Chapter Text
The radio on my shoulder crackles.
“Sergent.”
My eyes stay on my monitor. My hand reaches up blindly for the button.
“Oui?” I mumble, forcing myself to fix my posture, which had been getting worse the longer I read this very boring email from my superior.
“Expire dans un mois,” Franco says, his tone very suggestive, “il est beau aussi.”
…Ah.
Hm, well.
I’ve been good to not do that for a while… it must’ve been around three months since the last time I did. But my officers never really got over it, they like hearing the stories too much.
Plus, Franco is just a kiss-ass, so he’ll always be drooling at the idea of giving me something I want.
I press the button again. “Faites-le entrer.”
The smugness is evident in his voice. “Très bien, Sergent.”
A few seconds later, there’s a sharp knock at my door before it opens.
Franco strides over to me, holding out a black passport as his face does something stupid, that is probably meant to be a grin.
“Il a un regard, comme…” He narrows his eyes at me as he thinks. “Qu'est-ce que c'est… un perro callejero.”
Spanish isn’t something I’m good at, but I can understand him well enough when he can’t express himself in French. Even though it’s usually for very simple things. Maybe that’s why I understand him.
I take the passport from his hand, glancing at the name.
Liam Lawson.
From New Zealand.
That’s a new one.
Franco glances over his shoulder towards the door, and I join him in looking.
The guy is dirt blonde with unshaven stubble, wearing a big jacket with a pair of grey sweatpants. When he notices us looking at him, he promptly turns away in what seems like fear, revealing his huge backpack.
I’ll admit, there is sort of something mangy about him. Stray is correct. He’s probably one of the ones doing the Eurail.
"Hm. Tu as raison,” I respond, turning back to Franco. “Je m'en occuperai.”
“Oui, Sergent.” He gives me a curt nod before heading back to the door. “N'hésitez pas à me faire savoir si vous avez besoin de quoi que ce soit d'autre, Sergent,” Franco adds as he grabs the door handle, before giving me a knowing wink.
The door closes with a sound loud enough to make Liam flinch. Or he’s probably just jumpy anyways.
“You can leave your bag and your jacket at the door,” I inform him as I stand up, but I don’t bother looking his way. I’m more interested in his passport.
He waits a few seconds before dropping his backpack on the floor and struggling to pull off his jacket.
While I walk closer to him, I flip through the pages. Most are empty. Though there’s a few stamps on the first ten pages. America. America again. Japan. Australia. And now Europe. Travel. Got here about two weeks ago.
“Um, is there… a problem?”
I lift my head to see that he’s just shuffling on the spot, staring down at his passport in my hands.
My eyes rake over him as I slip it in my back pocket.
“I’m going to pat you down, if that’s okay,” I mutter, before biting down on the tip of my leather glove to pull it from my hand.
Liam opens his mouth to say something, but decides to just answer that with a nod. Clearly, he’s been through enough of these to just instinctively raise his arms up.
A quiet, “good,” slips out of me as I take a step closer into his personal space.
“I’m Sergeant Hadjar,” I tell him calmly as I run the back of my hand over the front of his hoodie. Feels sturdy. Maybe he has muscles.
“I apologise for the inconvenience, but you can imagine that we take things very seriously.”
I promptly move onto lightly grabbing down the length of his arms to hide my face. There’s definitely a smirk on it, even though I’m trying to control myself. His arms are thick too. He must hit the gym.
“Even if we are just some officers in a very small train station that probably doesn’t matter very much.” I look back up at his face and give him a slight wince of a smile, the kind people used to do when they wore masks.
He huffs out an awkward laugh, slowly dropping his arms to his side again. “Yeah…”
“New Zealand,” I state, turning my attention back down to my hand. I press it down lightly over his left pocket and feel something.
Cautiously, I reach inside just enough to grab it and pull out a Swiss Army knife. Looks new too. Keeping that. “You’re very far from home.”
His focus seems to be on where I’m pocketing the knife, but he doesn’t mention it. “Um, yeah, I’m here for a trip…”
In his other pocket, I find his phone, and I leave it where it is.
