Deviants - Wes/Lindsey, Angel/Spike
Okay so Ash and I were IM'ing about Cop!Kink and somehow this came out of it. SOOOO not what I normally do.
Wesley/Lindsey and Angel/Spike, non-con with cops and minors and mmmmmmmm yeah it's dirtybadwrong. Oh, and human AU. OMG!
Deviants
Angel was only a week on the force but already he had the best partner he could hope for. Wes had a way of commanding a room just by walking into it. Perps cowered before him. And then there were the special evenings when Officer Pryce took the time to ‘break in’ the rookie.
It was heaven and hell at once. Hell because he had to see that steely visage all day and not touch. Hell waiting for the moments when they were alone.
They had patrolled all day and it was nearly time to call it quits. First there was the agony of going through the end of day procedures - checking in, logging reports, all without touching each other. And then leaving separately, separate cars, separate directions, only then to rendevouz at Wes’s house and do all the wicked things they’d done to each other the night before.
Angel’s dick was harder than his nightstick. “Let’s call it early,” he said, trying to keep the pleading whine out of his voice, and failing.
But Wes was picking up the receiver, responding to a call Angel hadn’t even noticed in the endless chatter. “Miss Walker again,” he said, hooking the mouth piece back on its holder and not even glancing at Angel.
Angel groaned and turned at the next intersection. Ancient Miss Walker was a menace to police sexuality. She was always calling in some suspicious behavior or over-loud neighbor and there was nothing to do but check it out every time because you knew the one time you didn’t the old bitch would have really seen something. Her neighborhood wasn’t the greatest.
“What’s she want this time?”
Wes gave Angel a glare. “If you had been paying attention you would have heard. She said a gang of youths are loitering suspiciously in the alleyway by her building. She thinks they might be selling drugs.”
“Let them. Kids gotta have fun too.” He let his hand slip off the gear shift and onto Wesley’s knee.
Where it was promptly ignored, though Wes let a smile slip onto his lips.
Miss Walker’s apartment building was well-known. Rather than park in his usual spot across the street, Angel passed the building and slowed down to peer down the alleyway. After all, it could have been empty and they could get home already.
But no, it wasn’t. A bright blonde head popped up from nowhere - some stupid kid with an “Oh shit” expression on his face. Angel groaned and pulled into the alley, turning on the rollers.
“A blowjob says they’re juvies trading comic books,” he said, checking his stick and opening the door.
“I never take bets where my opponent wins either way,” Wesley said, already half out of his seat.
***
Lindsey grabbed Spike harder than he’d ever dared grab anyone before and tried to pull the stupid shit down. They’d been sitting behind the dumpster drinking a six-pack of beer they’d bought with fake IDs and when the police car rolled into the end of the ally, Lindsey had slunk back against the wall, but Spike - the retard! - had jumped right up and gaped at them. Then there was that little chirp of a siren and the alley filled with lurid red and blue light.
All Lindsey could think about was their school Guidance counselor, Miss McClay, telling him, “Lindsey, you have a real good chance of getting this scholarship, need-based and merit-based, but I’m worried about the company you’re keeping. You can’t afford to get into trouble, not even a little bit.”
Lindsey had snorted, “He’s just a poser,” he’d told Miss McClay. “Doesn’t even do much serious.”
Well, now this poser had lived up to the part. His brilliant scheme of making fake IDs and buying beer was going to land them both with a permanent record. Lindsey had enough stacked against him in life. A kid with his background, with a record? No one would give him the time of day, much less a scholarship. He might as well get a coverall with his name embroidered on it like his daddy.
Two cops entered the alleyway. There was no place to run to - it was a blind ally. Lindsey frantically tried to get Spike to stop staring like a fuckin’ deer in headlights and pass him the beer.
“Well, what do we have here?” said the first officer in clipped tones. Tall, thin, neat as a pin with eyes the color of his uniform. Oh yeah, this guy was going to be a prick. “You boys are out awfully late on a school night.”
Lindsey finally got the six-pack in hand and chucked it into the dumpster where it landed with a loud clank as the four unopened bottles hit. The cop narrowed his eyes. Lindsey held up his hands and pulled his patented “innocent” face.
Spike, however, was slumped, muttering a long stream of “Oh bloody buggering fucking hell” and related words. He stepped forward, hands out, and was about to appeal to the cops.
