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Le Français is an original Law Enforcement series playing with the Cop/Not-a-Cop trope, mixed with some social power play, and (hopefully) realistic BDSM elements. The series will jump between categories based on the content of each part. This series is commissioned by the fantastic ThL!
In this chapter you can expect confrontations, discussions about BDSM and consent, and stakeouts.
Marc and Sinead have an important talk about what exactly they are doing.
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Chapter 50
Sinead was pissed off. With herself, and with
him.
And it switched back and forth who she was the most angry with.
She couldn't believe she'd allowed him to do those things to her. To spank her with a fucking paddle like she was a bad kid in the 1950s? Everything before that night had been... it hadn't been that. She wasn't a fucking child that he got to punish. He wasn't an
authority
over her with that right. They weren't
anything
to each other, he wasn't even her boyfriend. They just... traded things. And he'd taken more than she'd agreed to.
Fuck, she couldn't even believe she'd let him call her a 'brat.' She was an adult woman and a successful police detective.
And then she... threw herself at him. Verbally.
How could I think about going back to him at all?
Sinead thought to herself. It had been a moment of weakness that had gotten way too familiar in the past few weeks, and she'd finally given in.
She knew sex with Marc would probably be really good. Maybe even the best she'd ever get. But he or that wasn't worth debasing herself. She could go to any bar in the city and walk out with someone who could give her good sex if she really wanted it that badly.
Sinead grit her teeth, sitting in her car as she tapped her foot on the break. Glancing at the passenger seat, she felt her jaw flexing as she looked over the stack of files there - she'd parsed out as much of the files as she could from Marc's USB drive, but a lot of it was still another language to her. She needed Marc to help her sort through all of it, but she was done giving in to his bullshit. She needed to turn the tables on him - he had what she needed, but that didn't mean he had
all
the power.
Getting out of her car, Sinead slammed the door shut and locked it as she headed into the office building. She flashed her badge to the security guy at the front, who seemed to recognize her and nodded, and she went to the elevator bank. As she got into one she was again struck by the muted opulence of the lobby and elevator. She felt like she was stepping onto the set of Suits - though that building was down the street, having mostly filmed in Toronto. She'd worked extra duty security for a couple of their outdoor night shoots earlier in her career.
Unlike the last time Sinead had stormed Marc's office, and not wanting to hand him more leverage to feel superior or more well-mannered or whatever, this time Sinead didn't blast past the secretary who was positioned at a long desk in front of the elevator bank. Instead, she approached the desk, and she had the feeling that the secretary recognised her.
"Hi," she said and flashed her badge again. "I need to see Marc Fornier."
"Mister Fornier is currently in a meeting," the secretary said with a polite smile. "I'll let him know that you're here if you'd like to wait, or I can pass along a message if you can't."
"I'll wait," Sinead said.
"Can I get you a refreshment?" the woman asked. The longer Sinead talked with her, the more she realised how ridiculously attractive the woman was - sharp features, perfect hair, just the right amount of cleavage to tempt someone to look. She was wearing a sleek dress that highlighted her slender form - she could have been a model. Hell, she could have been an underwear model, with that face and body.
"I'm fine," Sinead said, then a beat after realised she was gripping the edge of the desk a little tightly. "Thanks."
The secretary smiled and nodded gently, a clear dismissal in the direction of the padded chairs that formed a small waiting area. Sinead turned to go but hesitated and turned back. "What's your name?" she asked the secretary.
"Jillian," the secretary said.
"Oh, alright," Sinead said. "Does anyone named Felicity work here?"
"No one by that name works at the company," she replied, cocking her head slightly.
"Do you know who Felicity is to Marc?"
"Miss Connors, I think you just wait and if you have questions for Mister Fornier you can ask him yourself," Jillian said.
Sinead nodded, accepting the mild rebuke and knowing she'd been pushing it, and went to take a seat. It wasn't until she'd been waiting for almost five minutes that she realised she'd never told the secretary her name, let alone her last name. A long glance over at the woman didn't get her any more information, though. With a sigh, she took out her phone and began thumbing through the digital copies of the Barisha documents she had there.
"So, when am I going to get you to agree to a date, sweetcheeks?" a male voice said about ten minutes later. The casual misogyny dripping from the words and tone immediately felt out of place from the rest of the office - every time she'd been in Marc's building, everyone that worked there had been buttoned up tight like they worked for the fucking church or something.
More concerning, however, was that the voice was familiar to Sinead and she glanced up with her eyes wide before quickly looking down and raising her phone up to try and block her face.
"I appreciate the offer, Mr Barisha, but as I said before, I'm in a relationship," Jillian said from behind her desk.
"Oh, what's a boyfriend worth, really?" Victor said, leaning his elbows on her desk and leaning over it, pushing into her space. "That's just a guy trying to play defence. And defensemen don't score goals, do they?"
