A/N: I got the idea to write this one shot from a Twitter conversation I had with Conversed. Something about airports. I don't really remember exactly, but my pervy mind came up with this. dellaterra is amazing as usual, and betaed this. smallandirritating puts up with all my little plot bunnies, and pre-reads everything. So I hope you enjoy this Riley/James smut.

I can't believe she's still talking.

I'm looking right at her and her mouth is moving but I swear I can't actually hear any words. Something about Grandma, I think. How can she have anything left to say? It's been two whole days and she hasn't shut up since she got here.

"Please Mom," I told her. "Please do not fly out here just to do my laundry and pack up some boxes." I mean, I'm an adult now. I've got a degree and everything. I can pack up my own shit.

Of course, she didn't listen. She doesn't ever listen because she never shuts up.

"Riley, are you listening to me?"

I nod. I'm looking at her. That should count for something.

She sighs. "I said that I ran into your kindergarten teacher at the Shop N Save the other day. Mrs. Cope is such a sweet woman. I swear we chatted for hours about you and all your little friends and the adorable things you did, right there in the middle of the produce aisle! Do you remember that time you found that bottle of glue..."

Oh. My. God.

Six more hours. I can survive six more hours of this, right?

"...and you got so sick that I had to take two whole days off of work. And poor Dr. Greene. We must have had him paged to the hospital three times. But then again if he didn't spend so much time over at that waitress's house doing who knows what while his wife..."

I glance at my watch. Five hours fifty-eight minutes. Kill me now.

The line in front of us for Security finally moves. I pull my backpack off and throw it down on the table. I can't believe I'm carrying all this shit with me.

"Oh, honey, do you have any gum?" She asks as she reaches for my bag.

"No!" I shout, and pull my bag against me. At least five people turn in my direction and give me a look. They have nothing on my mother of course, who is eyeing me as if I've lost my mind.

"But you're chewing some, sweetheart."

"It was my last piece." Please believe me please believe me please believe me. No way in hell can I allow her to look in my backpack. If I make it home without her seeing what's inside, I'm golden.

"All right, I guess I'll get some by the gate. Once we get home I need to take you shopping. That backpack is falling apart. Oh, and new jeans. You should have told me you needed new jeans, sweetie. Those have so many holes in them! I swear, everyone back home is going to think..."

Maybe I should just stay here and look for a job. If I find one in Arizona that means I will actually have to see her on a regular basis. I love my mother, but come on. Now I remember why my father doesn't bother replacing the batteries in his hearing aids.

We reach the front of the line and I slide my backpack in behind my mother's purse, followed by my shoes. She steps through the x-ray, the whole time going on and on about how unsanitary it is to make people walk barefoot around the airport.

I kind of have to agree with her on that one. Who knows what kinds of fungus people have. Gross.

She already has her shoes on and has her purse in hand by the time I get through the metal detector. My black Converses come through the other side and I slip them on. My mother says something about needing to get me new laces.

I roll my eyes, then stand up and reach for my backpack, but it isn't there. The young TSA screener is staring at the x-ray monitor. He points at it, then calls someone else over. I can feel the blood drain from my face. Both screeners study the monitor for a minute before looking over and me and pointing. Oh, shit.

The first guy pushes a button and my backpack comes out on the conveyor. I quickly reach for it, but he beats me to it. "Is this your bag?" he asks me with a pointed look.

I gulp. "Um, yeah."

"We're going to have to search it."

"What?" I yell, earning more looks from everyone around me.

"Riley honey, what's wrong?" my mother asks and reaches for my arm. I shrug her off.

"Why do you have to search it?" I panic and reach for it. The TSA guy steps back.

"I'm going to have to ask you not to touch anything until we're done with it," he says with a smug look.

"No —" I begin, not knowing what else to say.

"Are you refusing a search of your belongings by the Transportation Security Administration, son?"

What? Son? What a jackass. This guy couldn't be more than two years older than me. In fact, I'm probably older than he is.

"That's not what I said," I say through my teeth.

"Riley dear. Just let them search your bag," my mother whispers fiercely while glancing around. Obviously I'm embarrassing her.

"You should listen to your mommy," Officer Jackass says with a stupid grin. "And let me search the bag."

I glare at him. Then glance at my mother. Then back at him. What the fuck do I do?

"This bag contains suspicious items," the fucker explains. "And your resistance to inspection of those items warrants a more through investigation. You're going to have to come with me."

I groan, but follow him. What choice do I have? My mother takes a few steps and I spin around. "You don't have to come with me, Mom. I'll be fine, okay?"

She shakes her head. "Riley, there is no way that I'm going to —"

"I'll be fine," I snap, and she stares at me like I have three heads. But at least she stays put.

I follow the guy with my backpack through a door which I assume leads to the TSA office. The fucker glances back at me with a smug look. Like we're in the sixth grade and he's just gotten me in trouble with the principal. He's so fucking immature it makes me want to kick him in the balls. Which, admittedly, is not really mature either.

"Mike!" a blonde in a uniform yells at him from the other end of the hallway. "We're going to Terminal B for lunch. Coming?"