Stupid rich kids always think they can talk to cops.
“Let’s see some ID’s,” the second cop said. This one was dark, broad, with an unreadable face.
Spike got his wallet out and his fingers fumbled, trying to stash the fake ID and get out his real one without looking like that was what he was doing. He nearly dropped the wallet twice.
Angel sighed. “Saw the beer, kid. Are you going to tell us where you got it?”
“Mm,” Wesley said, “this isn’t just underage possession. I think they were soliciting.”
Angel blinked. “What? No, Wes, I mean, the beer…”
Wes raised his eyebrows just a fraction of a centimeter.
“Oooooh,” Angel said, and then blinked and cleared his throat. “Right. Solicitation. It’s obvious.”
Spike wrinkled his brow. “We’re not selling anything.”
“Up against the wall, legs spread…” Angel pulled out his night stick.
The two boys stared in numb shock. He grabbed the nearest - Spike, and spun him toward the wall. “I said NOW.”
Angel felt his dick twitch and a heavy thrum of lust as he felt the pretty underage boy shiver under his hand. He looked over at Wesley, who was standing back as a much more compliant Lindsey assumed the position he knew from watching cop dramas.
“Look, I can’t get arrested. You don’t understand. My scholarship…”
“You ought to have thought of that before you started peddling your arse,” Wesley said, in his very cool, calm voice, as he started running his hands lightly, seemingly professionally, over the boy’s arms and legs.
Spike squirmed and stiffened as the cop’s large hands started to roam his body in an altogether grabbier fashion than could possibly be legit. Even through the coarse fabric of his jeans, his skin felt pawed raw. “Please. My father is going to kill me. I mean literally. We… we weren’t doing anything.”
“Now, now, lad, I saw how you jumped right up when you saw our car come by. Thought I was johny come to party, didn’t you?”
“Johny? What?”
Angel pressed him harder into the wall, letting his lips ghost over the boy’s ear. “You have the right to remain silent.”
“Oh god, oh fuck,” Lindsey was reciting while Wesley took a leisurely stroll around his body.
Wes’s hand stopped on Lindsey’s groin. “I do believe this boy is packing.”
Lindsey’s eyes grew huge. “I’m not!” He looked at his friend in desperation. “It’s not… I just… when I’m scared…”
“Eyes forward.” Wesley tapped his cheek lightly with his nightstick.
Lindsey shivered all over, eyes dutifully on the gritty brick wall between his spread hands. “We’re not hookers. We’re just kids.”
Angel bit his lip at the sight. Wes always did like being in control, and he wasn’t letting this kid move an inch. “Shame, really. You know what they do to little boy whores down at county? Whole cell block is going to be partying when they see your pretty ass. You’ll be loose as the Lincoln tunnel by the time they let you out.”
“We’re kids!” Lindsey sputtered helplessly. Wesley was still frisking him, minutely.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney…”
“It was a one-time thing.” Spike whispered. “Won’t happen again, please let us go. Please.”
Angel stifled a groan. He met Wesley’s amused gaze for a brief moment and then pressed his body more firmly against the young man’s. “I’m not in a charitable mood, son, and neither is my partner. Why should we let a young punk like you go? Probably spreading disease all over the town.”
“Please… my dad… Lindsey’s… we can’t… we’ll do anything!”
“Anything, eh?” Angel lifted the young punk by his crotch, just an inch off the ground, fat hand squeezing all that could be found between his legs. “You really are a whore, aren’t you?”
Lindsey stared at his friend, mouthing “What the fuck?” but Wesley’s nightstick - gee he hoped that was his nightstick - was pressing hard into the small of his back, drawing a sick twinge down his spine.
“Is that so? Are you ready to pay your way out of this, young man? Because I can tell you, there will be no going back once we take you in to the station.”
Lindsey’s heart beat heavily in his chest, his skin bloodless, wanting to crawl away from the too-close contact with the cop. But he nodded. What else could he do?
“Stay where you are,” Wesley commanded, and reached around Lindsey, efficiently unzipping his jeans. The boy jumped at the sudden exposure and Wesley smacked him. “I said be still.”
