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“Good work today, newbie.” Mr. Wright grinned and clapped your shoulder, making you stumble a bit.
“Thanks.” You said, grinning right back. The first few weeks had been stressful with this particular case. The primary suspect, a bonobo, was accused of stealing multiple articles of clothing from a seemingly innocent citizen. The real culprit turned out to be the accuser, who framed the poor animal due to a longstanding rivalry with all primates. It was a civil court case, on the smaller side, but challenging all the same.
Truthfully, it was such a convoluted and stupid motive that you zoned out for the majority of the explanation. At least Mr. Wright thought you were still mentally present during the trial, or he'd probably chew you out for lackadaisical behaviour. Besides, it was always nicer to be on the receiving end of Mr. Wright's smiles rather than his glares.
Speaking of dirty looks, Mr. Edgeworth's typical withering glare was nowhere to be seen as he marched up to you. You expected a backhanded compliment from him anyway, and steeled yourself. Just because your mentor probably-definitely has a crush on the dude didn't mean you had to sit down and take his insults. Except, well, you kinda did. You kinda really need this job.
Okay, so maybe you did lie down and take it, but hey!
Hey.
Stop getting distracted, he's coming.
"You were... sufficient today." Mr. Edgeworth said somewhat grudgingly, like it pained him to acknowledge your competence. It probably did.
It was absolutely the type of two-faced compliment you anticipated from him, but you waited for more. Surely there had to be more. Right? That would be insane to just leave it at that—
Mr. Edgeworth pivoted on his heel, gathered his briefcase, and walked away. You noticed he (unsuccessfully) tried to discreetly pocket one of Mr. Wright's pens. Okay, apparently that really was all the praise you'd ever get from him for now. Once he was fully gone from your sight, you turned to your briefcase and started packing up.
Being a lawyer entailed writing down a lot more things than you initially thought, and it also meant confiscating random items in your briefcase. For evidence, of course. Case in point, a dildo. That’s it, that’s all the context you had.
You looked forward to lounging on the couch, and dreaming about blowing a certain someone under the judge’s bench.
When you first started this job, you were captivated by the judge’s goofy, yet charming aura. It drew you in and distracted you almost every trial. Judge never acknowledged your longing gazes. It kind of made sense since he was, y’know, ancient. Maybe he literally just couldn’t see you. Still, that didn't stop you from trying to impress him at every turn, which was partly why being publicly belittled by Mr. Edgeworth was so infuriating.
Shaking your head to clear your negative thoughts, you finally finished and got ready to leave. Just as you stepped over the threshold, a loud scream followed by an even louder clang pierced your eardrums.
That was unmistakably the judge's voice.
You broke into a scramble-sprint, desperately trying to avoid running into a wall, and lugging your briefcase behind you. Bursting through the courtroom doors, your eyes wildly scanned the area for the source of distress. From where you stood, everything appeared ordinary.
"Judge?" You called out and heard a muffled noise. It sounded like he was in trouble; maybe some wronged and resentful past defendant came back for revenge! Your chest heaved as you fought to catch your breath before rounding the podium, and losing it all over again.
Oh, it was the judge, alright.
The judge sprawled on his back, hips bucked and hairy legs raised, with a gavel halfway in his ass. You could very clearly see his poor, puckered hole trying to close around it. His dark grey robes pooled around torso, allowing you to see his cock bob slightly. When you dragged your eyes upward, you bit back a sigh. His face was as red as his untucked tie, the essence of guilty, yet frozen midway between pleasure and mortification. There was a bottle of lube, a Nokia phone, and some manila folders lying nearby, which you assumed were all from the loud crash you heard.
You and the judge were locked in a staring match for who knew how long. It was probably like 30 seconds, but it felt like an eternity. This was a position you've definitely dreamed about seeing him in before, dreamed about what you would do, and now actually in that situation you were frozen still. You audibly swallowed, the roof of your mouth dry as a desert.
