slipping his tongue in his mouth. “God, I’m so beyond ready.” Bash pushed Damien’s shirt open and groaned softly. Biting his lip, he ran his hands over Damien’s chest. “How often do you lift weights?”

“Often enough to suit you, evidently.”

Bash frowned, surprising Damien. “I need to see you lose control,” Peter panted. Damien began to believe the focused and goal oriented rhetoric, because Bash’s hands were never still. “I need to make you lose it, but first, I want you to relax,” Bash said, as he slithered to kneel on the floor between Damien’s legs.

“I don’t think—.”

“Excellent plan, Damien. Don’t think.” As if in apology for the interruption, Bash licked and kissed a path down Damien’s breastbone that traversed his abdomen and ended just above his belt buckle. He stared up at Damien, eyes intent, as he unfastened it. “That busy mind of yours could use a rest.” Bash’s smile held promise and danger. “I’m happy to provide it.”

Damien’s mind did indeed drift as Bash stroked his abdomen and licked ever decreasing diameter concentric circles around his right nipple. The sensations were pleasurable, but more like a massage than a seduction. His eyes drifted closed. Damien forced them open, because he didn’t trust Peter Bash. Unable to ascertain any ill intentions and succumbing to the continued ministrations, Damien’s eyes slid closed again.

Pain lanced through him, as Peter bit down hard on his nipple. But the apology he made with his mouth lifted Damien’s hips off of the couch. “Peter, fuck, Jesus!”

“I like the sound of that!” Bash took a break to announce. “Much more than Lily’s dainty and ever so proper please, Peter.” He went back at Damien’s sensitized flesh with a vengeance.

Damien cradled the younger lawyer’s neck with both hands and arched his back into the stimulation.

“There’s a properly responsive senior partner,” Peter murmured, grinning as he straddled Damien once more.

Damien’s control slipped. God, the kid could kiss, but, then again, so could he. Damien fisted Bash’s hair in his right hand to hold those succulent lips in range and ravished them repeatedly, each kiss harder than the last. The inarticulate noises of lust Peter made as their tongues dueled gratified Damien. When Bash lifted his head to catch his breath, Damien smiled in a slow, alpha male manner that always got to Hanna. Peter groaned. Letting the smile slide toward a smirk, and Damien wrapped his hand around Peter’s erection.

“God, yeah,” Peter moaned, seemingly unable to keep his hips still.

“This is a one off deal,” Damien said. “I’m with Hanna.”

“I know,” Peter gasped. “We aren’t fucking with that. I swear.”

“I hope not,” he whispered, burying a small pang of worry by working Bash ruthlessly. Peter swore amazingly creatively and came all over Damien’s chest. Breathing hard, muttering to himself, he slumped against Damien, no doubt making them both a sticky mess while he recovered his composure.

“I’m sorry, D,” he said. Damien couldn’t decide whether the apology or the nickname surprised him more. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t come first. I never do. Shit. You must think—.”

“I’m not thinking. Remember?”

Damien’s smile drew one from Bash. “Right. Good.” He reached for Damien’s pants. “I’ll do you.”

“What’s your hurry?” Damien asked, gently slapping Bash’s hands away, figuring if he was going to do this, he might as well do it right. “I’ll wait for you.” He laughed, lifting his hips slightly. “I’m obviously not going anywhere with you draped all over me, unless you’re willing to move so I can get something we can use to get cleaned up.”

“How do I know you’ll come back?” Bash asked, even as he rolled off of Damien.

“You don’t,” Damien said. Frowning down at his stained shirt, Damien rose.

“Let me,” Peter said and Damien halted midway through shrugging his shirt off of his shoulders.

Bash stood with a decidedly masculine form of grace and stepped into Damien’s personal space. Framing Damien’s face with both hands, Peter kissed him, slowly and thoroughly with power and passion—much more a kiss between established lovers than new ones. Staring into Damien’s eyes, he pushed the shirt off, smiling at it as it fell. When Bash turned that smile on Damien, he finally understood what women saw in Peter Bash. The combination of satisfaction, mischief and lust twisted something in Damien’s gut.

Unnerved by the deeply visceral reaction, Damien headed for the kitchen, feeling Bash’s eyes on his back. Taking two towels from the small linen cupboard, he soaked them in warm water. As he wiped himself off, he imagined Hanna eyeballing every buff cabana boy or chubby multi-millionaire she encountered on her trip, knowing she’d come home to him and he’d be there waiting.

