The Ride-Along
We had fun with this one - we hope you do, too.
The plot bunny and beta are by chering, the typing is fansee's, and both of us were inspired by libra2's graphic here.
As long as you're visiting the Challenge in Two Parts, hang around and read the rest of the fics: there are 40 more great fics here.
I had picked up a call that was going to send me to Pittsburgh’s South Side on a shooting. When a South Side shooting is called in at 11:05 p.m., and the location is given as, “Sidewalk in front of J & D Deli,” I can practically phone in my investigation.
”Suspected drug dealer (read, corner boy) shot by person or persons unknown. No witnesses.” So when Johnson stopped me and asked me to wait a couple of minutes at my car so that a Criminal Justice student could do a ride-along, I wasn’t annoyed by the delay. No one on the South Side was going to tamper with the crime scene. Get involved? Are you kidding? No, I was just annoyed on general principles, the general principle being, If I’m going to baby-sit as well as police, put it in my paycheck.
So I leaned up against the cheap, American-made sedan the City of Pittsburgh provided me with and waited. I gave my Criminal Justice student fifteen minutes, and then I was pulling out. Eleven minutes into the fifteen, I saw a small person come hurrying through the gate. At 11:39 p.m., even Police Parking Lot #6 is deserted,, so this must be my ride-along. I watched him as he approached, and with every step he took, I grew less and less impressed.
He stopped about three feet away. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Justin Taylor. And you’re Detective Kinney?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Law enforcement is in one fucking shitload of trouble if you’re the police of the future.” He was maybe 5’ 6” tall and, although it was hard to tell how heavy he was under his baggy sweatpants and hoodie, I’d be surprised if he topped 140 lbs. To finish off the picture, his blond hair gleamed in the harsh lighting of the parking lot, and his features were prettier than 75% of the women I know. Which may be a comment on the women I know, but I don’t think so.
I expected that crack would ruffle his feathers, but he just gave me a mischievous smile. I guessed this wasn’t the first time he’d had to field that sort of question but I kept my disappointment to myself.
“Good thing I’m not planning on being a street cop,” he said. “I’m doing a double major - Science and Criminal Justice - and planning on going directly into a Crime Scene Unit. It’s taking me five full years but I’ll graduate with a B.S. in Criminal Justice and an M.S. in Biochemistry.”
By the time he’d spit out the bones of his curriculum vitae, I was on the other side of the car, opening the door. “Hop in, “ I said.
“Where are we headed?”
I quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Captain Horvath didn’t say when he called, just said to get my ass over here as quickly as possible. Good thing I wasn’t in bed yet.”
Captain Horvath, huh? Thanks a lot, Carl. Just wait until I see you again.
“We’re going to a shooting on the South Side.”
He was thrilled…practically bounced in his seat. I gave him a little speech about how this wasn’t T.V., that the investigation would be extremely routine, but that, yes, somebody from Crime Scene would be there, taking pictures, measuring trajectories, etc. He nodded and “uh-huh”-ed and calmed down satisfactorily.
We rode in silence for a little while, until my curiosity got the better of me. The guy looked to be 17 or 18, but either he was a genius or he was older than he looked. “What year are you in?”
“I’ll graduate with my bachelors this spring, then finish up my masters next year, probably in the summer.” Again that mischievous smile flickered. “I’m 23, Detective Kinney. I’ll be almost 25 by the time I’m done.”
Busted. There were other questions I wanted to ask, but I’d have to be a lot more subtle about how I asked them.
Justin said, “How about you, Detective? How old are you?”
“33.” Okay, so I shaved a few years off.
“Do you like police work?”
I shrugged. “It’s a living. It’s what the Kinney family does. Two of my uncles are cops, and my cousin Darla just graduated from the Academy.” And my father is a mean drunk, living on disability since he fell at a work site a couple of years ago, after a liquid lunch.