"I...I don't quite know how to explain myself." Judge whispered but the words still felt loud in the relative silence of the courtroom. "I-If it's not too much to ask, would you, um, mind helping me... remove this?"
Apparently, you'd been staring for too long, because Judge cleared his throat and began carefully trying to remove the gavel by himself. That woke you up like a sleeper agent and you started waving your hands like a maniac.
"Wait! Fuck, wait. Of course I'll help you. I'd love—I mean I'd be glad—no I mean I—" You were absolutely mangling this, so you just stopped and crouched down in front of Judge, throwing your briefcase aside. You tried to focus on the fact you were doing this to help Judge. Not his slightly wobbling knees (from age or nerves, you didn't know), not his semi-hard on, and definitely not his tight asshole that was never going to be able to take a whole gavel. It didn't even look slicked up with lube. Which you were not focusing on.
You just had to lock in. Easy, right? You've had to do that every day so far. This was no different, and you weren't about to be (any more) sleazy, and leer at Judge while he was vulnerable and trusting you to aid him. Alright, you could do this; be suave, cool, respectful, and nonchalant.
"It, uh, might be easier if you turn over." You suggested.
Judge nodded, and minding the sensitive areas, rolled onto all fours. Initially, you wanted to warn him to be careful about his joints and bones, but the man was... surprisingly agile. Nobody really knew about Judge's past, but the dexterity and flexibility with which he maneuvered himself gave you an inkling that might've been a gymnast in his earlier days. Soon enough, his weathered hands were firmly planted on the floor, his beautiful bald head faced forward, and his entire backside was presented to you. The real trial felt like trying to keep your tongue in your mouth, ignoring the swaying of his pruned dick from the limited view you had.
Of course, that also meant he was in doggy-style, which was added to the ever-growing list of things to ignore right now.
Your fingers shook as you reached out and grabbed the handle of the gavel, guess-timating its give. It was really wedged in there. You experimentally give it a tug, causing Judge to loose a small involuntary moan that rendered you stiff. It was probably for the best that neither of you could see the other's expression, but, man, you could certainly imagine it.
"Sorry." You mumbled, because Judge had to be beyond uncomfortable. "It's just really... in there." You cringed at your own words, definitely not helping ease the awkwardness of the situation. But honestly, what could at this point?
You tried another yank. This time Judge couldn't cover his moan or his arched back. Man, the gavel had to be at least 3 inches wide. There was absolutely no way it was coming out like this. You swallowed again and prayed you wouldn't come off as a pervert for this.
"Judge."
"...Yes?" He was panting.
"I think we need to try a different approach. Trying to pull it out is too dangerous, not to mention painful." You paused to stall, willing your courage to manifest.
"What do you propose?"
This was it. You're so fucking cooked.
"I use the lube to stretch you... and loosen the gavel!" You blurted out in a rush.
The outlandish proposition was met with a wall of silence. Hopefully, Judge was just contemplating and not about to court-martial your ass for sexual harassment. All you could do was stare at the back of his bald head and wait. You half wished he'd just shoot you.
Right when you decided to just apologize again and back off, Judge spoke up.
"I suppose we could try that."
'We can?" You parroted, dumbfounded, and you could see Judge nod from behind. It was hard to believe he actually agreed to that.
Leaning back on your knees, you reached for the lube a few feet away. The bright wrapping and cursive font caught your eye and before you knew it, you were staring down the barrel of Strawberry Cheesecake scented lube. Weird, that it was only scented, not flavoured, but that's probably because the author doesn't like eating out. You've seen weirder things, and for what it was worth, it smelled pretty damn good.
The noise of squirting it into your hand reminded you of throwing Taka, prosecutor Simon Blackquill's hawk, screeching at the top of its lungs simply because of how crudely loud it was. You slapped your palms together and started rubbing, partly to warm it up a bit, and partly to calm your nerves. Every single time you've imagined fingering Judge's tight hole, it has been in a fairly romantic setting. And with a lot more finesse. And mostly because you both wanted to, not because he legitimately needed you.