Returning to his living room, Damien threw the unused towel at Bash, who caught it reasonably deftly. “Look, I’m kind of embarrassed,” Peter said.

“Why would you be?” Damien countered. “That was an impressive string of expletives.”

Bash’s expression darkened, as he rubbed the cloth over his well muscled torso. “Where’s your bedroom, D?”

“Upstairs.”

“Where are the stairs?”

“In the foyer.”

Bash took his hand and Damien took the hint and led Peter Bash of all people into his bedroom.

“Your decorator is awesome,” Bash exclaimed, turning a full 360 degrees. “Who knew sparse could be so fucking sexy?”

“I … ah … chose everything in this room.”

“Just stop, ok. The acoustic guitar was enough.” Bash spun around again. “I got the damn thing tuned by the way. Now I find out you have excellent taste and an eye for interior design. Hell, next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you’re an athlete for real, not only on the Wii.” Damien turned away but not fast enough, apparently. “What?” Bash demanded. “Should I expect to see you in a mixed martial arts competition anytime soon?”

“I’m a swimmer first,” Damien said. Shrugging, he added, “I got hurt before I had a chance at the Olympics. My back. My times never did get back to what they’d been. Running and biking came later.”

“So you do triathlons?” Bash asked, advancing to encourage Damien into a retreat toward the bed.

“Occasionally, and I play hockey when I can squeeze it in, which hasn’t been very often lately.”

“Hockey?” Peter asked, shoving Damien on his back on the bed. “Seriously?”

“Left wing or center, depending on what’s needed.”

“You skate and get checked into the boards and –.”

“Only if I don’t see it coming,” Damien said, spreading his legs so Peter pressed more tightly against him.

“I totally have to go down on you.”

Not particularly put off by the notion, Damien said, “Um … why?”

“Did you ever have to get stitches from a hockey related injury?”

“Yes. I played two years at Michigan undergrad, when I quit swimming competitively.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

“The scars.”

“Peter, you are well and truly depraved.”

“Damien, don’t tease. It’s not nice.” Damien rolled his eyes in an effort to deter. “At least show me a scar.” Offering his right forearm, Damien outlined the thin, white, perfectly straight line with his forefinger. “Holy shit! That could’ve severed …”

“But it didn’t.” The memory unexpectedly vivid, Damien said, “I got it early in the second period and would’ve been ready to go for the third, but we were ahead by three goals, so I sat.”

“You have no idea how hot you are right now,” Bash said, leaning in for a kiss that built in intensity throughout its duration.

“I think you’ve just given me a hint,” Damien panted.

“I’m on top of a closet tough guy who doesn’t dress down very often.” Bash grinned and kissed Damien harder. “I think I like that.”

“I’m not tough.”

“You got cut, stitched up and wanted to go back in the game. How is that not tough?”

“It was what was expected.” Damien closed his eyes. “I have a lifetime of experience delivering on expectations, reasonable or otherwise.”

“What do you expect, Damien?” Bash asked, stroking his cheek lightly. “Right here, right now.”

“To be on top,” Damien muttered, reversing their positions, pinning Bash beneath him. Given how Peter responded, Damien guessed it didn’t matter all that much to him.

* * *

“I’m not the one who went missing for over 24 hours,” Jared Franklin declared, when he and Peter Bash entered the conference room for the Monday morning meeting, late as usual.

“I wasn’t missing. I was out.”

“What were you up to?” Franklin beamed at the room in general. “Pun intended.” Spearing Bash with a sharp look, he asked, “And with whom?”

“If you really must know,” Bash said, “I had phenomenal sex with Damien until he threw me out, so he could get some sleep.” Damien froze in disbelief at Bash blurting out the truth but relaxed when everyone laughed. Bash looked comically hurt. “Isn’t that right?” he asked, facing Damien.

“Sure,” Damien said with feigned nonchalance, as he accepted the challenge Bash had issued, smiling when Hanna elbowed him lightly in the side.

“C’mon,” Franklin said. “Do me the courtesy of offering something credible, Peter.”

“They had a drink together in Damien’s office Friday evening,” Stanton Infeld observed, ever eager to foment controversy. “I saw them with my own two eyes.”

