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Beneath a Heart of Darkness	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 4657 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
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A smug-faced Booker immediately accosted Tom as he exited Fuller’s office. “So, I guess it's just gonna be you and me for a while, Tommy,” the dark-haired officer teased with a wink.
A scowl replaced the tilting smile that usually graced Tom’s lips, and he glared back at Dennis with resentful eyes. “Gee, Book, I can hardly wait.”
Booker’s grin widened. He knew exactly how to push Tom’s buttons to trigger a reaction, so much so he barely considered it sport anymore. However, the mild entertainment he felt when he teased Tom was not the reason he continued to goad the younger officer. It was because any response, even an angry one, was better than no interaction at all. He needed Tom’s attention in the same way he needed oxygen; it was crucial to his being, and he knew the only way he would get it was to continue to piss him off. In the darkness of night, when his fingers lightly trailed over his growing erection, he pretended it was Tom gently coaxing his cock to life and with each magical stroke, he would whisper his name. He knew it was an unattainable dream; Tom was straight. But there were times when he would secretly smile to himself because he likened his feelings to that of a character in a fairy tale; he was bewitched, and he did not know how to shake off the spell. However, unlike the fictional characters of a children’s book, he did not want to end the enchantment; what he wanted was for the enchantment to infect Tom too.
Sensing Hanson was about to end their conversation by walking away, Dennis reached out a hand and lightly grasped him by the forearm. However, the smaller officer visibly cringed at the contact before yanking his arm away, his face portraying a look of panic.
Somewhat annoyed, Dennis raised a questioning eyebrow. “What?”
With his face flaming red, Tom’s lips twitched nervously as he attempted to downplay his overreaction. “I don't like people touching me,” he mumbled.
The lameness of the statement was too good an opportunity for Booker to pass up, and he gazed innocently into Tom’s eyes as his expression turned thoughtful. “Really? Hmm... interesting.”
Even though the mocking intonation in Dennis’ voice was barely perceivable, Tom picked up on it straight away, and he glowered back. “What's that supposed to mean?”
While he pretended to ponder the significance of Tom’s reaction, Booker struggled to suppress a laugh. “Well, you let Penhall hug you all the time,” he replied slowly, his brow furrowing in contemplation, and when Tom did not answer, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively as his mouth widened into a huge, teasing grin. “Is there something going on between the two of you I should know about?”
It took a moment for Tom to realize Booker had once again managed to get the better of him, and his anger bubbled to the surface. “What the fuck’s your problem?” he growled. “Why do you always have to behave like such a prick?”
Feigning a wounded look, Booker theatrically clamped a hand over his heart. “Ouch! I think you just hurt my feelings.”
Anger blazed in Tom’s dark eyes, and he found himself starting to lose control. “Fuck off and leave me alone,” he snapped.
An irritating smirk curled Booker’s lips. “Settle down, Hanson,” he laughed, “I was only kidding. Don't get your panties in a knot.”
Through sheer willpower, Tom managed to resist the urge to smack the smirk off Booker’s face, and with the teasing laughter still ringing in his ears, he balled his hands into fists and walked away. The way things were going, he knew it would be an extremely long few days in the company of a man who was able to provoke a reaction out of him so effortlessly, and he silently cursed his short fuse. If he did not want Booker to get the better of him, he needed to pull himself together, act like a professional and not let his dark-haired antagonist distract him from doing his job. He would not allow Booker’s presence to unnerve him again because if he did, it would reveal his vulnerabilities, and he would rather die than give his nemesis more ammunition to use against him.
Therefore, he knew he had no choice but to stay calm. Otherwise, Booker would win, and there was no way in hell he was going to let that happen.
But as he sat down at his desk, he caught Dennis staring at him with a wistful expression, and with his cheeks flaming red, he quickly averted his gaze. If Doug was right, and Booker did have a crush on him, the next week of his life would be more than just uncomfortable, it would be excruciating.
**
Two days later
The sweet, melodic chirrup of the house sparrows nesting in the eaves above his window woke Booker from a deep slumber. Harsh sunlight flooded in through the open window and yawning sleepily, he stretched out his arms and legs and contemplated the day ahead. A student ID card sat on his bedside table, the name Dennis Brody a familiar alias since he had started at Jump Street. Hanson’s ID stated that he was Tom Harris, but Booker did not think the moniker suited him. It was too generic, and in his mind, Tom was anything but common. The young officer who constantly took his breath away was uniquely beautiful, funny, tender, tenacious, hardworking and loyal, but above all, he was a skilled police officer. He was everything Dennis was looking for in a partner, except for one rather vital detail; he was straight. While the whimsical lyricists and poets often employed the idiomatic expression love begets love in their flowery verses, he had endured enough homophobic abuse to know that was not the case. Real love could not be cajoled, stolen, ransomed or seduced, and no matter how much he wished the circumstances were different, he knew he was chasing a feather in the wind. It was doubtful Tom would ever view him as a friend, let alone as a potential lover and therefore, he protected his dignity by deflecting his disappointment with humor. He teased Tom every chance he could because without contact, he was left feeling empty and unfulfilled.
With images of Tom now floating in his mind, he reached under the covers and stroked a finger up and down his early morning erection. Immediately a shudder of arousal rippled through his body and his breathing became heavier. He could feel his cock thickening with each titillating caress, and closing his eyes, he wrapped his hand around his hardening shaft and began to jerk off. The erotic sensation sent bolts of pleasure throughout his body, the added stimulation engorging the vessels in his cock until he was fully erect. His hand moved faster, the invigorating tugging becoming a steady, rhythmic movement and Tom’s name tumbled from his lips in a sexual mantra of longing.