He pulled the boy’s jeans down just enough to expose his ass. They bunched up against spread legs and muscular thighs. Wesley ran an appreciative hand over the exposed haunch. He looked over at Angel, resting his hand with possessive pride on Lindsey’s smooth white hip. “What ever shall I do with this?”
Angel was trembling with need, with a full day of frustrated desire. He grabbed the hips of the boy in front of him and ground into them, finally getting some much-needed friction on his aching cock. “Wes….”
“Now, now, patrolman. Let’s do this by the book. These boys look suspect to me. They might have drugs on them. I’m going to do a body cavity search.”
“No man. Please… just… take my wallet. It’s in the jeans… I don’t want this.” Lindsey’s face was hidden, his voice wet with tears.
Wesley opened his fly without removing his belt - where would he put his nightstick and radio then? It was a tricky operation, but one he knew well. More than a few men got off on Wes fucking them with his full uniform on, the shape of his gun holster pressing into their skin. He kept his eyes on Angel as he pulled his cock out. He stroked it once, lazily, though it was already rock-hard, a drop gleaming at the tip.
With a pained groan, Angel slammed the kid under him into the wall, humping once, twice, he felt his release spill out of him helplessly, soaking the front of his uniform trousers with hot spunk.
Wes smirked. He raised his cupped hand to his face and spit into his palm.
Angel spun Spike around by the shoulder. “That was your fault, you little shit.” He smacked him across the face. The kid’s face was red and tear-streaked, the slap blooming white for a moment and darkening.
“Pl…please j…just let us go. We won’t tell.”
“You made me ruin my pants.” Angel forced the kid onto his knees. “Now make me hard again.”
The kid was a mess, desperately not looking at him, hands in front, afraid even to stop the cop from striking him.
Against the alley wall, Lindsey felt the cop slide a finger into his ass. The sudden pain was more than he imagined. He yelped and scrambled against the bricks, scrapping skin but not caring, he just had to get away…
And then he was grabbed and slammed against the wall. Something hard pressed into his wrists and there was an all-too familiar “snick” sound. Wesley pushed his knee between Lindsey’s thighs, pressing the boy into the wall as he twisted his left arm behind his back and cuffed it to his right. “You could have stayed still,” he said, “But now you’re going to have to ride my cock with your face on the wall. Not very bright, are you?”
Lindsey’s cheek was scraping against the rough, grimy brick. “This is rape!” he tried to turn enough to see the cop busy pushing his legs further apart.
“Be sure and lodge a complaint at the station house when you turn yourself in for whoring.” Wesley decided he’d wasted enough time prepping the little snot - one finger for four seconds was really generous, considering. He lined his cock up and pushed forward.
Lindsey screamed.
Spike was frozen with fear. He could hear what was happening to his friend and a fat, meaty hand was on the back of his neck, pulling him forward toward what he really, really didn’t want to see.
Angel opened his pants and undid his belt, exposing his half-hard cock, glistening with smeared jizz. “Lick it off. Come on, do I have to tell you your job, you fucking whore?”
“Not… we’re not…”
“Do it or I’ll let Wes have you. Do you hear how gentle he’s being with your boyfriend?”
The kid raised his head at last, eyes flaring with angry defiance.
So Angel smacked him in the face again.
His dick was already filling just watching Wesley bugger the other kid into the wall. He hardly grunted, didn’t even look to be sweating. What a fucking hard-ass. Lindsey was struggling, his face blood-streaked from the rough brick, his wrists bitten by the cuffs, begging and crying.
“You fuckers can’t get away with this,” Spike said.
Angel sighed dramatically and shook him by the scruff of his neck. “Suck me off or your little boyfriend is going in on full counts. You can explain how it was rape while we file our reports. After all, it will only be our word against yours.” Angel frowned in mock sympathy.
Spike felt a cold ache in his gut. He licked his lips. It was only skin, right? Tentatively, he leaned forward.
Angel’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the first delicate little lick. “That’s it…”
Wesley wrapped an arm around Lindsey’s waist and hauled the boy up against him. He loved the feel of his buttons and badge pressing into flesh, fabric become rough with sweat. He was in no hurry to finish. He turned a little so Lindsey could see Angel. “There’s your little friend sucking cock. Doesn’t he look pretty?”
