Officer, Please
Title: Officer, Please
Pairing: Chanyeol/Chen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: super blasphemous. like, seriously. I am not kidding.
Summary: Chanyeol learns how to get out of a parking ticket.
Notes: wow where has my cynical satire been hiding?? hello old friend i have missed you
officer, please;
Chanyeol likes to think of himself as a good, old-fashioned, law-abiding citizen. He puts coins in charity boxes outside of department stores, donates coats and toys annually to the local children’s organizations, and even mows the elderly lady’s lawn next door free of charge. In school he did ok, but he was always an amazing student to the teachers and a good friend to his comrades -- and after school, he had done well enough to get a job doing the marketing for his friend’s floral shop, where he proceeds to make an honest living. All of this is to atone for his biggest sin, which isn’t even really a sin in his eyes but his mother likes to think it’s a big deal: homosexuality.
‘Karma will bite you in the ass!’ his mother has always said. He refrained from telling her other things blast his ass on a semi-regular basis.
Nothing prepared him for the sight of seeing an officer standing next to his car on a sunny, summer day, the meter Chanyeol’s car had been parked in front of flashing an angry red.
This is karma.
“Wait--!!” Chanyeol’s long legs hoof it over to where the officer is writing diligently on a legal pad, hat on his head obscuring his features. “Please, I’m here, I’m leaving now--”
When the meter maid lifts his head up to regard Chanyeol, Chanyeol is slammed by how good looking the man is. Sure, a little on the short side, but he’s got kittenish lips and a strong jaw and holy cow, that uniform tapers at his waist beautifully. His eyes are obscured by aviators, but Chanyeol can feel them burning a judgmental hole right through to his soul anyway.
His mother was right. This is eternal damnation.
He deflates a little, “Please, officer. I’ve never gotten a ticket before in my life.”
The officer arches a brow, the only hint of the action being that the uniform-issued hat on his head raises a bit. His pen stops on the paper, and Chanyeol takes that as a cue to plead his case.
“I paid for two hours with full intent of coming back in two hours’ time,” Chanyeol explains, to a rather unimpressed looking officer. “It just-- there was such a cute dog while I was walking back and I had to pet him!”
The silence that stretches after Chanyeol’s explanation is drowned out only by the slow traffic that steadily creeps along this downtown street. The officer clicks his pen shut, closes his notepad, and just when Chanyeol is about to let out a sigh of relief (God is good!!!), a smirk unfurls on the other man’s lips so sinister Chanyeol thinks he’s going to have to repent for eight years.
“I’ll let you off with a warning, on one condition.”
Lordy, the guy’s voice is boner-inducing, and if Chanyeol doesn’t get his ass into his car and as far away as possible soon, he’s going to be very publicly embarrassed.
“What’s that?” Chanyeol asks, unable to hide the way his normally deep voice cracks.
The officer reaches up, finger to the left side of his aviators, pulling them ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. If the officer’s lips are cat-like, then his eyes are feral as they regard Chanyeol, shooting fireworks straight through him.
“Suck my cock in the back seat of your car.”
God is an asshole.
Chanyeol’s jaw almost drops onto the pavement. “What?”
“I won’t repeat myself,” the officer sighs, putting his sunglasses back in place and then reaching for his legal pad once more.
“No, no--!” A fifteen-dollar ticket really shouldn’t be enough to extort Chanyeol, but that’s fifteen-dollars on his impeccable record, and he can’t allow that. Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he hits the unlock and glances around warily, before striding to his car and opening the back door. It’s the middle of the friggen day, on a busy street in downtown, but he gestures for the officer to get in. “C’mon.”
Ok, so he’ll donate to children’s charities in the summer and winter. God, forgive.
Ever so casually, the officer pockets his book again and slinks towards the car, patting Chanyeol’s crotch with a patronizing palm and sunny smile before climbing into the back seat. Chanyeol groans, throws up a Hail Mary for good measure, and then climbs in after the officer, closing the door behind him.
Never before in his life has Chanyeol ever been more thankful for tinted windows. Inside the car, with the windows up and doors locked the city sounds outside are muted, and he’s distinctly aware of the attractive officer seated next to him. Said officer spreads his legs, undoes his belt, and then gestures idly.
“Well?”
Chanyeol can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe he’s sinking to his knees in the back seat of his own car, settling between the legs of some unnamed meter maid, preparing to blow him. Of all things. Is this the karma mother warned him about? Should Chanyeol have strived for straight A’s in school? Should he go to church every Sunday, even if he fears fire consuming him the moment he steps across the threshold? His fingers are a bit shaky as he reaches for the fastenings of the man’s uniform pants, the material feeling a bit cheap and crinkly under his fingertips. He doesn’t think about it, instead marveling at the fact that when he pulls down pants and underwear, the officer is already rock hard, his cock leaking precum and dribbling a little.