That absolutely didn't put a damper on things though because you were still getting to touch Judge, albeit under much more restricted circumstances.
"Are you ready?" You asked.
"It's not my first rodeo, young'un. I'm more than ready." Judge chuckled.
What a throwaway comment. Young'un made you want to bite an arm off, but there was a hint of some nuance in his comment. He could've just replied with "I'm ready," and moved on, but he was laughing. He didn't seem nearly as shy as he did a couple minutes ago. What did he mean by "more than ready?" That had to count for something; maybe he was actually flirting with you. You weren't reading too much into this, were you?
"Are you alright?"
You snapped out of your inner turmoil at the sound of the judge's concerned question. Focus. Focus on what's important right now. The glaring, cockled, about-to-be-lubed-up issue right now.
"I'm fine, sorry. Okay. I'm, uh, going in now."
With trembling hands you spread the lube around his gluteus maximus, feeling the tremors run through his body every time he shivered. Tracing the outline of his hole where the gavel was lodged, you lubricated the wood too. You managed to slip one finger inside the liminal space, and moved in a circular motion for maximum coverage. Judge gasped lowly and flinched as you did this, creating an erotic moment you'd replay in your head from now until death. Damn, he smelled just as good as he looked.
"I'm gonna pull now." Another nod from the judge, and you grabbed the handle. He moaned loudly as you tugged with all your might, and the gavel flew right out. Unfortunately, so did your slippery hands, and you staggered backward a few steps, knocking into the podium. The gavel clattered to the floor and you dropped to your knees to recenter yourself behind Judge.
"Are you okay?!" He asked, and you nodded, because hell yeah, you were more than okay. Now you had an unobstructed view of the Judge's blooming starfish, winking and semi-lubed up.
"I'm great, Judge. Are you okay?" You rubbed your slick hands on your pants, trying to level your voice. "I know it was probably pretty rough on you..."
"Nonsense, chum! I'm perfectly spry."
Judge sounded pretty bubbly, so you took his word for it. Silence filled the space, and there was a persistent sinking feeling in your stomach. It was mild disappointment at the fact the whole ordeal had been over already. Despite the fact Judge didn't get up from his spot, you were probably freaking him out simply lurking behind him.
"Alright, well..." You trailed off awkwardly and stood, sneaking one last glance at Judge in a position you'd never have the blessing of seeing again. His head was turned, looking at something behind you. You swivelled your head as well and followed his line of sight.
Your briefcase was haphazardly discarded in your earlier panic. Well, it had busted wide open when you threw it, and lo and behold, the large confiscated dildo was on full display.
It felt like somebody had nailed your feet to the floor, and you cringed so hard that your cheek muscles hurt. Perhaps this was divine punishment for making fun of Prosecutor Blackquill after he relentlessly mocked the Judge. Ah, well, it was time to face the music. Not like it was yours anyway; surely Judge would understand. You glanced back at Judge, the explanation ready to tumble out, but the expression on his face killed the words in your throat.
Smouldering. That was the only way to describe the Judge's face while he stared right at you.
It wasn't reading too deep anymore. No, it was Judge sending a message. You held eye contact with him as you slowly bent down to grab the dildo, and watched when his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. Neither of you looked away when your hands went to your belt, slowly pulling, dragging it through the loops until it fell to the floor with a soft ting. Didn't look away when he shuffled backward an inch or two, just to get closer to you.
You kicked aside your pants, underwear, belt, and fastened the harness around your thighs. The thick 8 inches of plastic had been vigorously scrubbed down about a thousand times, and even if it hadn't, you were ramming that rod right in Judge's needy hole regardless. You snatched the lube again, squirting a generous amount into your hands and rubbed down your strap-on.
"Spread your legs." You ordered, newfound confidence in your voice.