He stops suddenly, and his jaw drops open. Like she's the freaking TSA Homecoming Queen or something.

"Yeah!" he yells back enthusiastically. He looks down at my bag, then back up at me.

Maybe today is my lucky day. Maybe he'll give me my bag back. Maybe I'll be able to pretend like this never happened.

"James!" he yells as he opens a nearby door. "I've got a search for you. Suspicious items spotted in x-ray. Check it out and then write it up. I'm going to lunch."

I hear someone sigh and then a chair being scraped across the tile.

"Fine," a voice says. "Give it here."

I watch as someone steps out of the room and into the hallway and I swear I almost pass out.

Holy Fuck. He's hot. Maybe twenty-four. Tall. Broad shoulders. Short, dirty blond hair. A face any model would kill for. His clear blue eyes make him look young, but his five o'clock shadow adds a few years. He looks tough. Badass. And did I mention hot?

I smile stupidly. It's like I've won the hottie lottery. TSA agents aren't supposed to be this attractive. And fuck, I love a man in uniform.

Mike shoves my backpack unceremoniously into the hottie's arms and runs off without looking back.

I'm still standing there smiling like a total moron. That is, until I remember why the fuck I'm here in the first place.

"You okay?" he asks me, giving me a strange look.

"Um…" No, actually, I'm not. I'm really, really not okay.

His eyes roam over my face for a second, then down over my body.

"Let's just get this over with." He walks back into the room and I follow him, the whole time staring at his ass. This is without a doubt the most embarrassing moment of my life. I might as well get something out of it.

"Where's your ticket?" he asks as he places my bag on an empty table.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the crumpled piece of paper and hand it to him. His fingers brush against mine and I wonder if he's noticed how sweaty they are.

"You can sit," he says, waving his hand toward an uncomfortable looking chair in front of the table. I sit, squirming, because the chair really is as uncomfortable as it looks.

He examines the ticket for a moment and then looks down at me. "So... Riley Biers. Headed to Phoenix, I see." He frowns. "Your flight doesn't leave for another three hours."

"Yeah," I practically squeak. "My mom, um, she likes to be early."

He smirks at the mention of my mother, and I can feel my face turning bright red.

"Well, I guess I should see what's in here," he says, and he goes to stand on the other side of the table.

He unzips the largest pocket and I take a deep breath. I can't believe this is actually happening. I watch as he unzips the bag all the way, revealing the contents that I tried so hard to hide.

I brace myself for the laughter. Any second now this amazingly hot guy is going to be laughing his ass off at me. I watch as a shocked expression washes over his face. As the sides of his perfect lips curl up. As his eyes crinkle, and finally, as I predicted, he laughs.

"What the —" he says between gasping breaths. "Holy fuck, boy. What the hell were you thinking?"

I groan, then lean over so my elbows are on my knees and my face is in my hands.

He laughs again and I can hear him digging through my stuff. He begins to list everything he comes across, as if he's taking inventory.

"One stainless steel vibrating dildo, one cock ring, one butt plug, two large silicone dildos, one string of anal beads. Hmm, what else do we have in here?"

Dear God, kill me now. Please.

I shake my head, willing myself to wake up from this nightmare.

He just laughs harder. "Hey, boy. Look at me."

I can't. I just can't.

"Look at me or I'm going to have to bring my supervisor in here."

I groan again, then finally look up at him. He's holding up a pair of silver handcuffs.

"These," he says as he waves them around, "were a bad idea to bring through airport security. Handcuffs look suspicious, you know? A lot more suspicious than a fucking dildo."

My face is so red I can actually feel the heat coming off me. "They aren't mine. I mean they are..."

He cocks an eyebrow at me.

"My idiot brother sent me them as a gag birthday gift. I've never actually used them before." I somehow manage to get out a coherent sentence. Not that it matters. Bottom line is, I'm the pervert trying to sneak a bag full of sex toys through airport security.

"Do you mind explaining why the hell you're bringing all this on the plane with you?"

I try my best to look him in the eyes. "My mom showed up at my dorm room to help me pack up my stuff. I didn't want her to see my stash. I panicked and threw it all in my backpack when she wasn't looking. Then she shipped off all my stuff before I could sneak it into a box. I didn't have any choice but to carry it with me."

Jesus, that sounds pathetic. Not only do I look like a sex-crazed kid, but I also look like a mama's boy. Obviously, the guy agrees with me, because he can't seem to wipe that cocky smirk off his face.

Fuck, could this get any worse?

"Well, Riley. I can see that you were in quite a predicament, weren't you?"

He laughs again, then goes back to digging through my stuff. Hasn't he seen enough already?

"Well, what do we have here?" he says as he holds up my stack of magazines. He walks around to the front of the table, then sits back on it so that he's only a few inches from my chair. Obviously he wants a front-row seat for this train wreck.

"Shafts, October 2010. Hot Hunks, January 2011. Cumshots, November 2010." He holds up each and every one so that I can see the cover, then places them in a stack on the table next to him. "Wow. Now will you look at that."

