As he slowly climbed the stairs to the next floor, Madeleine debated the sanity of all this. Oh, he had admired Javert's sleek, muscular build from day one, but he had never intended the man to actually become aware of that, let alone return the interest. If that was what this was…

On the landing Madeleine hesitated. The desire coursing through his body was no less for the threat this pseudo-meeting posed, but he was alert. He would not be surprised if, the moment he stepped into the office, Javert cuffed him for nothing but purely professional reasons. He'd be terrified and disappointed if that happened, yes, but not surprised.

Or could it be that Javert's position was too much like his own: a single man living alone, starved for a little intimacy after years of celibacy? In Toulon, Valjean had succumbed to such desires from time to time, as would all prisoners. Now Montreuil wasn't Toulon, of course, but while the ladies at the docks would gladly take care of such problems, he suspected that, just like him, Javert valued his health more than his comfort.

Madeleine followed the long hallway to his office. He never locked it and now the door was slightly ajar, telling him Javert had already seen himself in. His heart beat fast in both hopeful and fearful anticipation as his hand pushed against the door.

The Spartan office bathed in the soft, yellowish light of the small chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Off to his right, Javert was just extinguishing the wick at the end of the pole that served to reach the candles high up.

"I see you found the lighting pole," he said lamely, announcing his presence without really needing to. In the flickering of the newly lit flames, Madeleine saw the smart little smirk that still graced his inspector's lips as the man set the thing in its corner.

"With your permission, Monsieur, I like to see what I say," Javert retorted.

And Madeleine liked to see what he saw plainly. Especially this fine a sight.

The hat and policeman's cane had been placed with care on the wooden chair by the door. Without them, Javert had his hands free to idly tug at the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling them over his wrists after they had rode up his forearms while he was lighting the chandelier. The gesture was simple enough, but Madeleine took it in faster than he had finished his wine.

As Javert stepped up to the desk, the candles overhead literally put the inspector in a whole different light than before. Unlike the bright light in the ballroom, the chandelier cast shadows that accentuated the man's broad chest and narrow waist. The dark blue velvet of his coat seemed nearly as black as the trousers, the darkness of which now hid the gentle folds in the smooth fabric. If his body was responding in kind to Madeleine's, those shadows made it impossible to tell. Javert stood perfectly still, like a predator laying in wait. Only his bright eyes betrayed that he was more than ready to pounce his prey.

It was a small mercy that he didn't seem to have his handcuffs on him.

Madeleine realized he was openly ogling now, but Javert was actually indulging him, steadily meeting his indecent gaze with unwavering patience. Madeleine found himself glancing fleetingly at his desk. He had cleared it this afternoon and the whole of its surface was freely available if needed. His tongue flitted across his lips. If only he should be so lucky.

"The report, Monsieur?" Javert said eventually, quirking a brow.

Madeleine swallowed hard. "Yes of course," he said, voice hoarse. He quickly closed the door and sat down behind his desk to remove his straining tension from sight. "Please proceed, Inspector."

Javert squared his shoulders, standing to perfect attention as he began his report with practiced fluency.

More so than any time before, Madeleine dreamed. He did register a few of the things Javert mentioned as something he had heard before, but it failed to capture his interest as much now as it had the first time. The enthralling images that his mind produced with the pristinely dressed inspector before him simply drowned out everything else. Involuntarily, he squirmed in his seat, wishing there was a way to slip one hand under the desk without Javert noticing.

But this was Javert. That man noticed everything.

"Please pay attention, Monsieur," the inspector said. "That is the whole point of this exercise, after all." His tone was stoic as usual, but the tiny smile curving his lips was almost coy.

Madeleine felt his face heat up, firmly folding his hands on the desk in front of him, fingers tightly interlaced to resist temptation. "So it is," he said. "Please continue. You were just mentioning—" He had heard that, he knew he had. It was just that all the blood rushing south made it harder to think straight.

Javert scoffed, but the smirk that accompanied it took the edge off his exasperation. He began to pace up and down in front of the desk with long, languid strides.

"As I was saying, this matter at the butcher's shop constitutes trespassing and is therefore unlawful. It may not be immediately recognizable as an infringement, but when considered in light of the most recently added articles of the Code Pénal, one can easily see how it should be viewed as such."

