The Investigator

“It’s the third time this month, [Name],” the inspector continued, tone calm, carrying a weight behind it that felt heavier than anger. “Lieutenant Porter wanted to process you and put you in a cell until you talked. I overruled her. And this is all because you haven’t been telling me everything. I know there are names, places… things that happen out there that don’t make it into these reports and that you don’t blurt out during our chats.”

[Name] lounged in the chair opposite Vale, the very picture of studied nonchalance. An exposed thigh, half covered by the flimsy fabric of his shorts, draped languidly over the other, a pose that made the metal chair look like a prop in a forgotten play. He cocked his head and gave Vale a smile that was both ephemeral and infuriating.

"Aw, Valie," [Name] stretched out the inspector's name like taffy. His voice was a breathy rasp, the voice of a boy who'd smoked too many cigarettes when he were still too young. "You know I don't do names. It's not good for business." He pouted playfully. "Besides, what's the fun in making it too easy for you? Take away the stress from the boys in blue and suddenly a fifth of my clients are gone”.

Emmett listened to the boy's flippant words, expression never wavering from that melancholic cast. He sighed heavily. 

“You think this is a game?" The inspector asked conversationally. "You think you're being clever, playing coy with information, keeping me at arm's length? I know you're not stupid — far from it. You're sharp and you’re quick, you've got a silver tongue and a charmer's smile. But this..." He gestured vaguely to the room, to the situation they found themselves in, “isn't a joke."

"I'm not your enemy, [Name]. I'm not here to make your life harder. I want to try and keep you from making it worse, but I can't do that if you won't trust me with the truth." Emmett knew that behind that easy smile there was a keen mind at work, always weighing the risks. Vale couldn't blame the young man for being wary, specially not with the company he kept.

[Name] lounged back with carefree insouciance. "And what's worse?" He grumbled. "If I start singing like a canary, who's to say some big shot won't take offense and have me disappear? Permanently." The young man shuddered theatrically. 

Emmett ignored the macabre quip. "I'm not asking you to rat all of out your... associates." The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I'm asking you to trust me with part of the information I need to keep you safe. To keep you from ending up as fish food in the docks.”

[Name] studied the inspector’s face, searching for any hint of deception or ulterior motive. After a long moment, he spoke. “You make it sound so simple, Valie. Like I have a choice in any of this. But you've got to understand, my line of work... things are delicate. Say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and bam!" He clapped his hands together sharply for emphasis. "Suddenly, I'm not just out of a job, I'm out of… well, a life too.”

Emmett frowned, a hand rubbing his temples. "I can protect you, [Name]," he said earnestly. "I've done it before, for others in similar situations. It's not easy, but it's possible. With my help, you can get out, leave this life behind.” The inspector’s gaze softened, compassion in his tired eyes. "I'm not just talking about a witness protection program, I know that wouldn’t be enough. I'm talking about genuine support, resources to help you build a new life away from all of this. Education, counseling, job training... anything you need to get back on your feet and move forward."

[Name] felt a pang of frustration and dissatisfaction. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Aw, you're a real saint, ain't you?" he said, voice dripping with false admiration. "Offering to save little ol' me from the clutches of sin and depravity." The young man leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. 

“The only intel I can give you is that one of your boys in blue, the big blond Adonis with the nice pecs, was seen getting cozy with one of Frank Rossi’s main dealers down by Cedar Crescent last week. Word has it that your cop had both guns out.” [Name] said humorously. "But I'm sure that's not the kind of dirt you're looking for."

Vale knew that sarcasm and false flattery were [Name]'s defense mechanisms, the boy’s way of keeping people at a distance. So, instead of being offended, Emmett felt a pang of sadness. "Enough games, [Name]. I don't need gossip about my department. I'm well aware of officer McAllister’s... complicated history. What I do need is information on Rossi himself and the Drowned, which I know you have due to your line of work."

The inspector pointed to the folder in front of him. "And let's not forget, you were found near that old factory where the Hounds were storing their weapons. Weapons that disappeared before the attack. So I need you to think carefully. Did you see anything? Hear anything? Know anything that could help us get to the bottom of this?"

[Name] rolled his eyes, leaning back further. "Alright, alright, enough with the heavy-handed cop routine, Valie. You're right, I might have seen and heard things.” He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to think. "But a guy's gotta have his price, you know? And mine ain't cheap."

Emmett raised a thick eyebrow. "And what exactly do you want in return for this information?"

[Name] looked up at Emmett with a playful smirk, eyes filled with a sudden naughtiness. "Well, inspector, I've had my eyes on you for a while now," he purred, tone lowering to a sultry rasp. "Ever since you first looked at me like that, with all that downcast composure a couple years ago, I've thought you were the most gorgeous thing to grace a police uniform. Chiseled jaw, sturdy biceps, that air of stern authority that just makes me want to..." He paused, biting his lower lip while his own cheeks seemed to flush lightly. "Well, I've imagined all sorts of improper things."

A sudden, unfamiliar warmth began to creep up Emmett’s neck, staining his pale skin a telltale pink. It was a rare occurrence, a reaction he had not experienced in years, not since his early days at the academy. The boy across from him was somehow undoing all his poise, in a way that was more than merely physical, agitating feelings he had long believed entombed.

[Name], seeming to notice the effect he was having, chuckled softly. "So, mister," he proceeded honeyed, "I think you know what I want in return for the information you're so desperate to get." He rested his elbows on the table, chin in his closed fists. "I want a taste of you. A real taste, right now."

An uncomfortable stirring spread through Emmett in a fraction of a second. He felt his heart begin to beat a little faster, breath catching slightly in his throat. It was a visceral reaction he couldn't control despite the years of training that should have made him impervious to such base instincts. And, disconcertingly, he felt a sudden rush of blood flow southward, a physical reaction he had experienced just once in the line of duty before. 

The inspector’s voice emerged tighter than he intended, tinged with unconcealed hoarseness and disbelief. “Are you... are you sure that's what you want? You don't want anything else... in exchange for what you know?” Vale’s shoulders were rigid, posture straight, and eyes that for the first time couldn’t fixate in a single place. 

"Either that, or you'll be getting nothing at all, inspector. Take it or leave it." [Name] shrugged nonchalantly, as if the weight of his demands was of no consequence to him.

Emmett knew he should be wary of this bold blackmail, but the inspector couldn't deny that [Name] had never been one to spread falsehoods or fabricate stories for his own amusement. No, if he claimed to have valuable information about Rossi and the Drowned, then he likely did. And given the boy's... intimate history with the crime lord, it would be almost impossible for him to be utterly in the dark about the gang's recent movements. The same applied to Edgar Fischer and his litter of mutts — which were the priority due to that night’s unfortunate situation. 

The older man hesitated, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. He glanced around the stark space, taking in the gleaming steel table, the cold fluorescent lights, the ever-present CCTV camera in the corner. His throat constricted at the thought of what [Name] was proposing, here, in this most unseemly and compromising of places. This was the heart of his domain, where he held the power and authority, where he was respected and admired. The very idea of surrendering that power, of allowing such a lascivious act to occur here, made his trousers tighten even more with disgraceful anticipation.

In a strained voice, he asked, "Do we... do we have to do this here? Now?"

[Name] nodded. "Uh-huh. If we leave it for later, who's to say you won't find an excuse to back out, hmm?" He leaned in before purring. "I know how you straight-laced types can be. Say one thing and mean another, and there's no telling if I'll ever see you keep your word. I want this sealed right now, Valie.”

Emmett's mind raced in a tumultuous mix of rational thought and primal urges. He considered his captain’s open secret, how Silas had been trading sexual favors for information for years now, and yet no one dared to question his authority or dedication to the job. If a man of rank and repute such as Palmer could justify those actions, then perhaps there was no reason why he, as a subordinate, would be faulted for doing the same in pursuit of justice.

