tagNonConsent/ReluctanceGood Cop, Bad Cop Ch. 02

Good Cop, Bad Cop Ch. 02


There are moments of dubious consent or non-consent in this story. If that type of element offends you, or is problematic, do not read.

Note: Chapter 2 takes place immediately after the events of Chapter 1.


I collapsed onto my still-cuffed forearms when Jason finally pulled out. I was thoroughly humiliated and buried my face into my pillow, which was wet with my drool and the cum that had dripped from my face. I was still on my knees, my ass upturned, and I could feel his warm cum oozing from my freshly fucked hole, trickling over my balls and down my left leg to pool onto the sheets.

I was in a daze. How did this happen? More importantly - and disturbingly - why had I enjoyed it? Why did the mere thought of Jason Kennedy, a person I despised, having his way with me, excite me so much?

As I tried to wrap my head around my fucked-up thoughts, I was aware that my dick had come back to life and was beginning to thicken.

My phone chiming with an incoming text jolted me from my reverie and I turned my head to see Jason coming out of my bathroom. He'd cleaned up and was just finishing dressing. He picked up my phone from the nightstand and peered at the screen, then reached over, grabbed my right hand and pressed my thumb on the fingerprint sensor.

"Hmm, Eckert wants to know how last night went," he said, holding the phone so I could read the message. "Should I send him some pictures of what we were just doing?"

"No," I pleaded weakly, lifting my head from the pillow.

"No? But your dick just twitched when I suggested it," he said teasingly, taking my now fully erect cock into his palm. "And why are you so hard again?"

"Please...no," I begged.

He just laughed and walked back into the en suite bathroom, tossing my phone next to me on the bed. I heard the toilet flush and then the sink run. I closed my eyes.

I still hadn't moved when I heard him walk back into the bedroom. I opened my eyes and watched as he buckled his belt. He leaned in close and pressed the keys to the handcuffs into my left hand. "See you tomorrow, Pussy," he said. Then he slapped my bare ass and left.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," I groaned when I heard the front door click shut. I flopped onto my side. What the fuck?

My phone began to ring and I quickly uncuffed myself and picked it up. Jon again. I swiped to accept the incoming call. "Hey," I said, forcing an air of calm into my voice.

"So?" Jon asked. "How did it go? Everything cool?"

"Yeah, it was fine," I said evenly, hoping nothing in my voice betrayed my current state of mind.

"You sound off," he said. "You okay? Wanna grab lunch later?"

"Not today," I replied. I ran my hand over my face and cringed at the tacky feeling of drying cum. "I'm not feeling too good."

He laughed. "Ah, hung over are we?"

"Shut up," I groaned.

"I knew it, you lightweight," he laughed again. "But it went well? With Jason?"

"Yeah, sure," I said noncommittally. "You know, I'm sort of, um, tied up right now so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?."

"Sure, no problem." He hung up.

I dropped my phone and rolled onto my back. What was I going to do?

I lay where I was for a few more minutes before I hauled myself up and went into the bathroom. I took care of nature and then turned on the shower taps. I felt much better after a long, hot shower and couple of aspirin.

I dressed, stripped and re-made the bed, and was tossing the soiled sheets into the washing machine when I heard a key in the lock. I froze and held my breath as I waited, not unaware that I'd gone hard in my briefs. My girlfriend stepped inside and I relaxed.

"Hey," Kristen said, smiling brightly.

"Hey," I said back to her, the stress instantly leaving my body.


I was distracted the rest of the day, but if Kristen noticed she didn't say anything. We went for a walk and talked about the conference and how the presentation went. When she asked about my day I was vague as to how I'd spent my morning.

"And last night? How did that go?" she asked when we were back home sitting on the couch.

I felt my heart race. "It went okay," I said, hoping my voice sounded even. "He's not adding me to his Christmas card list, but we came to...um, an understanding."

"Always the diplomat," she remarked and kissed my cheek. "I'm starving. Do you want to grab something to eat?"

We settled on a place on Glendon we'd been to a couple of times before and had a quiet but pleasant dinner. While she chattered away about her wine tasting trip to Temecula this coming weekend with Liz (Jon's fiancée) and my sister-in-law, I was reliving being fucked by Jason Kennedy twice in the past 24 hours.

We turned in early. She was tired from the conference and a day of traveling, and I was tired from, well, other things.

