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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Special Circumstances - 12. Duty And Ethics

This chapter features mature content i.e. sex.

When I came home on Sunday night, I was shattered. Morris-Walker’s revelations and plan of action were painful to contemplate. It had occupied my mind for most of the drive back to the Home Office building and the subsequent drive home.

Almost every police officer got more cynical over the course of their career when the reality of policing clashed with youthful dreams, when the dreams of chasing bandits in pursuits and catching criminals got replaced by the reality of paperwork and most of the time dealing with people who were mentally ill. That was part of the job, and actually part of growing up. One accepted, learned, and simply adjusted to reality. Till now, I’d believed I’d adjusted fine. However, the minister’s explanations, as correct as they sounded, required me not only to adjust more, but to turn off my basic motivation.

Helping people was why I had joined the police.

One of my first jobs I attended as trainee was to break up a dispute in a bus. When we arrived at the scene, I saw the relief in the eyes of the bus driver and the uninvolved passengers. They had been glad to see us. This had been one of the defining moments of my career. People were relying on us to keep them safe. If not my colleagues and me, who else would do that?

Now, I was told by Morris-Walker I couldn’t report a murder which was most likely to happen, because the knowledge of this event couldn’t have been obtained in any mundane manner.

Running like I could and seeing in the dark, I wasn’t mundane.

In fact, I was a freak.

Ignoring that, I already knew how it felt being different from the majority by being attracted to men instead of women. Some nitwits who weren’t intellectually able or mentally willing to understand this was an unalterable characteristic thought they could tell me I was wrong, evil, or even diseased.

I knew Morris-Walker didn’t like the word supernatural, but let’s be frank: that was what ordinary people would consider it. If the laws around being queer in the world were any indication, I didn’t even need to go to the X-Men films and their mutant law storyline to understand Morris-Walker was correct in keeping it all very secret. Contemplating how so called normal people would react if they knew what I could do made me shudder.

For the next two days, I settled back into our usual routine of Mike working daytime and evening and I training at the dojo for most of the day trying to forget my moral dilemma.

On Wednesday morning, I was lying on our bed with my butt at the bottom edge. Mike was kneeling in front of me with my calves on his shoulders, and he was pushing into me. I had so needed that. I was laying with my eyes closed, enjoying his thrusts. Yet, at the same time, my mind was wandering.

“Jamie?”

“Hm?”

“You all right?”

Mike was concerned. Looking at my faltering erection, I realised why.

“If I didn’t know you were having nightmares, I’d be insulted now.” He withdrew from me and stood up.

Please let him not have noticed. “Nightmares?”

He lay down on his left side propping his head on arm, facing me. “No pretending, please. You’ve woken up every night since you came home. I do notice, you know.”

“Anyone can have a nightmare once in a while.”

His tone was calm but serious. “Sure, they can, but they haven’t spent the last weeks suppressing whatever is bothering them. Now, the chickens have come home to roost.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I didn’t know why, I just felt defensive.

“Jamie, I’m sitting here and see you suffering. Do I really need to describe your excessive training and partying over the last couple of weeks? Partying with booze and drugs? Your restlessness? Your irritability? Your, how should I say, performance or lack thereof?”

I sighed and nodded.

“Fundamentally, I wonder why you think you can’t talk to me.”

“I admit to being stressed, ok? No shit, Sherlock!” That came out more aggressively than intended. “Sorry, that wasn’t meant the way it came out.” I turned and hugged him, although a bit awkwardly on the bed. “I’ve said before, it’s the job. I can only say I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.”

I released him. Mike looked at me.

Then I saw him. That beautiful face, and the concern carved into it, and I was the cause.

“Tell me,” he said.

I couldn’t. That was the whole issue! ‘Nobody must ever know!’ Yet, he deserved an answer.

I sighed. “You’ll probably not remember, quite a while ago in Germany, there was a child abduction case which rocked the country. Police had caught a subject, and time was running out, because while they held him, the child wasn’t fed.”

“Never heard of it, but go on.”

“The issue was that the lead investigator threatened the suspect with violence to extract the location of the child.”

Mike nodded, encouraging me to go on.

“That’s torture which is, of course, forbidden. The officer willingly broke the law for what he believed was to rescue the child. The same law he was supposed to uphold. The suspect told the location of the child, and they immediately dispatched units to its rescue. It was found the child had already been killed by the suspect.”