Angel got impatient with the shy little licks he was getting and slammed forward into the boy’s mouth, nudging hard against the back of his throat while he gagged and panicked, trying to get away. But Angel had both hands on his head now, fingers digging in to his gel-sticky hair. He forced his way into the throat and just started fucking.
Angel’s face was dark under the black plastic visor of his policeman’s cap, but his eyes were gleaming with pleasure and dominance.
Wes ground up against Lindsey, enjoying the spectacle. Angel was going to be a keeper of a partner.
Hot, wet throat, hot, wet face, Angel tore at the boy’s hair and slammed into him again and again, loving that feeling that he was ripping into him, ruining him.
With a “Oh fuck yeah!” he shot his load down the boy’s throat and then let go of him. Spike fell over, gasping and coughing on his hands and knees.
Wesley tried to slow down but the intoxicating sight tipped him over the edge. He slammed Lindsey back into the wall one last time and seized against him, letting his cum shoot deep into the boy long and steady.
Lindsey felt his knees give out, and then the handcuffs being roughly taken from his wrists.
He rolled onto his side, seeing Spike retching on the pavement while the cop standing over him re-did his flies. “Think we should let them go, Wes?”
“Oh, I think they’ve learned their lesson. For now. We should stop by my place and clean up before we hit the station house.”
Angel gave Wes a dirty grin, imagining what cleaning up would entail.
As he slipped behind the wheel, he said, “Good call. Pity we’ll never see those boys again.”
“Oh, I took their identification. Wesley held up two IDs like poker cards in one hand.
Angel just shook his head and muttered, “Damn,” under his breath as he pulled the cruiser back into the road.
Back in the alleyway, Lindsey and Spike slowly got up to their feet, wincing. Spike couldn’t look at his friend. “Linds. Are you, are you…?”
Lindsey hadn’t even gotten his pants fastened again, but he took two strides, hips feeling loose in their sockets, and punched his friend clean in the jaw. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “I never want to see you again. This was all your fault.”
One hand on the top of his jeans, fumbling the button back into place, Lindsey fled into the street, not looking back.
Spike stayed sitting against the dumpster, unable even to think.
Slowly he got up, and got the four bottles of beer out of the trash.
THE END
No! Not the end! Someone (who shall remain nameless) convinced me to Continue! this.
Wesley/Lindsey and Angel/Spike, non-con with cops and minors and mmmmmmmm yeah it's dirtybadwrong. Oh, and human AU. OMG!
Deviants
Angel was only a week on the force but already he had the best partner he could hope for. Wes had a way of commanding a room just by walking into it. Perps cowered before him. And then there were the special evenings when Officer Pryce took the time to ‘break in’ the rookie.
It was heaven and hell at once. Hell because he had to see that steely visage all day and not touch. Hell waiting for the moments when they were alone.
They had patrolled all day and it was nearly time to call it quits. First there was the agony of going through the end of day procedures - checking in, logging reports, all without touching each other. And then leaving separately, separate cars, separate directions, only then to rendevouz at Wes’s house and do all the wicked things they’d done to each other the night before.
Angel’s dick was harder than his nightstick. “Let’s call it early,” he said, trying to keep the pleading whine out of his voice, and failing.
But Wes was picking up the receiver, responding to a call Angel hadn’t even noticed in the endless chatter. “Miss Walker again,” he said, hooking the mouth piece back on its holder and not even glancing at Angel.
Angel groaned and turned at the next intersection. Ancient Miss Walker was a menace to police sexuality. She was always calling in some suspicious behavior or over-loud neighbor and there was nothing to do but check it out every time because you knew the one time you didn’t the old bitch would have really seen something. Her neighborhood wasn’t the greatest.
“What’s she want this time?”
Wes gave Angel a glare. “If you had been paying attention you would have heard. She said a gang of youths are loitering suspiciously in the alleyway by her building. She thinks they might be selling drugs.”
“Let them. Kids gotta have fun too.” He let his hand slip off the gear shift and onto Wesley’s knee.
Where it was promptly ignored, though Wes let a smile slip onto his lips.
Miss Walker’s apartment building was well-known. Rather than park in his usual spot across the street, Angel passed the building and slowed down to peer down the alleyway. After all, it could have been empty and they could get home already.