Moreover, it would not be a complete surrender of decorum, would it? [Name]'s price didn't exactly entail a full-scale debauchery. It was a simple, albeit intimate, exchange — nothing too extreme or outlandish. He wouldn't be expected to be completely bare or act out any depraved fantasies. Just a... little taste, as [Name] had put it, a small price to pay for some insight that could help him close a case.

 "Very well. I'll agree to your terms, [Name]."

The young man devilishly grinned, feeling a rush of triumph and lust at the inspector’s agreement. Unable to resist, he slowly slid the toe of his shoe up Emmett’s calf, inching towards his hardening length. Just as his foot reached the older man’s inner thigh, Vale let out through gritted teeth, “Not so fast. I want the information first.”

[Name] sighed dramatically, crossing his arms with a huff. "Ugh, fine. You want the goods, don't you? I suppose you should know that Crestview Lane is, like, totally Hounds territory. Or at least, it's supposed to be."

He paused for effect, enjoying the power of holding the official’s attention. "But apparently there's this new bunch of punks running around calling themselves... hmm, what was it? Some edgy name with a W in it. Wounded, I think? Something like that. Total wannabes, if you ask me." [Name] snorted. 

“Anyway, these little delinquents have been trying to muscle in on the E and on the meth trade there. The Hounds are pissed, but they're having a hard time shaking these new guys off. Apparently, they're a real pain in the ass to deal with considering how successful they’ve been with the rich college kids that go to that sort of club."

Emmett felt the pieces falling into place. He recalled Silas's briefing from two days prior, where the captain had mentioned a new gang causing trouble for both the Hounds and the Drowned. The Wraiths, they were called. Apparently, they had the Hounds scrambling to keep up with their encroachment on the drug trade in prime territory, while also making bold strikes against Drowned safe houses all around the docks.

The fact that [Name] knew about this, and used a similar name to the one given by Silas's informant, only reinforced the inspector's belief that the boy did have valuable intel. [Name] wasn't just spouting rumors or baseless claims to get away once again. “What else?”

"Apparently, that geezer who owns the club down there… Cain, I think? Yeah, that old bastard only ever let the Hounds sell their shit at his place. I mean, sure, the mutts paid him a little cut of the take, so it wasn't like they were friends, but still. Loyalty's supposed to mean something, is it not?” [Name] mocked. 

“But then these ‘Wounded’ punks come along, offering him more scratch for the E and meth they're peddling, and shit! Suddenly, that old fuck's singin' a whole new tune. Betrayed his old acquaintances who had been nothing but sweet for a bit more cash! The man is only in it for the money now, specially if you consider the amount of loaded college assholes crawling in that place increased.” 

Emmett listened intently, his mind working quickly to connect the dots. If an associate of Fischer and his men had indeed welched on his long-standing arrangement with the Hounds for a fatter cut from these upstart Wraiths, that would explain the sudden surge of drug-related activity in the area. It would also account for the Hounds' increased aggression and desperation to reclaim their territory.

"Is that why the Hounds opened fire at the club tonight? To take revenge on Cain for betraying their deal and siding with the Wraiths? To send a message to anyone else who might be considering doing the same?”

[Name] shrugged with a playful grin while kicking his foot lightly against Vale’s inner thigh, feeling the growing arousal. "Mhmm, that’s exactly why those mutts lost their cool and shot up the place tonight. The bossman is not happy unless the whole world knows what happens to rats who bite the hand that feeds them. Kinda why I can’t take up on your past offers, haha." He joked dryly to himself. “Now, I've told you everything I know, inspector, so don’t you think it's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain?"

Vale swallowed hard, his collar suddenly feeling tight. As a man of the law, he knew he should put a stop to this, cite the obvious power imbalance and the stark difference in their ages. But the very fact that [Name] was a seasoned… working boy, so worldly beyond his years, only seemed to stoke the official’s shameful arousal. Emmett couldn't deny the twisted appeal in indulging in something so devilishly taboo.

“I suppose you're right, [Name]. You've been good with your information." He paused, collecting himself even as his heart raced. "And I’ll keep mine." His eyes flicked to the CCTV camera in the corner, a flicker of unease and thrill warring within him at the thought of being watched. But no one would dare to question him, not with his rank and solid reputation. “You wanted a taste of me, I believe? Well, you shall have it. But I set the pace." His gaze raked over the boy's form before he got up and locked the door.

[Name]'s eyes filled with desire as he watched Vale lock the door, the click of it echoing in the room. He stood up slowly, taking his time, putting a sway in his hips as he walked towards the inspector. "Mmm, so serious, aren't you, Valie? I like that. It's sexy, in a supposedly dominant kind of way." He reached out to walk two fingers up the older man's chest as the official turned to fave him. "But I think we both know who's really in charge here, hmm?"

Emmett placed his hand over the boy's, stilling its upward climb, trying to softly assert dominance, but this was all too much. His fingers tightened on the bone of [Name]'s hip, holding on for dear life. It was that or just… come apart. The whole damn room felt like it was tilting.

This wasn't him. Emmett Vale was the one with both feet on the ground. But [Name]… Fuck. He could feel the heat coming off him, the easy steadiness in his frame. This was someone who knew his way around a bedroom and pleasure. Anyone could feel it in the way he carried himself, a kind of unthought confidence that Vale would never be able to imitate.

And that was the hell of it. It should have pissed him off, that lazy, indulgent grace. Instead, it just lit a fuse somewhere deep in his gut. The shame of it burned his ears, but he couldn't make himself let go. “I set the pace”, the inspector repeated, more to himself than to the boy before him.

"Sure you do," [Name] agreed easily, his own hand sliding up to cover Vale's on his hip. His thumb stroked slow circles over the tense tendons. "So be in control. Do what you want." He shifted again, a deliberate, rolling motion against the inspector’s groin that drew a sharp, choked sound from the back of Emmett’s throat. "Or," he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, "you can let me show you what you actually want. Been watching you think about it for years, Valie. It's written all over your face right now."

[Name] leaned in, his lips brushing Vale's ear as he spoke, tone shifting from flirty to something more direct. "The camera's on. Let's give them a show they won't forget."

“Fuck it," Emmett gritted out, the words stripped of any real anger. He let the back of his head rest against the door, body bowing under the weight of a surrender he'd never want to confess. The hand that was meant to assert dominance now clutched at [Name]'s body desperately. “Then show me," he muttered. 

A low, approving hum vibrated through [Name]'s chest. "There it is," he murmured, fingers sliding from Vale's hand to the nape of his neck, caressing the blond locks softly. "Was that so hard?" He didn't wait for an answer, turning his head to speak directly into Vale's ear in an intimate thrum. "Now, keep your eyes on me, Valie. Don't you dare look away."

His fingers tangled in the inspector's hair, gripping lightly as he pulled his head back to expose the strong column of his throat. Leaning in, [Name] dragged his lips along the smooth skin, feeling Emmett’s pulse jump beneath the surface at the contact.

Emmett’s hands clenched at his sides, fists curling and uncurling as he fought the urge to grab the boy and take what he so clearly wanted to offer, but even then, he liked being treated like this. He was a man teetering on the edge of a precipice, and the fall was as terrifying as it was electrifying. 

“Don't..." he mumbled, the word a weak protest as he felt teeth grazing the underside of his jaw. But even to his own ears, it sounded more like a plea for more than a denial.

[Name] smirked at Emmett's token protest, knowing all too well that the man would become putty in his hands.  “Shh, let me work, handsome," [Name] purred before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh, biting down just hard enough to leave a blooming purple mark. He sucked and licked at the reddened skin, claiming the prize he had been eyeing for years. 

One hand slid down Vale's chest, fingers working open the buttons of the inspector's shirt soft blue with practiced ease. [Name] parted the fabric revealing a pale expanse of skin beneath, and leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses to the exposed flesh of his collarbone. 