Javert droned on, citing articles of law, recent court decisions and God knew what else. None of it was even remotely relevant to a customer trying to buy a piece of pork after shop hours anymore, but he nevertheless took his time to elaborate on the finest possible details. And all the while, he was taking long strides in front of the desk, occasionally glancing at the mayor to see if he had Madeleine's attention.

He had. In fact, Madeleine had stopped listening altogether after the word 'infringement', needing the remainder of his mental faculties to coordinate between staring at Javert's long legs and keeping his own jaw from dropping to his knees.

The longer the inspector's exhibition lasted, the more effort it took Madeleine to keep himself together. By now, the lower part of his body screamed to be touched. He held his ground as best he could, but when Javert plunged deeper into what was rapidly becoming a full-length lecture on the practical application of the Criminal Code, Madeleine found his hand plunging down just as rapidly.

The moment he did, though, Javert cut off in mid-sentence and came to an abrupt stop before the desk.

"Monsieur le Maire, I cannot help but notice your continuous lapse of concentration. I insist this is remedied before I continue my report."

"Eh?" Madeleine muttered unintelligibly, both hands back on the desk as his wide eyes met Javert's stern glare. He flushed with what had to be a violent shade of red. "Euh, I mean, that shouldn't take long now..."

The inspector raised a brow in mock-surprise. "Really? I thought you to be a man of stamina, Monsieur. You strength and fortitude is legendary in this town." He smirked. "And beyond, I imagine."

Seeing the confident look on Javert's face, Madeleine paled in so far as his flustered cheeks allowed. Oh God, he knew. Javert really knew!

Or did he? Wouldn't the inspector have denounced him and put him in cuffs already if he did? Javert wasn't one to hesitate when he was certain and he always got what he wanted. If the hungry, triumphant glint in those steel eyes was to be believed, he knew he had his man. Madeleine suppressed a moan at that particular thought. Even knowing his identity was on the verge of being discovered, he wanted nothing more than those capable hands on his body, preferably to do something more than arrest him. It was insane to think this way, but he did…

…because Javert was a policeman. To Monsieur Madeleine Javert was a subordinate, but to Valjean, the man was forever one of his jailors. Someone to obey. Someone he wanted to obey. After nineteen years, that was almost second nature. And no doubt Javert knew that, too.

Swallowing hard, he turned back to Javert. "What do you advise, Inspector?" he inquired, trying to make it sound as normal as possible.

Javert took a deep, deliberate breath. The dark velvet of his coat stretched a fraction against his expanding chest as he pretended to consider something that was already decided.

"The obvious course of action is perfectly clear, Monsieur," he said curtly. "It would, however, be a pity to stain your trousers so. The fabric is quite delicate."

Stunned by so much audacity, Madeleine was lost for words for a few seconds. "I—I think it may already be too late for that," he finally stammered.

"Then you are fit to hear the rest of my report, Monsieur?" Javert inquired with a sly smile.

Madeleine's breath hitched in his throat at the thought of Javert resuming his pacing. "I do not think so, Inspector. Any suggestion you might care to make to solve my predicament is—" he gulped "—more than welcome."

The look on Javert's face was possibly one of devious amusement. If it wasn't, Madeleine didn't want to know.

"I do have a suggestion, Monsieur," the inspector's deep voice rumbled as he put his hands on the desk and leaned closer. "However, it would require your full cooperation." He pursed his lips. "Or dare I say: obedience."

The shudder that tore through Madeleine did not go unnoticed to either of them. He closed his eyes in an odd mix of anticipation and resignation.

"I will comply with whatever you deem necessary, Inspector," he whispered.

"Good," he heard Javert say, feeling the man's warm breath against his skin. "Then I suggest you start by removing your clothes before you soil them further."

Madeleine froze, eyes flying open again. "W-what? You mean… disrobe?"

"I assure you there is nothing to be embarrassed about," said Javert calmly. "During my time as prison guard I have seen all there is to see of the male anatomy." He straightened himself to his full height in a not-too-subtle show of dominance. "You did say you would comply, Monsieur."