But no, it wasn’t. A bright blonde head popped up from nowhere - some stupid kid with an “Oh shit” expression on his face. Angel groaned and pulled into the alley, turning on the rollers.
“A blowjob says they’re juvies trading comic books,” he said, checking his stick and opening the door.
“I never take bets where my opponent wins either way,” Wesley said, already half out of his seat.
***
Lindsey grabbed Spike harder than he’d ever dared grab anyone before and tried to pull the stupid shit down. They’d been sitting behind the dumpster drinking a six-pack of beer they’d bought with fake IDs and when the police car rolled into the end of the ally, Lindsey had slunk back against the wall, but Spike - the retard! - had jumped right up and gaped at them. Then there was that little chirp of a siren and the alley filled with lurid red and blue light.
All Lindsey could think about was their school Guidance counselor, Miss McClay, telling him, “Lindsey, you have a real good chance of getting this scholarship, need-based and merit-based, but I’m worried about the company you’re keeping. You can’t afford to get into trouble, not even a little bit.”
Lindsey had snorted, “He’s just a poser,” he’d told Miss McClay. “Doesn’t even do much serious.”
Well, now this poser had lived up to the part. His brilliant scheme of making fake IDs and buying beer was going to land them both with a permanent record. Lindsey had enough stacked against him in life. A kid with his background, with a record? No one would give him the time of day, much less a scholarship. He might as well get a coverall with his name embroidered on it like his daddy.
Two cops entered the alleyway. There was no place to run to - it was a blind ally. Lindsey frantically tried to get Spike to stop staring like a fuckin’ deer in headlights and pass him the beer.
“Well, what do we have here?” said the first officer in clipped tones. Tall, thin, neat as a pin with eyes the color of his uniform. Oh yeah, this guy was going to be a prick. “You boys are out awfully late on a school night.”
Lindsey finally got the six-pack in hand and chucked it into the dumpster where it landed with a loud clank as the four unopened bottles hit. The cop narrowed his eyes. Lindsey held up his hands and pulled his patented “innocent” face.
Spike, however, was slumped, muttering a long stream of “Oh bloody buggering fucking hell” and related words. He stepped forward, hands out, and was about to appeal to the cops.
Stupid rich kids always think they can talk to cops.
“Let’s see some ID’s,” the second cop said. This one was dark, broad, with an unreadable face.
Spike got his wallet out and his fingers fumbled, trying to stash the fake ID and get out his real one without looking like that was what he was doing. He nearly dropped the wallet twice.
Angel sighed. “Saw the beer, kid. Are you going to tell us where you got it?”
“Mm,” Wesley said, “this isn’t just underage possession. I think they were soliciting.”
Angel blinked. “What? No, Wes, I mean, the beer…”
Wes raised his eyebrows just a fraction of a centimeter.
“Oooooh,” Angel said, and then blinked and cleared his throat. “Right. Solicitation. It’s obvious.”
Spike wrinkled his brow. “We’re not selling anything.”
“Up against the wall, legs spread…” Angel pulled out his night stick.
The two boys stared in numb shock. He grabbed the nearest - Spike, and spun him toward the wall. “I said NOW.”
Angel felt his dick twitch and a heavy thrum of lust as he felt the pretty underage boy shiver under his hand. He looked over at Wesley, who was standing back as a much more compliant Lindsey assumed the position he knew from watching cop dramas.
“Look, I can’t get arrested. You don’t understand. My scholarship…”
“You ought to have thought of that before you started peddling your arse,” Wesley said, in his very cool, calm voice, as he started running his hands lightly, seemingly professionally, over the boy’s arms and legs.
Spike squirmed and stiffened as the cop’s large hands started to roam his body in an altogether grabbier fashion than could possibly be legit. Even through the coarse fabric of his jeans, his skin felt pawed raw. “Please. My father is going to kill me. I mean literally. We… we weren’t doing anything.”
“Now, now, lad, I saw how you jumped right up when you saw our car come by. Thought I was johny come to party, didn’t you?”
“Johny? What?”
Angel pressed him harder into the wall, letting his lips ghost over the boy’s ear. “You have the right to remain silent.”
“Oh god, oh fuck,” Lindsey was reciting while Wesley took a leisurely stroll around his body.
Wes’s hand stopped on Lindsey’s groin. “I do believe this boy is packing.”
