A/N: Slightly AU, in that they didn't know each other as children... or I guess they could have just forgotten, your choice.

Warning: swearing, smut and minor violence. Seems to be a reoccurring thing with me...

Williams, Officer Williams is his name and he's been the focus of my life for the past six months. You'd understand why if you saw him.

I've just found out that he works in solitary confinement; the reason I've never met him. I catch glimpses of him, gazing at his breathtaking beauty and noting his superior attitude, acting as if he's made of gold. Those glimpses make life here bearable, but it's been six months of glimpses and nothing more. The few moments of looking at him drive me into a frenzy, and then I spend the rest of my time picturing what I've seen of him. There's not much else to do in prison. Everyone in here leaves me alone. They know better than to start a fight with the Mole (a broken arm and a lot of blood for the guy who tried).

Seeing him, seeing me in the showers that day did it. I can only assume that there'd been an emergency and he'd been called on to keep watch. He stood there boldly leaning against the wall: arms crossed and hat slanted, eyes glistening mischievously. He looked like he was doing a photo shoot for one of those 'men in uniform' calendars (I'd buy one, but only if he was every month). Fuck that face. Fuck that body. What an undeniably sexy prison guard. I felt strangely more on show that day than any other, even though I'm always surrounded by prying in-mates. I could feel his eyes probing over me, without even looking I could sense the pleased smirk on his face. When I turned in flustered annoyance to make eye-contact with him, he winked. That faggot actually winked at a prisoner in the showers!

He noticed me.

So that's when I knew what I needed to do.

I needed to get myself into solitary confinement. I had to be nearer him.

It was easy enough. The fastest way was to cause a fight, not a big enough one that anybody died, but not too small or else the guards wouldn't care. I approached my target, well targets; one person wouldn't have created a big enough show. It was one of those prison gangs. The sharks? The Jets? Or am I thinking of West Side Story? I can just see the jazz hands now. Haunting.

...

Anyway they were named something faggy like that.

It wasn't hard to start a fight. I just had to stand in their way, refuse to move and call one or two of them cocksuckers. That's what happened and that's how three of them ended up unconscious on the ground through the faultless art of head-butting, (learn it, perfect it; the skull is a very hard and useful weapon, if executed correctly a single blow can leave them unconscious and you with a mere headache). The other member was the one I was in the process of beating up when I got dragged away. He'd avoided the head-butt but was unable to foresee the jab of my elbow (again, don't use the fists unless you have to).

It had been a success. I've been given isolation as a punishment, until they think I won't be a danger.

And that brings us to now, sat in solitary, where I can hear the promising sound of footsteps walking towards my completely isolated and shut off cell. I stand up from the bed I've been lying on and for some subconscious reason, straighten my posture as a key unlocks the cell. Why am I standing like this? I'm panicking...

He strolls in, calculating look on his face, giving away no emotions, only smugness. He walks towards me, carrying his body in the remarkably sensual way that he does. The way he walks makes me stare at his hips; even under his uniform I can tell they're incredible.

Damn that bitch God, he's even more fucking beautiful up close. I can't see a single imperfection. Strands of his glowing blond hair peep from under his slanted hat and shine with golden tinges, even in the sickening artificial light. His skin is royally pale, cheeks tinged slightly pink. His lips look so plump and soft. As he smiles I can see his teeth, perfectly straight and sparkling white. The rest of his features look quite masculine. He has a masculine nose, razor-sharp cheek bones and simple shaped bluest of the blue eyes. He has masculine features yet he looks so soft and feminine. I'm the opposite. I have big eyes with long lashes and a more rounded face, but nobody would look at me and think anything other than tough and manly.

Go figure.

Moving my eyes down I only wish I had x-ray vision because, fuck, I want to see what's under those clothes. An irresistible uniform makes me want to rip it off even more.

Did I mention he smells like I imagine a Prince would? I've never met a Prince but I think this is pretty fucking close. Not a modern one, the type they have in all the fairytales. You know, Prince Charming. Damn, this is him in the flesh. This is Prince Charming.

He's pretty fucking gay.

His words cut through the silence of my drooling. "So, I finally get to make the acquaintance of the Mole." He turns his back to me and pulls the door shut behind him. The pounding in my heart tells me to get excited, that this is promising...

I glare at him as he turns back around. "You're shutting yourself een wiz a prisoner?"

He points to his belt; once again I'm staring at his hips. "I have the gun." And that's so fucking sexy. Please hit me with it. I grunt, taking deep breath to stop myself from getting aroused. But then again... do you think he intended that to be an innuendo? I hope so. He makes his way further forward, we're face to face. He's taller. Those fucking long slender legs. "I was observing you in the shower."

