Billy met Mark's eyes quickly.
"I have no idea, lovely." Mark held Steve's
hand. "Should we all go have a bite?"
"Let me change. Then, yes." Billy still
appeared preoccupied.
"Aw, ya hafta?" Alex touched his shiny, new
badge; silver backing with gold letters, 'Captain', on the top, a
silhouette of LA's City Hall under it, and 'Los Angeles Police' in
gold under that. On the bottom was a number, but Mark didn't know
what it meant.
"Yes. I 'hafta'." Billy tapped Alex's nose
affectionately, and as he went to leave the room a loud noise of
cheering, like a group of macho military men in heat, echoed
loudly. Billy's SWAT friends were roughing him up playfully and
congratulating him.
Mark watched the masculine comradery with
fantasies spinning in his head. Being the sub to a group of SWAT
officers? Oh my!
He felt a hand on his bottom. Seeing Jeff's
wicked leer Mark glanced around. "Naughty, cop."
"No one can see. You hard from all the
uniforms in here, beautiful?"
"Careful, Jeff," Mickey said, "Billy's got it
in for us."
"No," Alex said quickly. "Never. I talked to
him. I'd kill him."
Mickey leaned close to whisper. "He's a by
the book guy."
"No," Mark echoed his son. "He knows how we
all would disapprove of it."
"Look, he's top brass now," Jeff said,
shrugging. "He is not going to risk getting nailed for me nailing
Mickey on the job."
"Grrr," Mickey said, showing his teeth in a
sensual gesture.
"Is the chief gone?" Jeff asked, as he looked
around the room.
"Yeah, I checked." Mickey tucked Alex's hair
behind his back playfully. "So, big movie star…will you remember us
when you walk the red carpet with your Oscar?"
"Shut up," Alex said, blushing.
"He'll be in Rome. I'm worried sick." Mark
put his arm around Alex's waist.
"He'll be fine," Steve said, checking his
watch. "We should wait in the hall."
"You want to come to dinner with us?" Mark
asked the two officers.
"Wish we could. We just got time off on duty
to come see this. Have to head back to the streets." Mickey looked
around the hallway as it cleared out.
"Be safe." Mark kissed him on the cheek, then
Jeff.
"Always." They waved and walked out of the
building together.
As they waited for Billy, Mark became lost in
an erotic fantasy. His uniform fetish was so extreme, he'd had an
erection since he walked into the building. What was it about the
power? The authority? The masculinity? He had no idea. But seeing
the SWAT team? Laughing in deep, low manly tones and touching each
other? Mark was about to come.
Steve wandered the outer lobby, reading
plaques and looking at photos that hung on the walls as Alex stood
by his father, waiting impatiently.
"Dad?"
Mark woke out of a lovely fantasy where he
was inside a personnel carrier jammed with SWAT officers.
"What if I flop in this film?"
Mark embraced Alex and rocked him, kissing
his hair. "Not going to happen. They never would have hired you if
they thought you wouldn't be perfect."
"But…Italian?"
"Please don't worry yourself. It's not going
to be subtitled. You will only have to learn an accent. Alex, you
can do it."
"I keep thinking of Furio in The Sopranos.
You know, trying to imagine I'm him when I talk."
"That's brilliant. You're a very smart, young
man."
Billy emerged from a back room, his uniform
on a hanger and wearing casual clothing.
"Aw…" Alex said in exaggeration.
"I'll take that for you, Billy." Mark reached
for the hanger.
"I've got it."
Mark was disappointed as they walked to the
exit, Steve falling in beside Mark. Billy opened the door for all
of them and Mark knew Billy and Alex would go together in Billy's
truck. He followed them towards it, since they still hadn't decided
on where to go for lunch.
Billy unlocked the truck door and before he
hung the uniform, Mark reached for it, running his hand down the
sleeve.
It caught Billy's attention so he stopped
what he was doing.
Steve smiled. "Uh oh."
Appearing as if he understood what Mark
wanted, Billy handed Mark the uniform on its hanger. "Here,
Richfield. Take it."
Mark caught his son's smirk and couldn't
resist. He lovingly took the uniform and caressed it, holding it
against his body and sniffing the shoulder near the silver
bars.
The badge was on a clip on Billy's belt, as
was his gun holster. But the rest of the outfit was in Mark's
arms.