Jared shook his head. “Anything a person quote-unquote sees while wearing a toga isn’t admissible in Judge Franklin’s courtroom. Too much Bacchus worship precludes admission to prove the truth of any matter asserted.”

Damien grinned at Stanton’s not quite mock outrage.

“Carmen said your car was in the parking garage here on Saturday morning.” Grudgingly looking at Damien, Franklin added, “I’ll call her and see if yours was too, just for the sake of completeness.”

“I’ll save you the trouble,” Damien said. “It wasn’t.”

“He drove me and the bourbon to his place,” Bash said, smirking at Franklin. “That’s how my car stayed here and I didn’t.”

“Ok,” Franklin said, stepping into Bash’s personal space. “You actually expect me to believe Mr. Stick in the Mud took you home to have his staid and conservative way with you?”

“No. I invited myself home with Damien and, after a prolonged and sometimes fierce discussion of pros and cons, I convinced him to roll with it.”

Laughing, Franklin said, “Prove it. Tell me something you learned about Karp during your sex fest.”

Bash turned to Hanna. “He totally missed you. Don’t be gone for so long next time.”

“Try again,” Franklin demanded, as Damien inwardly cringed at Hanna’s thoughtful expression.

“He has a scar on his right forearm he got playing hockey at the University of Michigan.”

Damien steeled himself, wondering how far Bash was willing to go with this. To Franklin’s enquiring gaze, he nodded, amusing everyone else in the room once again.

“Showing each other war wounds is a prelude to getting blind drunk and, as such, does not constitute foreplay, ladies and gentlemen.”

“It wasn’t foreplay,” Damien said, focused on Bash, watching him process the comment. The moment Peter seemed to remember he’d come prior to asking to see scars, Damien smirked and said, “Technically.”

Franklin mouthed, “Technical foreplay?” before pointing dramatically at Bash. “This isn’t over. Rest assured. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“You always find your way there,” Bash said, winking at Damien who couldn’t suppress a somewhat snide smile.

* * *

“Hey,” Damien Karp said, stepping into Hanna Linden’s office.

“Do I have to take you with me on every trip from now on to keep you out of trouble?” she asked, smiling archly up at him from behind her desk.

“Just don’t be out of town the same time as Franklin.”

Hanna’s eyes widened. “Bash told the truth?” Damien nodded and she laughed, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief. “That’s brilliant. Jared will never believe him; he’ll think Peter paid you off to back him up. Everyone else will assume you were getting some of your own back on Franklin.” She smiled. “And on Bash as well, I think.” Her smile turned sultry. “The two of you together is a visual image for the ages. I, for one, wouldn’t mind experiencing it firsthand.”

“Bash is amenable to putting on a show for you,” Damien said.

“Are you?” she asked, tone soft and careful.

“I might be persuaded,” he admitted. “He’s inventive and fun in bed. You’d be entertained.”

“I look forward to my private session with the Infeld Daniels gladiators of sex and an explanation of technical foreplay,” she said, standing and rounding her desk to face him.

Just wanting to get it over with, Damien took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry. It was a strange evening and I did what I did, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You haven’t.”

“I did exactly what you—.”

“Are you seriously comparing a night with Peter Sex-is-Something-to-Do-to-Pass-the-Time Bash with what I did with Elliott?”

“It’s the same damn—.”

“No, it isn’t. I carried on an affair with Elliott behind your back for months, because I wanted …”

They’d never discussed the why of it. “What did you want?” Damien asked, thinking curiosity might be becoming a luxury he couldn’t afford.

“To punish you for how you made me feel.”

“Which was?” Damien heard the wariness in his tone and knew Hanna did too.

“Afraid.”

“You were afraid of me? Why would you have been afraid of me? I never hurt you. Hell, I’d have done anything for you.”

Shaking her head, she said, “Not of you, of how you made me feel, of how much you made me feel.” Hanna slid her hands along the lapels of his jacket. “Things were safer with Elliott. I was in control. He did what I said. You didn’t and we’d fight.”

“We’d make up.”

Memories of make up sex seemed to fill the office to overflowing. Hanna wrapped her arms around his neck and stepped into full frontal contact. “Making up felt so damn good, I’d get afraid again and pick another fight or run back to Elliott. I was a mess, Damien.” She frowned. “I’m not good at being a mess. Some people thrive on it. I’m not one of them.”