We double-parked at the crime site. There were already three patrol cars there and a paddy wagon (optimism!). The medical examiner arrived shortly after we did. I sent a couple of patrolmen off to knock on doors, while I started interviewing the small crowd that had gathered at the scene. Justin kept himself busy following around, first, the M.E. and then a guy from the Crime Scene unit. I kept an eye on him, ready to drag him away if he started interfering or getting on anybody’s nerves, but I didn’t need to intervene. Neither the M.E. nor Billy seemed bothered by him or his questions.
The body was ready for transport about 3:00 a.m. Justin came over and stood next to me while they loaded the guy in an ambulance. “What will you do now, Detective?” he asked.
I shrugged, then yawned, “Your car’s downtown?”
“Yeah.”
“My shift’s not over yet. I should go back and start writing up my report. I can drop you off.”
“Thanks, Detective.”
We were almost at the car, but I stopped and glared at him. “Would you lay off the ‘Detective’ business? The name’s Brian, for God’s sake.”
That damn grin broke out again. He cocked his head, his eyes crinkling, and said, “I like calling you Detective. It’s a turn on.”
Really. I’ve been wondering. I said, “Get in the car.”
He got in on his side, I got in on mine. I started the car and pulled into the street. Justin reached over and used one finger to lift up the handcuffs attached to my belt, then let them fall back down. “Handcuffs,” he said.
Obviously. “So?”
“So…do you ever use them for anything except restraining criminals, Detective?”
Jesus. I drove faster. There’s not much traffic around at 3:00 a.m. Justin was quiet, looking out the window. My guess was that he didn’t get to the South Side often, so this was all unfamiliar.
After a while, however, he said, “It doesn’t look to me like we’re going back to the station.”
Smart boy. I grinned. “I’m taking you to paradise…the Paradise Motel.”
He looked at me.
“They almost always have a clean room they’ll let me use for an hour or two.”
He looked back out the window. “They do a lot of hourly business?”
“And a lot of it is ho-mo-sex-u-al. They know to call me if it gets out of line.”
A few minutes later, we pulled into the motel’s parking lot. It’s a typical 50’s motel: a one-story U, with maybe 40 or 50 units. Si was still on duty. He tossed me a key to one of the outside units that don’t get as much traffic as the inner ones.
When I came out of the office, it looked for a minute like my car was empty, but then I realized he was slouched down in his seat. Good. He hadn’t cut and run. I hadn’t expected him to, but still….
I drove around to the unit, got out, and walked to the door, key in hand, without looking around to see what Justin was doing. I listened, however, and heard the second car door shut. I opened the door and waved him through before me. I kicked the door shut and pulled him to me. He came willingly.
The kiss started out soft and exploratory, but both of us were already half-hard. It quickly became greedy, demanding, full of want and urgency. His hands were jerking at my leather jacket, trying to pull it off. He was much less well armored than I was. Under the hoodie, he was wearing a T-shirt; I already had my hands on his skin, roaming his back, running my palms along his ribs.
Finally, I stepped back. Wrestling around on the bed, semi-clothed, irritates the hell out of me. I yanked his shirts over his head, then while he stripped off the rest of his clothes, I threw my jacket on a char and got to work on my shirt. I had it off and was working on my belt by the time he stopped his gyrations and stood still to take a look. His eyes widened, and he ran his tongue along his upper lip. Oh, yeah.
I had been right: he did not top 140 lbs. Looking at him naked, I doubted that he weighed as much as 130; his body was right on the border line between slender and skinny. His body hair, where the sun hadn’t bleached it, was a darker blond and, rising out of a nest of pale brown pubic hair, was a nicely hardening penis. I put my hand over it, and he pressed up against me, his eyes shutting. He put his hands behind my head, and I let him pull my head down for another kiss.
I walked him gently backwards to the bed and pushed him down. “Up on the bed,” I said, “and roll over.”
He obeyed. I leaned over him and put my hands on his wrists. Then, moving quickly, I brought his hands behind his back and cuffed him.
He squirmed around until he could see me. “What the fuck?”
“You requested handcuffs.”
