by Amber March
BAD COP, WORSE COP
AMBER MARCH
Text copyright © 2012 Amber March
All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Linda Atkinson.
Author’s Note:
This is fantasy. In reality, always practice safe sex.
BAD COP, WORSE COP
The report of a breaking and entering at 1278 Woodbine Drive came in at two am and the nearest officers to the scene were Dean Carey and Brock Brennan. It had been a quiet night so far, taking turns to doze in the patrol car parked up in a peaceful stretch of town.
The house stood dark and alone at the end of the cul de sac. Dean followed Brock along the side path through a gate to the yard, stifling a yawn all the way. Nights killed him. Anything that would keep him awake was a bonus. Watching his partner’s broad-shouldered physique, the equipment jiggling on his belt and tight pants stretched across his firm ass was definitely a bonus and guaranteed to keep him up as well as awake.
Brock was blond, six feet four and built like a brick shithouse. Gay with no shortage of admirers and a list of conquests as long as his arm, he liked it rough and ready and treated his lovers meanly.
While lean with muscle, Dean wasn’t nearly so burly, a shade over six feet, dark-haired and more clean-cut. They made a striking pair while out on patrol; the amount of propositions they garnered was testament to that fact.
Brock stopped, flashlight trained on the rear door, trying the handle and finding it open. He glanced at Dean, who nodded, drawing his gun at the same time as his partner.
The two cops stepped over the threshold. The kitchen beyond was dark, the small, neat space lit up by the bright flashlight beam as Brock swung it around. They stood listening a moment to the dead silence before Brock led the way down the hall, peering in through a doorway, gun levelled. He backed out, shook his head, craned his neck to look up the stairs.
Dean had noticed an alarm box on the wall. Wondered why it wasn’t going off if there had been a disturbance. He gestured to his partner to go up. Brock ascended the stairs on noiseless feet, gun held out, Dean following. The total silence suggested either any burglar had long gone or he’d injured the occupant to incapacity. Three doors opened out from the landing, one of them closed. Brock and Dean looked into a bathroom and a guest room, finding them clear before they approached the closed door, standing on either side.
Brock spoke up. “Hello? Is there anybody in there?”
The two waited. Dean had no particular instinct that anything bad had happened here and his partner’s fairly relaxed body language suggested he thought the same.
It was a few seconds before a quavering male voice answered them. “Yes.”
“Sir,” Dean said. “It’s the police. Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Then come out please.”
A shuffling noise sounded before the door was slowly cranked open. A slender man barely five feet six in stature stood in the entrance, blinking owlishly as Brock shone the flashlight in his face. He was in his late twenties, pale and dark haired, wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms.
“Sir?” Brock said. “What are you doing here in the dark?”
“I… I was too afraid to come out,” the man said timidly, staring up at the two cops who towered over him, his blue eyes wide with fear.
Dean’s gaze drifted down his lean torso, noticed the PJ pants rode low on his hips, barely covering his pubic hair. He swallowed, stepped back, let Brock carry the conversation.
“What happened?”
“I heard somebody downstairs.” The man crossed his arms over his bare chest and shivered even though the night was balmy. “I was afraid.”
“There’s nobody here now,” Brock said patiently, voice soothing. “Why don’t you put some clothes on and come down. We’ll have a chat.”
The man glanced at Dean unsurely before nodding. He closed the door in their faces.
Brock looked at Dean. He shook his head and smiled wryly. Dean followed him downstairs, hoping to at least get a cup of coffee out of this visit for their trouble.
He flicked the light on and the two of them stood in the kitchen, one leaning against the sink, the other against the work surface, both waiting for the house owner to show. The man appeared within a couple of minutes. His concession to getting dressed had apparently been to pull a robe on over his pants, a flimsy thing that ended at his knees and gaped over his chest.
Dean folded his arms and gestured to the table in the middle of the room. “Why don’t you take a seat, sir?”
