HorrorFreak

The swamp air clung heavy as oil, the night buzzing with mosquitoes, wooden planks of the dock groaning beneath Ethan’s boots as he returned back. You had spent the entire hellish night guiding him by phone, voice in his ear through static and gunfire, telling him which way to go, which hallways to sprint down when Jack’s monstrous form came crashing after him, warning him when Marguerite’s insect swarms buzzed too close, coaxing him toward the next desperate resource.

Every time he thought he might break, there you were again, steadying him with a quick instruction, your own fear carefully hidden beneath sarcasm and the occasional flirty remark that slipped past your lips, because if you didn’t laugh at the horror of your own family’s house, it would eat you alive.

Piece by piece, through your coordination, he had brought you the D-Series arm for serums, stirring life-saving hope into two fragile vials. One was meant for you, to cut Eveline’s grip and burn the mold from your veins. The other was for him, because if there was even a chance the corruption had gotten into his body, you would not let him walk away without safety.

But Jack had returned, grotesquely swollen and no longer in a human body but a black mass, voice still carrying that twisted fatherly drawl as he crashed through walls and dragged Ethan into battle. You’d heard the chaos over the line until silence took over.

When Ethan stumbled back to you at the dock, his face was pale with fatigue, right hand still shaking around the handle of his pistol, you ran to him, chest tight, arms wrapping around his body before he could even think. The hard planes of his chest pressed against you, the scent of gunpowder, blood and swamp mud clinging to his clothes. “I’m glad you’re fine,” you whispered fiercely against him, clutching like he might vanish.

He stiffened, awkward for only a moment, then sighed as though the fight drained out of him, his left arm circling your waist. “Any doubts?” he muttered with a crooked grin, pretending at casualness, voice dry, but his ears flushed pink.

Pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes fell immediately on the small glass vial tucked in his pocket, one of them was gone.

He saw you notice and his shoulders slumped, shame flickering across his face. “I had to use it on Jack. He wouldn’t stop… I didn’t want to waste it, but—” His throat worked, eyes glassy with exhaustion and regret.

The words hurt, but you reached to touch his chest anyway, grounding him. “It’s fine,” you said softly. “At least now he can rest. He’s done suffering.”

Yet inside, your heart twisted, because only one vial remained. Yours, the cure you’d fought to prepare. And with it gone, what future was left? The swamp stretched endless around you, black water reflecting moonlight in broken ripples, cypress roots jutting like skeletal hands. The smell of rot and algae filled your nose and for the first time, you allowed yourself to feel trapped, stuck in the nightmare Eveline had written into your blood.

No more ingredients left, maybe never a way free—

A sharp sting in your arm cut your thoughts short and an hiss, eyes widening as the empty vial clattered to the planks at your feet.

Ethan was still holding the spent needle, his other hand bracing your arm where he’d driven the serum in, lips curved into the smallest, most disarming smile. “That’s my thank you. For everything. You kept me alive in that mad house, the least I could do.”

Your voice failed to come out, heat spread from your chest up through your throat, burning across your cheeks and you could only stare at him, stunned and breath short.

He chuckled at the way your face betrayed you, the sound warm and boyish even in this hellscape, slipping his hand into yours. “C’mon,” he said, tugging you toward the small motorboat tied to the dock.

He climbed in first, settling by the old engine, shoulders moving as he leaned to grip the rope starter. You were meant to sit opposite him, to keep space, but your body betrayed your restraint, stepping into the boat and slid down right next to him, pressing thigh to thigh, looping both arms around his left shoulder while your head found his other shoulder, his once white shirt damp and warm against your cheek.

Muscles tightening beneath your hold as he jolted slightly, a sharp intake of breath betraying how unprepared he was. His ears flushed crimson, mouth pressed tight in an attempt to hold a neutral face while his pulse hammered fast beneath your palm where you clung to him. Eyes that cut sideways, too flustered to meet yours directly, though the tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

The engine sputtered to life with a roar as he yanked the rope, boat vibrating beneath you two with water churning. The Baker estate receded into the distance, its sagging rooflines and rotting porches shrinking into shadow, swallowed by swamp mist.

You held him tighter, arms firm and cheek pressed close, heart swelling with a warmth that eclipsed every terror you had endured. For once you let yourself relax into him, the tension in him slowly unwinding though not entirely, chest rising faster than calm should allow.

Ethan let you cling, jaw clenched and breath shallow, but his free hand twitched once as though tempted to hold yours again, the entire frame betraying that he wanted this closeness as badly as you did.