“I inquired about handcuffs. I didn’t request them.”
“’Keep your communications clear and unambiguous,’” I said, quoting from the training manual. “Raise your ass up.”
He did. I doubled one of the motel’s pathetic pillows over and shoved it under his hips. Then I proceeded to finish stripping, slowly.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Admiring your good-looking ass.” I had plans for it, plans that were getting me harder.
He made an inarticulate noise, and I hurried the undressing process up. When I was naked, too, I spread his legs and knelt between them. I smoothed my hands over his cheeks, pulling them apart. He squirmed and his asshole spasmed. I pressed my tongue against it, wetting it thoroughly, then pulled away and blew on it. More squirming, more spasming, and more little grunts and groans.
I did it again, and then I pushed my tongue in as far as I could and pulled it out quickly. Now he wasn’t just squirming, he was humping the pillow. I put one hand on his back and held him fairly still while I continued to rim him. Finally, I slid my hand under his body and grasped his dick. He was hard and wet.
I sat up and slapped that fine, white ass. My hand made a nice cracking sound and left a reddened imprint of itself on his skin and surprising him.
“What the fuck?”
“Scared?”
“No…should I be?”
“Why the fuck did you think it was safe to come here with me?”
“Captain Horvath said you were one of the good guys.”
“Carl Horvath pimped me out?” I could hear my voice rising.
His shoulders were shaking, and I didn’t think it was lust. I could feel myself grinning in response.
I reached around and grabbed the keys to the handcuffs; I had dropped them on the bedside table. Justin sighed when I took them off, went up on his elbows and rubbed his wrists.
“Turn over,” I said. “I want to watch you when we fuck.”
He moaned, but he turned over and put his legs on my shoulders. He shut his eyes and clenched the bedspread with his fists.
I wasn’t letting him off that easily. Apparently, he thought I was going to put my dick up his asshole immediately. Instead I bent over and ran my tongue from his balls to the cap of his dick. His eyes flew open, and he looked a bit disconcerted. Good. I like that. I don’t often do repeats, but I always want to make every fuck memorable for my tricks. I want them to want more, even when they don’t get more.
He was so hard and so wet that it would have been unkind not to give him some relief. I am not always an unkind man. I closed my lips around the cap and pressed my tongue against the big vein that ran the length of his dick. His legs fell off my shoulders, and he let them sprawl wide. I started working him hard, sliding up and down his dick and using a lot of tongue action. He started to come, and I pulled off.
He made a harsh, infuriated noise, and I picked his legs up and put them on my shoulders. “You fucking better, this time,” he gritted out.
I knew how he felt. I was equally hard and wet, turned on by his arousal and frustration. I lubed him and scissored my fingers in him, then I pushed in. The head of my penis popped through his sphincter, and we both paused and panted, staring at each other. God, he was pretty. I never thought little, blond boys were my type, but maybe I just never met one this pretty before.
Pretty, and hot. “Go the hell on,” he said. “Fuck me, damn it.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. I pushed, he pushed back, and I was there, in up to my balls. I paused again and he slapped me on the ass, hard.
“Jesus,” I said and almost pulled all the way out.
“Paybacks are a bitch, aren’t they?” and he slapped me on the other cheek.
I said, “Fuck you,” and fucked him right off the pillow and nearly off the bed. In the end, when I grabbed his cock, I wasn’t sure whether I was trying to jerk him off or to keep both of us on the bed.
Afterwards, we lay side by side, sprawled next to each other across the width of the bed. He said, “We should get up and take a shower.”
“We should,” I agreed.
“And go back to the station.”
“Yep.”
“It’s been a very educational night.”
“And what did you learn?”
“I’m into cops.”
“Not all cops are as hot as I am.”
“And not all civilians are as hot as me.” He sat up, snagged his hoodie, and rummaged through the pockets. He got out a small wallet and pulled out a card. “Horvath said you don’t do seconds, but…just in case…”
“Goddamn it, Carl really did pimp me out.”