Lindsey’s eyes grew huge. “I’m not!” He looked at his friend in desperation. “It’s not… I just… when I’m scared…”
“Eyes forward.” Wesley tapped his cheek lightly with his nightstick.
Lindsey shivered all over, eyes dutifully on the gritty brick wall between his spread hands. “We’re not hookers. We’re just kids.”
Angel bit his lip at the sight. Wes always did like being in control, and he wasn’t letting this kid move an inch. “Shame, really. You know what they do to little boy whores down at county? Whole cell block is going to be partying when they see your pretty ass. You’ll be loose as the Lincoln tunnel by the time they let you out.”
“We’re kids!” Lindsey sputtered helplessly. Wesley was still frisking him, minutely.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney…”
“It was a one-time thing.” Spike whispered. “Won’t happen again, please let us go. Please.”
Angel stifled a groan. He met Wesley’s amused gaze for a brief moment and then pressed his body more firmly against the young man’s. “I’m not in a charitable mood, son, and neither is my partner. Why should we let a young punk like you go? Probably spreading disease all over the town.”
“Please… my dad… Lindsey’s… we can’t… we’ll do anything!”
“Anything, eh?” Angel lifted the young punk by his crotch, just an inch off the ground, fat hand squeezing all that could be found between his legs. “You really are a whore, aren’t you?”
Lindsey stared at his friend, mouthing “What the fuck?” but Wesley’s nightstick - gee he hoped that was his nightstick - was pressing hard into the small of his back, drawing a sick twinge down his spine.
“Is that so? Are you ready to pay your way out of this, young man? Because I can tell you, there will be no going back once we take you in to the station.”
Lindsey’s heart beat heavily in his chest, his skin bloodless, wanting to crawl away from the too-close contact with the cop. But he nodded. What else could he do?
“Stay where you are,” Wesley commanded, and reached around Lindsey, efficiently unzipping his jeans. The boy jumped at the sudden exposure and Wesley smacked him. “I said be still.”
He pulled the boy’s jeans down just enough to expose his ass. They bunched up against spread legs and muscular thighs. Wesley ran an appreciative hand over the exposed haunch. He looked over at Angel, resting his hand with possessive pride on Lindsey’s smooth white hip. “What ever shall I do with this?”
Angel was trembling with need, with a full day of frustrated desire. He grabbed the hips of the boy in front of him and ground into them, finally getting some much-needed friction on his aching cock. “Wes….”
“Now, now, patrolman. Let’s do this by the book. These boys look suspect to me. They might have drugs on them. I’m going to do a body cavity search.”
“No man. Please… just… take my wallet. It’s in the jeans… I don’t want this.” Lindsey’s face was hidden, his voice wet with tears.
Wesley opened his fly without removing his belt - where would he put his nightstick and radio then? It was a tricky operation, but one he knew well. More than a few men got off on Wes fucking them with his full uniform on, the shape of his gun holster pressing into their skin. He kept his eyes on Angel as he pulled his cock out. He stroked it once, lazily, though it was already rock-hard, a drop gleaming at the tip.
With a pained groan, Angel slammed the kid under him into the wall, humping once, twice, he felt his release spill out of him helplessly, soaking the front of his uniform trousers with hot spunk.
Wes smirked. He raised his cupped hand to his face and spit into his palm.
Angel spun Spike around by the shoulder. “That was your fault, you little shit.” He smacked him across the face. The kid’s face was red and tear-streaked, the slap blooming white for a moment and darkening.
“Pl…please j…just let us go. We won’t tell.”
“You made me ruin my pants.” Angel forced the kid onto his knees. “Now make me hard again.”
The kid was a mess, desperately not looking at him, hands in front, afraid even to stop the cop from striking him.
Against the alley wall, Lindsey felt the cop slide a finger into his ass. The sudden pain was more than he imagined. He yelped and scrambled against the bricks, scrapping skin but not caring, he just had to get away…
And then he was grabbed and slammed against the wall. Something hard pressed into his wrists and there was an all-too familiar “snick” sound. Wesley pushed his knee between Lindsey’s thighs, pressing the boy into the wall as he twisted his left arm behind his back and cuffed it to his right. “You could have stayed still,” he said, “But now you’re going to have to ride my cock with your face on the wall. Not very bright, are you?”