My hand pats over the front of his sweatpants, careful to avoid that one area. Despite what my hand wants to do.
Stop it, Isack. Have one little bit of self control.
Well…
I straighten up, and my hand slips under his hoodie. Maybe I can let myself have a little something. I dip my index finger between the elastic strap of his boxers and his stomach, running it from one side of his waist to the other, like I’m searching for anything hidden.
Really, I’m just finding the dip in his skin where his muscles form a ‘V’ down to his crotch. And the very thin happy trail leading up to his belly button.
Mon dieu… how lucky am I…
His hands twitch at his side, and I can hear the slightest hitch in his throat. Not standard procedure, I know.
I take my hand back and the elastic snaps down onto his skin, causing him to jolt up.
Walking back to my desk, I throw a quick gesture at the other chair.
“So, Mister Lawson, when did you arrive in Europe?” I ask, taking a seat at my desk.
It takes him a second to sit down opposite me, answering with a quick, “15 days ago.”
I respond with a silent nod and that prompts him to add, “I, uh, landed in Spain. And I’ve just been to Italy too.”
“Hm.” I pull off my other glove and toss the two of them down on the table. “And how long do you plan to stay in France?”
“Like four days.” He purses his lips. “I’m going to see a friend in Paris, but then I’m off to Berlin.”
Quite the schedule.
I reach back for his passport and have another look over it. Out of the corner of my vision, I can see him shifting in his chair to be able to look at it as well. As if something had changed about it.
“Some simple questions, sorry to be annoying.” I force another tight smile as I place the passport next to my gloves, out of his reach. “Have you ever taken hard drugs?”
“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Never.”
That sounds true. “When’s the last time you smoked?”
His eyes flick to the ceiling as he thinks. “I don’t…” He looks back to me like he thought he was being rude in looking away. “I don’t really smoke.”
“That includes vaping,” I add, just in case.
He shakes his head again.
“Hm.” I glance at my monitor, like I’m checking something. It’s still just the same email from before. “When’s the last time you drank?”
That one makes him think a little more, biting his lip as he looks down at his hands. “Probably… last Friday?” He looks up again, now at the wall behind me where I have a nature-themed calendar hanging. “But it was just a few beers.”
I give him a nod in response. Another question pops into my head, and I’d like to pretend that I fought myself to not say it… but I don’t have that much dignity. “When’s the last time you had sex?”
His wide eyes finally focus on me. Complete, unwavering focus. “…Excuse me?”
It’s like he’s waiting for me to repeat the question so he can hear something different from the first time.
“Sexual intercourse,” I clarify, furrowing my eyebrows at him, as if this was a serious question. “With another person… or persons.”
Persons.
Hah.
Threw that one in just for fun.
He blinks at me a few times before clearing his throat and averting his eyes. “Um.” He brings a hand to his lips. “How is that… relevant?” he mumbles into his palm.
I shrug. “It’s just a test of whatever delinquent behaviours someone might exhibit.”
Wow.
What an actually good excuse I just pulled out of my ass.
After a moment, he murmurs something else, but it’s so muffled I can’t hear it.
I tap my finger to my ear. “Louder, please.”
He winces, frowning at his lap. “Haven’t. For… a while.” Each word sounds like he really had to force it out. He gives me a quick glare through his eyebrows, checking if that answer was satisfactory enough.
I tilt my head at him, to which he lowers his gaze again.
Urgh.
So cute…
For the next few seconds, I just watch him, before remembering that I still have a little more work to do before I can see that adorable face do very adorable things.
“Well, Mister Lawson.” I slide his passport over to inspect it again. “Are you aware that your passport expires in one month?”
He corrects his posture and seems to get more serious now that we’re past the other topic. “I mean, yeah, I’ve had it for a while.”
He does look quite a bit younger in the photo.
“But I’ll be back in New Zealand within the month, um, and I’ll get a new one.”
That could be true given he never mentioned how long he was staying in Berlin. It very likely is the truth. But what do I care?
I stand up, taking a deep breath as I put the passport in my pocket. “Passports are more likely to be sold within the last few months of validity.”
That gets a scoff out of him, like something close to a laugh. He mirrors me, getting to his feet and resting a hand on his chest. “You think I’d sell my passport?”