It took me a long time to fall asleep. I kept thinking of the ramifications of everything that happened this weekend. I was horrified about the turn of events, but I was also secretly thrilled. I don't know why, but I'd completely gotten off on how Jason had so thoroughly dominated me.

I knew I wasn't gay. I'd never even thought about being with another man before. I'd been partnered with Pete for five years before he left the force and we'd talked plenty about our love lives and not one time did I ever have the slightest urge or desire. I didn't understand it. I wasn't attracted to Jason - just the opposite. Everything about him repulsed me. So why was I secretly hoping for a repeat performance?

I hadn't realized it, but I'd been stroking my thumb over the length of my shaft all this time. If I kept this up I was going to come. I slipped my hand into my briefs and squeezed the base of my dick. It felt like hours before sleep finally overtook me.


I waited until Kristen left for work Monday morning before calling in sick. Huge mistake. Jason showed up at my door shortly after noon, banging loudly and shouting, "Open up, Pussy! I know you're home!"

Mortified a neighbor would hear, I flung the door open and he charged in. I closed it quickly behind him and he rounded on me.

"What the fuck, Kev?" he demanded, getting right into my face, once again invading my personal space. Even though he was almost six inches shorter, it felt as though he towered over me. "Didya really think you could get away with not showing up to work today?"

I needed to regain control of the situation right now, but I faltered, stammering and struggling to find my voice. "I—I, uh—"

"What part of 'your ass is mine' do you not understand?"

I didn't realize until I was halfway down the hall that he was maneuvering me to the bedroom. By the time the backs of my knees hit the bed and I fell onto it, I was fully erect. As I landed, Jason tossed the backpack he'd brought with him onto the bed next to me and grabbed the legs of my sweats, yanking them completely off in one swift move, leaving me in just my underwear and t-shirt.

"No," I whimpered in protest.

"I see you've got a boner," he said, gesturing to the almost obscene bulge in my white briefs. I felt my face redden and I covered myself. To add to my shame, my dick twitched and I felt a small pearl of pre-cum shoot into my briefs.

He slapped my hands away and touched the tip of my dick through my briefs. "That's more like it," he said. Then he and grabbed the waistband of my briefs and tugged them down. I don't know why, but I lifted my butt up off the bed to ease his stripping of me. I caught the smirk on his face and my face went a deeper scarlet.

He opened the night side table and took out the bottle of lube he now knew I kept there. He quickly stripped his tie, dress shirt and t-shirt off, and then stepped out of his trousers and underwear. He was hard. Impressively hard. I gulped.

He slathered his cock and then looked at me. "Bend your knees." I stared at him dumbly. "Spread your legs and pull them up and over your head," he ordered sharply.

"Don't make me do this," I begged.

"I'm not making you do anything," he said, as I obediently got into position. "You didn't have to let me in," he reminded me as he worked lube into my hole, "and you can get up any time you want. You're doing it all on your own, Pussy."

"Please don't call me that," I said as my dick burped another pearl of jizz.

He slipped a finger inside me and I gasped. He leaned over me and said, "Don't call you what? Pussy?"

I cringed and he withdrew his finger, grasped my hips and pushed into me. The feeling as he entered me was intense. That exquisite pressure as his thick, turgid dick breached the ring of muscle; that sensation of being filled; that tingle in my core as the head of his cock grazed my prostate - all combined to deliver the most delicious vibrations up and down my spine.

My lids fluttered and my eyes rolled up. My head fell back against the bed as I mewled and squirmed as my body struggled to accommodate him filling me. And then I was purring like a fucking kitten.

He arched his brow. "See?" He thrust his hips and began to move inside me.

"Uhnnn..." I grunted as the now familiar feeling of orgasm began to rise up and race through me. "Nooo..."


"Fuck!!" I cried out as my dick shot six ropes of silvery cum up my chest. I hadn't even lasted a minute, blowing my load like some teenage virgin.

Jason gave a derisive laugh, pulled out and quickly flipped me over, ordering me up onto all fours. I didn't hesitate to comply.

He slapped my ass and when I yelped, he pushed back in. He thrust in and out of me, his strokes hard and punishing in a staccato rhythm that eventually slowed to a steady throb.

After a couple of minutes, I heard a noise like an aerosol can being shaken, and when I chanced a look back, saw him spraying something onto a cloth. The can read 'Maximum Impact' but before I could even process what it could be, he grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head back. I cried out as he covered my nose and mouth with the cloth.

