Fic: "A Dangerous Man" (Les Misérables; Valjean/Javert)
Title: A Dangerous Man
Fandom: Les Misérables (2012)
Pairing: Valjean/Javert
Rating: Explicit
Word count: ~ 2990
Summary: His eyes drank in the sight of Valjean, leaning back against the pillow, his gaze warm and dark, his mouth tilted upwards in an inviting smile. "Show me," he said, and Javert could only nod.
Content info: Schmoop with a capital S; post-canon established-relationship AU; discussions of penetration and What It Means
Notes: From the prompt: "Post-Brick AU, established relationship, Valjean bottoms for the first time. Like most men of the time, they probably associate penetration with power, even if their own dynamic isn't really d/s-y, and they've both been wary of Valjean bottoming because of the history between them--Javert doesn't want Valjean to think he believes Valjean deserves punishment or humiliation, he's afraid of hurting Valjean (emotionally more than physically); Valjean doesn't want to risk bringing up bad memories or ruining the fragile balance of their relationship.
But they're new to this sex thing and would like to experiment, so..."
For
carmarthen, who wanted "a totally sappy full of reassurance and trust and Javert being nervous as fuck Valjean-bottoms-for-the-first-time story." Who am I to deny her such a thing? (Also posted to AO3, here.)
The September night was dark outside the window and the bedroom was chilly: neither of them saw the sense in lighting a fire at this time of year, and sharing a bed, huddled together between the sheets, they could keep each other warm. Valjean lit a candle on the nightstand while Javert began unbuttoning his waistcoat -- his fingers still stumbled on it, sometimes, expecting the uniform. He folded the waistcoat neatly and placed it on a chair before starting on his shirt.
The shirt was halfway unbuttoned when he noticed that Valjean was watching him. "What?"
Valjean shrugged, a smile curving his lips. "Nothing. I enjoy watching you."
Javert looked down and kept working on his buttons. He could still feel the gaze on him; his cheeks were hot. "I'm not much to look at."
"I disagree." Valjean stepped closer. "Here, let me."
He let Valjean unbutton his shirt for him. As he did so it struck him how intimate the gesture was -- in its own way more intimate than what would inevitably follow as soon as they got into bed, more intimate than all the nights they had spent together by now, clinging and gasping in the darkness. There were coarse words for that, and he'd used more than a few of them himself, if only in his own thoughts; the whiff of the gutter they carried with them was strangely arousing, though he could hardly tell Valjean that. But as far as he knew, the gutter had no word for this: gentle hands undoing his buttons, one by one, gentle eyes glancing into his own, smiling.
Valjean slid the shirt off him and kissed his cheek. His waistcoat was still buttoned, so it seemed only fair that Javert should reciprocate. "Let me, then."
Valjean let him. Javert undid the waistcoat, folded it and placed it on the chair next to his own. Then he started on Valjean's shirt. He paused to glance up now and then, as Valjean had done, and was rewarded with a smile each time.
When they were both bare to their waists, Valjean's hands were on him, warm in the chill of the room. Javert took a step closer and slid his own arms around Valjean's waist -- again, that strange intimacy, that he could do something like that, that his touches would be welcomed. He tilted his head and let his mouth find Valjean's, let Valjean's hands pull him closer.
They continued to trade kisses as they helped each other with the rest of their clothing, hands fumbling slightly with difficult buttons, pulling trousers gently over hardening flesh. Unlike those first times, when eagerness had battled with apprehension, their movements were not frantic: by now they were growing familiar with each other, as well as with the sweetness of anticipation, the satisfaction of letting desire slowly burn towards its conclusion.
At last they were both naked, the clothes folded and put away. Javert slid into bed and leaned to blow out the candle on the nightstand next to him, but Valjean stopped him with a hand on his wrist. "Leave it."
He turned, lifting his hand to Valjean's cheek instead. Valjean closed his eyes under the touch, but did not let go of his wrist. "And what if we knocked it over?"