"Bourque, 410. Coffey, 396. MacInnis, 340," Jillian said.
"What?"
"Those are the three highest-scoring defensemen from the NHL," Jillian said. "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr Barisha?"
"One date," Barisha pushed. "I swear it would be the night of your life."
"Can I validate your parking, Mr Barisha?" Jillian deflected with that same polite smile she'd used on Sinead.
Victor did, in fact, get his parking validated and thankfully didn't glance over at Sinead before he entered the elevators and left. She felt like she was sweating bullets under her suit jacket and let out a relieved breath that she wasn't spotted or recognized.
"Miss Connors," Jillian said, calling her attention. "Mister Fornier will see you now."
Right. She was here to yell at Marc.
Chapter 51
"Marc, what the
fuck
was he doing here?" Sinead hissed as she entered his office and shut the door behind her.
Marc sighed. He was fairly certain that he'd told Sinead that they would connect
after
work on Monday, but their brief conversation had been right before things kicked off with Felicity and Astrid and it had been a busy weekend afterwards. Then, Barisha showed up that morning with hard copies of documents he didn't want getting emailed around - which very obviously meant they contained things he didn't want a digital paper trail on. But dealing with Barisha in person was as frustrating as usual. The man was obtuse even in his rough charms.
And now Sinead came in hot-headed.
"
Bonjour,
Detective," Marc said evenly. "Please, come in. It's so nice of you to drop by my office once more, making demands and accusations. It truly is becoming a highlight of the gossip around the water cooler."
"Cut the smarmy attitude," Sinead said, her face grim and she stood in front of Marc's desk and placed her hands on it. "What the fuck?"
Marc took a beat, re-evaluating. Sinead was more aggressive than usual. Either something had happened with Barisha, though Jillian had assured him via text that it hadn't, or something had happened over the weekend or that morning. Something had changed since she'd made overtures on Saturday to- Ah. She was feeling spurned.
"Are you appropriately dressed for this conversation, Sinead?" Marc asked quietly.
"What?" Sinead practically spat.
"
Je n'aime pas me répéter.
Are you appropriately
accessorised
today, Detective?" Marc asked.
Sinead's jaw clenched and she reached into her inner suit jacket pocket, pulling out the silver buttplug he'd given her. She practically slammed it on the desk. "You mean
this
accessory, Marc?"
Again, Marc had to take another beat to re-evaluate. The fact that she'd brought it meant that she
was
thinking about it, but she wasn't embarrassed by presenting it. She was still just angry.
He'd been walking a knife's edge with her, he'd known that from the beginning. Push her too hard, and she'd refuse to play. Don't push her hard enough, and she would think she could walk all over him. Her reaching out had changed the dynamic, but with his focus on Felicity, he hadn't appropriately shifted his own stance. The game they were playing wasn't unlike sparring in any martial art - control, leverage, experience and muscle memory were all just as important to being a Dom as they were in a fight. He had gotten distracted, hadn't adjusted to the new tempo, and now the duel was turning into a brawl.
He needed to regain control but however well it had gone last time, putting Sinead in her place through playful punishment... that wasn't a lever he could pull this time. Not here in the office, and likely not with the emotional state she was in.
"Sit, Sinead," Marc said, gesturing to the chair that Victor hadn't been using prior. She sat, crossing her arms over her chest and crossing one knee over the other as she leaned back and narrowed her eyes. She was taking the aggressive power position in the conversation, trying to force him to account for himself, but she was also revealing that she was feeling vulnerable through her body language. Crossing her arms and legs to protect vital points. Leaning back to create space.
Marc took another breath. "Obviously we need to discuss some things," he said, his voice low and soft. "First, how is your bottom? I assume the massage helped soothe things afterwards, but the strike with the cane can leave a lingering sting."
"We're not talking about my ass, Marc," Sinead said. "But sure, we can start with how you sexually abu-"
"Don't," Marc held up a finger, his voice dropping as he cut her off. "Don't you
dare
attempt to call our play from the other night
abuse,
Detective. We talked about consent, and you consented. As I said then, we have a larger conversation in our near future about general consent, but you specifically agreed to what happened that night."
Sinead ground her teeth in a decidedly unattractive way for a moment before letting out her breath. "Fine," she grunted. "It wasn't
abuse.
It was still demeaning, and disgusting. You have no right to punish me, whether I piss you off with my words or anything else. You're not my boss, you're not my Dad, you're not an authority figure for me. Calling me a brat, treating me like you can just demand how I act, or how I feel... Fuck you for that."
Marc breathed in and let it out slowly. "Fine," he said. "If you would like to stop our game, then we can stop. I'll even help you, as you asked, with some of the details in the latest batch of information so you have some clear next steps in your case. But, if you feel like I haven't earned your
