Title: Nappy-philia

Author: De Orakle

Fandom: Law&Order:SVU

Archive: You want it, you got it.

Series: Second in the "Kinks" series.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.  Dick Wolf and NBC do, but what
with all the crossovers they do, I don't think they mind sharing their toys

Warnings: None really, not a seriously disturbing kink.

Notes: Okay, the kink here may seem really vanilla, or even boring, but
don't knock it 'til you try it ;)

Feedback: My drug of choice, and I can always use a fix.  Any constructive
criticism is always very welcome, but no flames please.  I'm

The fluorescent light directly above him was humming a deranged, broken,
song.  Its grating melody felt like Drano in his ear, and it was driving
Brian Cassidy completely and utterly insane.

He blinked.

He twitched.

He blinked again.

His hands rested on his thighs as he stared out into space, oblivious to the
bustling crowd of working police officers in the squadroom.  His mind was
deliberately ignoring his eyesight, and was instead intensifying his other
four senses to unbearable overload, immobilizing him.

His partner, John Munch, was sitting beside him at the desk, so close that
the right side of Brian's body was warmed from shoulder to waist from the
body heat radiating from the other man.  He didn't want to attract attention
by moving away.

He wouldn't give in and lean closer.

Munch's steady breathing rivalled the fluorescent light for dominance of
Brian's aural sense.  It was an even, rhythmic, inhalation, exhalation, but
the slight nasal whistle of an oncoming cold was thrashing Brian's frayed

He wouldn't give in and shake his head to clear the sound.

With every breath Brian took, John's scent further pervaded his nostrils. 
Cologne, or a strong aftershave, like antifreeze and rubbing alcohol, and a
sharp tang of musky sweat.

He wouldn't give in and breathe in deeper, to take that scent deeper inside

He tasted blood in his mouth.  He had been biting his lip so long that the
soft pink tissued had given way.  The coppery taste, salty as tears at
first, was now rotting at the back of his tongue.

He wouldn't give in and open his mouth to say something stupid.

If he just had something to DO...  He and Munch had just wrapped up two easy
cases, "dunkers" as Munch called them.  Brian had dutifully typed up the
reports, which Munch had immediately commandeered to proofread, since
Brain's typing was pretty much literally all thumbs.  Why Munch didn't just
type the damn reports himself...

So Brian had stupidly sat down right next to his partner, and now he was
stuck.  Ever since Munch's last "vocabulary lesson," Brian had followed him
closer, watching for any re-emergence of whatever had possessed John, and
him, that night.  The demon appeared to have been exorcised, if it wasn't
all in Brian's imagination to start with, and he had no clue whether to be
relieved, or disappointed.

"According to your report, the victim in the Rigori case 'had her hands
bound with orpe, before being anually taped.'"

Brian blinked.

He twitched.

He blinked again.

His teeth lifted from being embedded in his lip, unsticking with a tiny rush
of cold blood.

"Kiss...my...ass..."  Brian ground out.

Completely unfazed, Munch turned to look at his partner, whose gaze was
still fixed at a poster of "McGruff the Crime Dog."

"Actually, that would be Anophilemia, and no thank you."

Brian shut his eyes tightly for a second, then slowly turned his head to
face his partner.  "Excuse me?"

"Anophilemia, the act of kissing someone's ass."

Brian didn't even know how to respond to that.  It was an opening to a
conversation that he'd hoped for, dreaded.  Lightning-quick, his mind
searched through possible answers, some disdainful, some flirtatious, until
finally, something snapped.  "What...the hell...is the matter with you?"

"I'm not the one who's staring at that cartoon puppy like he's the Miss
October centerfold."  Munch posted out rather calmly.

"I just mean, why does everything have to be so sick?  Doesn't anyone have
normal sex any more?."  It wasn't what Brian wanted to say, it it was
distraction enough for now.

John sighed.  "Sorry to spoil your illusions, but 'normal' is relative. 
Besides, even what you consider normal has a name or fetish attached. 
Naphephilia for example."

Brian debated whether or not to rise to this, but finally, curiosity won
out.  "Okay, I give, what's naphephilia?"

"Naphephilia, arousal from touch, or touching another."

"That's stupid, that's what sex is.  That's the whole point, that's not a
kink,"  Brian scoffed.

"Well, it is when you start focussing on touch in non-erogenous zones; not a
whole lot of people realize that,"  Munch explained, putting down the report
in his hands.