"Then the bed would be on fire. In more ways than one." They both smiled at that, and Javert traced a finger over Valjean's mouth. "I knew you were reckless," he murmured, leaning in for a kiss.
"We shall have to be careful," Valjean murmured back. "But I do enjoy it more when I can see you. When I can see what we do." He pulled back a little, studying Javert's face. "When I can see how much you enjoy it."
Javert flushed at his words. "I thought there were no doubts as to that." He moved closer under the sheets, so that their erections bumped. "Surely you must have noticed."
"Indeed," said Valjean, still smiling at him. "And I have ears. But I also have eyes, and I like using them." He leaned in and kissed Javert again. "The way you look when I'm inside you," he sighed. "When I move in you. As if you could never get enough of me... There is nothing like it."
Javert moaned into his mouth. The kiss grew more heated. Valjean rolled onto his back and Javert moved to lie atop him, their cocks grinding together.
"I want it," Javert whispered against his mouth. "All of it. There is nothing you could ask of me that I wouldn't give."
Valjean pulled back a little and looked at him. "Nothing?"
"Nothing." God help him, he thought, looking into Valjean's eyes, but it was the truth. No chain, no law, not even guilt bound him, only this: the gentle touch in a cool bedroom, the warm mouth against his own, the strong body which had never forced him, yet possessed and mastered him so completely.
Well, he had always known Valjean was a dangerous man.
No sooner had he thought this than Valjean lifted a hand to cup his cheek, the thumb caressing his cheekbone. "What if I asked you to make love to me?"
"You mean..." Javert's face grew hot anew. He waved a hand indecisively. "Take you?"
"If that's what you want to call it. Though I suppose one could also call it giving yourself to me. That way." His smile grew wider, teasing. "You would have to do most of the work, after all."
Javert stared into his eyes. There was no fear there, no guilt, no darkness. Still, he must ask. He must be sure. "Is that what you really want? That is..." He swallowed, trying to find the right words. The gutter might still be there, whispering foul and exciting words in his mind, but he would not drag Valjean into it. "I would not ask it of you. I would not want you to feel degraded."
To his dismay, Valjean's gaze clouded. "Is that what it is to you?" he asked, voice guarded. "An act of degradation?"
Javert responded in what he prayed was the best way: pressing himself against Valjean and covering his mouth with his own, grinding his hips downward. "Not at all," he whispered fervently. "That is, I might have, once -- but you know what it is like, you have been to prison -- I love it when you do it to me, it feels wonderful, but I cannot be sure if you --"
"I would not degrade you," Valjean whispered hotly, his breath mingling with Javert's own. "I am not that man."
"I know you are not." He closed his eyes. "Forgive me."
Valjean kissed his brow. "I call it making love, not degradation. I do not know if I would enjoy it, because I have never tried, but the way you look when I do it to you..." The teasing smile was back. "I would like to try it. Perhaps I am selfish."
The utter preposterousness of the last statement made Javert snort. He kissed Valjean again, caressing his lips with his tongue, nipping at his lower lip. God, but he would never get enough of this. Dangerous indeed.
Making his decision, he pulled away a little, looking down at Valjean. "If that's what you want," he said, his voice as firm as he could make it, "I would love to try it with you." Here he couldn't help himself; he leaned forward and kissed Valjean again. "I would try anything with you."
Valjean smiled into his mouth. "I would have it no other way."
They tore apart, reluctantly, and Javert scrambled over to withdraw the bottle of oil from the drawer in the nightstand. When he turned back, he found himself grateful the candle was still burning; his eyes drank in the sight of Valjean, leaning back against the pillow, his gaze warm and dark, his mouth tilted upwards in an inviting smile. "Show me," he said, and Javert could only nod.
He pulled back the covers and cleared his throat. "It will probably be easier if you are on your stomach."
Valjean considered this, but shook his head. "I'd rather not. I want to see your face."
Javert could not argue with that.