“And?”

“Aren’t we all secretly cheering for the hero policeman and condemning the villain who got what he deserved? And how many wouldn’t have wanted to hurt the villain themselves?”

“So?”

“Just imagine it. What if the bloke they held had been completely innocent of the crime and nothing to do with it? Would we then not all deplore what the officer had done?”

“Maybe. What’s your point?”

“It’s always easy to judge in hindsight, but what if it’s right in front of you? When you have to decide right now? Would you break the law to potentially rescue a life or would you uphold the law and potentially let the victim die?”

He grimaced. “That’s a difficult one.”

“It is, isn’t it? When faced with reality, the whole concept of ethics and duty isn’t as clear as it’s written.”

“Jamie, what are you telling me?” The concern was back in his face.

Too close for comfort, time to back off. “Nothing at all. You wanted an explanation of what was going on in my mind, and that’s as close as I’m allowed to go, because telling more would break the law. The same law we’re supposed to uphold.”

Mike rolled on his back and folded his hands behind his head. “That’s heavy stuff. I thought you were a Protection Officer. Where does that come from?”

I turned to face Mike. “What would you do?”

He sought my eyes. “What happened to that German police officer who threatened the detainee?”

“As far as I know, he was done for.”

“There you have it. He lost everything for a corpse. I’m sorry to come across as cynical or uncaring, Jamie, but I’m not a hero. Yes, I risk my ass out there on the streets voluntarily. People rightly ask why I work as a Special and what I get out of it. I do it to help and protect. But, and it’s a big but, I’d never do anything which would cost me my career, job, or home. We have rules and laws for a reason. If it means a villain escapes, so be it. If somebody gets hurt, I can’t help it. In the end, and I’m very sorry to say it that way, my life is what’s most important to me.”

Mike’s answer surprised me. I would’ve expected that from an old police veteran, but not from an enthusiastic Special. However, applied to my situation, I drew from his words that keeping my supernatural abilities secret to protect myself was paramount.

I genuinely smiled. I leaned over to kiss him. “Thank you.”

He was bewildered. “You’re not appalled? Not shocked that I’m no hero material?”

“No, you helped a lot. I love you.” I gave him another kiss.

“Did I cheer you up?”

He actually had, so I said mischievously, “I wouldn’t go that far, but to quote the minister, ‘you do have your uses.’”

Mike was appalled. “He said that to you?”

I nodded.

Mike said, “What a nob! Anyway, let me cheer you up even more.”

That made me feel suspicious. “Yes?”

“My parents will be joining us for dinner tomorrow.”

I grimaced out of half pretended and half true exasperation.

“My parents adore you, Jamie,” Mike said with a laugh. “Especially Mom.”

I grimaced in mock horror. “Tell me about it! One evening with your mom is giving me all the parental love I can stand for a whole year. We’ve just met them before I started training.”

“Well, your cool demeanor to her Spanish inquisition style of questioning has earned you a place in her heart rivaling mine. They wanted to meet up now as you’ve started your new position.”

I chuckled. Yes, it had been a hard and very intimate questioning. Again, my stoic demeanor had come to my rescue, appearing calm while in my head I was at some point seriously panicking. Mike’s mother had the talent of finding one’s insecurities and bring them to light mercilessly. That wasn’t in any way malicious, but it could be very uncomfortable.

The main consequence was that the Lanes were a very laid back family which could talk about issues openly. On that evening when Mike had first introduced me to his parents, Elaine and Gerald Lane had both fallen for me as son-in-law. They’d made that quite clear to Mike who had been strictly instructed to not do anything which could upset me. In jest, of course, but with a serious undertone.

I chuckled. “Haven’t I told you I’ll be on additional duties tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure. Now, enough silly talk.” He leaned over and grabbed my crotch. “There’s something to finish or I’ll be moody.”

“Oh, we can’t have that,” I said, cupped his face, and kissed him.

Mike started caressing me all over, and I let out a small purr of satisfaction. When he started massaging my right nipple with his tongue and the left one with his hand, a jolt went through me. I was one of those people whose dick was directly connected to their nipples. In a short time, Mike had me upright again.

I exhaled loudly and leaned my head back, exposing my throat. Mike had waited for that reaction and moved in to kiss and suck.