The man regarded them both warily and pulled out a chair to sit. He looked at them from eyes that were even more startlingly blue under the bright kitchen lights. With a good look, he was more handsome than Dean had initially thought too, his rather delicate features complimenting his compact little body, his dark hair cut short and neat.
“What’s your name?” Brock asked. “Dispatch says you hung up before telling them.”
“Janos Kovacs,” the man said. He looked at Dean, ran his tongue nervously over his lips in a gesture which made the cop shiver. A sudden arousal started to fizz down his spine and his cock began to fill. Something about this man was deeply attractive and excited him no end.
“Are you Hungarian?” Brock asked.
“My parents are.” Again Janos looked at Dean, anxiety radiating off him in waves.
“All right, so why don’t you tell us what happened this morning?”
Janos licked his lips again. “I was asleep. I heard a noise downstairs and voices. It might have been two men. I phoned 911 and I hid upstairs.”
“Then what?” Brock asked.
“Then you arrived,” Janos said.
Brock looked at Dean. He raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Mr. Kovacs, why wasn’t your alarm going off if someone had broken in?”
“It wasn’t set,” Janos said nervously. “My cat walks about during the night.”
Brock’s voice remained patient and steady. He had all the time in the world for time-wasters, while Dean usually wanted to slap a citation on them. “That’s not a reason not to set your alarm. Plenty of other people find a way around that.”
Janos nodded quickly. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“And your back door was open.”
“I guess they must have picked the lock?” Janos said, a feeble question. He twisted his hands together on the table, glancing at Dean again.
Brock walked to the door and opened it. He examined the Yale lock and then the inside of the door. “There’re no signs of forced entry. And there’re two bolts here, top and bottom. You can’t have put these on before you went to bed.”
“I must have forgotten,” Janos said meekly.
Dean blew out his breath in a loud sigh. “All right, enough. You didn’t set your alarm and you didn’t lock your door and then someone breaks in. What did you expect?”
Janos shook his head, wide eyes fixed on Dean. “I’m sorry.” Something about the directness of his gaze, his meek submission made Dean’s cock even harder. He put a hand in his pocket, tried to adjust it discreetly and the house owner’s gaze immediately darted down to his groin. Janos’s mouth opened a little, his eyes widened and he sat back in his chair, shooting a glance at Brock.
Dean pushed off the work surface and went to stand at the sink next to Brock. “I’m not sure sorry cuts it, Mr. Kovacs,” he said sternly. “You wasted police time. In fact, I’m beginning to question if there ever was an intruder.”
“There was!” Janos exclaimed. He addressed Brock, perhaps starting to realise who was the good cop in the duo. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Brock regarded him placidly. “I don’t know, Mr. Kovacs. My partner’s instincts are usually right. If he t
hinks you made this up, then maybe you did.”
“No!”
Brock looked at Dean. Something passed between them, some green light and Dean had to swallow a smirk, almost telepathic when it came to Brock’s desires.
“Officer Carey is right when he says you wasted police time,” Brock said, his voice a little cooler than it had been. “I’m going to bow to him here and let him deliver what punishment he feels is necessary.”
Janos paled. His eyes swung rapidly between the two cops. “Punishment? You’re not going to arrest me are you?”
Dean regarded him as though debating what to do. “Tell me why we shouldn’t?”
“B-because… because I’m a law-abiding citizen. I’ve never done anything wrong! I didn’t mean to waste your time. Please believe me!”
“Hmm,” Brock said. “I guess we could let him off this time.”
Janos looked like he was holding his breath, his hands clasped together in front of him as though in prayer.
“I don’t think so,” Dean said with an inward smile.
Janos leapt to his feet. “Oh please! I’m sorry!”
Dean regarded him scornfully. “So you keep saying. Why don’t you show us how sorry you are?”
Janos bit his lip, eyes filled with confusion. “How?”
Dean spread his feet, pelvis tilted forward, cock straining his tight pants to bursting so Janos’s gaze was again drawn down between his legs. “Come here,” he commanded.
Janos stumbled forward so he stood small and defensive in front of the two cops.