Judge followed without so much as a nod. His perfect meaty thighs gave way to the gates of Heaven, no stupid mallet blocking the view or entrance.
His hole was already deliciously stretched thanks to that gavel, but you slipped a finger inside anyway. Judge jerked upwards, and your other hand shot up to tightly grip his hip. You slid another finger inside, watching him squirm.
"Please. Hurry up, I need—" A sharp gasp cut off the rest of his plea as you shoved a third finger inside that chasm and started working. It felt so good, having his needy hole move around and bend with you. It was mostly for your pleasure than his comfort though. Hell, the gavel fit, so you added a fourth and final finger inside. Judge groaned at that and strained against your hold, but you never let up.
"Come on." Judge barked and it ignited a pit of fire in your body, hearing how impatient he was.
You slid your fingers out, now sticky and smelling like strawberry cheesecake, and placed that hand on the other side of his hips. You lined your strap up with his entrance and plunged inward. His back arched and he cried out, trying to lurch forward again, but you dug your fingers in and laughed. It was ragged, like you were keeping yourself on just as tight of a leash as you were giving to Judge.
"Jesus, how long did you have that gavel up there, Judge? You're—" You rolled your hips, relishing in the resounding moans from the man under you."—so open and ready for me."
You buried yourself in him, pressed into the backs of his thighs. Panting, moaning, and the echoes of skin slapping against skin filled the courtroom as you began rhythmically thrusting into the Judge. Sweat beaded on your forehead and you permanently seared this moment into your brain. His choked gasps and shudders would forever loop in your mind whenever you were in this courtroom, regardless of whatever sort of trail was happening. The image of Judge with his ass in the air, gown strewn messily around him, quaking every time you rammed into him and pulled out just as ruthlessly, demanding more, was imprinted on the inside of your eyelids.
After this it didn't matter, you'd take Judge out on a date and you'd court him. Unlike most people, you'd never had any qualms with the thought of screwing your octogenarian verdict-maker. In fact, there was one verdict you wish he'd give. Maybe if you plead your case hard enough, he'd find you innocent and grant it to you...
You pulled out, agonizingly slow, and rested on your hind legs. Judge panted, clearly expecting another thrust, and you hungrily watched the way he spread his legs even further, giving you a clear view of his throbbing hard cock, dripping beads of pre-cum on the floor. The sight made you drunk with satisfaction, that he was all undone and leaking because of you.
"W-What are you waiting for?" Judge finally snapped, craning his neck to look back at you. Those lips and that big, fluffy beard you just wanted to rake your hands through, on full display.
Caressing his hips, you almost smirked at his frustration. "Relax, you'll get it. I was just wondering if you'd indulge me?"
"How so?"
It shouldn't be all that nerve-wracking to ask, especially since you were already shagging it up on the courtroom floor.
"Can I kiss you?"
Judge stilled in your grasp, and oh fuck, you blew it. He was gonna get up, and this was going to be terrible and you should've never followed this career path, every day from here on out would be Hell on earth. You started loosening your hold on his hips.
"Yes. Is that it? Then you'll go back to fucking me?" Judge asked roughly. "Just as long as you keep fucking me."
There were a number of things in that statement you could lose your mind over, mainly the unprecedented swearing from Judge, but you were following your libido and it said to lock in. You shifted to the side and dragged your synthetic length up Judge's leg, leaning forward.
"Gonna need you to flip over, babe."
Risky nickname, you knew, but you had electricity running through your veins and it didn't matter.
Judge didn't seem to mind. He obediently turned around and that rod bounced with every movement. He hooked his legs around your waist, arms over your shoulders. You instantly went to knead his butt, and ground up against his twitching erection, eliciting scandalous moans from the Judge.
You rucked up his gown and flicked his wrinkly nipple with your tongue. The hands on your shoulders yanked you backward and an apology was on the tip of your tongue. Until it wasn't because Judge was on your mouth, and your tongue now. Your teeth clicked awkwardly at first, but then you cupped the back of his neck and found a better angle.