Emmett’s fingers curled into the fabric of [Name]'s shirt as if to anchor himself against the maelstrom of sensation, and let out a soft groan. He could feel the heat of that sinful mouth searing him, branding him, claiming him in a way that made blood roar in his ears. It was an obscene, wanton display of possession. It was wrong, to be reduced to a thing of base need and hunger, specially as a police officer. Specially at 42 to a boy who was 24. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to care, not with those wicked lips trailing fire down the column of his throat, each press and suckle sending bolts of lightning straight to his heavy cock.

Meanwhile, [Name] continued his assault, lips and tongue and teeth painting Vale’s skin with a trail of blooming marks, sucking dark hickeys into the pale flesh until it was mottled with the evidence of his desire. He then paused, admiring his handiwork, taking in the sight of the inspector's collarbone and neck, now a canvas of claiming kisses. The inspector’s skin was flushed, chest heaving with each ragged breath. [Name]'s dick throbbed at the sight as he crouched a bit, capturing one of the inspector's nipples between his lips.

Emmett couldn't help the soft noise that sounded more like a whimper than a groan from escaping his lips. His hips bucked slightly, grinding against [Name]'s thigh in a desperate search for friction. “Shit”, he groaned, the word drawn out and low, barely recognizable as his own voice. 

The inspector’s fingers tangled almost painfully in the boy’s hair as he felt that tongue swirl around the sensitive peak, teasing it to stiffness before suckling hard. It took every ounce of Vale’s self-control not to rut against [Name] like a man possessed. “Don't stop," Emmett panted, "Feels... fuck, that feels good."

[Name] alternated between flicking the now stiff peak with the tip of his tongue and suckling hard, grazing his teeth along the sensitive flesh in a way that made Emmett shudder.

The inspector’s hips jerked forward, grinding his straining erection against [Name]'s upper leg, the friction delicious even through the fabric of his trousers. The front of his boxers dampened with pre-cum, symbolizing how Vale’s usual composure had shattered, leaving behind a man lost in sensation, drowning in the heat of that sinful mouth and wicked tongue. His skin felt too hot, too tight, every nerve ending alight and screaming for more.

He moved the boy's head to just the right angle as he arched into that clever mouth. "More," he gritted out, the word a command even as it emerged as a plea. It was a delicious kind of torture, being at the mercy of [Name]’s whims. 

Emboldened, [Name] slid his hand down to cup the sizeable bulge straining against the inspector's trousers, giving it a firm squeeze. "Mmm, someone's happy to see me," he purred around the pectoral, stroking the rigid flesh slowly. "Is this all for me, Valie? Or do you always carry a phone pole in your pants?"

Emmett looked down, his heart pounding as he watched [Name] sink to his knees before him while lowering his pants and boxers down. The sight of such a beautiful young man kneeling at his feet, his own rigid cock now freed from its confines, was almost too much for Vale. At eight inches, he knew he was well-endowed, and the way [Name]'s eyes widened appreciatively as he took it all in only fueled the inspector’s desire.

He gasped as he felt the first touch of that sinful mouth on his most intimate place, biting back a groan as he felt [Name]'s lips part and take him in, inch by throbbing inch disappearing into that warm, wet haven. The boy’s eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, heavy-lidded, gleaming with unholy lust.

For [Name], this was nothing new. He had done this countless times before, on countless men, up to a point that his jaw adjusted reflexively, but somehow, with Emmett, it felt different. More intense, more intimate. Regardless, [Name]'s body remembered the motions he had been performing for years. His tongue swirled around the sensitive head, tracing the ridge where the flesh met the shaft, before he took Vale deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking with practiced ease as he bobbed his head, taking more of that impressive length inch by thick inch.

The inspector shuddered, fingers tightening reflexively in [Name]'s hair as he felt the silken walls of his throat flutter around him. The boy was a pro, his technique flawless, every move designed to drive a man wild with pleasure. He could feel the build-up of saliva, the slick slide of muscle, the press of [Name]'s tongue along the underside of his cock as the boy’s head nose grazed the light curls of his pubes. It was pure whorish sin, and Emmett knew he wouldn't last long at this rate. Not with the way [Name] was working him, producing those obscene slurping sounds that filled the room.

[Name] felt the inspector's cock throb against his tongue as he tasted the first salt-flavored drops of pre-cum, feeling them sliding down his throat. He knew Vale was close, could read it in every shudder and hitch of his breath, in the stunning crease of the man’s eyebrows as his face contorted in bliss. 

And the prostitute wanted to taste him wholly, to swallow down every drop of that thick release and have the inspector unravel completely in his hands. He wanted Vale to fuck his face against that dick the best way he could, wanted to use his mouth for the official’s pleasure until the older man was drowning in it. [Name] wanted... well, he wanted a lot of things, and he planned to take them all, like he always did. One sinful act at a time.

A sudden realization hit Emmett like a freight train - when was the last time he had indulged in such carnal pleasures? When was the last time he had allowed himself to be so utterly consumed by desire, to be reduced to a creature of pure, primal need? The inspector struggled to remember, his mind hazy with lust, until he realized the startling truth: the last time he had been with someone, truly been with one, he had bern barely old enough to drink legally. And now, here he was, at the mercy of a man much younger than him; a boy who had him writhing and gasping like a inexperienced virgin getting his cock wet for the first time.

The thought sent a thrill down the inspector’s, a dark, forbidden excitement that made his balls tighten and his cock throb almost painfully against [Name]'s quick tongue. There was something deeply, deliciously wrong about being at the mercy of someone like [Name], someone profoundly experienced; about surrendering to every whim and desire of a boy almost half his age, physically smaller than him, someone who he definitely had power over. And yet, Vale couldn't bring himself to care, too lost in the pleasure of that hot filthy mouth engulfing his length.

[Name] sensed the change in Emmett's body, the telltale twitch and throb of his cock as it began to pulse with impending release. He could feel the inspector's grip on his hair tighten, holding his head in place as if desperate to bury himself to the hilt and spill his load down [Name]'s eager throat. But the prostitute had other plans.

With a swift tug, he pulled the inspector's cock from his mouth, the thick length slipping out with a lewd, wet pop. Strings of saliva and pre-cum connected [Name]'s lips to the flushed, throbbing head, glistening obscenely in the harsh fluorescent light of the interrogation room.

Vale blinked, momentarily disoriented as he was wrenched from the haze of pleasure, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He stared down at [Name] in confusion, his brow furrowed as he tried to regain his bearings, the fog of lust slowly lifting from his mind. The sudden loss of that sinful heat around his aching cock left him feeling bereft, a low groan of protest escaping his lips before he could stop it. "What... why did you...?" he started to ask, his voice rough and gravelly from the force of his breathing. But the words died in his throat as he met [Name]'s gaze, the smug, knowing smirk on the boy's face sending a jolt of understanding through him. [Name] had taken him to the very brink of ecstasy, only to deny him that final, blissful push.

The prostitute smirked up at Vale, his eyes wicked. "Ah ah ah, not so fast, Inspector," he chided playfully, wrapping a hand around the base of Emmett's throbbing cock. His grip was firm, impeding the inspector's release as he gave a warning squeeze, edging the older man. "You don't get to paint my face with your spunk. I have other plans of where I want your seed.”

The air between them crackled with tension, the weight of [Name]'s words hanging heavy. Vale felt a fresh surge of lust, his cock jerking in the other’s grip at the thought of burying himself in the boy's heat, claiming him, marking him inside and out as his own.

Emmett couldn't hold back any longer, the dam of his restraint bursting under the onslaught of sensation and desire. His hands shot up to grip [Name]'s face, calloused fingers digging into the delicate skin as he pulled the boy flush against him. Their lips met in a clash of hunger and desperation, Vale's mouth moving over [Name]'s with a fierce, almost bruising intensity. It was a kiss that consumed, a claiming of lips and tongue and breath, all tangled together in a dance of raw need.