“Pretty much,” he said and disappeared into the bathroom.
The plot bunny and beta are by chering, the typing is fansee's, and both of us were inspired by libra2's graphic here.
As long as you're visiting the Challenge in Two Parts, hang around and read the rest of the fics: there are 40 more great fics here.
I had picked up a call that was going to send me to Pittsburgh’s South Side on a shooting. When a South Side shooting is called in at 11:05 p.m., and the location is given as, “Sidewalk in front of J & D Deli,” I can practically phone in my investigation.
”Suspected drug dealer (read, corner boy) shot by person or persons unknown. No witnesses.” So when Johnson stopped me and asked me to wait a couple of minutes at my car so that a Criminal Justice student could do a ride-along, I wasn’t annoyed by the delay. No one on the South Side was going to tamper with the crime scene. Get involved? Are you kidding? No, I was just annoyed on general principles, the general principle being, If I’m going to baby-sit as well as police, put it in my paycheck.
So I leaned up against the cheap, American-made sedan the City of Pittsburgh provided me with and waited. I gave my Criminal Justice student fifteen minutes, and then I was pulling out. Eleven minutes into the fifteen, I saw a small person come hurrying through the gate. At 11:39 p.m., even Police Parking Lot #6 is deserted,, so this must be my ride-along. I watched him as he approached, and with every step he took, I grew less and less impressed.
He stopped about three feet away. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Justin Taylor. And you’re Detective Kinney?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Law enforcement is in one fucking shitload of trouble if you’re the police of the future.” He was maybe 5’ 6” tall and, although it was hard to tell how heavy he was under his baggy sweatpants and hoodie, I’d be surprised if he topped 140 lbs. To finish off the picture, his blond hair gleamed in the harsh lighting of the parking lot, and his features were prettier than 75% of the women I know. Which may be a comment on the women I know, but I don’t think so.
I expected that crack would ruffle his feathers, but he just gave me a mischievous smile. I guessed this wasn’t the first time he’d had to field that sort of question but I kept my disappointment to myself.
“Good thing I’m not planning on being a street cop,” he said. “I’m doing a double major - Science and Criminal Justice - and planning on going directly into a Crime Scene Unit. It’s taking me five full years but I’ll graduate with a B.S. in Criminal Justice and an M.S. in Biochemistry.”
By the time he’d spit out the bones of his curriculum vitae, I was on the other side of the car, opening the door. “Hop in, “ I said.
“Where are we headed?”
I quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Captain Horvath didn’t say when he called, just said to get my ass over here as quickly as possible. Good thing I wasn’t in bed yet.”
Captain Horvath, huh? Thanks a lot, Carl. Just wait until I see you again.
“We’re going to a shooting on the South Side.”
He was thrilled…practically bounced in his seat. I gave him a little speech about how this wasn’t T.V., that the investigation would be extremely routine, but that, yes, somebody from Crime Scene would be there, taking pictures, measuring trajectories, etc. He nodded and “uh-huh”-ed and calmed down satisfactorily.
We rode in silence for a little while, until my curiosity got the better of me. The guy looked to be 17 or 18, but either he was a genius or he was older than he looked. “What year are you in?”
“I’ll graduate with my bachelors this spring, then finish up my masters next year, probably in the summer.” Again that mischievous smile flickered. “I’m 23, Detective Kinney. I’ll be almost 25 by the time I’m done.”
Busted. There were other questions I wanted to ask, but I’d have to be a lot more subtle about how I asked them.
Justin said, “How about you, Detective? How old are you?”
“33.” Okay, so I shaved a few years off.
“Do you like police work?”
I shrugged. “It’s a living. It’s what the Kinney family does. Two of my uncles are cops, and my cousin Darla just graduated from the Academy.” And my father is a mean drunk, living on disability since he fell at a work site a couple of years ago, after a liquid lunch.
