Part Eleven: Authority Shift
Jake had stopped asking himself when the patrols with Matt began feeling normal. Somewhere in the rhythm of days and early evenings, the presence of another body beside him in the cruiser no longer felt like a disruption. Matt didn’t need to be told the routine anymore. He knew the checkpoints, the usual detours, even the names of the kids loitering near the Dollar General after school.
He still wore his own clothes—but not entirely.
Today, Matt had pulled on Jake’s jacket again. Didn’t ask. Just zipped it up like it was his. The baseball cap was on too, as he leaned back in the passenger seat, legs slightly spread, one boot tapping gently to the rhythm of the road.
Jake’s trooper hat sat beside the radio, untouched.
The first half of the shift had been quiet. No calls, just a few routine loops. Jake didn’t say much. He watched Matt in the periphery of his vision, trying not to notice the way the jacket hugged his shoulders like it had molded to him.
“Gas station?” Jake asked.
Matt nodded. “Same one.”
They pulled in just as an older woman was wrangling two dogs into the back of a muddy SUV. She turned, saw them, and waved.
Jake reached for the door, but Matt opened his first.
“I got it,” he said.
Jake paused. “It’s just snacks.”
“I know.”
Matt was already out and walking toward the storefront, cap pulled low, jacket zipped to the collar. The woman nodded to him as he passed.
“Evening, Trooper.”
Matt didn’t correct her. “Evening, ma’am.”
Jake sat still; jaw tight.
When Matt returned, he handed Jake a bottled water and dropped into the seat without a word. There was no smugness on his face. Just ease. Confidence.
Jake cracked the seal on the bottle. “You like pretending.”
Matt turned to him. “I’m not pretending. I’m preparing.”
“For what?” Jake asked, eyes forward.
Matt didn’t answer right away. “For what comes next.”
Jake didn’t press. He didn’t want to hear the answer. Not yet.
They rode in silence for a while, watching the sky darken into a dusty violet haze. The trees cast long shadows across the asphalt. The evening air was cooling fast, the smell of early woodsmoke in the distance.
Matt finally spoke. “You ever think about what makes people follow you?”
Jake glanced over. “Training. Protocol. Authority.”
Matt shook his head. “It’s not the badge or the belt. It’s the way you wear them. The way you move. You could walk into any room in that uniform and not say a word—and people would know who’s in charge.”
Jake exhaled through his nose. “That’s not power. That’s responsibility.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t turn people on.”
Jake’s fingers tightened on the wheel.
Matt turned, his tone quieter. “It does. The uniform. The control. The way people look at you. They don’t just see a trooper. They see something they’re supposed to submit to.”
Jake’s throat went dry. “Matt—”
“I’m gay,” Matt said, calm and direct.
Jake blinked, caught off guard.
Matt didn’t flinch. “Figured I’d say it out loud since you won’t.”
Jake looked at him, eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Matt smiled faintly. “You’re not stupid, Jake. You’ve felt the way the air changes when I put your jacket on. You know how you look at me when I wear the cap. You feel it.”
Jake didn’t answer.
Matt kept going. “I’ve known I was gay since I was fourteen. Didn’t say it much, didn’t need to. I just... knew where my eyes went. Who made me feel small? Who made me want to surrender?”
He looked at Jake then, not daring him, but asking him to listen.
Jake gripped the wheel like it was keeping him tethered. “You’re saying this because of the uniform?”
“I’m saying it because I see what it does to you,” Matt replied. “And what it does to me.”
The cruiser rolled to a stop at a red light. Jake stared ahead, but his pulse was thudding loud in his ears.
Matt spoke again, gentler this time. “You think I’d put on your jacket, your cap, and sit in your seat every day if I didn’t want you to see me?”
The light changed. Jake didn’t move.
Matt leaned in. “You feel it too. I know you do.”
Jake looked at him. Really looked. And in that moment, he saw it all—the certainty, the challenge, the hunger. But also, the vulnerability. The exposure.
Jake exhaled slowly, shifted the cruiser into drive, and kept going.
Matt didn’t push further. He leaned back, satisfied—for now.
Later, when they pulled into Jake’s driveway, neither of them moved to get out right away. The engine ticked softly as it cooled.