I look over to look at the magazine that he's holding up. When I see which one it is I can feel the blood drain from my face.

"Booty Duty: Hotties in Uniform," he says with another big smirk.

I peer at the magazine cover through my fingers. It's a picture of a cop holding a gun in one hand and grabbing his crotch with the other. His uniform looks official except for the fact that his pants are assless. I am completely embarrassed and kind of turned on at the same time.

James sets down the magazine and leans forward. His breath is hot in my face. I feel lightheaded. My pants are tight.

He just sits there for a minute, his eyes searching my face. Then he licks his lips and locks his gaze with mine.

"Do you like a man in uniform, Riley?"

His voice is low. Deep. So fucking sexy.

Unable to speak I look down instead. That's when my eyes land on the sight of his dick. He's turned on — very turned on. I can see his cock straining against his pants and I nearly moan out loud at the sight.

"Yes," I say breathlessly. Fuck yes.

He smiles. Slowly he leans forward until his lips are by my ear. I can feel the heat radiating off his whole body.

"You want me, don't you?" he whispers in my ear. "I'm turning you on like crazy."

I nod. I can't do anything but nod.

"Good. I want you to want me, because I want you too. From the second I laid eyes on you, all I can think about is ripping off those jeans and taking your cock in my mouth. Making you squirm and pant and fucking explode."

I whimper.

"Say it, Riley. Say it out loud. You fucking want me."

"I want you."

"Again. Louder."

"I want you!"

He leans back, then eyes me up and down. It feels like his gaze is burning my skin. "Good. Now take off your pants."

I stand up so quickly I almost fall over. I scramble with my pants, but the stupid zipper gets stuck. My hands fumble, jerking and tugging. I swear I'm about to ask him to cut the fuckers off of me.

Suddenly his hands are over mine, stopping my frantic movements.

"Calm down, Riley."

I take a deep breath. He leans in close.

"Riley Biers, you're under investigation for violation of Transportation Security Administration policies. Are you prepared to cooperate in all aspects of this investigation?"

I take another deep breath. "Hell, yes."

"Good. Now take off your pants."

I do, much more slowly this time, pushing my jeans down to my ankles. He stares at me, at my black briefs.

"Fuck. Briefs. I was right," he says as he licks his lips. "Take off your shirt."

The words are barely out of his mouth before my shirt is on the floor. I stand there, in only my underwear as James watches me. His eyes move from my lips to my chest to my stomach, then finally, to my dick. James moans and palms his dick through his pants.

"Lose the briefs. I want to see your cock."

Those are off even faster than my shirt.

"Fuck yeah," he says. "I can't decide what I want more. Your lips around my cock or your cock in my mouth."

He stands up and being to pace slowly, circling me. I'm so turned on I want to whimper. I want to beg. Instead I bite my tongue - literally - to stop from making a fool of myself. Well, even more of a fool than I already have. I hear him pause behind me.

I think I stop breathing.

Then I feel it. His moist breath against the back of my neck. The warm air hits my bare skin and I can't help but shiver.

"You have…" He trails off, leaving me wanting even more. Wanting his words. Wanting the feel of his hands on me. Wanting the pressure of his tongue against mine. Wanting the feel of his cock right there against my ass. "The most delicious ass," he finally concludes in a whisper.

I moan. Loud.

Slowly, he continues circling me, and I quiver with the thought of his eyes taking in every inch of my body. When he's in front of me, he steps closer and reaches for my cock, then wraps his hand around me.

I whimper.

He strokes me a few times, slowly at first, followed by a few quick pumps of his wrist. His thumb comes up around the tip and wipes away the pre-cum there. Looking right at me, he lifts his thumb to his mouth, then licks it clean.

My jaw is slack, and I'm breathing so loudly it's embarrassing.

"Do you want your cock sucked, Riley?" he leans forward and whispers against my lips. I can feel the stubble on his face brush against my chin.

"Yes," I gasp.


He drops to his knees. Instantly my dick is in his mouth and he's taking me in deep. And fast. And oh so fucking good.

I look down at him, his lips wrapped around me, eyes closed. His hands are on my ass, holding me still. I place my hand on his shoulder so that I don't fall over. I watch as my dick disappears into his mouth over and over again. I feel his tongue as it strokes the underside of my shaft repeatedly. And damn it, I look at the rest of him – still clothed in his uniform, on his knees for me.

I explode.

He moans and swallows. I want to cry, it feels so fucking good.

He sucks my cock with hollow cheeks as he releases me. Then he smiles, and licks his lips once more.

"James!" I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear someone pounding on the door. "We need you on the floor in five. Hurry the hell up!"

I scramble into my jeans, pulling them up as fast as I can and shoving my dick back in.

Calmly, James stands. "You're lucky. Technically none of this stuff is prohibited."

I can't breathe, let alone speak. So I nod, then pull my shirt over my head.

He begins placing my belongings back in the bag. When he's done he turns around and sets it in my arms.

"Have a safe flight, Riley," he says as he backs up towards the door.

He opens it, and with a wink, he's gone.