“Hey, no love bites!” I said giggling. I wrapped my arms around him.

“I need to leave my mark on you, sexy.” He moved to give me another while at the same time grabbing my dick. “I’m possessive,” he said and started moving his hand up and down.

“Well, take me then,” I whispered in his ear.

Mike smiled at me and slowly moved downwards, kissing me all the way down to my abs while he continued stimulating me. He stroked me gently, and I tightened my stomach muscles and bent slightly upwards. He took this as an invitation and started caressing my glans with his mouth while continuing his hand movements. Gosh, this man was good.

Then, Mike got up from the bed, pulled me closer to the bed’s edge, and knelt in front of me. We assumed our positions from earlier. I put my calves on his shoulders, and he applied some more lube. Mike positioned himself and sought my eyes. He slowly pushed into me.

I nodded my encouragement as he looked at me hesitantly. He started to move faster and deeper. This time, I concentrated on nothing but the beautiful man in front of me. After getting used to the sensation in my behind, I moved my legs to his flanks and pulled him down towards me. I kissed him with the passion which was building within me. Mike fucked me harder, moving in and out quicker, making the bed shake. With each of his thrusts, he hit the spot and sent the tip of my dick burning and me grunting. At the same time, the underside of my rock-hard dick rubbed against Mike’s belly.

I tried to hold back, but I didn’t really want to. The best feeling for me was to come while kissing. I discharged covering Mike’s chest and myself in my semen. I released our kiss and nibbled at his right nipple, sending him over the edge, too. He leaned back and finished two more moves before he came within me.

I didn’t let him withdraw and pulled him onto me to cuddle like I often did. I just loved feeling him touch me on my whole body.

“You’re my post-coital cuddle monster, aren’t you?” Mike asked, looking up from my chest where his head was resting.

I smiled at him. “Complaining, my handsome boyfriend?”

He moved with his right index finger through the stains of cum on my chest. “No. Just wondering whether you want to glue us together.”

I chuckled, because he had a point. “I just need you close.”

He held me closer.

The next day was quicker upon us than I’d wished for. In the morning, Mike went shopping and then had to work the lunch shift. I was delegated to cleaning up the flat and to setting the table but to otherwise stay out of the way. That was my cue to visit the gym and train after having done the domestic chores. I knew better than to argue or try being more helpful.

The day’s training had a positive side effect: it got me off my usual thoughts of ethics, duty, and murder. I’d contemplated Mike’s response and made my peace with Morris-Walker’s plan. Last night, I hadn’t woken up. Mike didn’t know, but his words yesterday were a game changer for me. My primary concern had to be my own safety and that meant Morris-Walker was correct, ‘Nobody must ever know!’

I was quite happy when I returned home. Mike was finishing in the kitchen, and I was setting the table. After that, we didn’t have to wait very long until the doorbell rang. Mike went downstairs to let his parents in. His mother came up the stairs with her arms wide open so that I couldn’t escape the serious hug.

“Jamie!” she exclaimed happily.

“Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Elaine.”

She let go of me when Mike and his father entered. “You’re a funny boy, aren’t you? Has Mike behaved?”

“Mom!”

I was rescued from answering by giving a hug to Mike’s father.

Having all the greetings and preliminaries over, we assembled around the kitchen table. Mike didn’t lose much time and was serving the first course.

“Are you still not allowed to do anything in the kitchen?” Gerald asked me.

“Yes, I’m allowed to clean up.”

They laughed.

“My poor boy!,” Elaine said and tussled my hair. “Mike, stop abusing Jamie.”

“I’ve shown you how to make soup,” Mike said in an effort to avoid the discussion.

“Yes, and you didn’t like it.” I’d roped him in nicely.

“Michael Lane!” Elaine exclaimed.

“I did like it!” Mike said defensively.

I put on my best lost puppy face and voice. “He had me scrub all those different vegetables, cut them up into shapes I didn’t know were possible, boil them in the correct order to the right consistency, and then declared I should’ve added salt. Can you imagine?”

“More salt!” Mike tried defending himself over the laughter.

My phone indicated the arrival of a message. I quickly checked it. My surprise must’ve shown in my expression.

“What happened?” Gerald asked.

“A message from the minister.”

“Oh, the minister,” Elaine said in a mocking tone, “Our Jamie is important.”