He positioned himself between Valjean's legs, gently pushing them apart. Thankfully their conversation had not done anything to take away from their arousal -- indeed, Javert suspected it had done the opposite, at least on Valjean's part. The thought reassured him.
He leaned forward and brushed a kiss against the tip of Valjean's cock. The reaction was stronger than anticipated, considering he'd done this before; Valjean's hips gave a jerk, causing his cock to bump into Javert's left eye. "Ow!"
"Sorry," Valjean gasped, looking half amused, half mortified. "It might be best if you pin me down."
"No self-control tonight?" Javert said, planting his hands firmly on Valjean's hips. "Perhaps we need to rethink this."
"Giving up so easily? I would not expect that from you." Javert's lips closed around Valjean's cock, and Valjean's head fell back, his mouth opening in a sigh. "Oh, that's good."
Javert moved his mouth downwards, kissing his way down the length. He let his tongue sweep over the balls, nuzzled the coarse, greying hair. The gutter seemed far away. He moved his hands to Valjean's thighs and nudged, not wanting to use force; Valjean took his hint and spread his thighs wider.
Javert looked up. Their eyes met. Despite Valjean's reassurances, part of him still felt afraid. "I do not want to hurt you," he said at last, not knowing what else to say.
"I know," Valjean said, and his voice was warm with intimacy, with trust. "I would not have asked you otherwise." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "I am not such a glutton for punishment."
"The way you behaved in prison, one would think you were," Javert muttered, then immediately regretted his words. He pressed his face against Valjean's thigh and sighed. "Forgive me. I do not wish to remind you of that time."
Valjean's hand stroked his brow, ran through his hair. "I know that, too."
Javert looked up again. Valjean's eyes were still meeting his, just as warm as before -- whatever this was, this bond between them, it was a chain it would take more than a few inconsiderate words to break. The thought gave him courage. He planted a kiss on Valjean's thigh and reached for the bottle of oil.
His hand was trembling as he felt his way with a slick finger, his eyes nervously hanging at Valjean's face. When he found the opening, he had to pause and take a deep breath. Valjean watched him, something like amusement on his face. "It really does feel quite nice to the touch," he said. "In my experience, at least."
Javert took another deep breath. Summoning his courage, he gently prodded at the muscle. It gave way, enough for the tip to slide inside, but there was a sharp hiss from Valjean which made Javert freeze. "Does it hurt?" he asked. His voice sounded strangled.
"No." Valjean's eyes were wide now. "It feels... strange. Not quite what I expected." He sounded almost puzzled. "Please. Go on."
Javert obeyed, pushing the finger further inside. His free hand searched for one of Valjean's, and their fingers clasped. "Relax," he whispered, and Valjean nodded, letting his head fall back on the pillow, the tenseness of his body giving way under Javert's touch.
As soon as he dared risk it without causing Valjean pain, Javert moved his finger, gently. Perhaps it was absurd that he should be so afraid of harming a man who had doubtless suffered worse -- who had toiled under the lash for nineteen years -- but it was no more absurd than the two of them being in this bedroom together, sharing this new life together. The fact that he would rather suffer the lash himself than cause Jean Valjean any pain was only another aspect of that. "I will try another finger," he whispered, "if you permit it," and Valjean nodded, clasping his hand.
Another finger slid in, more easily this time. Valjean sighed, but it was not a sound of pain. When Javert had three fingers inside and Valjean's hot flesh still gave way to his touch, he looked up again. Valjean met his gaze and smiled. "Do it now," he said. "If you please."
"If you are ready." He himself was more than ready; the intimacy of the situation and the way Valjean looked at him had only strengthened his arousal. He withdrew his right hand, but kept his other one tangled in Valjean's as he positioned himself between Valjean's thighs. "So." He swallowed as his free hand guided his cock in place.
"So," Valjean said, grinning at him. "The time has come for you to have your way with me, Inspector."
Javert gave a laugh, forgetting his nervousness for a moment. "Is that what you are calling it now?"
