Boidkuck week 2021 | Day 6 Hope/Flirt/Confession
Title: Your Love Might Just Be A Grain Of Sand
Pairing : Bill Boid/Francis Kuck
Link : Ao3
Rating : M
Summary : Boid is the bait for the next drug bust at a nightclub. He needs to seduce the target long enough for evidence to be gathered. Which, apparently, doesn't leave Francis Kuck indifferent.
Tags : Honey trap mission, making out, heavy petting, kissing, flirting, Drug use, nameless male character, voice kink, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, Fade to Black
Author's note : My written French is a mess, it's the reason why I write in English. In case you'd want to translate my RPZ fics just send me a message on twitter or tumblr and we can figure something out. (link is on profile)
Mon Français écrit pue la mort alors j'écris en Anglais. Si jamais y a des gens qui veulent faire des trads envoyez-moi un message sur twitter ou tumblr on s'arrangera.
"Want to get out of here ?" Boid smiles. He finishes his beer. He locks eyes with the guy as he does. The gaze says everything. He's focused but he lets himself bask in the attention. Even at his age he's able to pick someone up and it boosts his ego. He cocks his head to the side. Let his eyes trail over the shoulders and the open collar to mirror the interest.
Dealers aren't good looking. They never spark his attention. The only thing he ever wants is to fine them and put them in prison if needed. They aren't attractive.
But having another man, a younger one, caress his forearm with the tips of his fingers and lean into him ? It feels thrilling. "Let's go." He whispers in the man's ear and Boid hears a small grunt over the music. The hand closes over his forearm. He gets dragged across the dance floor. Bodies press against him and there is a hand on his ass. They make their way between couples dancing and others that are making out. He smells the solvent scent of poppers in the air.
The bass of the beats gets slower and the lights flash and flicker. He gets pushed against a pillar. There are suddenly lips on his mouth. They are soft, wet, carnal. Hands roam on his chest and he hooks his thumbs through the belt loops of the low hanging jeans of his kissing partner. The tongue travels down his throat and he moves his mouth. A spike of arousal zings down his spine. He groans.
"Oh my god captain, he's into the elderly. No wonder he's into you."
He puts his hands on the dealer's hips, locking their legs together. He moves his hips, which makes arousal hum under his skin. He lets the hands get under his shirt.
"Shut up Lindsay, he's going to sack you."
The dealer's lips are on his collarbone. Boid moves the sneaking hands away from his microphone wire.
"Officer Vendrick, Lindsay, our captain is very charismatic and will be able to finish this mission as well as it is meant to end."
His jaw stiffens as he grunts in disapproval before he can keep it in. He's hard and having his officers shout in his earpiece about non-critical elements to the mission takes him out of it.
"Is everything alright ?" The dealer isn't clueless. Shit. He better make up a believable lie.
"Yeah, I'm not too comfortable in public. Journalists can be everywhere and I prefer not to end up on Weazel News with the headline 'Captain Bill Boid Gets Sucked Off In Downton Vinewood. Do Laws Of Decency Apply To High Ranking Officers ? What Does The Governement Do ?'" Of course mention of laws makes the target put on a grimace. He needs another distraction, and quick. He grabs the man's neck and leans down to kiss him while his other hand cups his crotch. "Are we going ?"
"Fine, but you're starting to stink, captain." It takes a lot of self-control for Boid to not tell the guy to fuck off. He needs this mission to succeed. They have been working on this for months. He just needs to persuade this guy to leave his phone for a single second so it can be hacked.
The guy looks at him from beneath his eyelashes. Boid leans toward his ear. "Let's just go. This whole club stinks anyway. The Families have been observing us since the beginning." The dealer looks around as Boid points out a dancer wearing a green thong with UV body paint on an elevated platform. He dances around the pole and makes eye contact with the people around him to inspire them to pay him for a lap dance.
"I saw him earlier. I suggest we move." Boid says. He takes his phone as quickly as possible, the target is distracted enough. His fingers type as fast as he can.
[Everyone shut up unless it's to communicate something important or you all become interims at the end of this mission. - signed Captain Bill Boid]
He pockets his phone in the back of his trousers. The radio chatter silences fully. He brings the target's attention back to him. "Lead the way." He says in a voice he hopes sounds seductive enough.