Jake rested both hands on the wheel. “You always this forward?”
Matt shook his head. “Only when it matters.”
Jake glanced at him. “You think this matters?”
Matt reached up and adjusted the cap, lowering the brim slightly. “I think it’s starting to.”
Jake opened the door and stepped out without another word.
Matt followed, slow and steady.
Inside the house, the silence felt different. Charged. Intentional.
Jake peeled off his gun belt and set it on the side table.
Matt stood in the doorway, watching.
Jake turned to him. “You hungry?”
Matt shook his head. “Not for food.”
Jake swallowed.
Matt stepped forward, unzipped the jacket, and let it fall over the back of a chair. He stood there, still wearing the cap, looking at Jake like a man reading a book he already knew the ending to.
“You know,” he said, voice quiet, “when I wear this stuff, I don’t feel like I’m pretending.”
Jake’s voice was low. “I know.”
Matt took a slow step closer. “But what gets me... is that I think you like it when I do. Seeing me take parts of you and make them mine.”
Jake didn’t move. “I don’t know what I like anymore.”
Matt smiled. “Then I’ll help you find out.”
He reached for the trooper hat sitting on the table near the door.
Jake’s breath caught.
Matt didn’t put it on. Not yet.
He held it between them and said, “This isn’t just fabric. It’s authority. Legacy. Command.”
He looked Jake dead in the eye. “Men wear hats. Boys wear caps.”
Jake stared at him.
Matt stepped forward and set the hat on the chair.
Then he lifted the cap off his own head and slowly placed it on Jake’s.
Jake flinched.
But he didn’t take it off.
Part Twelve: The Confession
The cap was still on Jake’s head when he woke the next morning.
He didn’t remember falling asleep with it on. He’d left the uniform shirt unbuttoned, still tucked into his trousers, belt loosened but not removed. He must’ve sat on the couch and dozed off there, the cap shifting slightly sideways during the night. Now the bill shadowed his face in the pale morning light, tilted at an awkward angle.
He reached up to take it off.
And stopped.
His hand hovered near the bill, fingers trembling ever so slightly. It wasn’t a heavy thing—just cotton, a patch, a curve of fabric. But it felt like it weighed ten pounds now. Like putting it on had meant something. And removing it would mean even more.
He stood slowly and peeled off his uniform, folding it over the back of the couch. The cap stayed where it was. He didn’t look in the mirror.
Instead, he moved through the motions of his morning: brewed coffee, ran the water hot for a shower, dressed in a clean uniform, ignored the gnawing feeling in his gut.
At 7:28, the gravel outside crunched. Right on time.
Jake looked through the window and saw Matt approaching the cruiser, wearing jeans and a charcoal hoodie. His hair was uncovered. No cap. No jacket.
But something in the way he walked—shoulders forward, steps measured—still carried the quiet weight of possession.
Jake stepped outside before Matt could knock. “You ready?”
Matt smiled. “Always.”
Jake didn’t smile back.
They rode the first thirty minutes in silence. Matt didn’t reach for the radio or adjust the volume on the dashboard feed. He just sat with one arm draped lazily along the window ledge, watching the town pass by.
Jake cleared his throat. “You didn’t wear the cap.”
Matt glanced over. “Didn’t want to assume.”
Jake said nothing.
Matt added, quieter, “You looked good in it.”
Jake’s hands flexed slightly on the wheel. “It’s not part of the duty uniform.”
“I know,” Matt said. “That’s what makes it interesting.”
They pulled into a trailhead lot near the edge of a wooded area. It was quiet—only a few early hikers' cars in the lot. Jake parked under a tree and cut the engine. The air between them felt thick. Heavy with things unsaid.
Jake turned toward him, finally. “You said something last night.”
Matt tilted his head. “I said a few things.”
Jake gave him a look. “You know which one I mean.”
Matt didn’t push. “Yeah.”
Jake leaned back against the seat. “It’s not something I’ve talked about. Ever. Not really.”
“You don’t have to,” Matt offered gently.
“No. I do.” Jake exhaled. “I’ve been a trooper for over a decade. I’ve worn this uniform since I was twenty-one. Followed rules. Kept clean. Focused. No social life. No... risks.”