His heart felt large, his head light; all of a sudden, it was the easiest thing in the world to push forward, gently but surely, to let Valjean's body receive him, to give himself over to tight flesh and warmth. He groaned at the sensation, leaning forward to kiss Valjean, who cupped his neck with his free hand and kissed him back.
"It feels strange," he murmured, brushing his lips against Javert's. "But good. Having you like this, feeling how much you want me... Is that what it feels like to you?"
Javert closed his eyes for a moment, the sensations of his flesh and the emotions of his heart floating together and making it difficult for him to speak. "I could not say. I only know I would do anything to make you look at me like that."
"Keep moving, then," Valjean said and kissed him again. "You always tell me to move."
Javert obliged, rolling his hips tentatively. "Does this feel good?"
"Mmmh." Valjean's hand tightened around his fingers. "Perhaps more like -- oh! There!"
The cry encouraged Javert to move faster; he knew full well by now how that mysterious spot could make a man feel. Valjean's thighs came up to wrap around his waist, and Javert felt giddy. "There?" he echoed, trying to angle his hips like before, only with more force. "Like this?"
"Yes," Valjean panted, surprise and delight in his voice. "God, yes, that's -- don't stop moving!"
Javert doubted he could have stopped moving if he'd wanted to. He thrust again, hopelessly lost in the look in Valjean's eyes and the feeling of Valjean's body around his. "I won't," he gasped as they moved together. "I won't unless you tell me to, I'll do anything you tell me to..."
Valjean's hand, large and warm on his neck, pulled him into another kiss. The bed creaked under them, their hands were still clasped; the candle was still burning, casting flickering shadows on their bodies. "I'll tell you to move harder, then." Valjean's voice was a mere movement against Javert's lips. "I want you to move harder, so that I can feel it, how much you want me, how much you desire me --"
"God!" Javert's body seemed to move by itself, in desperate, rutting thrusts. "I don't know how much longer I will last, if you..."
Valjean's thighs clenched around his waist with a force that made Javert's eyes almost roll back in his head. "If I what?"
"If you go on saying -- oh, God! If you go on telling me this is how much you desire me, when you -- when we --"
"When I fuck you, Javert?" Valjean groaned, still lifting his hips to meet Javert's thrusts. "When I take you against the wall or on the bed or on the table? Yes, that's how much!"
Javert gave a cry at the words, and then he came, helplessly, thrashing in the surge of pleasure, his body caught in Valjean's and never wanting to get free. "Oh, God," he groaned again, burying his face in Valjean's neck, Valjean's hot breath in his ear.
After a moment, he found his bearings. Valjean's erection was still trapped between them; now Javert gently untangled himself and moved away. His flesh felt cold with the loss of contact, but he chased away the selfish thought and bent his head towards Valjean's groin -- though not before planting his hands firmly on Valjean's hips, as he had before, which made Valjean laugh. His cheeks were still flushed with desire, but he looked pleased with himself as his eyes rested on Javert.
"You're taking me again," he said, "though in a different way." He sighed as Javert's lips was about to close about him. "And this is no more of a degradation than the other."
Javert paused for a moment. "You talk too much."
"I'm sorry," said Valjean fondly, and then he did not say anything other than Javert's name, first in whispers, then in moans, then in cries as Javert brought him to completion.
Later, they lay wrapped together, having used an old nightshirt to wipe away the worst of the mess. The candle hissed and sputtered on the nightstand; there would be no more risk of fire for tonight.
"I was a thief once," Valjean muttered. His breath was a pleasant rustle against Javert's hair. "But I would not take anything from you that you did not wish to give. I hope you know that."
Javert nuzzled into Valjean's shoulder. "You took my death. And gave me life, that night on the bridge. I am glad of it, now. Although," he whispered, turning to kiss Valjean's neck, "I am not quite sure I would have a choice." Another kiss. "I would give you anything you asked for, Jean Valjean."
A third kiss. "I am glad of that, too."