Mike wasn’t happy. “What does he want? You’re off duty.”

“I should check BBC Parliament. What’s that? A TV channel?”

The three Lanes just laughed.

“Yes, silly,” Elaine replied.

“Well, sorry, I don’t watch much TV.”

Mike turned on the television and selected the indicated channel. It showed a committee chamber in Westminster Palace, and Morris-Walker was introduced to speak.

“Is that him?” Gerald asked.

“Yes,” Mike and I answered in unison.

The minister’s voice droned out of the box. “Thank you, chair. I appreciate the opportunity to address this Select Committee. Please let me start with a heartfelt apology which I would like to issue to members of the LGBTIQ+ community for speeches and press releases of mine earlier in my career which could be seen as offensive or demeaning. I have realised I was wrong about issues concerning those individuals.” There was applause from some of the committee members. “In that light, I would like to draw the members’ attention to reference paper twenty four, page seventeen.”

The rest of his speech was legal detail about an administrative change which was favourable for queers. I chuckled, smiled broadly, and I turned back to my food.

“What’s so funny, and why does he want you to see this?” Mike asked me.

“Let’s say, we had a heart to heart about queer people.” I couldn’t really tell about our bargain.

“You had a heart to heart with a minister?” Elaine asked, surprised.

“Elaine, minister or not, he uses the toilet like everybody else. Driving this guy around for hours on end, sometimes we talk. Once, we talked very honestly about being queer. Anyway, I’m happy.”

I was indeed delighted Morris-Walker started to pay my price. He’d stopped any anti-queer statements after requesting me as his Protection Officer. Now, he was taking the second step, speaking in support of equality and acting that way.

“You think that’s your doing?” Gerald asked.

Thankfully, I never blushed. “Maybe.”

“Well, then that’s a reason to celebrate. I’ll bring out the bubbly,” Mike said and got up to go to the fridge.

I sent the minister a heart emoji as a response.

Gerald asked, “How is that protection work, Jamie? You’re the first real bodyguard we know.”

I smiled amused. “Have you guys seen any bodyguard related films?”

“Yes, of course.”

Elaine and Gerald both listed different bodyguard themed films they’d seen.

“Okay, it’s absolutely not like that.”

They chuckled.

Close Protection was a serious profession whose aim is to avoid danger and harm to the principal. So, the goal was to avoid any action, not to seek it. This was mostly achieved through intelligence on people, motives, and locations. While I had nothing to do with that part, it was clear if intelligence indicated a reasonable threat, a principal’s appearance would rather be cancelled.

I didn’t go into any detail about my actual work. First, it wasn’t representative at all, because lone guards were practically unheard of. Usually, it was a team of officers providing protection. However, I described enough to take the glamour and action out of their imagination.

“Would you really take a bullet for Morris-Walker?” Gerald asked seriously.

Excellent question. I’d asked myself the same thing. “I best answer that with a true story. There once was a politician who declared to a reporter his CPOs would take a bullet for him and asked ‘right guys’? The squad leader replied, ‘No worries, we’ll arrest the person who shot you.’”

They laughed. I laughed with them.

In the end, I thoroughly enjoyed the evening. This time, I hadn’t been put on the spot. On the contrary, I felt as if I was actually a part of the family. Once the Lanes had left and we were clearing up, I told Mike about my impression.

He was surprised. “Of course, you’re part of the family. You’re my boyfriend, Jamie.”

I snorted. “I’m so sorry I can’t offer the same to you. My parents will never see you as they would a daughter-in-law.”

Mike’s meeting my parents for the first and so far only time had been a cold affair. Although I’d made it clear to my parents in advance I really loved the man I’d bring, my father was silent most of the time while my mother was a master in useless chitchat. They hadn’t made any kind of effort to get to know Mike. I’d been so angry with my parents I’d wanted to tell them to go to hell. Only Mike’s intervention had kept me from doing that. Thinking about it still made me angry.

Mike came to hug me. “It’s not a competition. You’re important to me. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Mike kissed me on the cheek and then slapped my butt. “I’ll wash, you dry.”

Copyright © 2024 lawfulneutralmage; All Rights Reserved.
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A very special thank you to my editor @Mikiesboy and beta reader @CassieQ. Their support and advice has been invaluable.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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