Matt listened, silently, without judgment.
Jake swallowed. “I haven’t been with anyone since I put on this badge. Not a man. Not a woman. Just... nothing.”
Matt’s eyes softened.
Jake looked down at his hands. “My whole life, I’ve followed the line. Straight as I could draw it. I told myself I didn’t need anyone. That I was enough. But it wasn’t true. I just didn’t know how to ask for what I needed. And I didn’t think I was allowed to want it.”
He looked up. “I’m gay.”
The words landed like stones dropped into deep water—no splash, just weight and depth.
Matt didn’t smile. He didn’t say “I know.” He just nodded once. Solid. Grounded.
Jake kept going. “I haven’t touched anyone in years. Haven’t even tried. Just me. My hand. My head. Every night.”
He looked out the window. “Lately, it’s not enough.”
Matt shifted slightly in his seat. “Because of me?”
Jake hesitated. Then nodded. “Yes. I’ve had dreams about you and me. About you in my uniform.”
Matt reached over, slowly, and placed his hand on Jake’s forearm. “You don’t need to do anything you’re not ready for.”
Jake turned his hand under Matt’s, palm up, fingers brushing. “That’s the problem. I think I’ve been ready a long time. I just didn’t have the words. Or the reason.”
Matt laced their fingers together.
Neither of them spoke for a minute. The only sound was the wind pressing softly against the windows.
Then Jake said, “You’re not just wearing my jacket, Matt. Or my cap. You’re stepping into parts of me I didn’t know I wanted to give up.”
Matt looked at him. “Does that scare you?”
Jake thought about it. “Yeah. But it excites me more.”
Matt’s hand tightened slightly. “You want to keep going?”
Jake met his gaze. “Yeah. I do.”
Matt nodded once, then slowly reached for the trooper hat resting between the seats.
He held it with care, then extended it toward Jake.
Jake looked at it. Then back at Matt.
“You’re the trooper today,” Matt said softly. “But soon, I want to see you wear the cap again. I want to see what it looks like when you sit in my seat.”
Jake’s pulse jumped.
Matt leaned closer. “One day soon, you’re going to give me the full uniform. And you’re going to sit where I sit now. Out of uniform. Watching.”
Jake’s breath shuddered.
Matt brushed a finger across the brim of the hat, then handed it over. “But not today.”
Jake took the hat, placed it on his head, and felt the weight of it anew.
He started the cruiser again.
They pulled out of the lot and drove on, deeper into the town they both now shared—two men, one uniform, and a story that was beginning to turn inside out.
Part Thirteen: First Surrender
The house was quiet, wrapped in that particular kind of stillness only a rural night could offer. No passing cars. No sirens. Just the faint rustle of trees and the distant hum of cicadas under a moonlit sky.
Jake closed the front door behind them, locking it out of habit. He’d driven the last stretch home while Matt sat beside him in silence. Not a tense silence—just full. Thick with the weight of something that had been building between them for weeks. Tonight, it didn’t need words to swell.
Jake set the trooper hat down on the table near the door.
Matt didn’t follow him immediately. He lingered in the entryway, watching as Jake shrugged out of his jacket and laid it neatly over the back of a chair. His uniform shirt remained tucked and buttoned up, his duty belt still fastened.
Jake turned to find Matt staring at him, unmoving.
“What?” Jake asked, voice low.
Matt stepped forward and gently picked up the trooper hat, holding it between them.
Jake’s breath caught.
Matt looked him in the eye. “You said earlier that you were ready. That you’ve wanted this for a long time.”
Jake nodded, slowly.
“Then let me give it to you.”
Jake didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He stood there, unmoving, as Matt reached up and carefully placed the hat on his head. The brim cast a shadow over Jake’s eyes, and in that moment, he felt both clothed and exposed.
Matt stepped closer. Their bodies were inches apart. “God, you look good like that,” he whispered.
Jake’s pulse pounded in his throat.
Then Matt leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t hungry. It was full, anchoring, and unashamed. Jake’s hands gripped Matt’s waist as their mouths moved together, slowly at first, then with deepening intensity. Matt’s hands moved up Jake’s chest, tracing the crisp lines of the uniform shirt, fingers catching on buttons and seams.