Chirring of crickets and slap of water against the old boat hull filled the night and in that quiet your lips pressed the first tentative kiss to Ethan’s cheek. He twitched as if unused to such tenderness, jaw tightening, but he didn’t move away; he leaned into it instead, a soft warmth stealing through his guarded expression.

Trailing another kiss down along the line of his jaw, then to the hollow of his neck and the shiver that coursed through him was undeniable. His free hand, hesitant at first, settled on your waist, thumb brushing the hem of your shirt before gripping firmer, keeping you against him.

Sliding one leg over to straddle his lap fully, the boat rocking beneath the shift of weight. Both broad hands now circled your waist with a steady pressure, pulling you snug until your chests brushed with each breath.

Tilting your face up to his, mouths close enough to taste the heat of his panting, lips parted to search yours and, when you pressed forward, a slow but deep kiss began, his tongue sliding against yours in languid strokes.

His taste was salt and smoke, kiss greedy and unhurried all at once, his breath hitching when you tugged gently at his bottom lip. You could feel the way his heartbeat thundered, how he was drowning in this moment as surely as you were.

The boat slowed, engine chugging idle as Ethan forgot to keep the throttle, forgot everything but your mouth. One of his hands slid up your back, anchoring you to him, while the other gripped at your hip so tightly you felt his fingertips burning through the fabric. Your hips shifted against his without meaning to and you froze as you felt something hard nudging below, angled slightly to the right, pressing through the denim of his jeans against the front of your own arousal.

“Ethan… is that a gun or are you just excited to have me on your lap?”A wicked smile broke across your face between kisses while pulling back just enough to breathe against his lips.

His entire body jolted with heat, a strangled sound stuck in his throat with eyes that went wide. “It’s—it’s actually a gun, uhm—wait, let me—” he stammered, voice cracking at the edges in a way you’d never heard, utterly adorable in his fluster.

He shifted awkwardly, fumbling at the waistband of his jeans the MPM he’d shoved there was dragged out, its dark metal catching a thin gleam of moonlight.

The way he was observing and turning around, clearly searching for somewhere safe to set it down in the tight confines of the boat while you sat spread over him, nearly made you laugh. His hands shook slightly and his embarrassment painted every line of his face.

Before he could put it aside, you caught his wrist and pressed your palm over the hand that still held the weapon. Your grin widened, all suggestion, no mold-born delirium in it, but only desire. Slowly and deliberately, you guided his hand back up, the barrel tilting toward your lips. Ethan’s eyes went huge, breath catching, Adam’s apple bobbing hard as he swallowed.

Once you opened your mouth, your tongue slid wetly along the cold steel, the taste of gunmetal sharp on your palate, obscene in the way you let your saliva glisten down the length of it. Ethan made a broken, hushed noise, somewhere between protest and awe, his entire body stiff beneath you as he watched you lap at the weapon with shameless devotion.

Circling the barrel with your tongue and dragging it over the grooves, then wrapping your lips around the tip to suck with slow, obscene care, bobbing just enough to mimic the rhythm of something else entirely.

Drool pooled at the corner of your mouth, dripping onto his knuckles, slicking the gun until it gleamed in the moonlight.

Ethan’s face burned crimson, his eyes locked wide and fixed on the way your tongue swirled. “Jesus Christ…” he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse, chest rising sharp with every breath. Every lick and obscene slurp dragged his composure thinner, the sound of your spit-wet mouth echoing louder than the swamp insects.

When at last you pulled off, lips glistening, you licked them slowly and grinned at him, whispering, “You wanna help stretch me with this?”

He choked audibly, his body rocking beneath you, pupils blown wide, half-flustered and half-hard as you ground your ass more firmly into his lap, the bulge there pressing upward was no longer just the pistol. His breath came fast, panicked at what you suggested, but arousal darkened his eyes and betrayed how much he wanted it.

You tugged down your pants and boxers, the night air cool against your bared skin, ass nudging against his thighs as you leaned forward, guiding the slick barrel lower. The gun was wet lubricated by your own spit, glistening as you pressed its tip gently to your tight hole.

Ethan’s hands seized at your waist, lips parted in disbelief as you eased back against the cold steel.

The first push was slow and deliberate, the barrel breaching inch by inch, your body clenching instinctively around the intrusion. A hiss broke from your throat, back arching while Ethan made a strangled groan beneath you, his forehead falling against your shoulder. His grip on your hips was bruising, steadying you as though the boat might tip under the weight of this moment.