“No, of course not.” It only takes four steps for me to join him on the other side of the table, keeping just a safe amount of distance between us. Safe for him, that is. “You are statistically more likely to be the buyer of one.”
A whole range of emotions pass through his face before it settles on shock, or fear.
“H-how could I have bought that??” His voice cracks as he nervously smiles, probably thinking this is some sort of prank. Which is not too far off, so I’ll give him that. “My face is on it, mate, check again-”
As he reaches for it, I take the opportunity to maintain our arm’s length distance by pressing my hand to his collar until his back meets the wall. He doesn’t put up much of a fight. In fact, just by trying to get away from my hand, he’s only helped me.
“Please keep your hands to yourself,” I state firmly, giving him a pointed look.
“I was just-” He clenches his jaw as he thinks over his next words, his hands now just gripping the bottom of his hoodie. “B-but, like, you can’t think… that’s my photo, just look at it!”
“And what would I see?” I question him with a raised eyebrow, not moving my hand yet. “It’s a New Zealand passport, and this is probably the first time I’ve ever seen one.”
His eyebrows scrunch together. “So?”
“So… how am I meant to know if this is fake or not?” I respond, really having to hold back on smiling.
Silence stretches out in the room after that question.
Nothing is said, but his lips part like he thinks about it. His pretty, pink lips.
How can someone look so cute… and so… mangy?
Mm. I could fix him.
My hand carefully inches up until it reaches his throat.
Give him a shower. New clothes. Let him sit on my lap while I work…
Merde… I’m such a degenerate.
His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, then he finally manages to get one word out in a whisper. “…fake?”
Poor thing actually sounds worried.
I slowly bring my hand up to his cheek, to which it turns red and warm.
Without realising it, I had stepped close enough for my chest to meet his.
Liam’s eyes scan my face, his breathing quickening just a beat.
“Mister Lawson,” I purr softly, flashing him a subtle smirk as I rub my thumb over his cheek bone. “Let’s be honest…”
His lips pull down in a subtle frown. But he doesn’t say anything.
“I’m not going to deport you, or anything like that,” I admit, keeping eye contact with him. My other hand gently rests on his waist. “But I need a reason for you to get on your knees. So just know that I very well could.”
His face flushes more as the muscles around his jaw tighten. But he still stays quiet.
Hm.
“Have you done that sort of thing before?” I ask, tilting my head at him.
He swallows again, not answering.
Just when I was going to give up and ask a different question, he gives me the slightest nod.
I can’t help but smile a little. “Good.”
Both my hands come down to his belt, slipping under his shirt and feeling over his stomach.
“You’re very handsome, you know,” I comment softly, bringing my face closer to his.
His muscles tense up under my fingertips.
“…thank you,” he whispers, barely above a breath, glancing down to the very small gap between us.
Aw.
“You’re welcome.”
One of my hands stops over his pec and I give it a light squeeze.
He’s so built.
Now this is what I wanted to pat down…
A shiver straightens up his spine. When I look back in his eyes, they’re pressed shut, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.
Slowly, he blinks his eyes open and looks back at me. “What’s wrong?”
Hm?
I narrow my eyes at him, taking my hands back. “Nothing.”
Well, nothing but the fact that he looked scared. Though, he doesn’t look it anymore.
Before I can ask him the same question, he grabs my waist and slowly sinks down to his knees.
“…I won’t tell anyone,” he mumbles, batting his eyelashes up at me. “I promise.”
Pleasure washes over my stomach for a second, and then it’s gone. But I can already feel myself straining against my boxers.
I wedge by boot between his thighs, to which he parts them for me. A cute noise of surprise slips out of him as I press my leg against his crotch.
His trembling hands shift down to my knees and he dips his head with a stifled whine.
After catching his breath for a few seconds, he ruts up against my leg, biting his lip as he glances back up at me.
Merde, he looks so fucking good like this…
I run a hand through his hair, before resting it on his cheek. “Good boy…”
Those two words make him practically melt onto me with a breathy moan. He turns his blushing face and presses a kiss to my palm as he grinds up against my boot again.