“Wow.” Chanyeol isn’t a size queen, but given this guy’s height, one wouldn’t expect him to be packing.
“Admire with your mouth, not your eyes,” the man says, that voice of his floating over Chanyeol like a fucking harp melody, stroking every one of Chanyeol’s strings and making him shudder.
It’s not Chanyeol’s first time sucking dick. Probably won’t be the last either, but what are the odds of a gay officer writing him a ticket? Or maybe the man isn’t gay and this is all just police exploitation, abuse of power, anything to remind the average civilian that freedom isn’t free? Or something like that. In any case, Chanyeol’s no greenhorn, and he jerks the man’s cock a few times before wrapping his lips around the head.
The little sigh the officer lets out encourages Chanyeol. His lips stretch before he pulls back, licking them as wet as he can, before he gathers saliva in his mouth and lets it pool onto his tongue. He sinks his mouth back onto the man’s cock, closing his eyes, doing as the man said -- admiring with his mouth. This cock is thick, heavy, even long, disproportionate to the rest of the man’s body. There’s a throbbing, swollen vein and the mushroom head is so ridged Chanyeol accidentally catches his teeth on it. The man only hisses softly, tangling the fingers of a gloved hand in Chanyeol’s hair to keep him from pulling off.
Easily, Chanyeol adjusts and starts breathing through his nose. Quickly in, slowly out. He stops using his hands because the way he starts to move his head leaves no room for him to accidentally punch himself in the eye. He’s not exactly graceful, even if he knows he’s pretty stellar at giving blow jobs. His head twists, his cheeks hollow, his mouth suctions and the car is soon filled with sloppy, wet noises, mixed with moans and breathy sighs. The man starts to shallowly thrust his hips, and Chanyeol knows that his squeaky clean record is on the line so he grips the man’s hips and helps him thrust up, a clear indication that he can handle more.
And more, he gets.
Now ten fingers are tangling in Chanyeol’s head, holding him still. The way the officer fucks up into Chanyeol’s mouth is so fucking perfect -- Chanyeol bets getting railed by this guy, even with their height difference, would be fucking phenomenal. As it is, he lets his mouth be a good substitute for his ass, and even though his own cock grows hard in his pants, he allows the officer to use his mouth to his content. The head of his dick passes Chanyeol’s gag reflex easily and now Chanyeol relaxes his throat, breathing shakily out of his nose, eyes watering. A testing flex of his throat muscles has the officer grunting out, sucking in a breath, hips stuttering -- and all too soon, liquid heat is pouring down Chanyeol’s throat and he reflexively swallows it before he even realizes what he’s doing.
The officer pulls out halfway through, jerking his cock and aiming the rest of his load to land on Chanyeol’s swollen lower lip. Chanyeol watches the gloved fingers on the skin of the man’s cock like it’s something magical; and, in the blink of an eye, the man is doing up his pants and belt, before he shifts and starts getting out of the car.
Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Chanyeol follows, stumbling out of the car since most of the blood from his limbs has all gathered in his dick, leaving him with the grace of a baby giraffe.
The officer stretches where he’s standing, putting his hands on his hips and twisting his back until it pops, and then sends Chanyeol an airy smile. Hat still perched, aviators still donned, he waves a hand and starts to walk away.
Chanyeol notices the meter of the car next to his flashing red, and when the officer passes by it, he can’t help but blurt, “That person doesn’t get a ticket?”
The officer turns on his heel and continues to walk backwards, pulling the aviators completely off his face. Fuck, if he isn’t the hottest piece of meat Chanyeol has ever seen. That smile is boyishly handsome, almost… devilish, in a way, lifting sharp cheekbones to the high heavens. And when the officer replies, Chanyeol hears his voice one last time.
“I’m not a cop. I’m not even a meter maid. This is a rental costume.” That smirk widens, and he sends Chanyeol a mock salute. “Have a nice day~ and don’t forget to plug your meter!”
Chanyeol stares dumbly after the man rounds the block and disappears from sight, before he sinks to lean against the hood of his car.
Holy shit.
Snapping back into reality, he quickly searches his pockets, pulling out his wallet and fumbling with his debit card, trying not to drop it as he moves towards the meter and inserts it into the slot. He pays for the rest of the day and makes sure to get everything tucked safely back into his wallet, before shoving it back into his pants pocket and taking off in the direction of the imitation officer.
“Lord forgive me,” he says under his breath. “But I want this karma to bite my ass so bad.”
He’ll gladly let karma make him its bitch, so long as it comes in the form of handcuffs and maybe even a police baton.
