FicWad

The Javerts stayed at a small inn in Paris, of good quality. The room was well lit but small. The bed was large enough for a couple to, let me put it politely, have a ‘roll in the hay’ without falling off the bed, and the mattress was good enough so the springs did not squeak during the lovemaking. The only other pieces of furniture in the sparsely furnished room were a bureau and two bedside tables. But it was enough for Javert and Sophia for a couple of days. That first night in Paris was probably their happiest night together since they first been married. She looked at him sleepily as he dressed the next morning, ready to go to the Paris Prefect. Her long blonde locks were mussed up and the bed linen was wrapped around her body.
“Morning, Etienne,” she yawned. She lay back on the bed and was about to slip back into a peaceful slumber but she felt his lips on hers.
“I won’t be too long,” he murmured in her ear, “sleep ma chérie.”

“Inspector Javert, the prefect was impressed by your proposal. I expect him to approve a budget for your census within the month,” the head of the Parisian police said to Javert,
“Thank you, sir. That's excellent news,” Javert replied, almost smiling
“You are known in Paris now. Your future is bright, so I suggest you drop this request for an investigation of the mayor.”
“Sir, I was a guard for a year in the quarries of Toulon. I saw Jean Valjean perform the same feat of strength the mayor did with the cart. The hard labour makes them incredibly strong. Once I made the connection…once I was no longer dazzled by his wealth, I’ve grown more certain daily. Now I recognise his face and voice, I’m amazed I didn’t know him right away.”
“Well, Javert, I don’t doubt that...”
“Sir...I’m prepared to denounce him.”
“Denounce him? Without proof?”
“If I force a trial, the evidence will be found,” Javert told him, certainty in his voice.
“If he showed you papers and they were in order…”
“I checked the baptism certificate. It’s a copy; eleven years ago there was a fire at the parish. The original records were destroyed. All his documents are based on that copy.”
“Your identification alone is not enough to subject the mayor of Montriuel-sur-Mer to a trial. File a report, and I’ll recommend we investigate.”
“Sir, Jean Valjean is a thief. It makes a mockery of our institutions to have a corrupt and depraved man in charge of our industry and government.”
“I said file a report. I’ll investigate on this end, discreetly. Do not denounce him without proof. Be patient; he’s not going anywhere, is he?” Javert raised an eyebrow.
He thought, oh really?

Being a Parisian at heart and also by birth, Sophia was overjoyed to be back in Paris, only if it were only for a few days. Wearing her white riding habit once again, sitting on the bed, waiting for Javert to return from the Paris Prefect. Her blonde locks were loose around her shoulders; she looked like an angel sent from heaven, despite the fact she was clearly the Devil’s whore in between the bed sheets. The once dominated mousey housewife had disappeared and had transformed into a beautiful, caring, talented swan. The door opened and Javert entered. She smiled at him and rose from her place on the bed. She greeted him with a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“Hello,” she said softly. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her firmly. His desire for her overwhelmed him and with clumsy fingers, he unbuttoned her riding habit jacket; he was surprised to see that she was not wearing a shift or a shirt underneath it. Her breasts, for a girl of eighteen, were perfectly developed. He marveled at her long fingers, which were busy unbuttoning his vest and shirt. He caught one of her hands and he kissed it. Her eyes closed briefly before loosening the ties on her skirt, which fell to the floor in a pool of material. She stepped out of it and her attention went to his trousers. Once they were off, the once-distant married couple fell onto the bed, panting in pleasure. She straddled him, steadying herself by placing her clammy hands on his muscular chest. As she rode him, taking in his length and then rising almost completely off his cock, Javert offered a quick word of appreciation to God for causing that miscarriage, which had bought the couple closer, and he let out a groan of ecstasy as she tensed her internal muscles around him.
Oh Lord, thank you! he thought before sitting up, putting his hand on the small of his back and pushing her down onto her back so he could take control of their love-making. She had normally let him take control in sex but he had let her do so for a change. His thrusts were becoming more urgent and quicker. She felt his cock demanding more room as it grew fatter. Then as quickly as it begun, in a few powerful thrusts and several loud cries from the both of them, his seed was in her.

He collapsed beside her, out of breath. He was not getting any younger, was he? Sophia sat up to look down at him. He smiled breathlessly and he cupped her heart-shaped face tenderly. What was happening?
Am I falling in love with her? he asked himself. Javert had never allowed himself to fall in love with his wife- after all; she was just the woman who was to bear his children…if they ever succeeded. They had only been four months from parenthood before the late miscarriage. She smiled down at him before kissing him sweetly on the mouth, her lips lingering on his. She laid back down and rested her head on his chest, lovingly stroking the dark hair on his chest…his sideburns.
“I love you,” she whispered.