Holding her close, he murmured, “I was in love with you,” into her right ear.

“Past tense?”

“Are you afraid now?” Damien asked, knowing full well how impolite it was to answer a question with a question and the risks they ran by embracing in an unlocked office. She shook her head, but he wasn’t satisfied. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, because I’m planning to let you make amends for your indiscretion tonight.” Hanna kissed him lightly on the lips. “If I can wait that long.” Pressing against him, she added, “If you can.”

“We could get a room somewhere decent at lunchtime.”

Hanna made a point of looking past Damien. “We could lock that door right now.”

“I’m on it.” Her laughter drove away all his doubts about what they were about to do and where they were going to do it. Deciding he’d like to avoid more grief from Thing 1 and Thing 2, Damien waited for Franklin and Bash to pass by before locking the door. “I am sorry, Hanna,” he said, as he returned to steer her to the couch along the east wall of her office that wasn’t visible through the glass doors.

“I know,” she said, smiling in a way that banished nearly all coherent thoughts from his head. “If you weren’t, I’d have invited Franklin and Bash to watch me punish you.”

“I could just be saying that to avoid your wrath.”

“You’re not a good enough liar to pull that off.”

“I’m a pretty good liar.”

“Agreed, but you’ve never been able to lie to me and you’ve apologized more than once. You wouldn’t have, if you weren’t worried about my feelings. You hate to apologize.”

He smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. “You know me too well.”

“I’m glad you let me get to know you and have another chance to get close to you.”

“Me too.”

Hanna kissed him hard on the mouth and lured his tongue out to play. “I’m thinking three,” she murmured when they parted.

“Three?” She simply smirked at him and Damien got it. “You want three orgasms before I get any for spending one night with Bash?”

“He was gone for over 24 hours, Damien. You’re getting off easy.”

“That is not getting off easy.”

She giggled, something she rarely did. “Point taken.”

Shared laughter had rarely felt better, but that pleasure paled in comparison to meeting Hanna’s borderline unreasonable demands.


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Ooh, thanks for posting this, I really enjoyed reading it! I find Damien a really interesting character (and love Reed, obviously!), and I love the differing dynamics between him and Jared, and him and Peter.

I thought your banter between him and Peter was perfect, and there were so many backstory details I loved - like Damien being good at interior deco and playing hockey and having SCARS. Hockey scars, and being tough - so much love! Peter was suitably shameless, too!

Really loved this - thank you again! <3


LJ keeps eating my replies! Argh!

Thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment. Now I know SOMEONE (other than me and my beta reader) read this thing. Whew!

I enjoy Damien far far more than I thought I would after watching the Pilot episode (Damien Karp, seriously?--who named this guy was pretty much my only reaction). When I got it in my head to slash him with F or B, it seemed to me that B was possible (he has no history with Hanna, seems slightly less obnoxious toward Damien and might be curious about Damien because of sleeping with his cousin). F struck me as a non-starter for Damien.

The fun part of this story for me was figuring out what talents and abilities Damien might have that would startle F&B. Athletic was good, but ... athletic and tough was better! Interior decorating was kind of a throw in, but I'm glad it spoked to you.

I write slash so seldom that I'm always uncertain about it and procrastinate about posting. Glad I did and that you enjoyed it. Thank you!

OH HAI THERE SURPRISE SLASH ON MY FLIST! Hey! I remember you talking about this one!

“Peter, it’s a dead Karp. Who knows where it’s been.”

Pahahaha! Done! Dead. Seriously, though I have been dying for a Karp/Carp pun since the beginning of the series. I needz my terrible puns. (Sidenote: I too had mixed feelings about the name at the beginning... For some reason I kept thinking of him as "Draco Malfoy".... and then they're both blond and both look good in silver and green and have English connections and....*insert crazy fan theory here*)

I kinda love the fact that it takes that much work on Peter's end to convince Damien to take him with him, lol. I also love that Peter doesn't give up, because lonely and hot and "please?!" And his terrible, terrible lines! Oh Peter...you goof... lol

I'm not sure why you're so concerned; I mean, I'm not the biggest slash fan in the world, but your men read like men (Peter the man-boy, Damien the more intense man) and your kissing/more than kissing read like, er, kissing/more than kissing. *shrugs* I'm not sure that there's anything more that's needed to make better, lol.