Dean took his hat off. Laid it on the sink. “On your knees.”
Janos slid to the floor, eyes wide and fearful, travelling over the huge bulge in Dean’s snug-fitting pants. He flinched as Dean drew his nightstick and flicked it out to its full length with one stroke of his powerful arm. The silence in the room was crushing as he rested the tip of the nightstick on Janos’s shoulder.
Slowly he trailed it up Janos’s neck. He used it to tilt the house owner’s chin up, holding it there so Janos barely breathed in shock.
“Do as you’re told and nobody gets hurt,” Dean said quietly.
Janos drew in his breath. He gave a tight nod, Adam’s apple bobbing against the nightstick.
“Good boy,” Dean said. He looked towards his partner. “Brock? Would you like to be my guest?”
Brock smiled and in that moment, Dean knew Janos had realised that actually, there was no good cop. There was only bad cop, worse cop.
Brock unbuckled his utility belt and let it fall heavily to the floor, dropping his hat on top. Then he unbuttoned and unzipped himself and pulled his pants apart to reveal a prodigious hard-on, surrounded by a thick bush. Dean looked on contentedly. Brock rarely wore underwear. He liked to be ready for action at all times and Dean could testify that he always was. Often it seemed like his partner walked around with a permanent erection.
Brock stroked his thick shaft lazily as Janos stared up with bulging eyes. The cop guided it to Janos’s face, tapping the head delicately against his cheek. Janos kept his mouth firmly closed, his body held rigid. Dean noticed Brock’s cock left a smear of fluid on Janos’s face and his own prick throbbed with excitement. He moved a hand to his groin, rubbing the bulge in his pants and Janos noticed, his gaze flickering between Dean’s hand and Brock’s cock.
“Open up,” Brock said softly. “In the name of the law.”
Dean snickered. It was an old line but he liked it when Brock used it. Janos gave him a last pleading look as though he honestly thought Dean was going to come to his rescue, before he opened his mouth wide, revealing two perfect sets of pearly white teeth and a glistening tongue.
Brock guided his cock carefully inside the moist cavern. “That’s it,” he whispered. “Suck, boy.”
Wide eyes fixed on his, Janos clamped his jaws shut and slid slowly down Brock’s shaft, swallowing him almost to his balls.
Dean watched his sensual lips around Brock’s rigid pole. The guy deep-throated like a pro, that was for sure. Janos drew back, leaving Brock’s hard flesh gleaming with saliva and went down again, sucking slowly but surely.
Brock shifted his stance, spreading his feet, a rumble sounding in his chest, a sure sign to Dean that he was really into it. Dean watched Janos’s pink, wide-spread mouth in fascination and his cock ached to penetrate that sucking hole too. He rubbed his crotch a little more firmly, felt a damp patch soak through his underwear to his pants.
“That’s great,” Brock said. He always gave praise where it was due. “A little faster now, boy.”
Janos’s eyes narrowed a little at Brock using that term again, the first sign of dissent so far. It was a word the two of them liked to use when dominating a man, no matter what age he was. Dean reached out a hand. He touched the sticky patch on the side of Janos’s face with his index finger, before bringing it to his mouth, sucking while he looked at Brock and tasted his partner’s essence.
Brock’s grin held promise. Nobody fucked quite like him and Dean’s ass ached suddenly. He turned his attention back to the show. Running the nightstick slowly down Janos’s body, he slid it underneath the belt of his robe and hooked it open.
“Take it off,” he told Janos.
Not pausing in his now vigorous sucking, Janos pulled the robe off his shoulders, letting it drop behind him and Dean’s searching gaze saw something a little surprising.
A thick, erect cock nearly reared over the top of his flimsy pants.
“Well, this is interesting.” Dean dragged his nightstick down Janos’s belly and stopped at the head of his cock, pressing the metal against it.
Janos whimpered. He pulled back off Brock’s cock with a little gasp.
