It's the first checkpoint, where armed guards stop the car and check our IDs against a list, lingering a moment longer when their attention shifts to me before returning to Blue. The pause is brief, but Blue doesn’t let it turn into a question, quickly and firmly explaining that I’m his personal security.
At the second gate, the procedure becomes more thorough as the vehicle is inspected and we are asked to step out, surrender our phones, and sign non-disclosure agreements before receiving temporary badges clipped to our jackets.
The guard stops me just past the metal detector and gestures for me to step aside, his expression neutral but firm as he tells me to raise my arms. I do it without hesitation, keeping my eyes forward while he starts the pat-down, rather methodically.
The situation doesn’t bother me. I have a civilian carry permit, and I know how to shoot; my father made sure of that. But as part of my security work for Blue, I don’t currently have official authorization to possess a firearm. I’m not a professional bodyguard, so I don’t have the armed guard card required in our state.
The soldier checks my shoulders first, then moves down along my sides, pressing briefly at my ribs before continuing lower. His hands slide to my waist and settle at my hips, testing for anything concealed. From there, one hand moves between my legs in a quick, professional motion, sweeping across the inside of my thighs and over my groin.
I don’t react to the touch itself, but something in the air changes and I pull my attention sideways.
Blue is watching. His expression is still controlled, but a small trace of discomfort flashes across his face, as his gaze is locked on the guard’s hand where it rests a second too long at my zipper.
The guard pauses. His brows pull together slightly beneath the brim of his helmet, and his hand presses once more, a bit slower this time, like he’s reassessing what he just felt.
"Uh…" He clears his throat. "You carrying something there?"
Blue’s eyes narrow. Simon gasps.
For one beautiful second, my brain completely short-circuits. Too good to be true. Did he really just ask the one question every underappreciated guy dreams of hearing? The one that finally lets me shine in a way I rarely ever get to?
The guard already looks mildly uncomfortable, like he’s regretting the question. I glance down between us, then back at him.
"No, sir," I say evenly. I had rehearsed this many times before, preparing for exactly this type of occasion. "Fate was a joker and gave me a purple alpha’s dick but not the body."
A beat of silence. One of the soldiers standing by the scanner suddenly coughs hard into his fist, pretty suspiciously like he’s choking on a laugh.
The guard’s entire face goes red and rigid with professional suffering.
Simon’s mouth is so wide open that we can see all his lower teeth.
"Right," the soldier mutters quickly, removing his hand like he touched a live grenade. "Okay. Fine. Move along."
And so I step forward.
Blue and Simon fall into place beside me a second later, Blue looking perfectly composed except for the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"I cannot believe he asked about it. That’s outrageous," Simon mutters.
"My dick is clearly a matter of national security. Or, um… a security breach."
Simon snorts. "Seriously, though, that was incredibly rude. How dare he suspect you of smuggling a weapon in your pants?"
"That would have to be a pretty large caliber…" I mutter, and Simon’s eyes widen as he stares at me.
"Wow, that’s…"
"That’s enough commentary on this subject, Simon," Blue says in a tone that’s hard to read.
"Of course. I’m sorry," Simon whispers.
My attention lands on Blue for a moment, because that didn’t sound like impatience, but something else. What?
Why did it feel like he didn’t want Simon continuing to be… amazed by my dick?
Another soldier meets us immediately after and informs us that we will be escorted for the remainder of the visit.
We move through a series of secured doors and wide, clean corridors, passing areas without markings while cameras track every angle. The escort sets a steady pace, and we follow without deviation until we finally reach the designated conference room.