The sarcastic emphasis on that last word made Madeleine weak at the knees. Screw his better judgment: "And I will, Inspector."

He slowly got up from his chair and began to shrug out of his coat. Draping it over his chair, he then made short work of the buttons of his beige waistcoat and got out of that, too. Postponing the inevitable a little longer, his hands travelled down to undo the fastening of his trousers next.

"Drawers, too, obviously," the inspector instructed.

Madeleine – or was it Valjean? – felt his cock jolt at the order. He carefully released it from its confines before obediently pushing his drawers down with his trousers and slipping out of his shoes and socks as he removed them. All the while, he was all too aware of Javert's eyes ravishing him.

He couldn't keep his hands from shaking when they began to untie his cravat, though. When it came loose, the cloth fell abandoned on the floor. His fingers sagged before he mustered the courage to, very slowly, undo the top button of his shirt.

"That is enough," said Javert suddenly, brow furrowing in an undecided expression. "Removing your shirt will not advance the solution to your problem, Monsieur. I insist you keep it on."

The weight of the world fell off Madeleine's shoulders. He hadn't dare to hope for such mercy – for that was most certainly what it was – but when he looked at Javert again, he did see the reason why: since he had begun to strip, the shadows on the inspector's trousers had changed significantly.

"Oh my," he muttered under his breath.

Javert must have spotted Madeleine's recognition, but wasn't in the least disturbed by it.

"From what I gathered tonight, you seem to take explicit pleasure in my wearing this suit, Monsieur," he said. He rounded the desk as he spoke, halting only inches behind Madeleine's shoulder. "Am I right?" He tilted his head enough to get a good view of Madeleine's quivering member. "Of course I am," he concluded with extreme satisfaction.

It is common knowledge that power erotizes, but neither Madeleine nor Valjean had ever felt so turned on by this much blatant arrogance. He drew a raspy breath as Javert stood behind him, close enough to rustle the fabric of his shirt.

"Turn around," Javert ordered.

Before his mind had grasped the words, his body had obeyed out of sheer habit. Now he stood with his back to the desk, pinned between it and his exquisitely dressed inspector.

If the man touched him now, that would be enough.

But Javert didn't. Instead of coming closer, he took a step back, smirking fiendishly as he slowly let the velvet coat slide off his shoulders. "It is a new suit. It shouldn't be allowed to crease," he explained as he carefully hung it over the back of Madeleine's chair, covering the discarded clothes already there.

Never before, Madeleine realized with a squirm of delight, had he ever seen Javert in his shirt sleeves. Of course he hadn't. It wasn't a decent thing to do in company and Javert was nothing if not correct. Yet where he had no problem in postrating himself before Javert in nothing but a shirt, seeing the impeccable inspector baring himself this way gave a whole new meaning to 'arousing'. His hand drifted to his aching cock in reflex.

He hissed when Javert grabbed him by the wrist to keep him from touching himself.

"Is this so much to your satisfaction, Monsieur?" the inspector coaxed.

Madeleine nodded mutely. He was sure his arousal was dripping already.

"Good," Javert growled. All pretences gone in a flash, he grabbed Madeleine by the neck and drew him into a rough, bruising kiss.

After the initial surprise, Madeleine readily leaned into the assault. His mind was too much on fire with unadulterated lust to formulate what it was he wanted, but his instincts didn't need instructions. He just needed the pure physicality of being touched, of being subdued. There was nothing tender or loving about the lips that pressed against his or the hand that had grabbed a fistful of his shirt. That was fine. That was the way it was supposed to be. Especially with this ruthless, dangerous man.

Javert shoved him hard against the desk. "Lay down," he ordered, bright eyes ablaze as he fumbled with the buttons of his trousers.

Hazy with desire, Madeleine turned towards the desk, but a big hand grabbed him by the shoulder before he could.

"No, on your back," Javert growled. "I want to see who I fuck."

Madeleine obediently lowered himself back on the desk, his legs widening off their own accord. Looking down beyond his engorged erection, he saw that while Javert had undone his trousers, the dark cloth still rested on his hips, albeit a bit lower than it had been. That alone was promise enough. He lay back, pressing himself against the cold wood beneath him, eager for what would come.