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Pairing: Chanyeol/Chen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: super blasphemous. like, seriously. I am not kidding.
Summary: Chanyeol learns how to get out of a parking ticket.
Notes: wow where has my cynical satire been hiding?? hello old friend i have missed you
officer, please;
Chanyeol likes to think of himself as a good, old-fashioned, law-abiding citizen. He puts coins in charity boxes outside of department stores, donates coats and toys annually to the local children’s organizations, and even mows the elderly lady’s lawn next door free of charge. In school he did ok, but he was always an amazing student to the teachers and a good friend to his comrades -- and after school, he had done well enough to get a job doing the marketing for his friend’s floral shop, where he proceeds to make an honest living. All of this is to atone for his biggest sin, which isn’t even really a sin in his eyes but his mother likes to think it’s a big deal: homosexuality.
‘Karma will bite you in the ass!’ his mother has always said. He refrained from telling her other things blast his ass on a semi-regular basis.
Nothing prepared him for the sight of seeing an officer standing next to his car on a sunny, summer day, the meter Chanyeol’s car had been parked in front of flashing an angry red.
This is karma.
“Wait--!!” Chanyeol’s long legs hoof it over to where the officer is writing diligently on a legal pad, hat on his head obscuring his features. “Please, I’m here, I’m leaving now--”
When the meter maid lifts his head up to regard Chanyeol, Chanyeol is slammed by how good looking the man is. Sure, a little on the short side, but he’s got kittenish lips and a strong jaw and holy cow, that uniform tapers at his waist beautifully. His eyes are obscured by aviators, but Chanyeol can feel them burning a judgmental hole right through to his soul anyway.
His mother was right. This is eternal damnation.
He deflates a little, “Please, officer. I’ve never gotten a ticket before in my life.”
The officer arches a brow, the only hint of the action being that the uniform-issued hat on his head raises a bit. His pen stops on the paper, and Chanyeol takes that as a cue to plead his case.
“I paid for two hours with full intent of coming back in two hours’ time,” Chanyeol explains, to a rather unimpressed looking officer. “It just-- there was such a cute dog while I was walking back and I had to pet him!”
The silence that stretches after Chanyeol’s explanation is drowned out only by the slow traffic that steadily creeps along this downtown street. The officer clicks his pen shut, closes his notepad, and just when Chanyeol is about to let out a sigh of relief (God is good!!!), a smirk unfurls on the other man’s lips so sinister Chanyeol thinks he’s going to have to repent for eight years.
“I’ll let you off with a warning, on one condition.”
Lordy, the guy’s voice is boner-inducing, and if Chanyeol doesn’t get his ass into his car and as far away as possible soon, he’s going to be very publicly embarrassed.
“What’s that?” Chanyeol asks, unable to hide the way his normally deep voice cracks.
The officer reaches up, finger to the left side of his aviators, pulling them ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. If the officer’s lips are cat-like, then his eyes are feral as they regard Chanyeol, shooting fireworks straight through him.
“Suck my cock in the back seat of your car.”
God is an asshole.
Chanyeol’s jaw almost drops onto the pavement. “What?”
“I won’t repeat myself,” the officer sighs, putting his sunglasses back in place and then reaching for his legal pad once more.
“No, no--!” A fifteen-dollar ticket really shouldn’t be enough to extort Chanyeol, but that’s fifteen-dollars on his impeccable record, and he can’t allow that. Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he hits the unlock and glances around warily, before striding to his car and opening the back door. It’s the middle of the friggen day, on a busy street in downtown, but he gestures for the officer to get in. “C’mon.”
Ok, so he’ll donate to children’s charities in the summer and winter. God, forgive.
Ever so casually, the officer pockets his book again and slinks towards the car, patting Chanyeol’s crotch with a patronizing palm and sunny smile before climbing into the back seat. Chanyeol groans, throws up a Hail Mary for good measure, and then climbs in after the officer, closing the door behind him.
Never before in his life has Chanyeol ever been more thankful for tinted windows. Inside the car, with the windows up and doors locked the city sounds outside are muted, and he’s distinctly aware of the attractive officer seated next to him. Said officer spreads his legs, undoes his belt, and then gestures idly.
“Well?”
Chanyeol can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe he’s sinking to his knees in the back seat of his own car, settling between the legs of some unnamed meter maid, preparing to blow him. Of all things. Is this the karma mother warned him about? Should Chanyeol have strived for straight A’s in school? Should he go to church every Sunday, even if he fears fire consuming him the moment he steps across the threshold? His fingers are a bit shaky as he reaches for the fastenings of the man’s uniform pants, the material feeling a bit cheap and crinkly under his fingertips. He doesn’t think about it, instead marveling at the fact that when he pulls down pants and underwear, the officer is already rock hard, his cock leaking precum and dribbling a little.