Pressing lower and swallowing more of the length, the slick metal sliding inside with obscene wet sounds while stretching you slowly, the contrast of your warmth and the unyielding cold steel making your nerves scream.

Ethan couldn’t look away, eyes wide while his cock twitched in his jeans beneath you, arousal undeniable as he watched the gun vanish between your cheeks, every part of him lit with desire he couldn’t mask.

With each thrust you moaned louder, the obscene wet noises of spit-slick metal sliding in and out mingling with your desperate gasps.

Ethan’s forehead pressed against yours at last, his breath ragged and voice strained to breaking as he murmured your name, the pistol buried inside while shaking with need. He was flustered beyond words, but he couldn’t stop or look away from the way you writhed in his lap, your cock leaking between your stomachs.

The gun slipped free of you with a wet sound, body clenching at the sudden emptiness and you let out a shaky gasp as Ethan pulled it back. The barrel, still slick with your spit and heat, didn’t leave you entirely though, he pressed it instead to your hip, the cold metal biting into your skin. Both his hands bracketed your waist now, steady and unyielding, the pistol trapped in his grip as he shifted forward.

He leaned, careful but insistent, until your back met the rough boards at the base of the boat. The wood was damp and smelled faintly of algae but you barely noticed, too caught in the way Ethan loomed over you, the moonlight cutting across his flushed face. His breathing came shallow and erratic, eyes flickering between your parted lips and the way your legs spread for him, welcoming, needy.

Awkward hands fumbled with his belt and zipper, knuckles brushing your stomach in clumsiness, curses muttered under his breath. Then at last he freed himself, cock flushed and thick, arching toward you in desperation.

He didn’t waste time admiring, though, he bent down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, body settled between your thighs to align himself and press forward. The head of his cock nudged your entrance, still loose and wet from the gun and when he pushed, he slid in smoothly, your body yielding around him with shocking ease.

Your mouth fell open, a long moan dragged out of you as he filled you inch by inch, the stretch even better than the gun, perfect and delicious. Ethan groaned into your neck, muffled and desperate, hands clutching your waist as though anchoring himself against the sheer pleasure.

“Fuck…” he breathed, voice breaking, every syllable vibrating against your skin.

His hips rolling with tender patience at the first thrusts. Each glide sank him deep inside, your body clinging to him greedily, the friction toe-curling. He kissed at your throat as he moved, each press of his lips between your gasps making it feel less like fucking in a filthy swamp boat and more like something that belonged in another life.

The pistol remained against your side, its weight constant, the cold metal contrasting with the heat flooding through you. Each time his hips met yours, the barrel dug faintly into your skin, a reminder of the kink that had started this spiral, making you shudder harder. Ethan’s hands squeezed tighter, the grip so strong you knew he’d leave marks, his breath growing hotter and rougher, as the pace gradually built.

You clutched at his shoulders, nails scraping through his shirt, dragging him closer, your chest pressed to his as he fucked you with slow, deep strokes. Every roll of his hips rubbed against your prostate, making your toes curl and voice crack into shameless moans.

He groaned, biting down lightly on your shoulder, teeth scraping before his tongue soothed the mark. “You feel… s-so good,” he stammered, the words tumbling out, his usual stoicism shattered by the way your body gripped him.

The boat rocked gently under the rhythm, water lapping against its sides in time with his thrusts. Your legs hooked tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him to lose himself further. He obeyed, hips driving harder now, though still not frantic, always tender, like he wanted every movement to linger and etch this into memory.

The gun shifted with each motion against your hips, the muzzle dragging faintly against your skin, making you shiver with every cold kiss of steel. He noticed, eyes flicking down and pressed it firmer into your side, almost instinctively folding what you enjoyed into his rhythm. You gasped louder at the added sensation, body arching beneath him, cock throbbing between your stomachs untouched but aching.

Your moans tangled with his grunts, the swamp night filling with the sounds of bodies colliding, lips pressing feverishly, breaths stolen between kisses.

Ethan’s face was a portrait of wrecked restraint with blond hair now damp, cheeks flushed, jaw slack with pleasure as he rutted into you with growing urgency, cock dragging against every sensitive nerve, each thrust wringing more broken cries from you and his murmured curses and your name in his hoarse voice only spurred the fire higher.