The smell was different than the poppers but the effect was similar. I had the sensation of a strong head rush and a buzzing, almost drunken feeling. I could feel my head pulsing and my heartbeat speeding up as warmth radiated from deep within me all the way to my fingertips and then back to center on my dick and ass. If I didn't know better I'd have thought I was floating.

I slumped onto my forearms, dazed, as Jason continued to fuck me. I was aware that I was groaning lowly and contentedly, my mouth slack, drooling onto my sheets.

"Are you a pussy, Kev?" he asked. When I didn't respond he began to thrust harder and then repeated himself. "Are you a pussy, Detective Brady?"

"Yes," I moaned, basking in the sensation of being fucked hard.

He yanked my hair again. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir!"

Another tug. "Yes, Sir - what?"

"Yes, Sir - I'm a Pussy!"

"That's right, Kev," he chuckled. Then he changed the angle of his thrusts and began to pound even harder.

"Oh fuck, Sir!!" I wailed, and I began to come again, the second time in less than ten minutes, soaking the sheets.


I was nervous as hell when I walked into the station Tuesday morning. I didn't want another run-in with Jason. Hell, I didn't want to see him at all. Last night I'd all but resolved I was going to put a stop to everything. I was done. No more. I was taking back control. Taking back my life. But as soon as I entered the squad room and saw Jason talking to Jon over by the coffee maker, I knew that was a pipe dream. Who was I kidding? My cock was like a fucking divining rod the instant I entered the room, threatening to bust out of my briefs the moment I spotted Jason, as if he was water in the desert.

"Brady," a voice called to me and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned to see my supervisor, Tim Phillips, standing in the doorway to his office. "A word please, Kevin?"

Shit. What was going on? Did Jason say something?

I nodded briskly and stepped into his office. He closed the door behind me and gestured for me to take a seat as he slid into his.

"You feeling better?" he asked. I nodded and he continued. "Okay, I'll make this quick. We don't have any active homicides at this time and since Eckert's back on limited desk duty and Kennedy's not due to leave until next Friday, I'm going to take advantage of this downtime and have the three of you work through some cold cases."

I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until I exhaled. But while I was relieved I wouldn't be out in the field eight hours a day with Jason, being in the same room with him, maybe even at the same desk, was possibly worse.


Jason sent me several texts while we worked Tuesday. They ranged from a GIF of me declaring I was a pussy to shots of me passed out naked with my underwear covering my nose and mouth to still shots of me being fucked. There was even a clip of me begging to be fucked.

Every text caused me to go rigid in my briefs and by the end of the day they were so wet with pre-cum there was a noticeably discolored spot on the front of my grey slacks. It was humiliating and I had to walk around with a folder over my crotch or, if sitting, keep my sports coat draped over my lap. I know Jason saw it but I don't think anybody else did.

Whenever our eyes met Jason would shoot me a knowing look and I'd instantly clench my ass cheeks while my dick thrummed and throbbed. It was pure torture.


I avoided Jason as much as I could over the course of the next two weeks. The first weekend Kristen and I drove down to my dad's house in Oceanside to spend the weekend. I ignored his texts instructing me to come over to his house to watch the game and to be sure to bring Jon along.

Monday rolled around and I thought for sure there would be hell to pay, but Jason didn't say a word. I wasn't quite sure what to make of that. I wanted to think it was all over, but deep down I knew better.

The days went by agonizingly slow and, with no new homicides, I did my best to keep myself occupied at all times. If I wasn't working a cold case, there was always some paperwork to be done.

I found I was both titillated by and frightened of Jason. I didn't want to think too deeply about what he represented. I was at constant war with myself over what I was feeling.

I was hard whenever he was around and he knew it. I was glad I wore briefs, even if they did feel two sizes too small most of the time. I began to keep a few extra pair in my gym bag in my car because along with the texts, every one of Jason's frequent double entendres caused my dick to lurch and ooze pre-cum. I didn't want a repeat of last Tuesday and the wet spot.

In fact, I was leaking so much pre-cum that when I did laundry late Sunday afternoon after getting back from Oceanside, I noticed the front of my briefs were stained and I ended up running out to Macy's to restock. Maybe I should buy stock in Hanes.

