Mike? He adored music. Like, all kinds of music. He had a collection of vinyl (not those pussy CDs that Jared kept pawning off as music) that ranged from The Smiths to Sabbath to ABBA and back again. He had a closet full of vintage band shirts and his iPod had more songs than Jensen had freckles.

See, the thing is, Mike, he loves music, loves it, but there's one type of music that made him want to peel back his nails and blow out his own eardrums, that made him wish he had been born deaf and possibly blind, just so he never had to see another barely legal kid, hopped up on X and Jack, dressed in obnoxious neon's and tanks that proclaimed Moby equaled life.

Fucking techno. The cancer of music.

Naturally, Tom fucking loved it.

Fucking Tom.

Huh.

Mike was always making with the good ideas.

He smiled brightly at the huge bouncer outside of Club Zero and paid the exorbitant cover fee and idly wondered if he could arrest them for extortion based on that alone. He adjusted the fucking mesh shirt Tom (fucking Tom) had picked out for him to wear and sighed, taking the six steps that led him down onto the main floor of the club.

The whole place was thrumming, bass pounding out of huge speakers built into the black and silver walls. The DJ was set up on the right-hand side. The file Morgan had handed him and Tom when they'd gotten the assignment said that the guy went by the name of DJ Donkey Punch. Yeah, he and Tom had rolled their eyes at that. There was just no accounting for taste anymore. The long bar made up the entire left hand side of the club, backlit by bright colors and shimmering bottles of every liquor imaginable. He eyed the glasses that were filled to the brim with mind numbing alcohol and wished desperately for one, knowing that some vodka would go a long way to making this damn hell on Earth a lot more bearable.

Mike turned from his surveillance of the main dance floor. He noted the exits and extra doors where he might be able to take cover should this all go to hell in a hand basket, then made his way toward the VIP area. The VIP lounge sat up on a platform about twenty feet above the main dance floor, where hundreds of nubile young men were grinding against one another to some butchered version of 'Listen To Your Heart.'

Mike's own ached at what had been done to Roxette's beloved song and flashed a dazzling smile at the bouncer waiting at the bottom of the steps. The bouncer nodded once - James, another undercover cop - and opened the velvet rope with a small clink. Mike slipped him a fifty to make it look legit and made his way up the stairs. The VIP lounge was furnished with garish couches in various shades of purple and the small bar there was much less busy. Mike valiantly tried to ignore the couple practically dry-humping on the couch closest to him as he made his way to the bar.

Mike sighed when he caught sight of Tom behind the bar. His dimples flashed in tune with the strobe lights that sent flashes of red, yellow and blue across his broad, naked chest. Tom looked like he was enjoying himself and Mike was ready to stab himself in the eyeball with his own thumb. Figured, he thought to himself. He forcefully dragged his eyes away from openly ogling his partner, who he wasn't even supposed to 'know' according to his cover story and waved a hand at one of the other bartenders, ordering a Coke. Fucking department rules that told him he couldn't drink on the job. Mike challenged whoever wrote up that bullshit rule to sit through - oh no, they were not playing Tiffany.

Tom glanced in his direction and purposely slid his gaze back to the far corner, where Don Enrico Colantoni, the owner of Club Zero, and one of the biggest drug king pins in the city, was holding court with his adoring - and more than likely higher than kites - subjects.

Don Colantoni wasn't exactly going to win any beauty, height or body building contests, but there was something about him that drew in crowds of very young, very rich men. But the file Lafferty had compiled for them looked like a back and forth between two bipolar tennis players. One minute, Don Colantoni was cracking jokes, the next, he was putting his cigarette out in some guy's eye. The file just got gorier and more confusing and more manic as the weeks went on.

All Mike took out of it was: avoid him while he was smoking, don't mention his male pattern baldness and that Don Colantoni would turn on even his most loyal lackeys, earning him the title of one of the cruelest crime bosses in New York's illustrious history.

Mike caught him eyeing his ass and lifted his glass in greeting. He was determined to bring this son of a bitch to justice.

Barry at least deserved that.

He watched as Colantoni's second in command was called to his side and a whispered conversation was held, with much gesturing in his general direction. Mike smiled into his glass and though about how he knew damn well Morgan had given this case to him instead of handing it over to VICE like the Chief had wanted due to Mike's personal history with the Colantoni crime empire. Mike was just glad he'd never met any of them face to face. Barry had been the one to do all the undercover work before and all he'd gotten for it had been a gut full of lead as he bled out in Mike's arms.

Mike watched as Hansen made his way over to him, setting his now empty glass down on the bar. He gave him a tiny smirk, inwardly vowing to Barry again that his death would not be in vain. Mike was going to see to it.

...

