A perfect 10

[lolitics_meme]

We might have travelled in time and are back to post number 2 or this is going to be the most porny post yet. No one knows. Or no one knew. Anyway:

Here are your guidelines, as usual.

1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
2) Self-prompt

Comments

Fill: Integral, part 4a

[anonymous]

The inspection was completed without any other difficulties, and the East Surrey detention centre was confirmed to be operating without any dangerous lapses in security. Peter waited in the back of the armoured vehicle, skimming through a junior inspector’s report of the centre and scratching notes into the margin while Alastair signed off the formalities in the Controller’s office. Eventually, Alastair emerged from the centre, accompanied by a wary officer, hand resting on his belt under his coat.

The driver opened the door, allowing Alastair in, and stamped his inky thumbprint at the bottom of the inspection form. Peter slid across the shiny leather seat to welcome Alastair, setting the report to the side.

“No issues with the Controller?”

“None at all. Well, I doubt that he was completely clean. If he had issues to discuss, he’d be keeping them to himself.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes,” Alastair said. The engine of the vehicle rumbled to life and moments later, they were pulling away from the centre, “he was tipped off about your behaviour in the cells. I noticed a printed screenshot that must have come from the CCTV footage sellotaped to his monitor. I confiscated it, of course, and told him to delete the footage from their archives. He’s a Controller after all and he knows in depth what happens to those who try to swim against the current.”

“You confiscated it?” Alastair unfolded a grainy black and white photograph from his coat pocket, and shoved it at Peter, who held it up breathlessly. A grin spread from ear to ear.

“It’s beautiful.”

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble today,” Alastair remarked. The vehicle turned onto the road and he leant back against the window, watching the other man shift on the squeaking seating, “it’s not fair that I should be wasting my time mopping up your fucking slime trail.”

“Don’t be so selfish,” Peter replied, “it’s all for the good of Tony’s Government.”

“That doesn’t mean that you can cause trouble for all of us and take credit when it isn’t yours. Tony will find out from me what a hindrance you’ve been.”

“I wish you could hear yourself, Alastair,” Peter said, folding his legs sulkily and slipping the photograph into his boot, “You’re bitter about something, aren’t you?”

“Look, Tony will want to keep you in London. Close at hand where you can’t get into trouble.”

“That’s completely inappropriate for a man of my s-”

Before he could finish his sentence, his back hit the seating. Alastair was atop him, large hands peeling open his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, tearing his braces from his trousers. Peter kicked desperately as his shirt was ripped from shoulder to shoulder and fingertips pinched a nipple roughly. Beneath Alastair’s weight, Peter gasped, struggling to draw air into his crushed lungs.

“Fucking maniac!” he spat, “Get off!”

“I don’t think you can talk,” Alastair hissed back, “you’ve already left one man dead today.” Peter growled as his trousers and underwear were torn away. Alastair leered. He hadn’t expected that it would be so easy to overpower the vicious little insect. He cupped his bulge, following the contours that strained against the material of his uniform. Peter freed an arm and poked Alastair in the eye, hard, his thumb squashing the soft jelly of his eyeball and Alastair bellowed like a bull, letting his naked prey slip away from underneath him.

So Peter wanted to turn it into a game? A huntsman won’t leave a running fox alive once it’s had the nerve to kill his chickens.