He was by no means gentle, which was good. Your tongues pushed and pulled like a battle between any good prosecutor and defendant. He swirled his tongue around yours and pulled back, like a tease, and you unconsciously followed. It gave you a moment to breathe before diving back in. You could feel a dark rumble against your chest, and there was a second's warning before Judge bit down and bruised your bottom lip. Hard.
It felt so good. Rough and crackling with sparks—
Judge broke the kiss again and a string of saliva connected your lips. You both panted, staring at the other with hooded eyes and lustful gazes.
"Back to it, yes?" Judge didn't wait for a response, and returned to doggy-style.
You re-aligned your strap now decorated in the Judge's pre-cum, with his hole, and thrusted. You could almost feel him clench around you, trying to swallow your length whole.
"I'm c-close." Judge half-gasped, half-moaned.
"Good." You huffed, steadily increasing your pace until both you and Judge undulated at a near-frantic speed. It was torturously sweet. Each ram forced another harmonious noise from the Judge.
The final drive made Judge see stars, dick swelling and ejaculating a spiral of come onto the floor with a squelch.
"Oh, God!" Judge cried out in a long drawn out moan.
"Thanks—" You grunted. "but I prefer to be called the ace attorney."
Nice; you'd been saving that cringe line for a while. Your loud pants filled the room and you stayed buried deep in Judge for a good few moments, before finally pulling out. Judge went limp, and you could feel evidence of your own pleasure.
What happens next? This was a perfect opening to float the idea of a date. There was a good soba place just down the street, and the earnings from your side job would more than cover the costs for you both to dine extravagantly.
"Judge, would you go out with—"
"Thank you, Ace Attorney. That was more excitement than I've had in the bedroom with my wife for a long time!" Judge gave a full-body laugh, oblivious to the way your face crumbled. He rolled his gowns down and climbed to his feet. You couldn't even appreciate his hidden muscles flex as he stretched because the sound of your heart shattering into a billion pieces was too distracting.
"What—?"
"Oh! Looks like I'll have to rush if I want to get back to dinner with the grandkids." Judge spared you one last glance and a wink before marching towards the exit. "And could you do me a favour and clean up this mess? Thanks, junior."
There you stood, or rather sat, in the wreckage of what was once a promise of a beautiful new relationship. Reduced to rubble. Maybe it had always been a pipedream. People knew next to nothing about Judge. If you had known he was married, with grandchildren at that, you'd have sprinted the other way.
Damn.
The next trial had been beyond miserable. Mr. Wright was convinced you weren't trying, and frankly you didn't believe you were trying either. With every slip up, you were diminishing your professionalism, and you could already smell Mr. Edgeworth's snide comments. Somehow he'd know, despite the fact he wasn't even present.
Even though it'd been a week already since you'd stepped food in here, your thoughts were only occupied by one being.
When you got home the day of the incident, you couldn't even enjoy your favourite television show, Sonic X, and were lethargic. It was depressing, only being used as a human sex toy and then getting discarded and put on janitor duty. Not only that, it damaged your pride, too. Maybe you should've seen it coming since the man was in a much older stage of life, experienced, and flexible. Who in their right mind wouldn't think of him as an absolute catch?
The only highlight of the trial was when Taka flew forward at Prosecutor Blackquill's command, and dive-bombed the Judge. Judge cursed, batted at Taka with his mallet—that used to be stuck in his ass, you lamented—and overall became wary of the bird.
Almost as if he knew it was what you needed, Mr. Blackquill discreetly winked at you. At least, you think he did. You could never really tell with that guy. Then he jerked his head at the mallet and you knew for sure that he knew.
How? Honestly, you didn't really care.
You shrugged and smirked, somewhat sardonically, as you watched Judge yell and flounder while Taka perched on his head with his sharp talons.