“What do you think this means, Brock?” Dean asked, trailing the nightstick firmly down the ample length of Janos’s shaft.
Brock stroked his own prick with greedy fingers. “I think it means Janos here likes to suck cock.”
“Hmm,” Dean said, looking at the wide-eyed man on his knees. “Is that right, Janos?”
Janos stammered nervously. “I... I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Dean said incredulously. “You don’t know why your cock’s hard? I can tell you why mine’s hard. I like to see my partner’s dick in your sweet little mouth. You look so innocent, like you’ve never sucked cock before and yet you blow like a little whore.”
Janos bit his lip. “I guess I…” He blushed, stopped.
Dean pressed the nightstick against Janos’s erection again. He watched a wet patch bloom on the flimsy material of Janos’s pants with immense satisfaction. “You guess what?”
Janos caught his breath. He looked down at himself and a fleeting look of shame crossed his face. “I guess I… like to be told what to do.”
Brock arched his brow. He looked at Dean. “Do you?”
Janos nodded.
“You like someone to take charge of you?”
“Yes.” Janos’s answer was barely a whisper.
“Then I guess we came to the right place this evening, didn’t we, Janos?”
Janos bobbed his head unsurely, sucking on his lower lip.
Dean was pretty sure he was going to come in his pants.
“Because we like to tell people what to do,” Brock continued. “And you’re going to follow our instructions implicitly.”
Janos nodded again. He glanced at Dean and the other cop hooked back the thin cotton of Janos’s pyjama pants with his nightstick to reveal a neat, dark bush, the rosy, swollen head of his cock, the slit dribbling.
Janos looked down at himself. He let out a soft little moan.
“That’s quite an impressive prick you’ve got there,” Brock said as Dean caressed the exposed tip of Janos’s cock with the nightstick.
Janos gulped. “Thank you.”
“You must want to jerk off all the time,” Dean said.
“I… I guess I do, yes.” Janos shifted, spreading his knees wider as the cold aluminium continued to
stimulate his cock.
“Why don’t you show us?” Brock suggested. “Let’s see you jack off.” He guided his erection back into Janos’s mouth and while the house owner sucked, his hand drifted to his own groin. Janos plucked his cock completely free of his pants, the elastic resting below his balls, cupping them neatly, and wrapped his delicate, long fingers around his meat.
Dean watched, hand still tracing his own shaft through his pants, as Janos started to jerk off, panting around Brock’s cock as he stimulated himself.
Dean stepped forward to lay his nightstick on the table. He removed his belt carefully then he sank to his knees in front of Janos, making him flinch a little at his proximity. Dean smiled reassuringly. He leaned in towards him and as Janos drew back from Brock’s prick, Dean ran his tongue down his partner’s wet length.
“Fuck.” Brock grabbed Dean’s hair.
Dean reached up to fondle Brock’s taut buttocks. As Janos took Brock deep again, Dean flicked his tongue over the very corner of Janos’s mouth.
Their reluctant lover gasped. His gaze swivelled to Dean’s in confusion. He let Brock’s cock pop from his mouth and turned his lips into a heated kiss.
Dean kissed him hard, tongue probing, rewarded when Janos hesitantly met it with his own.
Dean drew back, prick pulsing with arousal and looked up at Brock as he ran his tongue deliberately over the head of his partner’s cock. A moment later, Janos joined him. His tongue flicked against Dean’s and Brock groaned at the two sensations on his prick. Dean took one side of Brock’s shaft while Janos took the other, the two of them laving Brock, leaving him dripping with saliva. The cop gripped handfuls of their hair, forcing their heads down and Janos took him deep inside again while Dean stooped lower and captured Brock’s large, fuzzy sac.
Brock had the biggest balls Dean had ever seen and loved to have them in a man’s mouth. Dean sucked and licked eagerly and listened to his partner’s throaty moans as he got worked by the two men. Soon he turned his attention to the business in hand. He could suck Brock’s fantastic balls any day of the week. For now, he wanted to get more acquainted with the fascinating little man he had met that evening.