[Name] responded in kind, fingers fisting in the inspector’s hair, nails scraping against the inspector's scalp as he pulled him closer, greedy for more. Moans spilled from his lips, swallowed by Emmett’s ravenous mouth, the sounds of his pleasure muffled and lost in the heat of the kiss. The air between them was electric, charged with the weight of the older man’s desperation and the boy's eager reciprocation.

Vale could feel every inch of [Name]'s body pressed against his own, the other’s frame fitting perfectly against the hard planes of his own. His cock throbbed, impossibly hard — his balls were probably blue by now, but the younger didn’t let his grip go from around his girth. The inspector needed to be inside [Name], needed to bury himself in the boy's body until he was drowning inside it, until he could stake his claim in the most animalistic way possible. The urge was overwhelming, a deadly tsunami of lust that threatened to sweep away the last of his control. Nothing else mattered, not the case, not his career, not the world outside these four walls. Not the poor cop watching from the CCTV the depravity that was taking place in the VFMP’s interrogation room, or the scolding he’d receive from Palmer in the following morning. In this moment, there was only the searing need to possess, to take, to make [Name] his own in every way a man could.

[Name] felt the inspector's desperation in every movement, in the way his hands roamed feverishly over his body as they kissed. He could feel Vale's cock throbbing against his palm, hot and hard and ready, blood flowing with unbelievable intensity, and it sent a thrill of power through him to know that he had reduced the respected inspector to this state of wanton need.

Emmett's hands fumbled at the fastenings of [Name]'s flimsy shorts, fingers clumsy in their urgency as he tugged and pulled, finally freeing the boy's own straining erection. [Name] gasped into the kiss as cool air hit his heated flesh, hips canting forward into the inspector's touch. He nipped at Vale's bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue before pulling back just enough to guide the older man's hands to his hips.

[Name] gasped out, voice rough with desire. "I need you inside me, Emmett. I need to feel you split me open on your fucking prick." He punctuated his words by squeezing the rigid flesh in his hand, feeling it jerk.

With a groan, Vale let [Name] guide him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the table. He sat down heavily and rested an open palm against the hard surface, breath coming in harsh pants as he looked up at the younger man with desperation. [Name] wasted no time in straddling the inspector's lap, bare ass nestling against the thick ridge of the other man’s dick as he wrapped his arms around Emmett’s neck.

"Damn it, you feel so good," [Name] breathed, rolling his hips to grind against the hard flesh of the inspector's cock. At that, Emmett’s hands tightened on the globes of [Name]'s ass, kneading the firm flesh as he pulled the boy more against him, and he wanted nothing more than to see his fingerprints blooming on the younger man’s skin the same way he had been marked up so throughly with the harlot’s hickeys.

[Name] gazed down at the older man, eyes clouded with lust and something appreciative. He had fucked innumerable amounts of people before, but never had it felt like this intense or all consuming. There was a vulnerability in Vale's desperation that called to him on a primal level, a raw, unchecked need that made [Name]'s own desire burn hotter.

The boy took charge, eyes gleaming with lust. He reached between their bodies, gripping Emmett's thick shaft and aligning it with his entrance. With a single, brutal thrust of his hips, he impaled himself on the inspector's cock, taking every inch of that impressive length deep inside him in one go.

“Fuck!!” The cuss tore from [Name]'s throat, a guttural cry of ecstasy as he was split open on Vale's massive prick. His head fell back, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of being so thoroughly filled. He could feel every throbbing vein, every ridge and vein of that thick cock massaging his inner walls, rubbing against his prostate with devastating precision.

Vale let out a strangled, mewling howl, fingers digging into the flesh of [Name]'s cheeks hard enough to bruise. The silken heat of the younger’s hole engulfing him was like nothing he had ever experienced, the boy's body gripping him like a vice as he was swallowed entirely. Emmett hips jerked up involuntarily, burying himself even deeper into that perfect, clutching heat.

For a moment, they were frozen like that, locked together in a moment of pure, white-hot bliss. The world fell away, the only sound their harsh pants and the creaking of the table beneath them. Everything was forgotten except the point where their bodies joined, the slide of sweat-slicked skin against skin, and the electric tingle of nerve endings screaming in overloaded rapture.

[Name] forced his eyes open, wanting to sear this moment into his memory. He wanted to burn the sight of Vale's face into his mind, the way his features twisted in a rictus of agonized ecstasy, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He looked... transcendent, transported to a higher plane of sensation that the boy had only ever glimpsed in fleeting, lesser moments. But this... this was different. This was everything.

After waiting a quarter of minute for them to adjust, [Name] began to move, rolling his hips in a slow grind as Emmett’s dick applied pressure against his prostate with devastating precision. The pleasure was blissful, even with his vast experience. He could feel the inspector's heart pounding against his hand as he laid it on the older man’s chest for support, watching the rapture on Vale's face as he started to ride him with increasing fervor.

Emmett's head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as he surrendered to the pleasure, to the warmness of [Name]'s body. He moved his hands from the younger’s cheeks to his hips, taking him deep and then rising until just the tip remained inside. Then with a swivel of his hips, [Name] would sink back down, impaling himself on every thick inch of the inspector's aching cock. 

The wet, obscene sounds of their coupling filled the room, the slap of skin on skin and the boy's breathy moans mingling with the inspector's guttural groans. Emmett could only gaze up at him in awe, watching, transfixed, as the younger man began to lose himself in the throes of passion, body undulating with a grace that was breathtaking. 

The sight of [Name] above him, head thrown back in ecstasy, was seared into Vale's mind. He knew he would fantasize about this moment during sleepless nights toll the end of his life, no matter how much he might to forget it.

Lost in the haze of sensation, the inspector acted on instinct, one hand coming up to grasp the hem of [Name]'s shirt after removing the boy’s hand from his sternum. With a sharp tug, he yanked it up and off, baring the smooth expanse of the boy's own chest to his hungry gaze. "Don't stop," he gritted out, voice low with need. "Hell, you feel so good..."

Vale’s calloused fingers found the pebbled peak of one dusky nipple, rolling and plucking at it until it strained towards his touch. The bud tightened further under his ministrations, sending a bolt of sensation straight to the boy's core. 

[Name] gasped and arched into Emmett's touch, the inspector's fingers on his nipple sending electric jolts straight to his throbbing cock. He could feel the blood pulsing hot and heavy in the thick vein along the underside, the skin there flushed and feverish. Pre-cum beaded at the swollen tip, dripping down to splatter on the inspector's stomach as the young man continued to ride him with wild abandon.

Sweat matted the boy's hair to his forehead, skin slick and glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights of the interrogation room. The heat between them was intense, their bodies sliding together with the effortless glide of sweat-slicked skin. [Name]'s own hand came down to wrap around his aching cock, stroking in time with the roll and grind of his hips. The sensation of Emmett's fingers on his nipple, plucking and teasing, only added to the overwhelming bliss of being so completely filled and stretched around the inspector's massive girth.

"Want to feel your sperm all inside me... agh, want you to make me come on your fucking cock". The filthy words spilled from his lips, breath coming in ragged gasps as [Name] chased his rapidly approaching climax with single-minded focus.

Vale felt the pressure building at the base of his spine, balls drawing up tight as the pleasure crested, threatening to overwhelm him. "Shit, I'm going to..." he grunted. With a roar, the inspector came as he cock pulsed and jerked, erupting deep inside [Name]. The boy's walls gripped him like a velvet vice, milking his spent cock. Rope after rope of hot, thick seed painted the younger man's insides, flooding his channel with the inspector's release. 

But [Name] didn't stop, didn't even slow down as the older man shuddered and spasmed beneath him, lost in the throes of his own climax. If anything, the feeling of Emmett’s hot cum filling him, marking him, only spurred him on. He could feel it, semen sloshing inside him with every bounce of his hips, every stroke of his own weeping cock.