This entry was originally posted at http://miss-morland.dreamwidth.org/97227.html. You may comment there, if you like.
Fandom: Les Misérables (2012)
Pairing: Valjean/Javert
Rating: Explicit
Word count: ~ 2990
Summary: His eyes drank in the sight of Valjean, leaning back against the pillow, his gaze warm and dark, his mouth tilted upwards in an inviting smile. "Show me," he said, and Javert could only nod.
Content info: Schmoop with a capital S; post-canon established-relationship AU; discussions of penetration and What It Means
Notes: From the prompt: "Post-Brick AU, established relationship, Valjean bottoms for the first time. Like most men of the time, they probably associate penetration with power, even if their own dynamic isn't really d/s-y, and they've both been wary of Valjean bottoming because of the history between them--Javert doesn't want Valjean to think he believes Valjean deserves punishment or humiliation, he's afraid of hurting Valjean (emotionally more than physically); Valjean doesn't want to risk bringing up bad memories or ruining the fragile balance of their relationship.
But they're new to this sex thing and would like to experiment, so..."
For
carmarthen, who wanted "a totally sappy full of reassurance and trust and Javert being nervous as fuck Valjean-bottoms-for-the-first-time story." Who am I to deny her such a thing? (Also posted to AO3, here.)
The September night was dark outside the window and the bedroom was chilly: neither of them saw the sense in lighting a fire at this time of year, and sharing a bed, huddled together between the sheets, they could keep each other warm. Valjean lit a candle on the nightstand while Javert began unbuttoning his waistcoat -- his fingers still stumbled on it, sometimes, expecting the uniform. He folded the waistcoat neatly and placed it on a chair before starting on his shirt.
The shirt was halfway unbuttoned when he noticed that Valjean was watching him. "What?"
Valjean shrugged, a smile curving his lips. "Nothing. I enjoy watching you."
Javert looked down and kept working on his buttons. He could still feel the gaze on him; his cheeks were hot. "I'm not much to look at."
"I disagree." Valjean stepped closer. "Here, let me."
He let Valjean unbutton his shirt for him. As he did so it struck him how intimate the gesture was -- in its own way more intimate than what would inevitably follow as soon as they got into bed, more intimate than all the nights they had spent together by now, clinging and gasping in the darkness. There were coarse words for that, and he'd used more than a few of them himself, if only in his own thoughts; the whiff of the gutter they carried with them was strangely arousing, though he could hardly tell Valjean that. But as far as he knew, the gutter had no word for this: gentle hands undoing his buttons, one by one, gentle eyes glancing into his own, smiling.
Valjean slid the shirt off him and kissed his cheek. His waistcoat was still buttoned, so it seemed only fair that Javert should reciprocate. "Let me, then."
Valjean let him. Javert undid the waistcoat, folded it and placed it on the chair next to his own. Then he started on Valjean's shirt. He paused to glance up now and then, as Valjean had done, and was rewarded with a smile each time.
When they were both bare to their waists, Valjean's hands were on him, warm in the chill of the room. Javert took a step closer and slid his own arms around Valjean's waist -- again, that strange intimacy, that he could do something like that, that his touches would be welcomed. He tilted his head and let his mouth find Valjean's, let Valjean's hands pull him closer.
They continued to trade kisses as they helped each other with the rest of their clothing, hands fumbling slightly with difficult buttons, pulling trousers gently over hardening flesh. Unlike those first times, when eagerness had battled with apprehension, their movements were not frantic: by now they were growing familiar with each other, as well as with the sweetness of anticipation, the satisfaction of letting desire slowly burn towards its conclusion.
At last they were both naked, the clothes folded and put away. Javert slid into bed and leaned to blow out the candle on the nightstand next to him, but Valjean stopped him with a hand on his wrist. "Leave it."
He turned, lifting his hand to Valjean's cheek instead. Valjean closed his eyes under the touch, but did not let go of his wrist. "And what if we knocked it over?"