We double-parked at the crime site. There were already three patrol cars there and a paddy wagon (optimism!). The medical examiner arrived shortly after we did. I sent a couple of patrolmen off to knock on doors, while I started interviewing the small crowd that had gathered at the scene. Justin kept himself busy following around, first, the M.E. and then a guy from the Crime Scene unit. I kept an eye on him, ready to drag him away if he started interfering or getting on anybody’s nerves, but I didn’t need to intervene. Neither the M.E. nor Billy seemed bothered by him or his questions.
The body was ready for transport about 3:00 a.m. Justin came over and stood next to me while they loaded the guy in an ambulance. “What will you do now, Detective?” he asked.
I shrugged, then yawned, “Your car’s downtown?”
“Yeah.”
“My shift’s not over yet. I should go back and start writing up my report. I can drop you off.”
“Thanks, Detective.”
We were almost at the car, but I stopped and glared at him. “Would you lay off the ‘Detective’ business? The name’s Brian, for God’s sake.”
That damn grin broke out again. He cocked his head, his eyes crinkling, and said, “I like calling you Detective. It’s a turn on.”
Really. I’ve been wondering. I said, “Get in the car.”
He got in on his side, I got in on mine. I started the car and pulled into the street. Justin reached over and used one finger to lift up the handcuffs attached to my belt, then let them fall back down. “Handcuffs,” he said.
Obviously. “So?”
“So…do you ever use them for anything except restraining criminals, Detective?”
Jesus. I drove faster. There’s not much traffic around at 3:00 a.m. Justin was quiet, looking out the window. My guess was that he didn’t get to the South Side often, so this was all unfamiliar.
After a while, however, he said, “It doesn’t look to me like we’re going back to the station.”
Smart boy. I grinned. “I’m taking you to paradise…the Paradise Motel.”
He looked at me.
“They almost always have a clean room they’ll let me use for an hour or two.”
He looked back out the window. “They do a lot of hourly business?”
“And a lot of it is ho-mo-sex-u-al. They know to call me if it gets out of line.”
A few minutes later, we pulled into the motel’s parking lot. It’s a typical 50’s motel: a one-story U, with maybe 40 or 50 units. Si was still on duty. He tossed me a key to one of the outside units that don’t get as much traffic as the inner ones.
When I came out of the office, it looked for a minute like my car was empty, but then I realized he was slouched down in his seat. Good. He hadn’t cut and run. I hadn’t expected him to, but still….
I drove around to the unit, got out, and walked to the door, key in hand, without looking around to see what Justin was doing. I listened, however, and heard the second car door shut. I opened the door and waved him through before me. I kicked the door shut and pulled him to me. He came willingly.
The kiss started out soft and exploratory, but both of us were already half-hard. It quickly became greedy, demanding, full of want and urgency. His hands were jerking at my leather jacket, trying to pull it off. He was much less well armored than I was. Under the hoodie, he was wearing a T-shirt; I already had my hands on his skin, roaming his back, running my palms along his ribs.
Finally, I stepped back. Wrestling around on the bed, semi-clothed, irritates the hell out of me. I yanked his shirts over his head, then while he stripped off the rest of his clothes, I threw my jacket on a char and got to work on my shirt. I had it off and was working on my belt by the time he stopped his gyrations and stood still to take a look. His eyes widened, and he ran his tongue along his upper lip. Oh, yeah.
I had been right: he did not top 140 lbs. Looking at him naked, I doubted that he weighed as much as 130; his body was right on the border line between slender and skinny. His body hair, where the sun hadn’t bleached it, was a darker blond and, rising out of a nest of pale brown pubic hair, was a nicely hardening penis. I put my hand over it, and he pressed up against me, his eyes shutting. He put his hands behind my head, and I let him pull my head down for another kiss.
I walked him gently backwards to the bed and pushed him down. “Up on the bed,” I said, “and roll over.”
He obeyed. I leaned over him and put my hands on his wrists. Then, moving quickly, I brought his hands behind his back and cuffed him.
He squirmed around until he could see me. “What the fuck?”
“You requested handcuffs.”
“I inquired about handcuffs. I didn’t request them.”
