Good Cop, Bad Cop Ch. 03

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 3 take place immediately after the events of Chapter 2.

*~*~*~*

I barely recognized the shell-shocked man staring back at me from the bathroom mirror as clouds of steam billowed from the glass shower stall. I ran my hands through my thick, dark blond hair and then over my stubbled jaw. What the hell just happened? Was that really a dream?

I looked at my discarded briefs on the bathroom floor to confirm that yes, I'd had a wet dream. At my age. And apparently I'd come a bucketload because I could see what looked like a puddle of still-wet cum in the pouch.

I shook my head and slipped into the shower. I rested my forehead against the cool tiled surface and, as hot water sluiced down my backside, thought back once again to that fateful night two weeks ago when the nightmare that was now my life had first begun.

Physically I'm not a weak guy. Jon and I hit Equinox three or four times a week after work, often times sparring in the boxing ring. Up until last Saturday I'd considered myself equally as tough mentally. Now I wasn't so sure.

Yes, I'd been drugged. There was no question about that because Jason even bragged about it that night. But I was still struggling to come to terms with it. Intellectually I knew what happened to me wasn't my fault. That it had been out of my control. What had been in my control, and what I still couldn't understand, was how I'd let him get so completely into my head the way he had. If I'd followed my first instinct and left the party instead of continuing to accept drinks from him - hell, if I hadn't gone at all - I wouldn't be where I was now.

And the drugs he'd used - GHB, Viagra and Baclofen - weren't anything that should've made me act the way I had. I've been a cop for fifteen years so I know my drugs and their effects pretty well. Everybody knows what Viagra does. GHB is basically a date rape drug - victims can become incapacitated and unable to resist sexual assault, and in higher doses it can cause amnesia. Except, until Jason took me back to my condo, I remember almost everything about that night. So, it couldn't have been a big dose. In fact, I even remember him saying he'd given me just "a little."

I recall my limbs felt sluggish, but that was most likely due to the Baclofen - I'd had to look that one up. It's a muscle relaxant which, in combination with the GHB, was probably why I couldn't fight him off. Not that I really tried, though, as I recall. So, what it boiled down to was I was high and had a hard on. It doesn't explain why I'd participated in and enjoyed - yes, enjoyed - what he did. What then?

It's bad enough that I'd liked being fucked, but why did the subsequent humiliation turn me on? I got hard every time I thought about it - and I thought about it a lot. How, after he'd fucked me, I just lay there naked and stinking of sweat and spunk as a room full of guys I didn't know looked on and laughed at me.

How, when I started to get dressed, he'd told me I couldn't put on anything other than my underwear. Did I tell him to fuck off? No. Did I get up and leave? No. What did he do? He handed me another drugged drink and I drank it down. And then I'd let him parade me through the house and around his front yard like I was a possession on a leash.

I was soaping up my cock as I remembered that walk of shame. How he'd led me down the hall wearing only my briefs to a room full of people who'd laughed at me. And what had I done? Popped a fucking boner.

Suddenly it was that night and I was back in that house... Austin was across the room talking to Ryan, who I hadn't seen since we were all watching the game what felt like hours ago. They'd changed into running shorts from the sweats they'd been wearing earlier and must've gone for a run or something because they both looked sweaty. In fact, when Austin had come in with that last drink a few minutes ago I recall he was practically dripping.

I suddenly remembered being in the bathroom with Austin earlier. Remembered him undoing my shorts and taking my dick out and holding it while I pissed. Then how he'd shoved my face into his stinking armpits and held it there.

I'd felt my face go beet red and worse - I'd felt my cock give a big lurch in my briefs.

They came over to where Jason and I were, in the center of the room, in front of everybody, and got right in my face. I'd tried to avert my eyes but they stayed right there, tracking my movements, invading my personal space.

"Is this what you want, Kev?" Austin had asked. He'd raised his left arm and shoved it in my face. I'd turned my head but he grabbed me by the hair with his other hand and yanked my face down into the dark hollow of his armpit.

It was wet and sticky and rank, and I'd tried to struggle, but he'd held me in place. He was a few inches shorter than me so I was bent over and my butt was sticking out. Somebody, probably Jason, had given my ass a hard smack and I yelped, which drove my face even deeper into Austin's ripe armpit.

"Mmpphhh," I'd muffed, and laughter from the room filled my ears.

"Look at that fuckin' boner," a voice shouted and I wanted to curl up and die.

The next thing I knew somebody was pulling down the front of my briefs. The elastic had caught on my erection and when my dick was finally freed, it had slapped up against my belly with a loud thwack. More laughter.

Jason had pressed up close behind me and wrapped one arm around my waist as he ground his bloated crotch into my ass. My waistband was tucked under my nuts and he grabbed my hard dick.

"You like this, Kev?" he'd asked in a raspy voice as he started to jerk me off. "You like what a real man smells like?"

I couldn't think straight. Austin still had me by the hair and was mashing my face around and around in the musk of his sweaty, gamy pit. I'd tried to hit him, but Ryan had ahold of both my wrists. Then Austin had slid my face across the sweaty lawn of hair on the thick slabs of his chiseled pecs, to his other damp, slimy pit.

"Yeah, Kev," Jason had whispered as he continued to masturbate me, "feels like you really like this." He was pumping my dick really fast now and I knew I couldn't hold out much longer.

My head was swimming with whatever had been in that last drink and I suddenly found myself going crazy all over the fetid funk in Austin's pits.

"Mmmm," I'd moaned and fuck if my tongue didn't slip out of my mouth and lap up and down the length of his underarm, swirling through the thick rat's nest of armpit hair as my nostrils sought out the source of that strangely savory reek.