He continued to ride Vale through his orgasm, using the inspector's twitching, spent cock like his own personal fuck toy. His hand flew over his own dick, the wet, obscene sounds of his stroking filling the room along with the creaking of the table beneath them. The pleasure was addictive, caused by the overwhelming fullness of being claimed so completely, inside and out, pushing him rapidly towards his own peak.

[Name]'s body suddenly tensed, a hoarse cry and a litany of curses ripping from his throat before the inspector's name fell from his lips like a prayer. His cock jerked and throbbed in his grip, pulsing as thick ropes of cum splattered against Emmett's stomach and chest, painting both his own hand and the older man with his release.

The boy's body clenched and fluttered around the thick length still buried deep inside him, milking the last drops of seed from the inspector’s spent flesh. The feeling of [Name]'s hot cum splattering his skin, marking him in turn, only added to the overwhelming sense of satisfaction and virile pride that suffused Emmett in the aftermath of their mating.

They remained locked together, chests heaving against each other as they struggled to catch their breath, sweat cooling on their skin and two pairs of eyes half-lidded. The room was filled with the mingled scent of sex and the residual heat of their passion. 

[Name] let out a breathless laugh. "Bet the boys in blue out there loved the show," he quipped with a grin while glancing towards the one-way mirror. "Probably just watched the best porn of their boring-ass lives. Lucky bastards."

He felt the inspector's cock twitch inside him at the thought of an audience, and [Name]'s grin widened into a devilish smirk. "Looks like someone's eager for serving an encore performance," he gave a little wriggle of his hips that made them both gasp. "Careful, Inspector. Keep getting this turned on by the idea of an audience, and you’ll end up behind bars due to public indecency yourself.”

Emmett's eyes widened at the joke, but specially at thought of a spectators, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He knew the entire encounter had been recorded, every sordid detail now immortalized on film for all of the VFMP to see, something that’d be guarded forever in the messy archive room of their Bastille.

The inspector would need to secure that tape, to make sure it didn't fall into the wrong hands. But he knew he wouldn't destroy it. No, he couldn't bring himself to erase this perfect, filthy record of their coupling. Instead, Vale would take it with him, hide it away in the privacy of his apartment, to be brought out and savored in private moments of lonely pleasure.

"Careful, boy," he rumbled, mimicking [Name]’s words. "Keep talking like that and I might just give them a real show. Might bend you over the hood of my car in the parking lot and fuck you in front of these fuckers and everyone in this forsaken city."

Even as he said it, he knew he wouldn't. Couldn't. Not because he cared what they might think, but because he wanted to keep [Name] all to himself, even though he knew that was a definite impossibility. 

“Promise?," the younger man asked teasingly, clenching his inner muscles around the thick length buried in his ass. "Bet you'd get off on showing everyone what a dirty old man you are, parading around someone like me."

"But for now," he proceeded as he felt Vale start to harden again, "how about we take this somewhere more private? My place isn't far from here. Unless you want to repeat this public performance?”

Emmett’s jaw clenched and his brows furrowed again, weighing his options as he slicked back the sweaty hair of his forehead. 

Noticing the official’s hesitation, [Name] said. “What do you say, Inspector? Ready for round two? And maybe, if you keep being good for me like this..." He nipped at the lobe of Emmett’s ear before soothing the sting with his tongue. "I'll let you tie me to the bed and have your way with me all night long, all for free. Would you like that, Valie? Having me at your mercy, completely at your command after I ruined you? Get your payback?"

Vale stared at [Name], a mix of awe, lust and something almost like inner disappointment in his eyes. He had become a beast, a creature of pure sensation and need, and it terrified him. Not because he was afraid of [Name], no - but because he was afraid of what the boy did to him. He had fallen so easily, so completely under [Name]'s spell, becoming just another in a long line of men left thrashed and scattered, utterly obsessed with the insatiable, alluring boy.

The inspector's sense of morality, his unshakable code, had been eroded in a matter of moments, crumbling like sandcastles beneath the tide of his own lust. It shamed him, the ease with which he had succumbed. The official had always prided himself on his control, his ability to stay above the corruption that plagued the city. 

Emmett Vale had weathered the storms of Veridian Falls, remained virtuous in a place where everyone else had long since collapse. But it had taken only the caress of a prostitute’s hands, the heat of his body, to shatter the last of Vale's resolve and turn him into an animalistic creature. One touch, and he became just another pawn in [Name]'s game, ready to follow the boy anywhere he led.

But as he looked into [Name]'s eyes, saw the wicked gleam of triumph and satisfaction there, he knew he couldn't resist. Couldn't resist the chance to have the boy at his mercy, to explore the depths of his own dark desires. To lose himself in the comforting warmth and tightness until neither of them could think of anything but the slide of skin on skin and the pulse of pleasure between them. 

“Lead the way”, Emmett commanded as [Name] lifted himself up and started dressing his bare body again. 

Vale knew that, by dawn, he would have been shaped into a beast of lust and need, his fate now forever tied to the harlot who had ensnared him so completely. One of the last cathedrals would still stand, but it would be forever marked by the fire of [Name]'s touch — he could only hope the few decent men left in the Veridian Falls Metropolitan Police would not have their tenets shattered as effortlessly as his.

Inspector Emmett Vale would be forever changed, a man unmade and reborn in the image of his own darkest fantasies. And [Name] would have claimed another conquest, another thrall to add to his ever-growing harem of the lost and the willing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The door creaked open slowly, revealing a man in his early twenties. He was dressed in a way that was somewhere between fashionable and disheveled, with a leather jacket that had seen better days and a pair of jeans that clung to his frame in all the right places.

"Evening, Captain," the young man said, his voice a contrast to Silas' own, smooth and untainted by age. He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The older man leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he appraised the newcomer. "[Name]," he acknowledged with a nod, taking in the way the boy's jacket hugged his shoulders, the way his jeans rode low on his hips. He was a pretty, Silas could admit that to himself, too pretty for his own good. But there was a sharpness to him, a glint in those eyes that was both pretentious and calculating. “You’re late.”

The informant rolled his shoulders once, fingers finding the edge of his sleeve and worrying the fabric. The office felt smaller than usual, the air, thicker. "Not late," he said, voice steady and calm, meeting Palmer’s gaze directly. "Just on time. You said evening, and it's...", he glanced briefly at the old clock on the wall, "...nine o'clock on the dot. Got a lead," [Name] continued, unbothered with pleasantries. "Something bigger than the usual shit. Thought you might want to know."

The lad’s posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but there was a tension in his shoulders, a constantly unreleased energy. He didn't sit down, not until Silas told him to. "Gang activity's picking up in the 9th. The Hounds and the Drowned are at each other's throats again." [Name] shrugged. "Same old song. But there are new ones in town, calling themselves the Wraiths. Word is that they ain’t fucking around. Already took out two Drowned safe houses and the Hounds are scrambling to keep up with their narcotics. There's going to be a war for territory soon around the docks if someone doesn't step in."

"Haven't heard of them until now," Silas commented, leaning back in his chair. Smoke curled from the recently lit cigar between his fingers, drifting up to catch in the stale air of the office. "New players don't last long in this city."

"These ones might," [Name] countered. "They're not stupid, nor careless. They're not leaving tracks." He paused before adding, "Yet."

The captain tapped the cigar against the ashtray, watching the informant carefully. "You think you can find them before they notice you?"

[Name] shrugged, a slight lift of his shoulders. "Never said I couldn’t." He stepped closer to the desk, until he stood right in front of it, looking down at the older man. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only a quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance. “If I can find them," the informant said with an unraveling voice, "I can take them down before they become a real problem." He stopped, "For a price."

