Chapter Text
The first place Sonny goes after breaking cover is home to Rafael.
Well, technically, it’s the second place. Before that, he has to go to SVU to debrief with Benson and Garland after their raid on the BDSM club they were investigating, but that’s a given.
So, in Sonny’s mind, the first place he goes is home.
“I called him before the raid,” Captain Benson says as Sonny grabs a few personal things from his desk, shoving them into the NYPD issue duffle bag he’s taking home with him for his vacation-slash-recovery, “so he’s expecting you.”
“Great, thanks Cap,” he says.
Benson, Rollins, and Amaro are all standing around watching him pack up his things. Rollins is grinning at him like a crazy person. Fin at least has the decency to sit at his desk and pretend to be working.
“And I don’t want to see you back here for at least two weeks. Understood?”
Sonny nods to his commanding officer. “Understood.” Any other time, he would have argued that he doesn’t need that much time to recover, eleven months undercover or not, but right now he is singularly focused on getting home to Rafael.
After shaking Amaro’s hand one last time, accepting a sincere welcome back from Fin, and giving Rollins another hug, Sonny finally makes his way downstairs and out of the precinct.
He catches a cab back to their apartment, which reminds him of how badly he wants to drive his own car again. Every minute that goes by he remembers another measure of his old life that he can’t wait to get back to. But at the top of the list is definitely Rafael.
Sonny’s stomach is in knots on the elevator ride up to their floor, his heart pounding as he turns the key in the lock on the front door. As the door swings open and he enters the foyer, his excitement simmers into an overwhelming sense of familiarity.
He can hear one of Chopin’s Nocturnes playing in the living room—the only music that can help Rafael relax after an especially stressful day. The smell of home is more comforting than he ever thought it could be: cinnamon and coffee and clean cotton.
Sonny rounds the corner of the entry hall after removing his shoes, dropping his duffle bag near the kitchen. From here he can see most of their home: the open concept kitchen, living, and dining room, plus the nook off the dining room that serves as their home library.
Rafael’s laptop is open on the kitchen island, which is otherwise flooded with legal pads and case files. CNN plays on mute on the TV, just like every evening. The gas fireplace is on in full force. Rafael stands in the middle of the living room, a thick James Baldwin novel open facedown next to a half-empty wine glass on the coffee table and the throw blanket he had been cuddled up with discarded on the ground. He only has eyes for Sonny.
“Welcome home, my love,” Rafael says, a small smile curling his lips.
The sight of him takes Sonny’s breath away. He looks soft and warm and so much like home to Sonny that something churns in his gut, making him anxious all over again.
Sonny finds himself rooted in place, pinned by his finacé’s gaze. He’s not sure what to say or do or how to move in this space anymore.
But of course, Rafael is more than certain. He strides toward Sonny with the same thorough focus he applies to every task.
In the blink of an eye, Sonny’s arms are full of Rafael. Sonny lifts him right off his feet, hugging him tight enough to squeeze the air out of him. Somehow, it feels like he never even left, like since that July night that feels like a century ago they’ve been carrying each other around in a vain search for a lost love.
Rafael laughs when Sonny finally puts him down.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Sonny says. He feels choked up—with guilt and grief, but also happiness and hope. Rafael is so solid in his arms, his presence almost too perfect to be real.
He brings his hand up to rub at the nape of Rafael’s neck, thumb sliding over his jaw. Sonny wants to touch him everywhere.
Rafael melts into his touch, wrapping his arms around Sonny’s broad shoulders.
The moment their lips touch, the dam of desperation breaks.
Sonny cups Rafael’s face in his hands, tilting his head back and kissing him, deep and slow. For once, they have all the time in the world. Rafael parts his lips and Sonny slips his tongue between them, determined to fill every part of Rafael that he left empty.
Sonny’s urgency only builds and he pulls Rafael against him, arms tugging at his waist. He feels shaky from the adrenaline that has been coursing through his body almost the entire day. Rafael is the most real, solid thing he’s felt in months.
Their kisses turn harsh and desperate as Sonny forces Rafael’s head back at a sharper angle, hands sliding up from his waist to cup his face. There’s too much tongue and teeth and Sonny feels like he won’t ever get enough.
Rafael groans against him, gripping at Sonny’s arms, shoulders, hair, anywhere he can reach. He breaks their kiss, laughing breathlessly. “I don’t suppose you’ll listen if I suggest we slow down.”
Sonny makes a confused noise, panting against Rafael’s mouth. “’Course I will,” he says, brow furrowed.