"Huh?"  Brian replied, none too eloquently.

"Give me your hand."


"Don't worry, I'm not proposing, just give me your hand."

Brian lifted his right hand from his thigh, and held it out, palm-up.  John
brought his hands forward, grasping his partner's wrist with his left, and
letting his right hover over Brian's palm.  Brian's arm tensed to the
shoulder, and he fought the urge to pull back.


"Shhh...I'm trying to prove a point,"  Munch said, and readjusted his grip
on Brian's wrist so that the younger man's right arm was pressed between
John's left arm and body.

Brian's throat felt like sandpaper, and he glanced furtively around the
squadroom to see if anyone had noticed them.  Everyone buzzed on as usual,
as Brian's body was blocking their view, or they simply didn't care.

A whisper of a touch jerked his attention back to John.  A single, long
finger traced its way up the centre of Brian's palm, up to his middle
knuckle, then gently back down again.  Up and down, first with the finger
tip, then with an edge of nail.  His nerve endings stood up and started to
pay attention.

"Heh, that tickles a little,"  Brian muttered.

A ghost of a smile lifted the corners of John's mouth, and he paused for a
moment to push up his glasses, then returned to his task.  The index finger
resumed its path, then traced the contour of the hand, up each finger,
swirling around the knuckle, back down.  First softly, a touch that had to
be strained to feel, then a solid, gently contact that eased his tension. 
Finally, a sharper edge of nail, sharp, that left a small trail of fire.

Brain stared unblinkingly at the elegant hand.  All the feeling in his body
seemed to be completely centred in the palm of his hand, completely open to
whatever stimuli he was being granted.  He lost all sense of his
surroundings, and a tiny part of the back of his mind was amazed, and
disturbed, at how incredible this felt.  His fingertips began to tremble

Up and down, the rhythm continued, then suddenly, a tight pinch between his
index and middle fingers caused him to jump slightly.  A jolt of pain, an
accompanying endorphin rush, and Brian's mouth was flooded with saliva.  He
swallowed hard.

Another pinch, and he let out a tiny sigh, and with his eyes shut tightly,
he missed Munch's one-sided smile at the small sound.

The light touch moved to his wrist, tickling in zig-zag patterns as his hand
was lifted, lifted.  Brian stared as his hand was lifted closer and closer
to John's smirking lips.  For a hysterical instant, Brian thought that Munch
was going to kiss his hand, here in the middle of the squadroom.  Flashes of
Medieval lords and ladies flickered in his mind, but his hand was stopped
scant millimeters away from his partner's mouth.

While his wrist was still caught in Munch's tight grasp, Brian's hand shook,
as the light touch on his hand ceased.  He stared as his partner breathed
in, then followed through with a steamy hot exhalation, that sent a jolt of
arousal straight to his groin.  An inhalation, chilly, that raised every
follicle of hair from the back of his neck to a tingling on his scalp.

His breath stopped when John's did.

Brian blinked.

He twitched.

He blinked again.

He raised his gaze to Munch's, opened his mouth and -


Both men's gaze snapped up to see their Lieutenant standing above them, arms
crossed.  "Any reason why two of my detectives are holding hands rather
than, I don't know, working?"

Munch held tight to Brian's wrist, even as the younger man tugged to break
free.  "Just a little fortune-telling to clear up the McGrath case,"
followed by a smirk.

"Well, try to stick to more conventional methods in the future, detectives,"
and with a not so amused glance at the pair, he thankfully moved past
towards his office.

"So have I proved my point?"  Munch asked, still not relinquishing his grip
on Brian's wrist.

"That the Lieutenant thinks we're a couple of nuts, and no one can blame

An exasperated sigh.  "No, that the world isn't as vanilla as you think. 
That when it comes to sex, there is no normal, just what feels right."

"...Yeah John.  You're definitely waking me up to a couple of things..."

John smiled a smile that would have been a smirk on anyone else.  He let go
of Brian's wrist, and it dropped limply onto the younger man's leg.  "Good,
now go re-type this, it's a mess," and he held out the report on the Rigori

Brian took a breath as his the heat in his face, and elsewhere, subsided. 
When he took the report, his hand was thankfully steady, and as he grasped
the paper, he deliberately let his fingers trail down the side of John's
hand.  "Sure thing, partner," he said softly, with what he prayed would be
construed as a smouldering gaze, and not a deranged leer.

John Munch blinked.

He twitched.

He blinked again.

He wouldn't give in and kiss the kid.