Silas’ eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression didn't change, gaze puncturing the lad all the same. He studied [Name] for a long moment. The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. “You're getting greedy," the captain blurted.

[Name] didn't falter. Didn't look away. He just met Palmer’s gaze head-on. "Greedy?" he repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I prefer the term 'ambitious'. Besides, I thought we had an arrangement. I brought you what you need, now you should keep me safe and well-paid." He tilted his head slightly while a faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "Or have you forgotten our little deal?"

Silas took a long drag of his cigar, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly. The acrid scent filled the air between them, but [Name] didn't so much as cough. He just stood there, staring down at the captain, waiting. “No one's forgotten anything," Palmer admitted finally. "But these aren't your usual bottom-feeders. If these Wraiths are as smart as you say, they're not going to be easy to flush out."

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped. His eyes bored into the informant, searching, assessing. "And you want more money for it. More than our usual deal. Tell me, boy," Silas stated imperiously, "what makes you think you're worth it? What makes you think you can do something my own, official men can't? Because from where I'm sitting, you're just a kid playing in a man's game. A brat who's in over his head."  The captain’s voice dropped to a near whisper, but it was no less threatening. "And I’m having a hard time believing a little punk like you is the key to shutting down a gang that's flying under the radar of the entire VFMP after you were nearly caught last time."

“But I wasn’t.” [Name] interjected, mischief in his eyes as he fixated on the older man’s hard stare. "And I’m not a kid when you're balls-deep inside me, Cap. I think that proves I'm not just some random little punk."

Palmer’s eyes flashed, a flicker of surprise and something darker, more primal. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his cheeks tightening as he fought to maintain his composure. The air between them grew heavier, charged with a sudden tension that had nothing to do with the threat of the Wraiths. 

[Name] stood his ground. "I'm not here to blow smoke," he proceeded still calm but with an undercurrent of something defiant. "I'm here to make a problem disappear before it becomes your problem, and I’m damn good at what I do.” 

The informant rested his palms on the the edge of the desk, slender fingers sprawling. “I've been doing this since before you promoted half your men to sergeant. I've got a nose for this shit, and you’re well aware that I know how to use it. I'm not afraid of some new gang wannabes with big goals and small brains.”  He leaned forward slightly, face inches from his superior’s. "I'm not a punk, and certainly not a toddler. I'm your best fucking asset in this city and you better remind yourself of that. So what's it going to be, Cap? Will you keep underestimating me, or will you let me do what I do best and watch these Wraiths burn in exchange of a few more bucks?"

Palmer’s face stayed hard, but his expression had a small change, something indicating a feeling that wavered between anger and respect. “Cocky bastard," Silas muttered, but there was no real heat behind the words. His eyes took in the set of [Name]’s jaw, the challenge in his eyes. He couldn't deny the kid — no, not a kid, the man —had balls. He'd give him that much. “You've still got that smart mouth on you… and a head full of shit if you think I don't know what you are." Silas inclined his torso forward causing his nose to nearly touch the informant’s own. "But you're right about one thing, you are good at what you do."

[Name] crossed his arms over his chest, his posture casual. “I'm not here to fuck up, Cap. I'm here to get the job done. And I always do. I've never given you a reason to doubt me before, so don’t start now." 

Palmer had to admit that all that arrogance was nothing more than hard-won confidence, something [Name] earned it. He'd watched the informant claw his way up from nothing, watched him take on jobs that would have broken a lesser man. And he'd delivered, every single time. Closed cases, brought in intel, kept the gangs in check and  kept Veridian Falls from descending into complete chaos.

And through it all, he'd kept coming back to Silas’ office, to Silas’ bed, with a hunger that never seemed to be sated. At first, the captain had told himself it was just a stress relief, a way to blow off steam after a long day of dealing with the city's endless problems. But he couldn't deny the attraction that had been evoked right in beginning, the way [Name]’s wit and sharp tongue had set his blood on fire in a way no one else ever had in the moment they met.

[Name] smirked smugly, resting his elbows on the desk. "You know, Palmer," he purred lowly, "you've got that look on your face again. The one that says you're trying to figure out if you want to maul me or fuck me senseless."

Silas had always known the brat was a smart-ass, but he'd never been one to mince words, especially not when they were alone like this. And god help him, but the older man found that infuriating bravado of his the hottest fucking thing in the world. He took another long drag of his cigar, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly. "Careful, kid," the captain snarled, “Keep talking like that, and you might just get what you're asking for."

Palmer, despite his words, knew that he was giving in. Knew that as much as he tried to deny it, as much as he told himself he was just a man with needs and desires like anyone else, he couldn't ignore the fact that [Name] brought something out in him. A hunger, a desperation, a feeling of being seen and wanted in a way no one else ever had. Silas had fucked the informant more times than he could count, had buried himself inside that tight ass and lost himself in the sounds of pleasure he could coax from that clever mouth of his. And every time, he'd told himself it was just detached sex. But he couldn't deny the way thr young lad looked at him, with that mix of respect and awe, like he saw something in Palmer that no one else ever had. His savior. And nothing in the world could get the captain as hard as that look of admiration in [Name]’s eyes. 

The informant smirked wider. "Is that a promise or a threat, Cap?" he asked polished. "Because I gotta say, I'm not scared of either one." [Name] reached out, bold as brass, and plucked the cigar from between Palmer’s fingers. He took a long, slow drag, his eyes never leaving Silas’ as he did. The smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled, a haze of gray that seemed to blur the room.

"You know, you're not as tough as you used to be. Or maybe..." [Name] leaned in, his breath hot against Silas’ ear. "Maybe I'm just not as afraid of you as I once were." His hand came to rest on his superior’s thigh, fingers splaying over the fabric of his pants, stomach laying across the desk. The young man could feel the heat of the captain, the solid muscle beneath the cloth. He could feel the way Palmer’s breath hitched, just slightly, at his touch. Tentatively, [Name] threw the cig to the ground and pressed his thumb down on that sensitive spot on the inside of Silas’ thigh, applying just enough pressure to make the older man twitch.

At that, the chief groaned. Palmer knew the little shit was enjoying this, relishing in the way he could make the big bad captain of the Veridian Falls Metropolitan Police lose his composure with just a touch and a few well-chosen words. 

Just then, Silas’ hand shot out, grabbing [Name]’s wrist in a grip tight enough to make him wince, then yanking him forward until the younger man stumbled, stomach slamming against the surface of the desk. The informant let out a grunt at the impact, but Palmer didn't give him a chance to recover, his other hand already fisting in the hair at the nape of the lad’s neck. He used his grip to pull [Name]’s head towards his lips before leaning in and devouring his mouth in a brutal kiss.

The captain’s tongue pushed past the boy’s lips, claiming every inch of that playful mouth that had been taunting him moments before. He kissed him like he wanted to consume the man before him, to make him forget his own name let alone any foolish boldness. [Name] moaned breathily into the kiss, the sound vibrating against Palmer’s lips, spurring the older man on. Silas used the grip on [Name]’s hair to pull him further over the desk, until the young man was bent in half, ass tilted up perfectly for anyone who dared intrude on the captain’s office. 

The brusque move had [Name]’s cock stiffening rapidly in the confines of his jeans. The rough fabric rubbed against his sensitive flesh as he squirmed beneath the captain's iron grip on his nape, the friction sending jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine. He could feel every ridge and groove of the wooden desk pressing into his gut as the hard surface contrasted with the molten heat building in his kernel.

[Name]’s hips began to move on their own, grinding his clothed erection against the desk as he kissed Palmer back with a desperate fervor. He couldn't help it. The captain's touch, the taste of nicotine in his oral cavity, the sheer dominance of him, it all combined to set the informant’s blood on fire, to make him ache with need and his hole to clench around air. He just knew he needed more of Silas’ touch, more of the way he made [Name] feel alive in a way no one else ever had, with utmost pleasure.

