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The first time Sonny comes home in his uniform jacket, big obnoxious POLICE plastered across the chest, Barba presses him against the kitchen counter five minutes later. Sonny doesn’t really have time to make a connection because suddenly Barba’s fingers are fumbling with the jacket’s zipper and has his tongue shoved so deep in his mouth that Sonny just groans and tries to keep up.
The second time is probably a month later, water dripping off the cuffs of his sleeves because it’s a torrential downpour out there, but once he’s inside he’s too tired to bother taking it off yet. So he slips out of his shoes in the dark, the only light in the apartment coming from the lamp next to the couch, where Barba’s got two files spread out on the coffee table, leaning forward and scribbling away on his notepad as he reads them over.
“You’re dripping on my files,” Barba says without looking up at him, so Sonny sinks down on the couch next to him and makes sure to press his cold and wet pants against him. He smirks and relaxes against the back of the couch as Barba sighs (and Sonny can almost hear the eye roll that surely followed) and sets down his pen. When he turns and looks over his shoulder, Sonny almost misses the way his breath catches, the way his back tenses up just slightly enough to be noticed. What Sonny definitely doesn’t miss is the way his eyes immediately drop down to his rain-soaked jacket, or how Barba’s breathing definitely starts to get a little faster, and Sonny can feel his own face growing a little hotter as Barba looks him up and down and starts to shift closer.
“Weren’t you, uh,” Sonny starts to say, voice breaking when Barba gets that look and there’s no way Sonny can ignore the hand on his thigh, “—in the middle of writing something down?” He manages to finish his question half-heartedly, and then his mouth is very, very dry because suddenly Barba’s sitting on his lap. He’s already got one hand under the edge of his jacket, palm pressing hot against Sonny’s stomach and his thumb is so close to sliding under his belt that it takes all the self-control Sonny’s got to keep his hips from lifting off the couch and reaching down to undo the belt himself.
Barba doesn’t say a word, just lifts his other hand to the back of Sonny’s neck, sliding across skin that’s still wet from the rain, fingers tangling in the dripping ends of his hair. Then Barba’s leaning forward and their mouths are so close it’s making him dizzy, and Sonny chokes out a whining and broken fuck under his breath because he can’t stand it anymore, leaning forward to press their lips together. He’s quickly pressed back against the couch again, shivers running down his body as Barba’s fingers grip the back of his neck, pulling their bodies as close together as possible. Sonny raises both his hands and settles them on Barba’s hips, before running one hand up his stomach and then back down, fingers slipping under the edge of his pants and pulling him forward, lifting his own hips and groaning at the friction.
They kiss until the rain on Sonny’s forehead turns to sweat, dripping down his neck and he’s fuckin’ dying, fingers digging so hard into Barba’s side that he knows there will be bruises in the morning. Finally he can’t stand the heat anymore, reaching up to unzip his jacket and trying to get it off his shoulders, but Barba stops him, holding onto the jacket’s collar. When he breaks away from the kiss, Sonny can’t help the way he leans forward immediately, seeking out Barba’s lips again, but his frustration quickly turns back into arousal when he feels Barba’s tongue against his neck. He bites his lip against the whine rising in his throat, head pressing back against the cushion as he tries in vain to move his hips, movement impossible because suddenly Barba’s holding him down with one hand. The fact that Barba still refuses to touch him is driving Sonny crazy but he knows that if he tries to undo his pants himself, he’ll get pushed away. He’s not the one in control tonight, and that knowledge turns him on even more.
Before he’s entirely sure what’s happening, Barba’s sliding down, lifting Sonny’s shirt up to his collar and mouthing down his stomach, pressing kisses everywhere, tongue hot against the parts of his side that Barba just knows are the most sensitive, the bastard. Sonny can’t stop himself from squirming when Barba presses his lips to the flushed skin right above the button on his pants, left hand running up and then slowly back down the side of Sonny’s thigh. It’s too much, trying to be so patient and good, so much touching but not what he craves most as his cock strains against his pants. He almost doesn’t recognize his own voice when he looks down and shudders out a cracked please, just — chest rising faster as Barba raises his head just enough to meet Sonny’s eyes — please touch me. He sees Barba hesitate for the first time all night, feels the way his fingers tighten on his thigh and Sonny swallows, watching the sweat drip down Barba’s forehead.
He reaches down to run his fingers through Barba’s damp hair, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back again when he feels him lean into the touch, and finally there’s fingers fumbling, scrambling to undo his pants. Then they’re being pulled roughly down his hips, just enough to let Barba release his cock, quickly squeezing the base and he’s been waiting so long that it’s too much, Sonny’s not gonna last and he knows it.
Sonny doesn’t bother trying to quiet his moan when Barba finally takes him in his mouth, just runs his fingers through his hair again. He knows he’s gonna come any minute now when he starts to feel Barba’s arm move against his leg, knows he’s touching himself and it’s so impossibly good.
After they’ve both finished, still trying to catch their breath, Sonny looks down and has to smile because Barba has yet to move, his face resting on top of Sonny’s leg.
“Hey,” Sonny says, smile widening when Barba acknowledges him with a pitiful little grunt. “Come up here.”
With a tired sigh Barba finally gets up to join him again, laying back against the couch’s arm facing Sonny, who can’t help the way he immediately move towards him, starting to fit himself between Barba and the back of the couch. He stops short, smile quickly turning into a smirk, and he wants to laugh at the way Barba immediately looks suspicious.
“So, can I take off the jacket now?”