Jake moaned into the kiss.
They broke just long enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together.
Matt smiled, voice low and thick. “Let me touch you.”
Jake nodded, voice shaking. “Yes. Please.”
Matt’s hands slid down Jake’s sides, fingers steady and unhurried. He reached for the belt buckle and unclasped it, then undid the buttons on the trousers. Jake stood frozen, heart hammering, as the pants loosened and fell softly to the floor.
Matt didn’t stop there.
He crouched slowly, sinking to his knees in front of Jake, hands running up the backs of Jake’s thighs. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the standard-issue briefs and tugged them down.
Jake’s breath shuddered.
His cock sprang free, already thick and pulsing with need. Matt looked up at him once more—checking, not asking—and then leaned forward.
The first touch of Matt’s lips around him made Jake cry out softly. He gripped the edge of the table for balance, legs going weak.
Matt didn’t rush. His mouth was warm, deliberate, lips and tongue working with practiced care. He took Jake deep, humming softly around him, one hand braced at his hip, the other stroking slow circles across his lower back.
Jake had no control left.
He let his head fall back, the trooper hat still perched on his head like a crown he hadn’t earned. His moans filled the room, raw and unguarded, echoing off the quiet walls.
Matt sucked harder.
Jake’s thighs trembled. His knees buckled.
With a sharp gasp, Jake came—spilling into Matt’s mouth, hand clenched against the table’s edge. His entire body went rigid, then loose, collapsing under him.
Matt caught him before he could hit the floor.
They sank together, Jake half-limp against the wood floor, panting. The hat had fallen off somewhere in the chaos. Jake didn’t know where. Didn’t care.
Matt knelt beside him, his hand sliding along Jake’s back.
Jake turned, dazed, and leaned into him. For a long moment, they didn’t speak. They just breathed—skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.
Finally, Jake whispered, “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”
Matt smiled softly. “You needed to feel wanted. Needed to be seen.”
Jake nodded against his shoulder. “You saw me the whole time.”
Matt’s arms tightened around him. “Yeah. I did.”
Jake sat back, still flushed, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Stay the night?”
Matt searched his face. “You sure?”
Jake nodded. “I want you here.”
Matt touched Jake’s cheek. “Then I’m staying.”
They stood slowly, Jake pulling his pants halfway up. He retrieved the trooper hat from the floor and set it gently back on the table. Neither of them spoke as they moved into the bedroom, but the silence felt sacred now. Full of understanding.
Jake sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his hands. “I’ve wanted to be touched for so long... but I never thought I’d let anyone see me like that.”
Matt sat beside him. “You didn’t let just anyone. You let me.”
Jake turned toward him. “Can I… do the same to you?”
Matt blinked. “What do you mean?”
Jake swallowed. “What you did for me. I want to return it. Not just to give back—but because I want to. I want to feel you in my mouth. I want to taste you. I want to make you feel good.”
Matt’s mouth parted slightly. “Jake…”
“I’m nervous,” Jake admitted. “But I want to learn. I want to know what it feels like to give someone that. To give you that.”
Matt leaned in and kissed him again—gentler this time. “We’ll take it slow. You don’t need to prove anything.”
Jake smiled. “I’m not trying to prove. I’m trying to trust.”
Matt stroked his arm, then nodded. “Okay. Then let’s take our time.”
They undressed slowly, piece by piece, until they lay together in bed, wrapped around each other beneath the soft weight of the quilt.
Jake had never felt so exposed.
And never so safe.
That night, as he lay awake beside Matt, Jake stared at the ceiling and knew something fundamental had shifted. The man beside him wasn’t just wearing parts of his uniform anymore. He was taking the weight off his mind. Jake’s fetish to see Matt in his uniform, being dominant, being him lightened the weight Jake had carried for years.
He was wearing parts of Jake’s identity.
And Jake had never been more willing to give them. He didn’t think about the consequences.
Part Fourteen: On the Hood
The air was thick with late summer heat as the cruiser rolled west on the old two-lane road past the quarry. Pine trees leaned over the asphalt like they were listening, eavesdropping on the silence that had stretched for miles.