“I don’t mean slow down in an I’m not sure about this way, I mean it in an I ordered us dinner and it’s going to be here any minute way.”
“Oh,” Sonny says. “Fuck that.”
He goes back to devouring Rafael one body part at a time, pressing a kiss to his nose, the corner of his mouth, the sharp edge of his jaw. Rafael moans, grinding their hips together when Sonny starts kissing all of the most sensitive spots on his neck.
“Sonny,” Rafael chokes out. The sound goes straight to Sonny’s dick, which grows harder and increasingly distracting by the second.
Sonny sucks at the delicate skin of Rafael’s neck, pulling his hips closer. His mind clouds with pleasure when he feels Rafael’s own erection pressing into his thigh.
“Not anywhere visible,” Rafael reminds him, tugging on Sonny’s hair more for Sonny’s benefit than Rafael’s.
Sonny groans in frustration. “Just let me—” He cuts himself off, instead bending down and reaching to pick Rafael up again, this time lifting him so Rafael will wrap his legs around Sonny’s waist.
Sonny carries him back over to the couch.
“What is with all this manhandling?” Rafael teases.
Sonny flushes but feels a tug of arousal in his gut. He sits down on the couch with Rafael in his lap. Rafael’s full weight now pressing down on his erection makes him moan, his hips shifting involuntarily.
Rafael makes a pleased noise in response as Sonny goes back to kissing his neck.
“Need you,” Sonny murmurs against Rafael’s heated skin. The room suddenly feels stiflingly warm with the fireplace going. Sonny pushes his hands under Rafael’s shirt, splaying them so his fingers slip under the waistband of his soft lounge pants.
“I know, baby,” Rafael says, taking a shaky breath. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” Sonny says, his heart in his throat. He feels the bite of tears at the backs of his eyes. He leans into the emotion as he tugs Rafael closer, capturing his lips in a frenzied kiss.
Sonny thrusts his hard length against Rafael’s ass as he runs his hands farther up his chest. Rafael moans against his lips, grinding his hips down onto Sonny’s in return. The rush of arousal Sonny feels is almost too much. He pulls his mouth away from Rafael’s with a groan.
Rafael takes the opportunity to take his shirt off, which just has Sonny moaning again. He’s been dreaming of seeing Rafael like this for months, ever since they ran into each other in that bar and were able to be together for a single night.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Sonny whispers, ducking his head to kiss at one of Rafael’s nipples. Rafael’s hand flies to his hair, tugging hard and making Sonny whimper.
“Off,” Rafael demands, tugging at Sonny’s shirt.
Sonny hurries to pull off his flannel and undershirt all in one go.
Rafael’s eyes fall to his chest once he’s half-naked. “This damn thing,” Rafael mutters, taking the crucifix and engagement ring Sonny has been wearing on a gold chain around his neck for the past eleven months in hand and tugging Sonny to him.
Their lips lock in another hurried kiss and Sonny places his hands back on Rafael’s hips, rocking him back and forth over his erection.
Rafael pulls hard at his hair again and Sonny moans helplessly. He hasn’t had sex in three months and, as much as wishes he could give Rafael a more glamorous and romantic reunion, he knows he isn’t going to last that long.
Luckily, Rafael knows it too.
“Are you going to come for me, baby?” he asks, breath hitching as Sonny bites at his shoulder, mouths over his nipple.
“Rafi,” Sonny moans brokenly. He’s so close his hips are moving against Rafael’s body of their own accord.
“I’ve got you, Sonny,” Rafael whispers, grinding down onto Sonny’s lap at the perfect angle.
Sonny thinks, mind working slowly as Rafael gets him off, to reach into Rafael’s pants and give him some stimulation too.
And then his brain short-circuits because Rafael isn’t wearing any underwear.
Sonny can’t even manage to tell him how sexy he thinks that is: Rafael’s scent and skin and presence overwhelm him, and as he finally manages to wrap his hand around his fiancé’s dripping cock, all he can do is try to stifle an embarrassing moan.
Rafael hum’s in pleasure as Sonny takes him in hand. “That’s it, baby,” he says in approval.
Sonny shudders underneath him, clumsily working his fist over Rafael’s cock as Rafael rocks against him in motions mimicking sex.
“That feels so good, Sonny,” Rafael praises him, eyes closed in pleasure. “You’re such a good boy.”
Sonny cries out as he comes in his pants, pushing up against Rafael’s ass. His hand clamps down around Rafael’s cock and he feels him spill over fist as his own orgasm crests.