Two hours later, Mike was feeling a little too drunk for his own peace of mind. He hadn't been able to refuse the Jack and Coke's Colantoni had been generously ordering for him, not wanting to seem like anything but what he appeared to be - young, dumb and full of come, out for a night of drugs and debauchery in one of Manhattan's hottest gay clubs.

Colantoni seemed to be buying it, as did his right and left hands, Ryan Hansen and Jason Dohring. Hansen, for all his California surfer looks and easy breezy smiles, had a wrap sheet as long as Mike's arm and was more at home in a back alley of Brooklyn than the back of a surfboard. Dohring, on the other hand, was rumored to have a temper to rival Colantoni's despite his seemingly ever ready smiles. They were both young, surprisingly so for the positions they held in the organization and Mike knew for a fact that Dohring was in line to inherit everything once Colantoni was gone. He couldn't wait to take all the smiling sonsabitches down, watching with gritted teeth as Hansen fondled one of the few women in the club, one of Manhattan's upper class working gals.

The energy in the club was pulsing, the hour growing late as the X and booze made their special guest appearances just as Tom set down another round of tequila and Bud. Mike had managed to gather plenty of crucial information about the drug operation. He was eerily good at appearing too dumb to worry about - something Kane never failed to remind him about. Though it didn't hurt that Dohring and Hansen were both plastered out of their minds, liked the sounds of their own voices far too much and had their dicks making all the strenuous decisions for them. Mike eyed their wedding rings and wondered if their wives knew of what happened at one of their husband's 'business meetings' in the city. Probably not.

The DJ announced last call and a collective groan was heard as the club goers scrambled to find someone to take home or to at least take into the alley or bathroom for a quick blow job or hand job. Mike had been invited to stay for an after hours party in the VIP lounge and had accepted the invitation, partially because it would present an opportunity for more intel, but mostly because he could keep an eye on Tommy.

He'd already lost one partner to this scum, he wasn't losing another. He watched Tom out of the corner of his eye and knew that as much as he'd cared for Barry, Tom meant a hell of a lot more to him. Losing Tom wouldn't wreck Mike like it had when he'd lost Barry. Losing Tom would straight up kill him.

Just then, one of the pretty boys Colantoni liked to surround himself with sidled up next to Mike and rubbed up against his leg, biting his lip in what he must've assumed was a coy manner, and asked Mike to dance. Mike could see Colantoni watching him out of the corner of his eye and nodded, setting his drink down and taking the guy's hand, letting himself be led out onto the small dance floor in the lounge. He wasn't exactly the most graceful dancer but what went on at Club Zero could only ever loosely be called dancing anyway. They were barely on the dance floor when the guy had grabbed Mike's hips and started to grind against him, before turning and pressing his ass into Mike's groin.

He grabbed the guy's hips and rubbed, catching Tom standing behind the bar, jaw clenched. Mike went hard at the sight, knowing Tom was jealous. His dance partner moaned and rubbed against him harder and Mike had to close his eyes at the friction, picturing Tom's hard body plastered to his front.

Once the song was over, he politely declined the offer to meet the guy in the bathroom for more fun and games, and went to make his way back to his seat. He was stopped halfway back by Hansen, Dohring and Colantoni himself, who were on their way up to the bar to do some body shots. For Hansen and Dohring, they would be doing their shots off of their dates for the evening. Colantoni and himself would be doing shots off of the bartender. The only bartender left in the VIP lounge.

Tom.

Mike's cock gave an appreciative throb at the thought of licking liquor off of Tom's sweat damp skin, the tang of his sweat and the tequila mixing in his mouth. Mike bit his lip and followed Colantoni to the bar a little awkwardly, his erection making it hard to move. Dohring and Hansen were already licking and sucking at their girls and Colantoni was flirting with Tom, making him duck his head and smile as he touched his cheek. Mike felt a stab of jealousy in his gut and had to restrain himself from punching out Colantoni right then and there for defiling Mike's man with his touch. He clenched his fists and reminded himself it was just a job, that Tom was his when they made it back home, no matter what.

It didn't make it any easier to watch Colantoni do a shot off of Tom's ripped abs, or as Tom giggled - fucking giggled - as Colantoni asked him if it had tickled. Tom's eyes met Mike's and he winked.

"Your turn, hot stuff," he said, leering at Mike. Mike forced a smile through the possessiveness roiling in his gut and strode up to the bar, taking the proffered salt and lime. He pulled Tom up so he was sitting, towering over Mike a little on the bar and Mike leaned forward, nuzzling into Tom's neck a little before lapping at his pulse point, getting it nice and damp and nipping once with his teeth before pulling back and sprinkling the damp area with salt.