"Jesus Christ," Steve said softly, "I never
should have quit the police."
"Then you never would have met Dad." Alex
leaned against Billy.
Mark closed his eyes and pressed the fabric
to his lips, catching a scent of both Billy's cologne and the dry
cleaning, but in his mind, all he could smell was cop sex.
"Don't cream on it," Billy said,
laughing.
"I have to get my tattoo redone." Alex rested
his head on Billy's chest. "Changed from a lieutenant to a
captain's badge."
"Mark…" Steve crossed his arms. "You wanna
sleep with that thing?"
Mark gave it one good sniff and fondle, and
then reluctantly handed it to Billy.
"Jesus, Richfield," Billy said as he hung the
uniform in the truck. "You have it bad."
"You have no idea." Mark ran his hand over
his erection under his trousers.
"Get over here." Steve grabbed Mark's arm and
walked him to the car.
"Where are we having lunch?" Alex yelled as
they left.
"The Mexican place on Santa Monica
Boulevard!" Steve hollered back and shoved Mark into the
passenger's seat of the Mercedes.
Steve climbed into the driver's side and dove
on Mark, opening his zipper.
Mark glanced around the parking lot, but it
had cleared of most officers and their civilian family members.
Steve exposed Mark's erection and sank it
into his mouth.
Mark closed his eyes.
The scent and feel of the captain's uniform
still fresh, he envisioned being naked, vulnerable, in a room like
at the club Colt and Lion worked at. Men. Men in SWAT uniforms,
Billy as their commander…
"Oh, yes," Mark moaned and gripped Steve's
head as he sucked faster.
In his fantasy, Mark was backed into a wall,
held by two strong bruisers in Kevlar helmets and face shields, all
carrying batons and rifles.
The captain walked among the group of armed
men and grinned wickedly. "Wanna get fucked, Richfield?"
"Yes!" Mark said out loud, his cock
throbbing, edging the climax.
Steve moaned and writhed on the driver's
seat.
Still lost in his head, Mark was spun around,
bent over, and placed into a submissive pose, his ass offered to
the men.
Imagining them using their fists, their
cocks, their batons…to fuck him, Mark came, shivering and hitting
his head on the passenger's window as he threw it back. "Ah! Ah!
Fuck! Ahhhh!"
Steve made a sound of pleasure mixed with awe
and milked Mark gently. He sat up and gasped for breath. "Christ,
Mark! What a fucking load!"
"Oh, God…" Mark kept his eyes closed and
rocked his hips. When he opened his eyes, Mark caught Steve wiping
his mouth and then looking around the parking lot. Mark stared at
his own cock. He was still erect.
"Jesus." Steve was stunned. "What the hell
fantasy were you in? Fuck. I swear your hard-on for uniforms blows
my mind."
Mark moved slowly, sated, tucking his cock
under his zipper flap and trying to calm down. He shifted to sit
correctly in the seat as Steve did the same, still glancing at him
as he started the car.
Mark didn't say what his fantasy was. He
fastened his seatbelt and lowered the visor to check his face in
the mirror.
"Not gonna tell me?" Steve headed out of the
parking lot, towards the restaurant.
Mark kept quiet, flipping up the visor and
staring into space.
~
All through dinner with Billy and Alex, Mark
was quiet.
Once home, Steve opened the kitchen door for
him and Mark as they entered. It was Friday night and since they
had the ceremony, Jack and Adam planned on coming tomorrow for
their usual weekend fun. Jack had no desire to see Billy promoted,
so Adam didn't come either. Both, however, sent him a large bouquet
of flowers and a card.
Steve toed off his shoes at the door as Mark
did the same, making their way up to their bedroom. It wasn't late
but Steve wanted to change into comfortable clothing.
Mark entered their walk-in closet and Steve
emptied his trouser pockets and took off his slacks and shirt. When
he went to hang up his clothing, Mark was holding Steve's old
patrol uniform the way he had held Billy's. But Mark was naked and
inhaling it as if it were his drug. And maybe it was.
Steve hung his clothing up and stared at
Mark.
Mark appeared groggy, opened his eyes and
slowly put the uniform back on the rack with Steve's suits and
dress clothing.