"Do you keep some kind of oil in your office?" Javert's voice asked huskily.

Madeleine shook his head, the 'no' he uttered sounding more like a moan than a word as a strong hand spread him wider.

"No matter," Javert said as he positioned himself. "I'm sure you have done this without such aid before."

He had, but that had been a long time ago and—

Madeleine stifled a cry as Javert entered him with a slow but deliberate thrust. A sharp pain shot through him, threatening to overwhelm him. He had born pain before, though, and knew how to deal with it. He clenched his fingers around the edge of the desk for support, willing himself to relax as he rocked into the forceful thrusts with which Javert slid deeper into him. He was glutton for punishment, that he knew, but dear God, this would have been that much easier if the tall inspector wasn't so incredibly proportionate.

Easier perhaps, yes. But not nearly as good.

As they settled wordlessly into a mutual rhythm, Madeleine folded his legs around Javert's hips, pulling the man as close as possible with every thrust that rocked him. His eagerness was rewarded with one hand around his throbbing cock, while the long fingers of another dug into the creases of the rapidly soaking shirt, riding it up over his belly to the underside of his ribcage.

"Would you have taken it off if I insisted?" Javert asked between pants. His hand rubbed over Madeleine's chest, over the ridges that were Valjean's scars. There was no way he could not have felt them through the fabric, even if he might not recognize them for what they were. "Or would you have found an excuse not to?"

Whatever reply Madeleine might have given, it was lost in an incoherent whimper when the inspector roughly strummed a thumb along his length.

"I—I…"

"Not a word!" Javert bit, increasing the speed and intensity of his movements. "To have you here like this is too good. Don't spoil it, Monsieur… le Maire!"

At that, Madeleine lost himself with a cry. He bucked violently, back arching in the heat of the moment. He felt himself clench around Javert's shaft, causing the usually so composed inspector to groan strenuously before coming with a few sharp thrusts.

The stars dancing before his eyes gradually faded. Overcome, Madeleine craned his head back in satisfied exhaustion, gasping for breath while his inspector leaned over him, laboring to find his own.

For a long moment, they stayed this way. Then, without warning, Javert pushed himself up and disengaged himself from Madeleine's body. That stung, but Madeleine was too sated to wince.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, he saw Javert pull a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and clean himself before neatly buttoning up and putting on his coat. Fully dressed again, the inspector looked completely innocent of their act, if not for the rosy color on his cheeks and a single strand of his long hair that had escaped the silk ribbon.

Even now, with the cold reality descending on him too fast, Madeleine could not help but admire the view.

To his surprise, Javert bent down to retrieve the abandoned trousers and drawers from the floor. Without a word, he searched the pockets and produced Madeleine's own handkerchief from its folds. Still silent, he handed it to Madeleine.

"Thank you," Madeleine croaked through his dry throat. Taking care to wipe up all he had spilled on himself, he cleaned his belly with the handkerchief before sitting up. He felt a bit lightheaded when he did.

"You are expected back at the ball, Monsieur," Javert said, frowning solemnly. "However, if you are not fit to attend I will make an excuse for your absence."

"No need," said Madeleine as he pulled on his drawers. "I'm not as young as I used to be, but that´s all." Or he would that it was. His hands faltered. "I must apologize, Inspector," he said, taking care to avert his eyes. "I fear that I have shown entirely too much of myself tonight."

Javert's face was unreadable. "Not more than I already knew there to be, Monsieur le Maire," he replied, his deep baritone almost reassuring. "I will take my leave now. No doubt we will see each other tomorrow." Without awaiting a reply, he bowed briefly, turned on his heals and exited, taking his hat and cane with him as he went.

Madeleine continued to watch Javert go long after the door had closed. Those last words kept ringing in his ears, relentlessly repeating themselves. If it meant what he feared it did, he should leave immediately, while he still had the chance.

If it meant what he hoped it did, the only reason Javert would cuff him some time in future was to tie him to the bedposts.

He sighed. Valjean's common sense told him to pack his things and go. The part of him that was Madeleine told him to give the inspector the benefit of the doubt. That was, after all, what Javert had granted him tonight, too.

Oh, I do love a strong, arrogant Javert ^_^