If Mike wasn't always so finely attuned to Tom's every mood and movement, he might've missed the small shudder that went through Tom when Mike pulled back, pushing lightly at his shoulders until Tom was lying on the bar, his outrageously tiny shorts not hiding the outline of his thick cock at all, lime placed between his impossibly pink lips. Mike smirked and grabbed the bottle of tequila, pouring a liberal amount over Tom's belly so that the liquor pooled in his navel and dribbles over his sides, watching as Tom closed his eyes and bit at his lower lip, shivering a little. Mike bent and laved the area on Tom's neck covered in salt before sliding his lips down in a wet rub over Tom's chest and abs, till he could lick and suck the potent liquid off of Tom's skin. Tom's stomach jumped and quivered under Mike's mouth and Mike felt his cock go so hard, so fast, it made him dizzy. He straightened a little before bending back down and putting his mouth over Tom's, sucking the lime from between his lips and into his own mouth.

Mike caught Tom's gaze when he stood back up. Tom's cheeks were flushed pink and he was panting, eyes liquid green and burning with arousal. Mike barely buried the urge to growl as the pressure in his dick pulsed hot and ready. He wanted to tell Colantoni he'd had fun and that it was getting late, but thankfully, the crime lord's attention had been diverted by two young things who were currently doped up and pawing and fawning over his arm. Mike looked back at Tom and nodded his head towards the opulent VIP restrooms before shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way back the small dimly lit hallway to the men's room.

He stood inside the black lacquer door for a few moments, his breathing loud in the small room, disturbingly loud after the noise of the club outside. Mike clenched his hands together tightly, fingernails digging into his palms as he waited impatiently for Tom, knowing perfectly well that doing this could blow his whole cover, the whole case, his chance at making Barry's death mean something, but found himself willing to risk it all for a quick fuck, to just be buried inside Tom. He waited another three minutes and was about ready to say fuck it and take care of his problem himself, when Tom flung open the door, shut it and smiled ferally at Mike.

Mike grinned back and beckoned him with one finger toward the large stall at the end. Tom followed eagerly, stalking after Mike and slamming and locking the stall door behind them. He cupped Mike's face and crowded him into the tiled wall, rubbing his erection into Mike's stomach. Mike whined in his throat and clutched at Tom's waist, needing him to fucking do something besides stare at him.

"Tommy," he exhaled, breathless. "Goddammit, touch me."

Tom chuckled, his warm breath tickling Mike's cheek as Tom bent in closer. "I am, Mikey."

Mike let out a huff of irritation and arched his hips into Tom, hard. "Fucker. You know what I mean... Driving me nuts with those goddamn shorts," he muttered, hands leaving Tom's waist to tangle in his dark, silky hair. Tom laughed and slid a muscular thigh between Mike's legs, rubbing against him. "You don't look so bad in this shirt, either. Told you it would work wonders for you."

Mike yanked Tom's head down so that their lips rubbed together. "He had his fucking hands all over you, wanted to rip out his goddamn throat, touching what's mine..." he murmured, grinding into Tom. Tom whined in his throat and licked at Mike's lips. He ground his dick into Mike's, causing Mike to arch and whimper. "Feel that?" Tom whispered. "All for you, you possessive son of a bitch."

Mike pulled back far enough to leer at Tom. "Better be." He tugged and maneuvered until Tom's front was plastered against the cold tile wall and pull his shorts down over his gorgeous ass. "Fucking love you, you know that right?" Mike said, voice low and serious.

Tom looked at him over his shoulder, eyes glowing. "Yeah I know. Love you too, asshole."

Mike chuckled and kissed the nape of Tom's neck, smiling wider as Tom whimpered. He undid his own pants and pulled out a small sachet of lube and a condom. "God, wanna fuck your ass, Tommy," he whispered, voice rough and shot to hell, tequila and lust singing through his veins. Tom's hands scrabbled against the tile when Mike circled his hole with one slick finger, absently shushing him when Tom moaned. "Gotta be quiet. Can't blow our cover."

Tom let his head hang down, forehead rolling against the wall. "Fuck our cover."

Mike slid his finger inside of Tom. "Rather fuck you."

Tom whimpered, fucking whimpered and Mike slid in another finger, stretching him and panting against the golden skin of Tom's shoulder.

"God, I can't wait... gotta fuck you, oh fuck," Mike rasped, fingers sliding out with a wet pop. Arousal made his already drunk fingers useless as he tried to tear the foil of the condom unsuccessfully. The lube on his fingers and Tom's writhing body certainly weren't helping matters any.

"Fuck," Tom rasped, chin touching his chest. "Fuck the condom, just get in me Michael." At the sound of his name, Mike dropped the condom, grabbed at Tom's muscled hips and slide inside in one quick motion.

Tom moaned so loud Mike had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet while his teeth dug sharp grooves into Tom's shoulder. Tom was so tight, so smooth and hot that Mike had to grit his teeth at the sensation, his blood boiling in his veins. Tom was breathing heavily and absently licking at Mike's palm where it still covered his mouth as he whimpered. Mike leaned down and licked across the imprint of his teeth, praying that they faded just as quickly as the litany of other marks he'd left across Tom and his Teflon skin.