It built, hot and inevitable, Ethan’s movements growing erratic, his control slipping as his hips snapped against yours harder, deeper. His grip tightened painfully at your waist, the pistol digging almost bruisingly into your side, face buried in your neck as he groaned, voice raw and desperate.

With a shuddering thrust, he came, cock pulsing deep inside you, warmth spilling in heavy spurts as your on release splashed against his once but now messy white shirt, his whole body trembling as he clung to you, panting against your skin.

You held him through it, arms wrapped tight around his back, your own chest heaving, heart hammering from more than just the sex. The swamp receded from your mind, the horror of the house behind you fading in the glow of his body pressed to yours.

The gun finally slipped from his grip, clattering to the wooden floor of the boat, forgotten. Ethan kissed your temple, a soft brush of lips so gentle it felt like an apology and a promise all at once.

When at last he lifted his head, eyes still dazed but full of something warm, he whispered, almost shyly, “You… you ever though about getting out of this place? Maybe… coming with me at Los Angeles? Start over. Together.”

The road is empty. Dirt and gravel long settled as if a car hasn’t passed over it in days. The time on your phone blinks into a new day, midnight coming to glow back at you. The dirt under your shoes starts to feel like something more solid, packed from how long you’ve been waiting in the middle of these roads. The Hoodoo X, the meeting place of devils and demons.

“Welcome, child.”

Your spine stiffens like a steel rod at the impossibly deep voice. It sounds as if bass came to life and learned to speak for itself. Everso slightly, you turn your head. Standing behind you is the man of legend, ‘the black man’. And that he is, pitch black. Like the infinite void of space wrapped itself around a man’s body. He’s impossibly tall with broadness to match, but every other feature is hidden in the black.

“Been a while since I’ve had a deal.” He smiles, his teeth unseen in the black. “What can I do for you, boy?”

You swallow your nerves, turning to face whatever creature it is that’s appeared, be it devil, demon, or something else entirely. “Money. I need money.”

He chuckles, deep and shaking. “Doesn’t everyone now?” He steps closer. “Folks used to ask me for skill. Playing guitars or winning Poker, but the tides are changing. Handsome young men gotta ask me for just plain money now.”

“What does it cost?” You manage to keep the shutter from your voice as he rounds you, his eyes feeling like fire on your form.

“Your soul, usually.” He hums so deep it sounds like music. “But yours doesn’t interest me.”

His hand feels like warm water as it drapes itself around the back of your neck, squeezing just enough to make you feel like a scolded dog. He pushes you down and onto your knees, the dirt immediately dusting onto your pants.

“No, from you I want something else.” He sighs, squeezing lightly at your neck. “It’s been centuries since I’ve had a decent looking man.”

Your mind settles on the implication. “You want--”

“To bed you, yes. Now lie down and take what you're given, money will come.”

It seems a small cost in the grand scheme. Letting a demon fuck you for a lifetime of money and ease. So, without protest, you settle face down in the dirt and let the warm hands position you properly. He pushes your head down, allowing you to turn your face, but props your hips up with some invisible force to hold them there.

The warm feeling of his hand slides through the very fabric of your pants as if they’re not there at all and slips into you unceremoniously. His fingers feel like water, warm and expanding, but you’re unable to make a sound with some unknown silencer muting you entirely. Effectively it all turns you into a living sex doll for the demon to use.

And use you he does.

Unmoving and mute, your mouth open in silent cry, he fills you entirely. Every inch is like warm water, but somehow solid. His massive size takes over your whole body, pressing around your insides until tears stream down your face at the tip peeking through your lips. The demon groans in your ear as his inhumanly large body drapes over you, yet no breath hits your ear. The thrusting feels like an entire digestion, fucking through your whole body as if it was made to be a simple cocksleeve and not an intricate set of organs.

It goes for hours. Hours of use, hours of filling you, hours of invisible hands pumping and palming you to completion after completion. When it finally ends, when the massive length of the demon finally leaves you, your mind is nothing but a cloud and your body nothing but an empty sleeve. The dirt covers your clothes, nestles into your hair, and dusts your lips, but you are unable to care as your eyes fall closed and it feels as though your heart stops.

“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, [Name]?" 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]?"

[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 countless men 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 and something deeper, more intense. 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 whole. 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, voice still rough with satiation. "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 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 cave-in happened without a lot of warning. Just enough rumbling for everyone to panic, not nearly enough to get Negan out. The rocks fell, filling the whole passage and leaving the rest of the scout team on the other side while you and Negan stand between the fallen rocks and a natural dead end. You can faintly hear Simon and Regina shouting at the rest to shut up, but nothing beyond that.