Lindsey’s cheek was scraping against the rough, grimy brick. “This is rape!” he tried to turn enough to see the cop busy pushing his legs further apart.
“Be sure and lodge a complaint at the station house when you turn yourself in for whoring.” Wesley decided he’d wasted enough time prepping the little snot - one finger for four seconds was really generous, considering. He lined his cock up and pushed forward.
Lindsey screamed.
Spike was frozen with fear. He could hear what was happening to his friend and a fat, meaty hand was on the back of his neck, pulling him forward toward what he really, really didn’t want to see.
Angel opened his pants and undid his belt, exposing his half-hard cock, glistening with smeared jizz. “Lick it off. Come on, do I have to tell you your job, you fucking whore?”
“Not… we’re not…”
“Do it or I’ll let Wes have you. Do you hear how gentle he’s being with your boyfriend?”
The kid raised his head at last, eyes flaring with angry defiance.
So Angel smacked him in the face again.
His dick was already filling just watching Wesley bugger the other kid into the wall. He hardly grunted, didn’t even look to be sweating. What a fucking hard-ass. Lindsey was struggling, his face blood-streaked from the rough brick, his wrists bitten by the cuffs, begging and crying.
“You fuckers can’t get away with this,” Spike said.
Angel sighed dramatically and shook him by the scruff of his neck. “Suck me off or your little boyfriend is going in on full counts. You can explain how it was rape while we file our reports. After all, it will only be our word against yours.” Angel frowned in mock sympathy.
Spike felt a cold ache in his gut. He licked his lips. It was only skin, right? Tentatively, he leaned forward.
Angel’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the first delicate little lick. “That’s it…”
Wesley wrapped an arm around Lindsey’s waist and hauled the boy up against him. He loved the feel of his buttons and badge pressing into flesh, fabric become rough with sweat. He was in no hurry to finish. He turned a little so Lindsey could see Angel. “There’s your little friend sucking cock. Doesn’t he look pretty?”
Angel got impatient with the shy little licks he was getting and slammed forward into the boy’s mouth, nudging hard against the back of his throat while he gagged and panicked, trying to get away. But Angel had both hands on his head now, fingers digging in to his gel-sticky hair. He forced his way into the throat and just started fucking.
Angel’s face was dark under the black plastic visor of his policeman’s cap, but his eyes were gleaming with pleasure and dominance.
Wes ground up against Lindsey, enjoying the spectacle. Angel was going to be a keeper of a partner.
Hot, wet throat, hot, wet face, Angel tore at the boy’s hair and slammed into him again and again, loving that feeling that he was ripping into him, ruining him.
With a “Oh fuck yeah!” he shot his load down the boy’s throat and then let go of him. Spike fell over, gasping and coughing on his hands and knees.
Wesley tried to slow down but the intoxicating sight tipped him over the edge. He slammed Lindsey back into the wall one last time and seized against him, letting his cum shoot deep into the boy long and steady.
Lindsey felt his knees give out, and then the handcuffs being roughly taken from his wrists.
He rolled onto his side, seeing Spike retching on the pavement while the cop standing over him re-did his flies. “Think we should let them go, Wes?”
“Oh, I think they’ve learned their lesson. For now. We should stop by my place and clean up before we hit the station house.”
Angel gave Wes a dirty grin, imagining what cleaning up would entail.
As he slipped behind the wheel, he said, “Good call. Pity we’ll never see those boys again.”
“Oh, I took their identification. Wesley held up two IDs like poker cards in one hand.
Angel just shook his head and muttered, “Damn,” under his breath as he pulled the cruiser back into the road.
Back in the alleyway, Lindsey and Spike slowly got up to their feet, wincing. Spike couldn’t look at his friend. “Linds. Are you, are you…?”
Lindsey hadn’t even gotten his pants fastened again, but he took two strides, hips feeling loose in their sockets, and punched his friend clean in the jaw. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “I never want to see you again. This was all your fault.”
One hand on the top of his jeans, fumbling the button back into place, Lindsey fled into the street, not looking back.
Spike stayed sitting against the dumpster, unable even to think.
Slowly he got up, and got the four bottles of beer out of the trash.
THE END
No! Not the end! Someone (who shall remain nameless) convinced me to Continue! this.