"I noticed."

"Is that the reason you're here?" he cocks his head to one side. "To see me? I see you naked, you see me naked."

Yes.

"No."

"You started a fight for the fun of it?"

Non.

"Oui."

"You're lying. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you stare at me every time I'm around. I've heard you asking about me, what am I? 'Zat faggot of a blond guard.' Mmmm, very polite." He grins at me. "You've got a bit of a name for yourself in this prison, Mole... I don't like that name. I like your real name, Christophe. I'm going to call you that."

Call me whatever you want, just please take off your clothes.

"Ze way I stare at you?"

"Yes, like you're undressing me with your eyes." He smirks. I wonder how many years he spent perfecting that self-righteous arrogant expression, probably practised in front of the mirror, butt-naked. The fag. "You're doing it right this moment."

"...Well I wouldn't 'av to eef you'd take your clothes off instead."

He ignores me. "That accent is so sexy. You could say the most offensive things and it would all just sound like orgasms to me." Well that was a pretty bold thing to say.

And then it happens. His fingers make contact with my skin. They're so thin and hard yet the skin is so soft. He trails his hand down my face and I shiver beneath the touch. I can't believe my plan to get nearer him worked; regardless of this, I brush his hand away. "Get off me, faggot." Here's the thing, I don't want to seem like a complete slut. Besides: he's the officer, I'm the prisoner. I ought to be punished, not caressed...

He licks his lips seeing the challenge in my eyes. "What did you just call me?"

"I called you a faggot." I spit at his feet.

He slaps me sharp across the cheek in a delicious stinging moment. "You do not talk to me like that." He leans closer and whispers in my ear. "I am your officer. I can make your time in solitary very painful." God damn, I can feel his body giving off a warm glow, radiating his princely scent towards me.

My heart skips. "No you can't, you're weak. You probably only got this job because you offered your ass up to the chief." I make a move to trap him in my arms, spinning him round and bringing both of his wrists together behind his back. "See, you're in trouble now," I whisper into his neck, moving my lips under the collar to suck at the luscious skin.

He groans.

I feel a sharp pain in my stomach as his elbow makes contact, throwing me backwards. "No, I got this job because I always win." He kicks me, sending me falling to the floor. It's like his reflexes are even better than mine, or maybe I'm not trying very hard to resist. "I like to fuck any bastard that challenges me."

"Don't stop tradition on my account," I growl.

He bends down, crouching over me. "Can I translate that as 'fuck me officer, I'm a desperate and horny prisoner and we're all alone?'" He yanks me by my hair, pulling me up and holding me in place. "I didn't mean fuck in that way. I meant that I will fuck you up, but if you want butt sex then you're an even bigger faggot than I."

"No one could be a bigger faggot zan you," I hiss. "You watch people in ze shower."

He grins in my face. "No, I watch you in the shower." Leaning forwards he presses his lips to my jaw, biting on the skin, sucking on it forcefully. I groan. His fingers make short work of pulling my unattractive jumpsuit off. He purrs in approval, eyes trailing gleefully over my muscles, lingering on a tattoo, noticing my complete rock-hard arousal. "You're even more splendid up close." He runs his hand down my chest and I shiver again.

I'm completely naked and he's still completely clothed! This isn't fair!

In annoyance I knock his hat off. I can't believe that his hair is still so fucking neat. It's been under a hat for fuck's sake! As if he read my mind, he drops his slacks but somehow manages to keep the belt holding his gun and keys hovering over his hips. It's almost as if he had all this planned... I didn't think he could live up to how I imagined him, and he doesn't... it's much better. And God damn, it looks mouth-wateringly delectable. He grabs my hair and forces me to my knees in front of him, not that he'd really need to force me. I desperately attach my mouth to his member, sucking eagerly, because I don't even care if I look like a totally desperate faggot anymore.

I am a totally desperate faggot.

He gasps, bucking his hips forward into me, whilst also forcing my mouth further down. I splutter, choked by the forceful invasion.

He groans, fingers never leaving my hair. "If you want lubrication then take it." I do continue to take it because that's the best proposition I've ever heard. The taste and feel are amazing and I would on no account stop. In this moment I would happily suck him dry and forget about myself because I feel so privileged to be this close to him. I stifle a few uncontrollable groans from him until he's satisfied.

I think we've established who holds all the power.