Tom groaned and suddenly relaxed his steel grip on Mike's dick. Mike slid the rest of the way in and bit down hard when he bottomed out. Tom slapped his hands against the tiles, bracing himself and pushed back, needing this as much as Mike did.

Mike grunted, taking his hand off of Tom's mouth and grabbing onto Tom's hips as he started to slam hard and fast into Tom. "Not gonna last," he managed to get out, his chest plastered to Tom's back, his breath fanning against Tom's ear and hair.

Tom reached back with one hand and cupped Mike's hip. "Want it fast, come on, give it to me," he got out, making Mike swell inside of him.

Mike grunted low as he thrust, hand reaching around and sliding over Tom's quivering stomach, down to circle his hard cock. Mike circled the head with his fingers and used the pre-come to slick his way as he started to jerk him off, teeth digging into Tom's neck almost viciously as Mike tried to contain his moans. Mike thrust harder, changing his angle a bit as their flesh slapped together obscenely in the quiet of the stall. Tom's hand scrabbled against the tile at the shift in angle and he gasped and tightened around Mike and Mike knew he'd hit the spot, quite literally.

Just then, the door to the bathroom opened with a hiss and an explosion of sound from the club outside. Mike stilled and Tom put a fist in his mouth, both of them trying to keep quiet. They could hear people talking and Mike recognized the voices as belonging to Dohring and Hansen. He shifted, trying to extricate himself from Tom when Tom reached back again and pulled Mike back against him, clenching around him. Mike bit his lip bloody to keep from swearing and started jacking Tom roughly, barely thrusting inside him, just grinding against his ass. Tom laid his cheek against the wall, half his face visible to Mike while he fucked him slowly and silently, trying to not alert the other two men to their presence but unwilling to stop fucking.

Dohring and Hansen were at the sink, talking and joking about their two hookers when Mike noticed the flush growing up Tom's neck, felt him clench around him and bite his lip hard seconds before he shuddered and came in hot, wet spurts over Mike's hand and splattering against the wall. Mike practically had to swallow his own tongue to keep from groaning at the sight of Tom shaking silently, without making one fucking sound, through his orgasm. Mike couldn't ever remembering seeing something so damn beautiful and he started to thrust a bit harder into Tom, beyond caring that Dohring or Hansen might overhear them.

He dimly heard the door open and close, the deafening noise from the club once again blessedly drowned out and Mike moaned, low and long and bucked his hips into Tom sloppily. He came hard, pleasure thrumming through his veins and nerve endings as his body shivered, emptying himself in dizzying pulses. He slumped against Tom and panted, their sweat almost sealing them together. Tom was breathing just as hard, leaning into the wall for support.

Tom was the first to stir, shifting against the wall. Mike groaned a little, not wanting to move. He had his face buried in Tom's neck and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep wrapped up with him, his face buried in Tom's freakishly soft hair. Tom gently patted Mike's hip. "Gotta get back out there, make sure they didn't notice both of us missing at the same time."

Mike made a frustrated noise and straightened, pulling out of Tom gently, before playfully smacking his ass. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Come on pretty boy. Let's get you cleaned up and back into those shorts so you can get out there and peddle booze." Tom snickered and groaned when Mike dipped the tips of his fingers into his ass, feeling his come and the swollen and pulsing walls of Tom's ass tighten around him instinctively. He was reaching for the toilet paper when Tom's fingers closed around his wrist.

"Leave it." His voice was dark and dripped sweet. "I want to feel you in me for the rest of the night."

Mike almost lost his footing as Tom tugged up the skintight shorts, tying them across his hips as he flipped open the lock on the door. Before he left, he turned, and leaned down and kissed Mike on the mouth, an almost sweet rub of his lips against Mike's. Tom pulled back and smiled. "We'll get them Mike. I know how much this means to you. I swear, we'll put them away for good," Tom whispered, eyes earnest. Mike had to swallow before he could answer, nodding and kissing Tom once more. "'Kay, man. You be careful. I'm gonna make my excuses and then I'm out of here. I'll see you at home?"

Tom smiled right before slipping out the stall door. "See you at home. Oh, by the way," he paused to wink at Mike. "I get to keep the shorts."

Mike laughed and made sure to wait a few minutes before leaving the stall himself. He couldn't wait until Tom got home. Tom and his teeny, tiny shorts. Mike felt good about that night, knowing they'd managed to gather quite a bit of evidence against Colantoni. Tom was right, they'd put him away and Mike could finally let what happened with Barry go completely and move forward with his life.

And with Tom.

Read the next story in the Cop AU Verse Make My Wish Come True (Baby, All I Want For Christmas Is You) by kashmir1