Oh, he would make a perfect little pet…
I trace my thumb over his lips before he promptly opens his mouth for me.
“So obedient,” I purr, feeling over his tongue slowly. It presses up to the pad of my thumb as he gently bites down on my knuckle.
I tisk at him, making our eyes meet.
It takes him a moment to realise his mistake, and he stops biting. Instead, he sucks on my thumb, his hands coming up to the back of my thighs.
“Good,” I affirm, watching his face. “Hungry?”
He frowns like he's pouting slightly, his eyes fluttering closed for a second before they return me. Then, he nods slowly.
My crotch is burning, and I feel like if I don’t resolve it in the next five seconds, I might pass out.
It’s a slight struggle to undo the button and zipper of my pants with my left hand, but I manage.
Liam’s attention shifts to the black boxers I’ve just revealed, expression hazy and distant.
Just as I grip the elastic on them, a noise interrupts me.
My radio crackles.
“…Sergent?”
Franco’s voice is clearly hesitant.
Merde. This cannot be good…
Annoyingly, I take my thumb out of Liam’s mouth to bring it up to the radio.
“Qu'est-ce que c'est,” I hiss under my breath, pressing down the button.
The response is quick, and guilty.
“Il y a un couple ici avec de faux passeports… Je jure qu'ils sont imprimés sur du papier ordinaire…”
Fucking fake papers? Now??
“Désolé,” Franco adds quietly after a few seconds.
Sorry doesn’t cover it. Anger doesn’t come close to describing what I feel.
I press down the button. “Tu es une petite garce, tu le sais.”
The radio goes static before Franco answers quietly. “Je sais, Sergent.”
My gaze drifts back down.
Liam had been watching the conversation with a hint of concern. Clearly, it didn’t sound like everything was okay.
…Merde.
Stupid Franco. Stupid papers.
“Deux minutes,” I grumble into the receiver.
“Oui, Sergent,” Franco replies swiftly.
I look over Liam like I’m trying to memorise this sight. Merde, and just when I had such a handsome guy on his knees...
Baise ma vie.
Getting my pants done up is a lot easier now that I have two hands, but that’s barely even a positive. Liam furrows his eyebrows at the action. Which I understand.
I’m annoyed about it too.
“Bark.”
The command comes out of my mouth before I can even think about it, but I quite like it.
He presses his lips together, acting a little shy at the thought. A quiet noise comes from the back of his throat before he swallows.
“…Arf!”
He smacks a hand over his face, like he immediately regrets that.
Don’t see why. It was just adorable enough to soothe my nerves a little.
“Good. Now, get up.”
I step away, giving him the decency to not have to be watched as he comes to realise that nothing would be happening.
My wallet is sitting on my desk, and I pick it up.
Riffling through the notes, I get out 40 euros and snatch his passport from my back pocket.
“Well, it seems like we cleared everything up…”
When I turn back around, he’s back on his feet with his hands awkwardly positioned in front of his sweatpants.
Yeah, I’m going to have to fix myself in a minute too.
“Paris is the world’s capital of good food. Though, you’ll be overcharged if you go to the wrong areas, so beware.”
I hold out his passport and the two notes in front of him. It’s a few seconds before he seems to actually register what I said and he finally takes them.
He looks back at my face, like he expects something else.
I force a smile, squinting at him slightly.
He blinks at me before absentmindedly walking back over to where his things had been waiting by the door.
As he gets his jacket back on, he keeps sneaking glances my way.
“Maybe you’ll stop by here again on your way to Berlin,” I comment, walking closer to see him out. Plus, that other business I have to attend to.
He pauses between picking up his backpack and hauling it onto his shoulders to give me a look over.
I chuckle, tilting my head at him as I grab the doorhandle.
“Your passport will be even more out of date by then,” I remind him pointedly, “so trust that I won’t let you go the next time.”
That gets his face to flush red again.
“Oh- um, okay…” He shuffles over to the door, bringing a hand up to his lips and keeping his eyes to the floor.
“And Mister Lawson?”
He turns around to face me once more, clearly still expecting something more.
Aw, how I would love to see that face again…
“Welcome to France.”