Soon enough, Palmer felt the rocky movement of the informant’s body against his desk, the rhythmic grinding of his clothed penis against the wood. He pulled back from the kiss, his grip on [Name]’s neck tightening as he took in the sight of the boy wantonly rutting against his desk, desperate for friction. 

The captain grimaced. “Greedy little brat. Is that all you can think about? Getting your dicklet wet?" He punctuated his words with a sharp tug on [Name]’s hair, forcing the younger man's head to tilt to the side, baring the slender column of his throat. "You think you can just take what you want, when you want it? Hump against my desk like a bitch in heat?"

[Name] didn't let the admonishment deter him, not when his cock was throbbing so hard it ached, not when the desk below him seemed to be the only thing holding him back from losing control and throwing himself over Silas like a frenzied five-dollars harlot. He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch Palmer’s earlobe between his teeth. He bit down hard enough to break skin as he, simultaneously, rolled his hips again, scrapping his penis against the desk with an obscene moan.

"Well, if the captain would rather I grind on his own cock instead… I'd be more than happy to oblige." He emphasized his words with another roll of his pelvis, a smirk tugging at his kiss-swollen lips as he saw Palmer falter. "Though I suppose this is a nice preview of what's to come. Isn't that right, sir?"

"And to think I've been trying to teach you some discipline." Silas snarled before licking a stripe up the informant’s throat, teeth grazing his skin before he bit down, hard enough to drawl blood. Without warning, he released [Name]’s hair and stepped back. "Don't move," he commanded, leaving no room for disobedient remarks. He waited just long enough to ensure the brat would comply before he rose from his chair with a creak of leather and wood.

[Name] couldn't suppress a shiver of anticipation as he watched the Palmer stride around the desk with purposeful steps, wicked thoughts filling his mind and making his dick throb painfully.

Silas came to stand behind [Name]’s bent form, his broad frame looming over the informant, casting him in shadow. Without ceremony, the captain grabbed the waistband of the younger’s trousers and underwear, grip unyielding. With a sharp, jerky motion, he yanked them down over the curve of [Name]’s ass, the fabric catching for a moment before settling on his upper thighs, leaving the globes exposed. 

The informant’s breath hitched as he felt the first brush of Palmer’s calloused palm against the soft skin of his exposed ass. The captain's hand seemed to linger reverently, as he caressed the curve of the right cheek, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh. But before [Name] could lose himself in the sensation, a sharp crack split the air as a strong hand suddenly pulled back and smacked hard against the flesh. The informant gasped at the sudden sting body jerking forward at the impact before settling back onto the desk.

[Name]’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt the captain's hand wrap around his aching length, Silas’ thumb rubbed firm circles over the sensitive head of his cock, teasing the slit, the ridge, the weeping tip until the younger man was squirming with need. At the same time, the chief’s clothed cock pressed against the cleft of [Name]’s ass, and it didn’t take long for the captain to rock his hips forward, rubbing his virile member against the cheeks with a deliberate grind that made the informant's toes curl in his shoes.

With a feral growl, Palmer pressed two fingers against that tight and puckered hole that clenched around air, rubbing firm circles around the entrance until [Name] was pushing back against him, silently begging for more. Without warning, he thrusted his fingers inside, sinking knuckle-deep into the clutching heat of the lad’s ass. The informant let out a choked cry, back arching as he was suddenly filled, stretched around the intrusion. But he wasn’t given time to adjust, Silas’ fingers pumping in and out of his anus in a relentless rhythm that had him seeing stars.

At the same time, the chief never let up the punishing pace of his hand on the little prick’s cock. Silas could feel it throbbing, pulsing in his grip, the head a slick mess. He rubbed his thumb over the slit, smearing the pre-cum around the swollen head, using it as lubrication as he jerked his subordinate off with ruthless efficiency.

It only took a matter of moments before [Name] let out a guttural moan, body seizing up as his orgasm crashed over him like a tide. His dick jerked and spasmed in Palmer’s grip, thick ropes of cum splattering across the captain's palm. Silas felt the hot, sticky essence of the brat’s release coating his fingers, some of it dripping down to pool on the surface of the desk. With his lips curling, he pulled his fingers from [Name]’s member, bringing his hand up to the informant's face.

"Look at this mess you've made," Palmer mocked amusedly. "You should wear a red clown nose, considering how often you make a spectacle of yourself." He rubbed his slick, cum-stained fingers under his subordinate’s chin, smearing the seed across the younger man's skin. Then with a casual, almost dismissive motion, he wiped his fingers clean on the informant's shirt, smearing the sticky essence across the flimsy material until it was nothing more than a damp patch on [Name]’s chest.

The sensation of his shirt suddenly clinging to his skin seemed to partially pull [Name] off his high. "My, my, Captain," he let out in a breathless rasp, "if you wanted to get me out of my shirt too, all you had to do was ask.” A soft tsk sound left his lips as his hands came to rub at the semen left on his lower face, “Of course, I suppose I should be grateful you didn't just shove that magnificent fist of yours into my mouth to clean up the mess properly.”

Before [Name] could so much as think about straightening up, Palmer’s hand was back on the nape of his neck, gripping tight and manhandling him into place, keeping him bent over the desk. "Save it,” the captain growled, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the informant’s very bones. "Don’t even think about moving. This isn't over yet."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against the shell of [Name]’s ear as he spoke, his words dripping with promise, making the informant's spent cock give a valiant twitch of interest. "You do your best work when you've been thoroughly fucked, when your ass is still loose and sloppy, your hole gaping. When the memory of my cock rearranging your guts is still fresh in your mind. Do you understand what that means, boy?”, Silas said with a sharp roll of his hips, erected penis being felt by the tender flesh of [Name]’s cheeks. “It means that, with the possible shitstorm that might brew itself with those Wraiths due to your actions, it’s better that you are properly treated like the little slut you are before you risk yourself in a suicidal venture”.

“Why have you been taking so long to get your cock out, then, captain?”, [Name] questioned slyly. "If you want me at my best, why wait until now to give me what I need? Unless..." A wicked smirk curved his reddened lips. "Unless you're getting old, and it takes you longer to get it up nicely these days. So you just remain half hard, no matter what, which also means your fingers and maybe your tongue are the few useful parts of you left. I've heard that happens to men in their... what are you again? Forty-six?"

Silas’ forehead was instantly adorned with a wrinkle, irritation visible on his eyes at the informant’s ceaseless attempts of pressing his buttons. Without warning, he wrapped a strong hand around [Name]’s throat, squeezing just enough to make breathing a challenge and have the young man hissing. At the same time, he used his other hand to undo his belt, the clink of the buckle opening sharp in the charged air between them. The informant’s eyes widened as he felt the heavy ridge of Palmer’s erected dick pressing insistently against his tender hole, the captain's pants still mostly done up, but his rigid shaft springing free from his boxers and slapping against the split of his cheeks.

The captain grunted at the contact, compressing [Name]’s windpipe a bit tighter in response. “Try to breath”, he commanded leaving no room for indiscipline. At the same time, his other hand gripped the lad’s hips hard enough to bruise, and with one sharp thrust, he buried himself balls-deep in the exposed ass, the informant's tight heat enveloping him like a vise.

[Name]’s eyes rolled back, the breath he had left in his lungs rushed out of him in a gurgle, his throat constricted by Palmer’s punishing grip. His thighs quivered and trembled, the muscles jumping and fluttering wildly as they struggled to keep him upright, pinned as he was by the captain's relentless thrusts. Each drive of Silas’ hips pressed mercilessly against that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside [Name], his prostate screaming in overstimulated bliss as it was battered again and again, feeling every ridge and vein of the thick cock filling him up. 