The dealer grabs his hand almost forcefully and they make their way back past the gender neutral toilets. The bouncer at the vip section doesn't look twice who he's letting him since the dealer is Boid's ticket in. They are probably too dense to notice Boid is the captain. In civilian clothing he looks like any other ordinary man. As expected, they are required to drop their phones at the entrance.
Boid turns on the bluetooth.
Harris just has to do his job now and hack that phone, preferably before Boid needs to get naked.
There are sex sounds in the closed booths of the dark room. There is also the distinct smell of weed and meth coating his nostrils. It doesn't awaken revulsion as much as it once did. He takes the joint offered to him, faking an inhalation. He refuses the pipe of crack.
The target drags him off to an empty booth. Boid gets pushed down. The Vagos they encounter on their way in notice the captain immediately. They discreetly slip away as they were quick to understand what's about to happen. The target straddles him.
It's not the first time Boid is bait during a bust. He knows that things are about to become a lot more heated before his team moves in for arrest. Hips grind against him and he shrugs off his jacket.
"Harris is in, my captain."
Francis's voice makes his cheeks flush. He kisses the target and hands find their way under his shirt. Boid lays down on the bench to prevent the hands from going to his back where the microphone wire is. Nails trail over his stomach. Boid lets out an audible gasp. The guy's tongue on his chest is like a blazing fire. Francis' voice is like hot silk being poured over his soul.
"We're downloading the evidence, my captain, just a little bit longer."
He closes his eyes, concentrated on the timber of Francis' voice. He puts his knees up. His hands find the other man's cheeks and he drags him into a slow wet kiss. His fingers fist the hair as he licks inside the man's mouth. He moans. He doesn't want to feel the thrill of hearing the voice of the man he loves as he makes out with someone. It almost makes him forget he's on a mission.
"Almost there."
His hands let go of the hair. He takes the man's wrist, guiding the hand to his groin. There is a languid thrust up.
"Evidence gathered, my captain."
He slowly sits up, putting his hands on the other man's hips. He unbuckles the hidden handcuffs inside of his pockets. His tongue distracts enough and Boid lets out another absentminded groan as fingers trace the outline of his erection.
"Evidence verified. We're moving in."
The perp realises a second too late he's getting handcuffed, and not in a fun way. Everything becomes chaos as the LSPD pours into the dark room of the VIP section of Downtown Vinewood. People are screaming. There is the sound of tasers. 'LSPD get down.' No gunshots, only lots of tables being knocked over and the sound of broken glass.
"LSPD you're under arrest." Francis Kuck appears out of nowhere pointing his gun to the dealer's head. The man's face twists in an expression of unfiltered rage.
"You fucker-" Francis doesn't give him the time to say anything else. He knocks the guy out with the back of his gun. The perp falls off the captain's lap as a lifeless but still breathing doll. Boid looks up at his lieutenant, trying to read his face. He wouldn't have gathered Francis to be acting so quickly with violence. The guy didn't really refuse anything yet. He barely had the time to say anything.
Francis' smile is discreet as he puts away his gun. "I didn't like his tone." His voice is cheerful. Everything could still have been seen as normal if it had stopped there. But the lieutenant takes a step forward. His body language changes. His eyes are saying something Boid cannot understand. The air suddenly feels riddled with tension.
"Do you need a hand ?" A question that can be interpreted in many ways. It parches Boid's throat. He reads the signs: The determined eyes, the nervous tick Francis has as he locks his hands behind his belt, the relaxed stance of his figure as he points his chin toward Boid's crotch.
Bill Boid wouldn't have believed it real, so he has to ask:
"Are you proposing to give me hand job ?" his tone sounds more mocking than he wants to. But navigating straight guys and their jokes is a learnt talent. He needs to be able to backtrack if it were indeed a joke. He's left speechless at the very serious answer he gets in return.
"Maybe." Francis' eyes dart somewhere else and Boid understands that Francis is actually being very serious right now. He… His heart cannot follow the rush of thoughts. This can't be serious, this can't be it. His hands become moist. His chest feels like it would crack and bleed out. It robs him of air, makes him dizzy with hope.
"Say that again once we're off the clock." His tone is dry and unfeeling. He doesn't want to give away how much this is affecting him. He doesn't want to give away how much he's been yearning, dying, to ever hear those words cross his Lieutenant's lips.
They are quickly joined by the rest of the team for debrief and instructions, preventing Francis to say anything. They move out and more arrests are made.
Boid doesn't want to believe it, but at the end of the night, Francis doesn't change his mind.