Sonny breathes hard as he comes down from the high, face pressed against Rafael’s neck. Everything is too hot and sticky and his ears are ringing. He clings to Rafael and eventually the stimuli fade. Eventually, he registers Rafael’s hand running through his hair, the delicate sound of Chopin coming from the speakers in the kitchen. When he opens his eyes, he sees the TV is still turned on to CNN.
If he had a dollar for every time they fucked on the couch while the news played in the background, he could probably afford to buy Rafael the biggest brownstone in the city.
The sound of the doorbell makes Sonny jerk in alarm.
Rafael’s arms tighten around him. “I’ve got you, my love,” he says, running a soothing hand over his brow. “Are you okay?”
Sonny nods, shifting so Rafael can climb off of him. “Yeah, I’m just—” Anxious, tired, unnerved. “I’m okay.”
“That’s probably dinner,” Rafael says. “I’ll be right back.”
Rafael heads further into the apartment, into their bedroom, and emerges in clean clothes a few moments later.
“I’ll run downstairs,” he says, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter, “why don’t you go shower while I get everything set up?”
Sonny nods again and Rafael kisses his forehead before leaving.
Sonny peels himself off of the couch, turning off the TV and grabbing their discarded shirts before heading into their bedroom. The sight of their bed makes him want to cry. It’s pristinely made, just the way Rafael likes it, and looks so comfortable that Sonny actually starts to feel sleepy. After eleven months of sleeping alone on a worn-out mattress he’s sure the NYPD probably scored from a crime scene, nothing sounds better than crawling into their king-sized, memory-foam-topped bed with Rafael and passing out.
Sonny realizes that he’s exhausted, visibly shaking from his adrenaline rush finally coming to an end. He’s been up since before dawn preparing for the raid on Watkins’ club. He’s still wearing the same clothes he put on that morning—the last morning he woke up as Dominick Cossetta. He feels grimy and tired and the next best thing to a good night’s sleep in his own bed is a steaming hot shower in his own bathroom.
Stripping down the rest of the way, Sonny tosses his come-covered clothes into the hamper with a grimace. At thirty-five, he probably should not be coming in his pants like a virgin, though he doubts Rafael will hold it against him.
Sonny turns on the shower. As he waits for the water to heat, he inspects himself in the mirror. His full beard is unkempt and slightly damp around his mouth from his messy make out session with Rafael. His hair, longer than he likes it, has been begging for a wash for days.
Over the past year, Sonny has all but avoided looking at himself. It’s like looking at a stranger. Still, he can’t bring himself to even shave. He tells himself it’s because Rafael is waiting on him and he doesn’t have time.
Sonny sighs. Steam billows out above the shower’s glass walls, the water ready for him. Before he turns away from his reflection, Sonny’s eyes fall to his grandfather’s chain around his neck. He reaches up and unclasps the crucifix for the first time in almost a year. He sets the jewelry down on the counter and climbs into the shower.
Rubbing soapy hands over his torso, Sonny’s touch drifts over his neck again and again. He feels a particular kind of nakedness without the weight of his crucifix and engagement ring around his neck, but there’s no need to wear them there anymore.
Sonny scoffs, shaking his head. He’s always thought that gaudy thing was so ugly, and here he is, actually missing it.
Forcing himself to clear his mind, Sonny continues to wash himself. When his hand brushes over a bit of dried come low on his stomach, he flinches, his senses mistaking it for something else.
Dried blood and brain matter covering his bare chest, his shoulders, his face after Gio burst in on him and the girl in one of the private rooms, gun in hand—
Sonny’s eyes snap open, and he pulls his hands away from himself in horror. He looks down and for a split second, he sees the blood all over himself again, coating his bare skin.
Then the water rinses away the soap and his body is clean. No blood, no come, nothing.
Sonny places his hands back on his stomach tentatively. Still, all he can see is clear, clean skin, save for a smattering of body hair. He takes a deep breath, resting his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall for a moment.
You’re losing it, he thinks to himself, then quickly backtracks the thought. He tells himself the opposite, over and over again, as he rushes through the rest of his shower. He indulges in every one of Rafael’s fancy personal hygiene products, just because he can.
He can’t be losing it because he’s home with Rafael and everything is fine now. Dominick Cossetta died that morning when he busted down the front door of Watkins’ BDSM club and announced himself as NYPD.
After finishing up his shower, Sonny slips his engagement ring off the crucifix’s chain and, for the first time in nearly a year, places it on his left hand.
He flexes his fingers a few times, watching the way the gold band glints in the bathroom light. Home, he thinks to himself, you’re home.