“Wow.” Chanyeol isn’t a size queen, but given this guy’s height, one wouldn’t expect him to be packing.
“Admire with your mouth, not your eyes,” the man says, that voice of his floating over Chanyeol like a fucking harp melody, stroking every one of Chanyeol’s strings and making him shudder.
It’s not Chanyeol’s first time sucking dick. Probably won’t be the last either, but what are the odds of a gay officer writing him a ticket? Or maybe the man isn’t gay and this is all just police exploitation, abuse of power, anything to remind the average civilian that freedom isn’t free? Or something like that. In any case, Chanyeol’s no greenhorn, and he jerks the man’s cock a few times before wrapping his lips around the head.
The little sigh the officer lets out encourages Chanyeol. His lips stretch before he pulls back, licking them as wet as he can, before he gathers saliva in his mouth and lets it pool onto his tongue. He sinks his mouth back onto the man’s cock, closing his eyes, doing as the man said -- admiring with his mouth. This cock is thick, heavy, even long, disproportionate to the rest of the man’s body. There’s a throbbing, swollen vein and the mushroom head is so ridged Chanyeol accidentally catches his teeth on it. The man only hisses softly, tangling the fingers of a gloved hand in Chanyeol’s hair to keep him from pulling off.
Easily, Chanyeol adjusts and starts breathing through his nose. Quickly in, slowly out. He stops using his hands because the way he starts to move his head leaves no room for him to accidentally punch himself in the eye. He’s not exactly graceful, even if he knows he’s pretty stellar at giving blow jobs. His head twists, his cheeks hollow, his mouth suctions and the car is soon filled with sloppy, wet noises, mixed with moans and breathy sighs. The man starts to shallowly thrust his hips, and Chanyeol knows that his squeaky clean record is on the line so he grips the man’s hips and helps him thrust up, a clear indication that he can handle more.
And more, he gets.
Now ten fingers are tangling in Chanyeol’s head, holding him still. The way the officer fucks up into Chanyeol’s mouth is so fucking perfect -- Chanyeol bets getting railed by this guy, even with their height difference, would be fucking phenomenal. As it is, he lets his mouth be a good substitute for his ass, and even though his own cock grows hard in his pants, he allows the officer to use his mouth to his content. The head of his dick passes Chanyeol’s gag reflex easily and now Chanyeol relaxes his throat, breathing shakily out of his nose, eyes watering. A testing flex of his throat muscles has the officer grunting out, sucking in a breath, hips stuttering -- and all too soon, liquid heat is pouring down Chanyeol’s throat and he reflexively swallows it before he even realizes what he’s doing.
The officer pulls out halfway through, jerking his cock and aiming the rest of his load to land on Chanyeol’s swollen lower lip. Chanyeol watches the gloved fingers on the skin of the man’s cock like it’s something magical; and, in the blink of an eye, the man is doing up his pants and belt, before he shifts and starts getting out of the car.
Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Chanyeol follows, stumbling out of the car since most of the blood from his limbs has all gathered in his dick, leaving him with the grace of a baby giraffe.
The officer stretches where he’s standing, putting his hands on his hips and twisting his back until it pops, and then sends Chanyeol an airy smile. Hat still perched, aviators still donned, he waves a hand and starts to walk away.
Chanyeol notices the meter of the car next to his flashing red, and when the officer passes by it, he can’t help but blurt, “That person doesn’t get a ticket?”
The officer turns on his heel and continues to walk backwards, pulling the aviators completely off his face. Fuck, if he isn’t the hottest piece of meat Chanyeol has ever seen. That smile is boyishly handsome, almost… devilish, in a way, lifting sharp cheekbones to the high heavens. And when the officer replies, Chanyeol hears his voice one last time.
“I’m not a cop. I’m not even a meter maid. This is a rental costume.” That smirk widens, and he sends Chanyeol a mock salute. “Have a nice day~ and don’t forget to plug your meter!”
Chanyeol stares dumbly after the man rounds the block and disappears from sight, before he sinks to lean against the hood of his car.
Holy shit.
Snapping back into reality, he quickly searches his pockets, pulling out his wallet and fumbling with his debit card, trying not to drop it as he moves towards the meter and inserts it into the slot. He pays for the rest of the day and makes sure to get everything tucked safely back into his wallet, before shoving it back into his pants pocket and taking off in the direction of the imitation officer.
“Lord forgive me,” he says under his breath. “But I want this karma to bite my ass so bad.”
He’ll gladly let karma make him its bitch, so long as it comes in the form of handcuffs and maybe even a police baton.
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