"Then the bed would be on fire. In more ways than one." They both smiled at that, and Javert traced a finger over Valjean's mouth. "I knew you were reckless," he murmured, leaning in for a kiss.
"We shall have to be careful," Valjean murmured back. "But I do enjoy it more when I can see you. When I can see what we do." He pulled back a little, studying Javert's face. "When I can see how much you enjoy it."
Javert flushed at his words. "I thought there were no doubts as to that." He moved closer under the sheets, so that their erections bumped. "Surely you must have noticed."
"Indeed," said Valjean, still smiling at him. "And I have ears. But I also have eyes, and I like using them." He leaned in and kissed Javert again. "The way you look when I'm inside you," he sighed. "When I move in you. As if you could never get enough of me... There is nothing like it."
Javert moaned into his mouth. The kiss grew more heated. Valjean rolled onto his back and Javert moved to lie atop him, their cocks grinding together.
"I want it," Javert whispered against his mouth. "All of it. There is nothing you could ask of me that I wouldn't give."
Valjean pulled back a little and looked at him. "Nothing?"
"Nothing." God help him, he thought, looking into Valjean's eyes, but it was the truth. No chain, no law, not even guilt bound him, only this: the gentle touch in a cool bedroom, the warm mouth against his own, the strong body which had never forced him, yet possessed and mastered him so completely.
Well, he had always known Valjean was a dangerous man.
No sooner had he thought this than Valjean lifted a hand to cup his cheek, the thumb caressing his cheekbone. "What if I asked you to make love to me?"
"You mean..." Javert's face grew hot anew. He waved a hand indecisively. "Take you?"
"If that's what you want to call it. Though I suppose one could also call it giving yourself to me. That way." His smile grew wider, teasing. "You would have to do most of the work, after all."
Javert stared into his eyes. There was no fear there, no guilt, no darkness. Still, he must ask. He must be sure. "Is that what you really want? That is..." He swallowed, trying to find the right words. The gutter might still be there, whispering foul and exciting words in his mind, but he would not drag Valjean into it. "I would not ask it of you. I would not want you to feel degraded."
To his dismay, Valjean's gaze clouded. "Is that what it is to you?" he asked, voice guarded. "An act of degradation?"
Javert responded in what he prayed was the best way: pressing himself against Valjean and covering his mouth with his own, grinding his hips downward. "Not at all," he whispered fervently. "That is, I might have, once -- but you know what it is like, you have been to prison -- I love it when you do it to me, it feels wonderful, but I cannot be sure if you --"
"I would not degrade you," Valjean whispered hotly, his breath mingling with Javert's own. "I am not that man."
"I know you are not." He closed his eyes. "Forgive me."
Valjean kissed his brow. "I call it making love, not degradation. I do not know if I would enjoy it, because I have never tried, but the way you look when I do it to you..." The teasing smile was back. "I would like to try it. Perhaps I am selfish."
The utter preposterousness of the last statement made Javert snort. He kissed Valjean again, caressing his lips with his tongue, nipping at his lower lip. God, but he would never get enough of this. Dangerous indeed.
Making his decision, he pulled away a little, looking down at Valjean. "If that's what you want," he said, his voice as firm as he could make it, "I would love to try it with you." Here he couldn't help himself; he leaned forward and kissed Valjean again. "I would try anything with you."
Valjean smiled into his mouth. "I would have it no other way."
They tore apart, reluctantly, and Javert scrambled over to withdraw the bottle of oil from the drawer in the nightstand. When he turned back, he found himself grateful the candle was still burning; his eyes drank in the sight of Valjean, leaning back against the pillow, his gaze warm and dark, his mouth tilted upwards in an inviting smile. "Show me," he said, and Javert could only nod.
He pulled back the covers and cleared his throat. "It will probably be easier if you are on your stomach."
Valjean considered this, but shook his head. "I'd rather not. I want to see your face."
Javert could not argue with that.