“’Keep your communications clear and unambiguous,’” I said, quoting from the training manual. “Raise your ass up.”
He did. I doubled one of the motel’s pathetic pillows over and shoved it under his hips. Then I proceeded to finish stripping, slowly.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Admiring your good-looking ass.” I had plans for it, plans that were getting me harder.
He made an inarticulate noise, and I hurried the undressing process up. When I was naked, too, I spread his legs and knelt between them. I smoothed my hands over his cheeks, pulling them apart. He squirmed and his asshole spasmed. I pressed my tongue against it, wetting it thoroughly, then pulled away and blew on it. More squirming, more spasming, and more little grunts and groans.
I did it again, and then I pushed my tongue in as far as I could and pulled it out quickly. Now he wasn’t just squirming, he was humping the pillow. I put one hand on his back and held him fairly still while I continued to rim him. Finally, I slid my hand under his body and grasped his dick. He was hard and wet.
I sat up and slapped that fine, white ass. My hand made a nice cracking sound and left a reddened imprint of itself on his skin and surprising him.
“What the fuck?”
“Scared?”
“No…should I be?”
“Why the fuck did you think it was safe to come here with me?”
“Captain Horvath said you were one of the good guys.”
“Carl Horvath pimped me out?” I could hear my voice rising.
His shoulders were shaking, and I didn’t think it was lust. I could feel myself grinning in response.
I reached around and grabbed the keys to the handcuffs; I had dropped them on the bedside table. Justin sighed when I took them off, went up on his elbows and rubbed his wrists.
“Turn over,” I said. “I want to watch you when we fuck.”
He moaned, but he turned over and put his legs on my shoulders. He shut his eyes and clenched the bedspread with his fists.
I wasn’t letting him off that easily. Apparently, he thought I was going to put my dick up his asshole immediately. Instead I bent over and ran my tongue from his balls to the cap of his dick. His eyes flew open, and he looked a bit disconcerted. Good. I like that. I don’t often do repeats, but I always want to make every fuck memorable for my tricks. I want them to want more, even when they don’t get more.
He was so hard and so wet that it would have been unkind not to give him some relief. I am not always an unkind man. I closed my lips around the cap and pressed my tongue against the big vein that ran the length of his dick. His legs fell off my shoulders, and he let them sprawl wide. I started working him hard, sliding up and down his dick and using a lot of tongue action. He started to come, and I pulled off.
He made a harsh, infuriated noise, and I picked his legs up and put them on my shoulders. “You fucking better, this time,” he gritted out.
I knew how he felt. I was equally hard and wet, turned on by his arousal and frustration. I lubed him and scissored my fingers in him, then I pushed in. The head of my penis popped through his sphincter, and we both paused and panted, staring at each other. God, he was pretty. I never thought little, blond boys were my type, but maybe I just never met one this pretty before.
Pretty, and hot. “Go the hell on,” he said. “Fuck me, damn it.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. I pushed, he pushed back, and I was there, in up to my balls. I paused again and he slapped me on the ass, hard.
“Jesus,” I said and almost pulled all the way out.
“Paybacks are a bitch, aren’t they?” and he slapped me on the other cheek.
I said, “Fuck you,” and fucked him right off the pillow and nearly off the bed. In the end, when I grabbed his cock, I wasn’t sure whether I was trying to jerk him off or to keep both of us on the bed.
Afterwards, we lay side by side, sprawled next to each other across the width of the bed. He said, “We should get up and take a shower.”
“We should,” I agreed.
“And go back to the station.”
“Yep.”
“It’s been a very educational night.”
“And what did you learn?”
“I’m into cops.”
“Not all cops are as hot as I am.”
“And not all civilians are as hot as me.” He sat up, snagged his hoodie, and rummaged through the pockets. He got out a small wallet and pulled out a card. “Horvath said you don’t do seconds, but…just in case…”
“Goddamn it, Carl really did pimp me out.”
“Pretty much,” he said and disappeared into the bathroom.