He pushes me away and yanks me up by my hair. I feel that if he's not careful, I'm going to become bald very soon. Turning me around, he slams me hard against the wall. I hate that this action causes me to groan with pleasure. "Starting a fight was very naughty. You need to be punished in a way that you will learn." He whispers the words seductively in my ear, before pushing an invasive finger up by ass. The action makes me groan, shock and sparks running through my body as it jolts forward.

"Are you going to teach me a lesson?" I pant, rocking back on the finger, his thin, hard but soft finger.

A second gets introduced and I can feel myself being stretched, and fuck, I love it. "Yes, a very hard lesson needs to be taught."

Is this like the faggy part in a fairytale where all my dreams come true? My dreams for the past six months at least. I'm not going to go as far as saying I've been waiting for this moment my whole entire life and that I may be in love with this blond bitch behind me. That is not what I'm saying...

I bite my lip as he withdraws his fingers and grips my hips tightly in one hand, the other running agonizingly slowly down my spine. My body is shaking is anticipation. I'm extremely aroused and desperate for it. I growl in annoyance, pushing backwards. "'Urry up, faggot." He laughs tunefully, pushing himself into me with one slow but forceful thrust. I gasp in relief and shock, muscles clenching at the welcome invasion. I take a deep breath accustoming myself.

He begins to drive himself in and out slowly, each movement transferring pain to pleasure, increasingly becoming more gratifying. He pushes the ecstasy around my body, forcing it to the deepest parts, sending my whole body to an intense paradise. I groan as he shifts his position and hits my prostate. The rush of sensation in my mind almost replicates a cocaine high. Close to overstimulation, heightened but not getting any for so long. I gasp, arching backwards into him, groaning, because all I want is more. I want him to fuck me harder. I can't articulate this through all the shivers and euphoria I'm on, but he seems to comprehend by groans, smashing into me harder. He hits my prostate again.

I scream, clawing at the cold wall. "Fuck!" I exclaim, sweat running down my back.

"Oh you like that?" He still sounds in control, but his words are a little shaky.

"Mmnn."

My muscles contract, his dick getting very tight inside me. I can hear his breath in my ear, becoming erratic. Musical groans play out of his mouth, each note dizzying, like hidden music that can never be replicated and only I will hear. So fucking sexy. With this thought, I reach my edge so soon, shooting my load over the wall. With a few more body shaking thrusts, he does the same, withdrawing and releasing a warm feeling over my back (that was strangely considerate of him).

He leans his head over my shoulder and kisses my cheek. I desperately turn my head so that our lips make contact, and hungrily kiss him, turning around and taking his face in my hands for a few perfect seconds, as we both pant from our orgasms.

He straightens up and I can see a blush in his cheeks. "I hope you've learnt your lesson."

I smile somewhat awkwardly. "Maybe next time we could teach you yours."

"There's going to be a next time is there?" He raises an eyebrow. "Be careful, you don't want to get sent here too often."

Oh yes, I really do. I kiss him again, running my hands through his hair, realising that I really am in love with him. I withdraw my lips again before he can. "Why are you a prison guard? You don't seem very... law-abiding."

He smiles at me. "Oh, I'm no prison guard. I'm an undercover mercenary. Being here is all part of my long and complex plan... the sex with you was just for fun though. Obeying the laws all the time can get very boring."

I have no idea whether to believe him or not but I don't care. He kisses me a final time, this one tinged with sadness, almost further longing, before pulling up his slacks and straightening his clothes. I pick his hat from off the floor and place it in that faggy slanted way on his head. "Zere we go, offizer." I don't know why I did that, it makes me blush.

He strokes his fingers down my cheek a final time. "Thank you, Christophe. I'll be in with your dinner later." He turns and walks out of the cell, the look on his face like nothing ever happened.

Dinner hey...

I just got fucked by Prince Charming... does that make me Cinderella or something? Though, she probably didn't get fucked up the ass in a prison cell. I'm not out-ruling it, but it probably didn't happen. People would probably proclaim that is was disturbing children or some shit like that. The world's a fucked up place, people always find ways to fuck you up the ass. They should learn that early, like I did, and I turned out perfectly fine...

He shuts the door behind him and I hear his footsteps gradually walking away. I can just hear that he's walking like a self-satisfied fag.

Damn, I'll have to get sent here more often. Or maybe I'll break out and kidnap him? Or perhaps wait for my sentence to be over and then run away with him? Maybe I could leave behind a shoe, and then he could trace the country finding the person who would dare put their foot in it...

Yeah, I'll make sure by the time I leave this prison Prince Charming has no choice but to follow me.

And then we'll both live happily ever after.

A/N: 5-1-13: I'm thinking about making a second part... So... this is just a heads up I guess.