Jake sat in the passenger seat, one boot tapping a quiet rhythm against the floorboard. His trooper hat was pulled low, casting a hard shadow across his eyes. He was fully uniformed. Still the trooper. But something felt off.
Because Matt was driving.
In jeans, boots, and a fitted charcoal T-shirt, Matt gripped the wheel with calm assurance. No patch, no badge, no duty belt. But he drove like he owned it.
Jake hadn’t wanted to hand over the keys. But when Matt had reached for them that night and said, “Let me,” Jake had hesitated just long enough to give permission without saying a word.
Now Matt sat behind the wheel of the West Virginia State Police cruiser, steering with one hand, window down, the other resting lightly on the radio console.
Jake kept glancing sideways, his pulse low and steady, but tight.
“You’re quiet,” Matt said eventually.
Jake gave a soft grunt. “Doesn’t feel right.”
Matt smirked. “You in the passenger seat, or me behind the wheel?”
Jake didn’t answer.
Matt leaned back a little, glancing over. “You still think the uniform is the only thing that gives you control?”
Jake looked away.
Matt nodded to himself. “That’s what I figured. You’ve been wearing it like armor for years. But it’s not protecting you anymore, is it? You’re tired of the responsibility. You’re tired of hiding your true self.”
Jake’s mouth was dry. “It’s not that simple.”
“No,” Matt agreed. “It’s not. But it is time.”
They rode in silence another five minutes before Matt took a left onto a gravel road—one of the rarely used firebreak routes that cut through the backwoods. He parked near a break in the trees, away from the highway, where no one would come looking.
The cruiser idled for a moment before Matt shut it off.
Jake turned toward him, wary. “Why are we stopping?”
Matt leaned across the seat. His voice was low but firm. “Because I want to talk. And I don’t want a radio between us when I say this.”
Jake swallowed, nervous. But he stayed still.
Matt looked at him fully now. “You trust me?”
Jake nodded once. “Yes.”
“Good,” Matt said. “Because I’m asking for more.”
Jake blinked. “More?”
Matt’s voice was calm, but direct. “I’m taking the full uniform for the rest of the shift.”
Jake’s eyes widened. “That’s not a joke, Matt.”
“I’m not joking,” Matt replied. “You know I can carry it. You know I move like you. Sound like you. I know your routes. Your language. I’ve earned this, Jake. Whether it’s legal or not.”
Jake tensed. “It isn’t legal. That’s impersonation.”
Matt nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m not doing it unless you give it to me.”
Jake looked away; jaw clenched. “Matt—”
Matt reached out and took Jake’s hand, firm but gentle. “You said you’ve wanted to surrender. That the uniform’s been a wall between who you are and who you want to be.”
Jake didn’t pull away.
“Then give it to me,” Matt said. “Give me the uniform. Ride this shift like you rode with me—quiet. Watching. Let me take the weight for once.”
Jake’s heart thudded.
Matt leaned in closer and whispered, “Trust me. I can do it. And so can you. I can take the uniform if you don’t give it to me now.”
Jake’s breath shook.
Matt stepped out of the cruiser without waiting for an answer.
Jake followed.
They stood facing each other on the gravel shoulder, the cruiser humming in the heat behind them. Pine trees surrounded them like sentries. The air was heavy with humidity and meaning.
Matt began to strip.
He pulled his shirt over his head slowly, watching Jake as he did it. He unlaced his boots and stepped out of them, tugged off his socks, jeans and underwear until he stood bare beneath the canopy of leaves, body lean and erect with tension.
Jake hesitated.
Matt turned to the hood of the cruiser and said, “Strip. Put it all here. Every piece.”
Jake’s hands moved almost on their own.
He unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, fingers shaking. He folded it carefully, placed it on the warm metal hood. He removed his ballistic vest and unclipped the duty belt. Removed his undershirt. Kicked off his boots. Pants next. Then underwear.
Both men stood naked in the trees, facing one another. Each a mirror of the other but different inside.
Neither of them smiled.
Matt turned to the hood and began redressing in Jake’s uniform. The briefs, the t-shirt, the ballistic vest, the uniform shirt, then trousers, then boots. He moved slowly, with reverence. Like he was suiting up for war.