“Tom Tom Tom Tom…” he panted before he suddenly tensed and uttering a long, drawn out moan, his testicles tightened and with a full body spasm, he ejaculated forcefully over his stomach.
Endorphins flooded his system as a post-climactic calm relaxed his muscles and sighing contentedly, he released his softening cock. Because of his strong feelings, he understood putting himself in close proximity to a man who made his cock hard was going to be difficult, but he could not suppress the shiver of excitement that tingled up and down his spine. It would be their first case working together since investigating the gang of racists, and he found himself grinning with a childlike enthusiasm. It was his hope that working closely together would give them a chance to get to know each other better. However, he was realistic enough and jaded enough not to hold out too much hope. But past failures would not prevent him from trying; after all, stranger things had happened.
Glancing at the luminous dial of his clock radio, he groaned when he realized he was running late and throwing back the duvet, he climbed from the bed and walked into the bathroom. After relieving his bladder, he stepped into the shower cubicle and facing the shower head, he turned on the faucets. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips as the warm spray of water thrummed therapeutically over his bronzed body and closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to drift back to Tom.
**
Tom watched with growing agitation as Booker leisurely sauntered out of his apartment building without an apparent care in the world. He had been sitting in his Mustang for over half an hour, and with each passing minute, his mood had darkened. But during the time of mental anguish, he had stubbornly refused to acknowledge that he could go up to Booker’s apartment and knock on the door instead of sitting in his car stewing. He had reasoned that if he did, it would negate the validity of his bad mood, and he wanted to feel angry. It was petty and childish, but the animosity helped to quell the nervous butterflies that insisted on fluttering in his stomach. There was no logical reason for their existence and the unsettling sensation only added to his feelings of resentment; he hated that Booker had such a profound effect on him.
His jaw clenched when Booker tossed his belongings into the trunk and slammed the lid closed with an unnecessary bang that violently shook the Mustang. “You’re late,” he yelled through the open window.
With a grin, Booker climbed into the car and closed the door. Tapping a cigarette out of a crumpled packet of Marlboro Reds, he placed it between his lips and pushed in the car’s lighter. “It’s Sunday, Hanson, we can show up when we like.”
“We agreed to meet at nine,” Tom growled, “If I can’t even trust you to… Oh, forget it, there’s no fucking point arguing with you.”
The cigarette lighter popped, but when Booker reached out to pull it from its socket, Tom clamped a hand over his wrist. “Not in my car.”
A jolt of pleasure shot through Booker’s body, and he suppressed a moan. The feel of Tom’s touch against his bare skin was electrifying, and he could not help but imagine the long fingers wrapping around his erection, teasing it to life. With the image firmly ingrained in his mind, his cock instantly hardened, and a noticeable bulge appeared in the front of his jeans. Immediately a terrifying panic gripped his heart, and sweat prickled his underarms, dampening the material of his tee shirt. The erotic impression was too intense, too overwhelming and yanking his hand away, he quickly covered his crotch.
Surprised by the reaction, Tom stared at Booker in confusion, but before he could speak, the dark-haired officer’s lip curled into a teasing smirk. “Payback’s a bitch, huh? I don't like being touched either.”
Tom mentally berated himself. He felt annoyed that he had allowed himself to feel a glimmer of concern for the man who continued to goad him, and slamming the Mustang into gear, he stamped his foot on the gas and pulled from the sidewalk with a squeal of tires.
As the Mustang sped towards Holbrooke College, Booker leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. It was not the beginning he had hoped for, but he was man enough to admit he was partly to blame. Whenever he was in Tom’s company, he felt the urge to tease him mercilessly and memories of elementary school brought a smile to his lips. Boys pulling girls pigtails, girls chasing boys and hitting them; it was all part of growing up. He had fond memories of those days because once he entered middle school everything changed. At age eleven, he knew he was different and by age fourteen, he was openly bisexual. Coming out had not won him any friends, he was bullied and beaten up on almost a daily basis, and it was then his personality had changed. Prior to middle school, he had been open and friendly, but by age thirteen, he had developed a tough, conceited attitude. He never backed away from an argument, and he soon proved himself a skilled fighter. But his belligerence did not make him any more popular and by the time he left school, he was virtually friendless. College, the Police Academy and his first job in Internal Affairs had been easier, but he still found it difficult to relax around his peers. However, all that changed when he joined the Jump Street Program. Despite his shaky beginnings, he finally felt he fitted in. After only a few months of working together, he now considered Doug, Judy and Harry as friends, real friends. He knew he could count on them when needed, and he trusted them with his life. But the one person he wanted to spend time with remained elusive, and opening his eyes, he stole a furtive glance in Tom’s direction.
It was evident from Tom’s profile he was tense. With his mouth set in a firm, hard line, the muscles in his jaw twitched spasmodically. He sat stiffly in the bucket seat, his eyes staring straight ahead and his hands grasping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles shone white through his skin. There was no doubt he was extremely pissed off, and Booker felt a pang of guilt. But he knew better than to try to placate him and closing his eyes again, he concentrated on the sound of the Mustang’s engine. All he could hope was by the time they reached their destination, Tom would be calm enough to talk strategically about their assignment. If not, he had no idea how to proceed. Hanson genuinely disliked him, and not even a thousand apologies could fix a relationship that was smashed beyond repair. It was a precarious situation, and he was counting on Tom behaving like a cop and not holding petty grudges. Otherwise, they were screwed.
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Beneath a Heart of Darkness