"We should call Mum." Mark slipped a pair of
sweatpants on, one of Steve's, and left the closet.
Steve watched him walk out, then sniffed the
uniform but didn't smell anything.
He, also, put on a pair of sweatpants and a
worn out LAPD T-shirt and found Mark standing at the nightstand
turning pages of his phone directory. "You first dial the country
code…"
"Dial it for me." Steve sat on the bed and
mentally prepared himself.
Mark, appearing extremely stoical, dialed and
handed the phone to Steve. "Niles will answer. Ask for Mum."
Steve nodded, and put the phone to his ear.
The sound of the ringtone was very different than calling the
States. He was amused by it, but kept his concentration as Mark sat
beside him in an effort to both listen and be supportive.
"Richfield-Jenkins residence, can I help
you?"
"Niles? This is Steve…Steve Miller, Mark's
husband."
"Yes, hello, sir. What may I do for you?"
"I need to speak to Leslie. Is she
there?"
"One moment."
Steve said to Mark, "I think he's getting
her." He held the phone so both he and Mark could hear.
"Steven?" Leslie said, her accent much
stronger than Mark's. "Is Mark all right?"
"Yes, Leslie, he's fine." Silence was his
reply. Steve said, "Leslie, the reason I'm calling…I was wondering,
after the sale of the estate, did you need our account numbers to
wire the money?"
He gave Mark a glance; Mark had begun his
usual nervous gesture of tugging his hand over his hair and looking
dazed.
"Oh! Well, I haven't given it much
thought."
Sure you haven't, bitch. "I don't want to
sound pushy, Leslie. Honest. But I recall you giving Mark the
estate at one point. Was that correct?"
"Is Mark not available? Why is he having you
speak with me about this?"
"He asked if I would. Is there a reason you
and I can't come to some agreement?"
Mark pouted and Steve knew he could hear
every word.
"Agreement? Well, I'm not sure what you
mean." Leslie began to sound defensive.
"You did offer to give Mark the estate. Is
that what you had said?" No way was Steve going to let her off the
hook easily.
"I…I do recall that may have been the
case."
"Yes. I recall that as well. And I also know
Mark found the buyer, Ewan Gallagher. He paid cash."
"Yes."
Steve waited. He looked at Mark in
exasperation and tried to keep calm. "So, Leslie, do you need our
bank's wire numbers? To complete the transaction?"
"The wire numbers…" She began to sound
flustered.
"Yes. If I give you our bank's routing
number, then you can wire the money from the sale of the estate
into Mark's account. He's going to put it into an IRA for
Alex."
Silence again occurred and Steve actually
wondered if he lost the connection. "Hello?"
"I don't know about those numbers. Can I have
Harry discuss this with you?"
"Of course."
Without a goodbye or a 'How is my son and
grandson doing?' Leslie put the phone down with a clunk.
A moment later, a man's voice came on the
line. "Steven?"
"Harry. Good to hear your voice. How are
you?" Steve gave Mark a silly expression and moved his hand in a
gesture of 'blah, blah, blah' because he couldn't care less about
this man.
"Well, very well, Steven. What seems to be
the problem?"
"There's no problem, Harry. None whatsoever."
Steve inhaled deeply. "I just wanted to give you our bank account
wire information so Leslie can send Mark the money from the sale of
the estate."
"I see. All right. Can you hold a moment?"
Steve could hear him cupping the phone, poorly since he could still
hear him ask Niles for a pen and paper.
"Mark, get the check book." Steve nudged
him.
Mark sprang to his feet and found it, then
sat also with his laptop, going to their bank's home page and their
online account.
"All right, Steven, go ahead with the
numbers."
"I don't know if they are the same in the UK,
but let me give them to you the way we have ours set up here."
"Not a problem."
Steve held their checkbook and said, "Okay,
here is our routing number." He read it, and then repeated it.
"Here is the account number." Steve did the same thing. "Can you
read them back, Harry?"
Harry did.
Mark meanwhile was scrolling through the
information on getting money wired from another country. He pointed
to the instructions and the huge fee, but that didn't surprise
Steve.
"Harry, we will set up the transaction for
receiving the cash from you, and all you have to do is wire
it."
"All right, Steven."
Steve took a moment and asked, "Were you and
Leslie going to give Mark the money? Or have I placed you on the
spot?"