He positioned himself between Valjean's legs, gently pushing them apart. Thankfully their conversation had not done anything to take away from their arousal -- indeed, Javert suspected it had done the opposite, at least on Valjean's part. The thought reassured him.
He leaned forward and brushed a kiss against the tip of Valjean's cock. The reaction was stronger than anticipated, considering he'd done this before; Valjean's hips gave a jerk, causing his cock to bump into Javert's left eye. "Ow!"
"Sorry," Valjean gasped, looking half amused, half mortified. "It might be best if you pin me down."
"No self-control tonight?" Javert said, planting his hands firmly on Valjean's hips. "Perhaps we need to rethink this."
"Giving up so easily? I would not expect that from you." Javert's lips closed around Valjean's cock, and Valjean's head fell back, his mouth opening in a sigh. "Oh, that's good."
Javert moved his mouth downwards, kissing his way down the length. He let his tongue sweep over the balls, nuzzled the coarse, greying hair. The gutter seemed far away. He moved his hands to Valjean's thighs and nudged, not wanting to use force; Valjean took his hint and spread his thighs wider.
Javert looked up. Their eyes met. Despite Valjean's reassurances, part of him still felt afraid. "I do not want to hurt you," he said at last, not knowing what else to say.
"I know," Valjean said, and his voice was warm with intimacy, with trust. "I would not have asked you otherwise." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "I am not such a glutton for punishment."
"The way you behaved in prison, one would think you were," Javert muttered, then immediately regretted his words. He pressed his face against Valjean's thigh and sighed. "Forgive me. I do not wish to remind you of that time."
Valjean's hand stroked his brow, ran through his hair. "I know that, too."
Javert looked up again. Valjean's eyes were still meeting his, just as warm as before -- whatever this was, this bond between them, it was a chain it would take more than a few inconsiderate words to break. The thought gave him courage. He planted a kiss on Valjean's thigh and reached for the bottle of oil.
His hand was trembling as he felt his way with a slick finger, his eyes nervously hanging at Valjean's face. When he found the opening, he had to pause and take a deep breath. Valjean watched him, something like amusement on his face. "It really does feel quite nice to the touch," he said. "In my experience, at least."
Javert took another deep breath. Summoning his courage, he gently prodded at the muscle. It gave way, enough for the tip to slide inside, but there was a sharp hiss from Valjean which made Javert freeze. "Does it hurt?" he asked. His voice sounded strangled.
"No." Valjean's eyes were wide now. "It feels... strange. Not quite what I expected." He sounded almost puzzled. "Please. Go on."
Javert obeyed, pushing the finger further inside. His free hand searched for one of Valjean's, and their fingers clasped. "Relax," he whispered, and Valjean nodded, letting his head fall back on the pillow, the tenseness of his body giving way under Javert's touch.
As soon as he dared risk it without causing Valjean pain, Javert moved his finger, gently. Perhaps it was absurd that he should be so afraid of harming a man who had doubtless suffered worse -- who had toiled under the lash for nineteen years -- but it was no more absurd than the two of them being in this bedroom together, sharing this new life together. The fact that he would rather suffer the lash himself than cause Jean Valjean any pain was only another aspect of that. "I will try another finger," he whispered, "if you permit it," and Valjean nodded, clasping his hand.
Another finger slid in, more easily this time. Valjean sighed, but it was not a sound of pain. When Javert had three fingers inside and Valjean's hot flesh still gave way to his touch, he looked up again. Valjean met his gaze and smiled. "Do it now," he said. "If you please."
"If you are ready." He himself was more than ready; the intimacy of the situation and the way Valjean looked at him had only strengthened his arousal. He withdrew his right hand, but kept his other one tangled in Valjean's as he positioned himself between Valjean's thighs. "So." He swallowed as his free hand guided his cock in place.
"So," Valjean said, grinning at him. "The time has come for you to have your way with me, Inspector."
Javert gave a laugh, forgetting his nervousness for a moment. "Is that what you are calling it now?"