Each whimper coming out from the body under him, each choked gasp and broken moan, only served to stoke the flames of Palmer’s own arousal. An approving groan rumbled in the captain’s chest as he felt [Name]’s clench around his pistoning cock. The obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the office, mingling with the young man’a whorish sounds and the captain's own grunts of pleasure.

The hand around [Name]’s throat tightened, squeezing, constricting, until Silas could see the tendons standing out in stark relief, could feel the informant’s racing pulse fluttering wildly against his palm. Just as he felt the lad’s struggles begin to weaken, just as he sensed that sweet line between pleasure and pain blurring, he loosened his grip. Barely enough to allow a shuddering breath to fill [Name]’s lungs. Enough to keep him teetering on the knife's edge of consciousness.

The young man let out breathy mewls, his mind shorting out from the overwhelming pleasure radiating from where they were so brutally joined. His tongue lolled out, drool dripping down his chin as he was fucked into incoherence, reduced to a needy hole for Silas to use. "P-please, cap..." [Name] slurred, though he wasn't even sure what he was begging for anymore. More? Less? Faster? Harder? It all blurred together into a litany of broken pleas spilling from his lips.

Palmer’s thumb traced the column of the informant’s neck, feeling his pulse and the bob of his Adam’s apple. His informant, his subordinate, his plaything of countless nights, always so prickly, so sharp-witted, so ready and eager for his touch, his cock. The thought of it, the reality of it, made his hips surge forward with doubled vigor, pounding into [Name] with enough force to rock the wooden desk beneath them, for certain making enough noise that even Detective Rhodes could hear from the evidence room right under them. 

Both men could feel their release building, pleasure cresting. Silas held it at bay, determined to wring every last drop of ecstasy from [Name]’s pliant body before he allowed himself that shattering moment of bliss. 

Finally, the informant’s body convulsed as his orgasm crashed over him, vision whiting out as pleasure exploded behind his eyes. A strangled moan tore from his throat, back arching sharply as he came for a second time, untouched, his cock spurting weakly against the desk. His hole clenched and rippled around Palmer’s dick, gripping him as [Name] rode out the intense ecstasy.

Feeling that ass spasming and milking his cock thoroughly, Silas left out a loud exhale followed by a moan of his own. His shaft throbbed and pulsed as he hilted inside the informant, hot semen erupting from the tip to paint [Name]’s inner walls. Thick spurts of cum pumped into him as the chief emptied himself, marking the informant as his, filling him up until the young man could feel the heat of it sloshing inside him. Palmer’s grip on the boy’s throat loosened as the last waves of his release ebbed, chest heaving with exertion as he caught his breath.

Palmer tucked himself back into his pants, the sound of his belt buckle clinking as he fastened them with efficient motions. The captain reached down and fisted a hand in [Name]’s hair, gripping the strands tightly as he hauled the informant's head up by the roots. He leaned in close, his face mere inches from the lad’s, and studied the debauched visage before him. [Name]’s eyes were glazed and unfocused, his lips shiny with drool, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. Yet, even in such a state, a smirk tugged at the corners of the little prick’s mouth, his tongue lolling out to wet his lips in a provocative gesture.

"It wasn't that hard, was it?" [Name] teased, words caming out slightly garbled but still infused with a hint of his signature impertinence. "I mean, all you had to do was squeeze my throat and fuck me like you meant it. Not exactly rocket science, Captain."

Silas couldn't help but huff, a sound caught between amusement and exasperation, as he listened to the cheeky remark. Even now, even after being so perfectly used and filled, the brat still had the nerve to run his mouth. He shook his head, releasing the sweaty hair to allow the informant's head to flop back down to the desk with a dull thud.

"And now, I suppose you're going to tell me that all you need is a little walking around money before you toddle off to play hero with those Wraiths?" 

[Name] let out a breathless chuckle in agreement, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he savored the pleasant ache that had settled into his bones. "You know me too well, Silas," he agreed in a sated rasp. He pushed himself up slowly and uncoordinated, his muscles protesting the movement, and began to button his jeans with fingers that still trembled slightly. The informant made no move to clean the semen that had dripped down his thighs or that was leaking from his hole, leaving the evidence of their coupling to dry on his skin.

Palmer raised a brow, both amused and somewhat incredulous at the other man’s brazen lack of shame. "Not bothering to tidy up, I see," he remarked, his tone laced with a mix of exasperation and grudging admiration. "Leave it to you to wear another man's cum like a badge of honor."

[Name] flashed his superior a youthful grin, "Don't you worry, Captain. You know there ain’t no momma of mine around to be scandalized by the state of her baby boy's boxers. 'Sides," he added with a shrug, tugging his leather jacket closed over the shirt that had been used to wipe the remnants of his own seed from Silas’ hand, "even if she was, I reckon she'd be proud of me for puttin' the assets I inherited to good use." [Name] punctuated his statement with a wink, looking like the very picture of unrepentant sin.

Silas just shook his head, entertained. Without a word, he reached into his wallet by the drawer and pressed a wad of cash into the informant’s hand, the bills crisp. "Here," he said gruffly, "this should be enough to keep you in bullets and Band-Aids for a while." The captain paused, his gaze turning more serious as he fixed the younger man with a hard stare. “[Name]. I know you've got a habit of diving headfirst into the shit without lookin' first, but with these Wraiths… if you are being truthful about their potential danger... don't be a fool. For fuck's sake, don't go lookin' for trouble." There was an undercurrent of genuine concern in Silas’ voice, an unguarded moment slipping through his usual cold detachment. The brief mirch in the room had vanished completely in less than a minute.

[Name] blinked, momentarily taken aback by the captain's words. His expression changed swiftly and composed itself just as quick: a flicker of something akin to surprise, or perhaps even vulnerability, flashed across his face before he quickly shuttered it behind a acrid smirk. "Well,” he drawled, half-bitterly, "I guess that means you actually, finally, give a shit about me, then," he mused, only to dismiss the notion just as swiftly with a soft shake of his head. "Nah.” He tucked the money into his jacket pocket and turned to leave, throwing a casual "Later, Captain" over his shoulder and stepping out of the dark office before his contractor could respond.

An unfamiliar tightness settled in Silas’ chest as he watched [Name] stride out of his office, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that left an unsettling emptiness in its wake, not bothering to hold the lad back. It was a sensation he couldn't quite name, this strange tugging in his gut, and one he had no intention of examining too closely. Palmer was not a man given to introspection. His relationship with the young man was simple, or so he told himself. Merely an exchange of favors, a mutually beneficial arrangement that preserved the little order left in a city that had long since lost its moral compass. 

But somewhere throughout the years, the lines had blurred. When had it happened? He couldn't say. Perhaps it had been gradual, until one day Palmer found himself standing on the precipice of a realization he had no desire to acknowledge. He pushed the thought away, his jaw clenching as he reached for his cigars, the pack now nearly empty. Just an arrangement, he told himself, taking a bitter drag, nothing more.

But even as he tried to convince himself of that lie, he knew it rang hollow. There was a reason he kept [Name] close, why he went to lengths to protect the informant even as he used him. It wasn't just about the intel, the inside knowledge from gangs that kept his precinct afloat in a sea of corruption. No, there was something else.

Silas leaned back against the desk, admiring the obsidian-black sky outside his window, the crescent moon high. The city’s street lamps were a dying ember, the light fading from the historical district, while the captain was left to hold the pieces together. With [Name]. Him and his informant, two broken things that fit in the rot, trading heat and secrets in equal measure.

He sighed. This was too much, too close to something that resembled sentiment, and he had no use for that. Not in Veridian Falls, specially not as captain of the VFMP. Sentiment was a luxury he couldn't afford, not when he had a job to do, not when the city needed him to hold the line with his steadiness instead of weakness.

Silas Palmer was one of the only constants in Veridian Falls, one of the couple unyielding pillars in a rotting city. And he would be damned if he let some dirty street-runt break him. Not now. Not ever.

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