One thing that disheartened me though was Jon had begun to smirk and laugh at some of the stuff Jason was saying to me on a daily basis: the passive-aggressive bullshit, the jokes at my expense, and the little digs that if you knew the situation weren't little at all. When I called him on it at lunch one day he told me to quit being uptight. "Oh come on," he'd cajoled. "It's all in good fun so lighten up!"


The only upside to this whole nightmare was my sex life with Kristen was fantastic. I was so hard and sexually frustrated at work that by the time I got home I was ready to explode. Our sex was off the charts. Several times though I found myself wishing she'd take charge and I was even tempted to introduce a bit of anal play into the mix in the hopes she'd run with it.

I'd fucked her long and hard when she came home from work that first Tuesday night, pounding into her mercilessly, all the while thinking of how Jason had fucked me. I even had her ride me at one point, imagining it was me bucking and writhing on Jason's thick, glorious cock.

I fondled her breasts when she rode me and it reminded me of how Jason had played with my nipples, and I felt a tingle shoot up from my ass to my nipples. I came fast and hard.

I even looked up sex toys one night when she was out with friends. Two minutes into my search I had my sweats and briefs down at my ankles while I stroked my hard cock. The dildos I found were so realistic I imagined being down on my hands and knees while Kristen fucked my ass with one shaped like Jason's cock. Then I looked at strap-ons and the mere thought of being on my back and holding my legs up while she thrust into me had me coming within moments. I had to wipe down the laptop keyboard and screen.


Friday finally came.

Jason's last day passed uneventfully and a group of us headed to The Nickel Mine on Santa Monica Boulevard when our shift ended. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but to not show up would be a final secession of power to Jason. I also didn't want anybody to wonder what was up because my absence would speak volumes.

Jon and I sat next to each other at the bar and I got a little bit of satisfaction watching the Dodgers beat the Giants.

"I don't know what's going on, Kev, but you've not been yourself lately," he said as he took a bite of a jalapeño popper. I knew he was waiting for me to say something so I turned to face him.

"His - Jason's - intensity just rubs me the wrong way. His 'truce' lasted all of ten minutes and-"

"You told me everything went fine."

I shrugged one shoulder. "There's nothing really to say. He's a prick and I'm glad he's leaving. Honestly, it's more stress than I need."

Jon looked at me thoughtfully. "You know, since the girls and Val left this afternoon for Temecula, how about a guys weekend? Just you and me?"

My ears perked up at that. I'd not had a guys weekend in I don't know how long. It's amazing how quickly time with close friends can slip by when work and everyday life gets in the way. The idea of a weekend with no responsibilities was too good to pass up.

"Oh yes, please," I said, and I was surprised at the naked relief in my voice.

Jon grinned and he looked almost mischievous. "My parents are in Seattle until Wednesday. Do you want to hang out at their place with me this weekend? We can 'bach' it."

The look on my face must've said it all because Jon threw his head back and barked a laugh. "That settles it, then," he laughed as he clapped me on the shoulder and signaled the bartender for the check. "Pack a bag for the weekend. Bring swim trunks, shorts and running shoes." He looked at his watch as he drained his beer. "It's 6:30 now; I'll pick you up in 45 minutes."

I nodded, exhaling for what I felt like the first time in two weeks.


Jon was at my door 43 minutes later and by 8:30 we were pulling into the driveway of his parents' Orange County home.

Jon's parents lived in Newport Beach in one of those oft-criticized 'McMansions.' I'd been there once before. It was nice. It even had a home gym and a lap pool. Jon wasn't very close to his parents, mostly because he didn't like that they were big donors to the Republican Party. That was one area Jon and I often disagreed on. Except for social issues, I was by and large fairly conservative in my politics. Jon argued that social issues alone were the reason I shouldn't be aligned with the GOP, and when I explained to him that I was a registered Independent he scoffed and said it was the same thing as being a Republican. Needless to say, we agreed to disagree.

Jon's father had made his fortune during the 'dot-com boom' while Jon was still in his teens. He'd wisely sold his company for a lot money shortly before the boom had gone bust and was more than set for the rest of his life.

We settled into the large eat-in kitchen where Jon opened the Ralph's grocery bag he'd brought with him and pulled out a handle of Sailor Jerry Rum. He filled two large tumblers with ice, poured an ungodly amount of rum into each glass, and then topped them off with, of all things, Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper.

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