Jake watched, breathless, as Matt slipped on the gun belt. Straightened the badge. Picked up the trooper hat and adjusted the chinstrap to tighten the fit. He put on the hat and stood before Jake as the trooper.
Then he turned.
Jake was still naked, hard. He watching with something between awe and submission. Slowly Jake pulled on Matt’s underwear and clothing. He tied the boots.
Matt walked up to him and handed him the baseball cap.
Jake didn’t resist.
He placed it on his head.
Matt stepped close. “Boys wear caps,” he whispered. “Men wear hats.”
Jake’s breath hitched.
They kissed hard—full of heat and restraint, tongues clashing, hands gripping flesh. Matt palmed Jake’s rear and squeezed, dragging him into his newly uniformed frame.
Their hard cocks brushed together, and Jake whimpered.
Matt broke the kiss, breath ragged. “Get in the car.”
Jake obeyed.
Back inside, Matt behind the wheel, Jake in the passenger seat and accepted the roles were reversed.
Matt reached for Jake’s watch on the dash. He slid it on.
“You even feel like me,” Jake murmured.
Matt smiled. “No. You feel like mine.”
As they pulled out of the clearing and continued the shift, Jake settled back, breathing hard, still hard in Matt’s jeans. He kept the cap on.
Matt glanced over. “You like this, boy.”
Jake nodded.
“You’re hard, aren’t you?”
Jake’s voice was rough. “Yeah.”
Matt chuckled. “Get used to it. You’re going to feel that way a lot more.”
Jake closed his eyes and let the sound of the cruiser wash over him. He had crossed a line.
And there was no going back.
Part Fifteen: Full Possession
Jake sat in the passenger seat of his own cruiser, watching the trees blur past in the early morning haze. The gravel road coiled through the hills like a ribbon pulled too tight. His heartbeat was calm, but beneath it was a restless current of something new—acceptance, maybe. Or something closer to anticipation.
Matt sat in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually over the radio mount. He wore Jake’s full uniform—pants, shirt, belt, badge. Even the trooper hat. It fit him now. He wore it like he had been issued it years ago, like the fabric itself had shifted to remember his body instead of Jake’s.
Jake wore Matt’s clothes: jeans, black thermal, worn boots. The baseball cap was a soft reminder of everything he’d given up—and how right that surrender felt now.
Matt made a turn without checking with Jake. He didn’t have to. He knew the loop.
“How’s it feel?” Matt asked casually, eyes on the road.
Jake exhaled slowly. “Strange.”
“But good strange?”
Jake glanced over. “Yeah. That kind.”
Matt smirked and nodded. “You’re sitting in the proper seat.”
Jake half-laughed under his breath. “Feels better when I’m not fighting it.”
They passed an old gas station where one of the locals, a retired fire chief, raised a hand toward the cruiser. He waved directly at Matt.
“Morning, Trooper!” the man called.
Matt nodded, hand touching the brim of the trooper hat. “Sir.”
Jake said nothing.
The man didn’t notice him.
Later, at the end of the shift, Matt pulled into Jake’s driveway and let the cruiser idle. The sun was rising now, pink and gold over the trees.
Jake didn’t move right away.
Matt looked at him. “You’re quiet again.”
Jake turned, thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking.”
Matt raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous habit.”
Jake smirked. “I want you to move in.”
Matt blinked. “You serious?”
Jake nodded. “Yeah. This… whatever this is… it’s not a game. You’ve already taken over half my life. I think it’s time to make it official.”
Matt smiled slowly. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
Jake nodded again. “Yeah. I do.”
Matt leaned across the console and kissed him—softly, deliberately.
Jake opened the door and stepped out. He didn’t feel like a trooper anymore. Not when Matt looked more like him than he did.
—
Matt moved in that weekend.
It started with a duffel bag. Then boxes. Then hangers full of clothes that didn’t stay in neat piles—they went right into Jake’s drawers. Socks. Underwear. T-shirts. They all mixed in with Jake’s things like they had always belonged there. And Matt didn’t ask which was which.
He just wore them.