Personally, I think you prolly could've left off the whole Damien/Hanna subplot (although, the fact that you didn't makes me happy on a whole other level, because YES! and asdflkdlsdfkHANNA! and RUMORS OF PREGNANCY [...which is testament to this weird domestic kink I'm on right now... I promise, I'm not normally this into family fics...]!)

Bash turned to Hanna. “He totally missed you. Don’t be gone for so long next time.”

This is just too adorable of a line.... I am envisioning a pouting, arms-crossed Damien, who totally "doesn't care" that Hanna's been gone for a whopping 48 hours and Ohhiyou'reback!!!!1:D:D:D:D

The only other thing that gave me pause was when Peter referred to Damien as "beautiful," only because that's such a feminine adjective and Damien/RDiamond is not so much effeminate/feminine/girly. (Yes, fine, okay, he's pretty and arguably, kinda willowy, but he's not a "pretty-boy," like Orlando Bloom in Lord of the Rings.) On the other hand...this is Peter, lol. I can totally see him being all, "Hey beautiful boy/girl" just because he can.

Also, Damien and I have radically different views on good pizza.... This is really not helpful, I admit it, I just am somewhat opposed to deep-dish pizza in general...

Also, just because I keep staring at the last three lines as I'm typing out this comment, I keep getting more and more enamored with the image of Hanna giggling. She has such a pretty smile. :)

I liked it. :) I like your D/H better, but I liked it! :D

I outsmarted LJ this time. I copied my response first so LJ could not eat it. Hah!

I'm glad you gave this a try. I tried to put something for everyone in it and couldn't resist the dead fish joke (and it had to be F saying it, even if it was B saying F would say it).

I remember one critic saying that Damien Karp is the most aptly named character since Snidely Whiplash--which I though was a bit much.

Peter decided what he wanted and was not going to be denied (even if it was just ordering pizza and watching tv). And he uses the word beautiful because he can get away with it.

I'm not sure why I hesitate. It's probably only because I don't write it very often that I can't decide whether it's any good or not. I'll just have to get over it.

I agree that I could've left D/H out of this. In fact, I kind of have an idea for a slashy story where there is no Damien/Hanna component. Hmmmmmmm.

I think Damien is just more reserved in general and would admit to missing Hanna if she asked but probably wouldn't offer it.

I'm not a deep dish pizza person either and I think Damien was trying to meet Bash's not good for you criteria.

It's always an interesting choice where to end a story. Glad you liked mine.

Thanks, as always, for reading and commenting.

Second attempt - stoopid LJ ate my first comment...

I really enjoyed this fic - you should definitely write slash more often. I really liked the back story you built up for Damien and I loved how confident and blatant Peter was - especially his complete refusal to take no for an answer!

Damien's gradual capitulation felt very believable and Hanna's acceptance and desire for a repeat performance was just brilliant! I also loved the hints at Peter/Jared but as I 'ship them so hard that's pretty much a given!

Thanks so much for sharing this, and I hope you'll write more for this pairing... ;o)

I'm getting annoyed with LJ and am now copying comments of any length just in case.

Thank you for reading and taking the time to comment. I'm very pleased that you liked the story and appreciate the encouragement re slash.

I think Peter has no room in his world view for failure in a situation such as this. And I wanted to give Damien some traits that Bash would admire. Seemed only fitting ...

Damien's gradual capitulation was the result of intervention by my beta reader. What I had before was gradual too but it had a wrongness to it, almost a sense of coercion. Once that was jettisoned, all was better.

Hanna should have an open mind, I think. Think of how beautiful watching the two of them would be!

Maybe I'll take my other idea out for a spin and see what happens! Thanks so much for the kind words.

So, I'm *ridiculously* behind here, but I did have to stop by and say how glad I am that I did not kill the incipient idea! I still love the smarm and the snark and Damian getting a little wild and crazy with a little enabling and encouragement. I do like what you've with it this time around!

The idea was fine but my execution was flawed in the beginning. Thanx for the elucidation on that point.

Hope you didn't choke on your Diet Coke this time!

Damien needs to cut loose a little bit. It would do him good.

Thanks for reading (both times).

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