You look back at Negan, eyes searching for injuries on your boss. “You good?”

He nods. “Dandy, just fucking dandy.”

“Alright!” Simon shouts from the other side of the rocks. “We’re gonna need some tools, probably wood to prop up the cave, get the fuck back to the truck.”

Negan smirks, leaning against the wall. “That’s my Simon, getting shit done.”

“Still gonna be a while.” You run a hand along the rocks. “Shit’s pretty thick, boss.”

“It ain’t the only thing.” Negan mutters, tilting his head as he looks you over. “Would you be absolutely offended if I said I wanted to stuff whatever hole you got, man?”

“Funny, boss.” You mutter, still scanning the rocks to find some kind of opening.

“You think I’d joke about that?” Negan huffs. “You’re a good lieutenant, don’t get me wrong, but my first pick for you was husband. And since we got a while, well… we might as well, huh?”

You look back at him, finding his face oddly steady as opposed to that typical bullshit expression.

“Now.” He sighs, setting Lucielle aside and starting to unbuckle his belt. “Either I beat it to your handsome fucking face or I get to stick this uncomfortable problem between your legs. But I am gonna get off either way, cause you’ve had me hard for like an hour.”

You watch with a bit of a swirling mind as he pulls himself from his pants and starts to stroke.

“Feel free to jump in.” He groans lightly as his head rests back against the cave wall.

You feel a dryness in your throat, a throbbing below the waist, and the immediate image of your boss fucking you into the rocks beneath your feet.

“Okay…” Your voice comes out scratchy and low enough that, in the back of your mind, you wish it would always sound like that.

He pauses, smiling over at you. “Any boundaries I need to know about?”

You crinkle your brow, not fully expecting him to care about something like that.

“Look, man…” He sighs, shaking out his hand. “You ain’t the first guy in that situation I’ve had and you definitely won’t be the last. All I wanna know is if I can touch everything without a lotta grief or if I should just hold your hips and fuck.”

It surprises you for half a second before you realize that, of course, Negan has not only fucked the occasional non-traditional guy but knows how to make that fuck go over well enough that he can empty his balls. “Second one.” You mutter, unbuttoning your pants.

“I’ll keep that in mind. You okay on your stomach?”

You nod, carefully kneeling on the rocks and pulling your pants down your thighs.

“And as far as I’m concerned your dick would probably be huge.” He chuckles as he takes your hips and guides you to prop them up as you settle on your stomach. “You got the biggest balls kinda attitude, but it’s like you don’t give a shit and that’s hot as fuck for me.”

“Thanks…” You mutter quietly, trying not to feel any particular way about the small affirmation.

“Anytime.” He presses his tip up against you, dragging it gently. “Maybe we can find you a nice big dick so you can fuck me next time. One that suits you, gotta be at least eight inches and nice round nuts for a guy as hot as you.”

He presses in, sinking in one thrust as he groans and squeezes your hips. Your back arches on instinct, the filling sensation making everything throb and heat in seconds. Your hand goes to your mouth as he starts to move, not wanting to make anything echo through the other caves.

“Taking it like a champ.” Negan mutters. “Fuck, I can get real deep with you.” He grinds into you, his balls pressing firmly against your skin. “Ya gotta let me cum inside, baby, it’s too good. Dr. Carson’s got pills and shit, just say I can.”

You nod lightly. “It’s fine, boss.”

“Yeah…” He picks up his pace, hunching over you to get deeper. “That’s my guy, huh? Giving the boss everything he can.”

You press your head against the cool rock floor and bite deep into your hand to keep the sounds at bay. Negan’s good. He knows how to fuck and fuck good. Every shove forward now brings you close and it’s one final thrust that brings Negan over that gets you too. He floods you, warm and already leaking out around his dick as it’s settled as deep in you as it can go. You shutter and groan into your hand as your body milks him dry. The two of you lay for a moment, Negan lowers your hips to rest on the ground and hums into your neck as he rests lightly on top of you.

“Next time we’re stuck, I’m sucking whatever dick you got.” He mutters against your skin, giving you a small kiss. “I know there’s shit to make it bigger, and I’ll be damned if I can’t find something. You got no idea how much I wanna get my mouth around it.”

“You plan on getting us stuck in a cave again?” You mumble, a bit tired from the intensity as you lazily shift under him to get more comfortable.