Jake would open the laundry basket and find Matt’s scent on his favorite undershirts. He’d go to grab socks and realize the ones he liked were already on Matt’s feet. Once, he came home to find Matt wearing one of his old Academy hoodies, sleeves pushed up, leaning over the sink doing dishes like it was his kitchen now.
Because it was.
Jake didn’t resist. He watched it all happen with the kind of quiet hunger he hadn’t realized he possessed.
Evenings turned into rituals. Matt taking off the uniform, piece by piece. Jake folding it. Sometimes, they traded again—Matt would insist Jake wear the uniform while he lounged in Jake’s civilian clothes, just to remind him what he’d given away.
And sometimes, Matt would suit up in full gear before Jake could even wake up—leaving Jake in bed, in nothing but his briefs, with the faint scent of Matt’s cologne lingering in the sheets.
The tension built slowly, day by day.
Until the night it broke.
—
They’d just returned from a full shift—Matt in full uniform, Jake in jeans and a washed-out WVSP t-shirt. The cap still hung off the coat rack like a trophy. The hat—Matt’s now—rested in its usual spot on the dresser.
Jake sat on the edge of the bed, tired but wired, running a hand through his hair.
Matt stepped into the room without a word, boots still on. He walked up to Jake and stood in front of him, the uniform pants tight across his thighs, badge gleaming on his chest.
Jake looked up.
Matt’s voice was quiet. “On your knees.”
Jake’s heart stopped.
He didn’t speak. He just dropped.
Matt unzipped his pants.
Jake reached up to touch, but Matt grabbed his wrist.
“No hands. Just mouth.”
Jake swallowed and nodded.
Matt’s cock sprang free, already half-hard. Jake leaned in, lips parting, tongue flicking across the head. He tasted sweat, salt, and something uniquely Matt. He moaned softly and took him deeper.
Matt groaned, threading fingers into Jake’s hair. “That’s it. Just like that. You’re mine now.”
Jake moaned again around him.
It didn’t take long before Matt was thick and throbbing. He rocked forward gently, letting Jake take more and more, until Jake gagged slightly, eyes watering.
Matt held him there.
Then pulled out.
Jake gasped for air, panting.
Matt grabbed his arm and dragged him up from the floor, leading him toward the bed.
“Strip,” he ordered.
Jake obeyed.
Shirt first. Then socks. Pants. Underwear. He stood naked before Matt, hard and trembling.
Matt stepped in close, still in full uniform except for his open fly. He kissed Jake’s neck, down to his collarbone, then pulled a small bottle of personal lube from the nightstand.
Jake’s eyes widened. “Are you…”
Matt nodded. “It’s time.”
Jake swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can.”
Matt kissed his lips—deep and slow. “You can. Trust me.”
Jake nodded.
Matt pushed him back onto the bed and climbed over him. He slicked two fingers and gently pressed them between Jake’s cheeks. The first one slipped in slow.
Jake tensed.
“Breathe,” Matt whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Jake did. He breathed and let the second finger in. It burned. But beneath the sting, something opened.
Matt took his time.
He stretched Jake slowly, kissing his thighs, whispering into his skin.
When Jake was ready, Matt slid the head of his cock against him and paused.
“You sure?” he asked.
Jake nodded, voice breaking. “Please.”
Matt pushed in.
Jake cried out—part pain, part shock, part overwhelmed release. Matt stayed still, letting Jake adjust.
Then he started to move.
Slow. Deep. Controlled.
Jake arched beneath him, gripping the sheets, gasping. The pain blurred into pressure. Then the pressure cracked into pleasure.
Matt leaned down and kissed him hard. “You’re mine now. All of you.”
Jake came without touching himself, his body convulsing as he spilled across his stomach, crying out Matt’s name.
Moments later, Matt thrust one final time and groaned as he came, filling Jake, grinding deep, holding him close.
They collapsed together.
Matt still fully dressed.
Jake completely bare.
Jake felt everything—the soreness, the heat, the flooding wave of emotion he couldn’t name.
Matt brushed his hand through Jake’s hair. “You okay?”
Jake nodded, still dazed. “Yeah.”
Matt smiled. “That was your first. And you did perfect.”
Jake closed his eyes, exhausted.
And finally, free.