His heart felt large, his head light; all of a sudden, it was the easiest thing in the world to push forward, gently but surely, to let Valjean's body receive him, to give himself over to tight flesh and warmth. He groaned at the sensation, leaning forward to kiss Valjean, who cupped his neck with his free hand and kissed him back.
"It feels strange," he murmured, brushing his lips against Javert's. "But good. Having you like this, feeling how much you want me... Is that what it feels like to you?"
Javert closed his eyes for a moment, the sensations of his flesh and the emotions of his heart floating together and making it difficult for him to speak. "I could not say. I only know I would do anything to make you look at me like that."
"Keep moving, then," Valjean said and kissed him again. "You always tell me to move."
Javert obliged, rolling his hips tentatively. "Does this feel good?"
"Mmmh." Valjean's hand tightened around his fingers. "Perhaps more like -- oh! There!"
The cry encouraged Javert to move faster; he knew full well by now how that mysterious spot could make a man feel. Valjean's thighs came up to wrap around his waist, and Javert felt giddy. "There?" he echoed, trying to angle his hips like before, only with more force. "Like this?"
"Yes," Valjean panted, surprise and delight in his voice. "God, yes, that's -- don't stop moving!"
Javert doubted he could have stopped moving if he'd wanted to. He thrust again, hopelessly lost in the look in Valjean's eyes and the feeling of Valjean's body around his. "I won't," he gasped as they moved together. "I won't unless you tell me to, I'll do anything you tell me to..."
Valjean's hand, large and warm on his neck, pulled him into another kiss. The bed creaked under them, their hands were still clasped; the candle was still burning, casting flickering shadows on their bodies. "I'll tell you to move harder, then." Valjean's voice was a mere movement against Javert's lips. "I want you to move harder, so that I can feel it, how much you want me, how much you desire me --"
"God!" Javert's body seemed to move by itself, in desperate, rutting thrusts. "I don't know how much longer I will last, if you..."
Valjean's thighs clenched around his waist with a force that made Javert's eyes almost roll back in his head. "If I what?"
"If you go on saying -- oh, God! If you go on telling me this is how much you desire me, when you -- when we --"
"When I fuck you, Javert?" Valjean groaned, still lifting his hips to meet Javert's thrusts. "When I take you against the wall or on the bed or on the table? Yes, that's how much!"
Javert gave a cry at the words, and then he came, helplessly, thrashing in the surge of pleasure, his body caught in Valjean's and never wanting to get free. "Oh, God," he groaned again, burying his face in Valjean's neck, Valjean's hot breath in his ear.
After a moment, he found his bearings. Valjean's erection was still trapped between them; now Javert gently untangled himself and moved away. His flesh felt cold with the loss of contact, but he chased away the selfish thought and bent his head towards Valjean's groin -- though not before planting his hands firmly on Valjean's hips, as he had before, which made Valjean laugh. His cheeks were still flushed with desire, but he looked pleased with himself as his eyes rested on Javert.
"You're taking me again," he said, "though in a different way." He sighed as Javert's lips was about to close about him. "And this is no more of a degradation than the other."
Javert paused for a moment. "You talk too much."
"I'm sorry," said Valjean fondly, and then he did not say anything other than Javert's name, first in whispers, then in moans, then in cries as Javert brought him to completion.
Later, they lay wrapped together, having used an old nightshirt to wipe away the worst of the mess. The candle hissed and sputtered on the nightstand; there would be no more risk of fire for tonight.
"I was a thief once," Valjean muttered. His breath was a pleasant rustle against Javert's hair. "But I would not take anything from you that you did not wish to give. I hope you know that."
Javert nuzzled into Valjean's shoulder. "You took my death. And gave me life, that night on the bridge. I am glad of it, now. Although," he whispered, turning to kiss Valjean's neck, "I am not quite sure I would have a choice." Another kiss. "I would give you anything you asked for, Jean Valjean."
A third kiss. "I am glad of that, too."
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