"I knew it," Austin had snickered, yanking my head back to show everybody the pit grease on my face and how my tongue was flicking out for more. There was more laughter and he'd shoved my face back into a heady hollow that seemed so full of marsh gas it made me dizzy. Why did it smell so fucking good? And taste so good-!

I don't know how long I was there, rooting my face deep in the steel wool of his sweet, sweaty pits, when I'd felt a hand slip down the back of my briefs and somebody began to finger my hole. There was a tingling in my balls, and when Jason's thumbnail slipped inside my piss slit, I'd come undone. I shuddered and came all over his hand.

I gasped, suddenly back in the present. I opened my eyes. I was in the shower at Jon's parents' house and - what the fuck? My hand was wrapped around my throbbing cock and my creamy load was sliding down the subway tile. I couldn't believe I just fucking spooged in the shower!

I quickly rinsed and stepped out of the shower. I toweled off and was putting on clean briefs when I caught my reflection in the mirror; I looked tired and there were dark circles under my normally bright hazel eyes. I shaved quickly and then rubbed a bit of styling gel through my hair and blew it dry. I noticed it was getting long and made a mental note to make an appointment to get it cut.

I swiped deodorant under my arms, for some reason giving each a quick sniff as I did. When I squirted toothpaste onto my toothbrush, I realized I was hard again.

*~*~*~*

Jon was in the kitchen when I walked in. His broad, muscled back was to me as he stood with hands braced on the carrara marble counter, doing modified lunge stretches as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

He'd showered but hadn't shaved - Jon's that guy who actually looks better with a little scruff - and was shirtless, his low-slung grey sweatpants exposing a couple of inches of his black underwear.

I froze. Black underwear... the dream... Jon? No. Not Jon. No fucking way. It was a dream, for fuck sake. Obviously the underwear in my dream was because in real life I knew Jon sometimes wore black briefs, and the dildo was because I'd been looking them up online the other night. Textbook Psych 101.

I don't know how long I stared at that black Calvin Klein waistband as he continued to stretch, but I was jostled from my trance by a couple of sharp snaps of his fingers. I looked up quickly and surprised an odd, slightly bemused expression on his face. He smiled and poured me a steaming mug of coffee.

"Would you like cream with this?" he deadpanned as I took the cup.

My jaw dropped and he busted up with laughter.

"Oh my God, you're twelve years old!" I said grumpily as he howled, actually slapping his knee. "We are NEVER to speak of this again or I will hunt you down and you know I'm a better shot than you are."

He was doubled over, hands on his knees, panting. He stood and grabbed his right side and then held his hands up in mock surrender before dissolving into another fit of laughter.

"You ass," I muttered. "You cannot tell Jamie or Pete about this either," I demanded. I love my brother and his husband, but I swear they can be so gossipy. Jamie'd tell everybody he knows and then I'd for sure never live this down.

"You're such a killjoy," Jon whined playfully.

I doctored my coffee with cream and sugar, blushing deeply - painfully aware of how erect I was - as Jon made a production of passing me the Half & Half. I sat heavily onto a stool at the island and ran my hand through my hair. "What the fuck?"

"What's going on, Kev?" he asked soberly. "What was that dream about?"

"I don't remember," I lied, shrugging. When I looked up I could tell he didn't believe me.

"Kev." He pushed away from the counter and stood behind me, putting his strong hands on my tense shoulders and lightly massaging them. "Come on, what's going on?"

I sighed and glanced up at him. His 6'2 frame seemed to tower over me and I debated whether or not to come clean and lay my cards on the table. I closed my eyes and... decided against it. I shook my head slightly. "Look, you know I love you like a brother, but I just can't."

He blew his breath out and sat next to me, clapped a hand on my bicep and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Okay. But I'm here if you change your mind."

*~*~*~*

We had a quiet but awkward breakfast, and after a final cup of coffee, jogged to the beach. It was supposed to be a beautiful day so we decided to rent body boards and wetsuit vests.

The waves were big and the surf was rough and I got totally thrashed, but it was so much fun. The distraction was just what we needed and the undercurrent of tension between us quickly vanished.

Afterwards we played a few games of beach volleyball with a group of guys who were looking for additional players. I have a competitive nature and hate to lose, and I ended up taking a number of headlong dives to save plays. The team I was on won more than we lost, so all the sand down the front of my shorts wound up being worth it.

When we were ready to leave we hosed down at the outdoor showers as best we could and then jogged back to Jon's parents' house, stopping at Subway on the way. We ate quickly, properly showered, and then went to the home gym to work out.

At one point while we were lifting, Jon got into position to spot me and when I glanced up I could see straight up his shorts. He was wearing black briefs and with his legs spread to straddle the weight bench, I could see his full, heavy pouch. The air was redolent with the musky odor of his ball sweat and I had to fight the sudden urge to lift my head and take a deep whiff. What. The. Hell?

"Earth to Kevin," I heard him say and then he was waving his hand in front of my face. I quickly snapped out of my daze.

"Huh?"

"You spaced for a minute there, man," he said, looking down at me, his brown hair falling boyishly in his brown eyes. There was a funny look on his face and he cocked his head to the side. "Hey, you weren't checking me out, were you?"

"What?!" I squeaked, my voice shooting up an octave. "Fuck you!"

"Ah, I'm kidding," he laughed and playfully ruffled my hair. But shit, he was right. I'd totally been checking him out! My dick was stiff and pushing out the front of my shorts and I wondered if he could see. Fuck, why hadn't I worn a jock?

"You jerk," I muttered, batting his hand away.

He puckered his lips and made a kissing noise. "Yeah, but you love me."

We finished the rest of the work out and it was after 5:00 when I finally hit the shower again and realized just how sore I was. It felt as if every muscle in my body ached.

*~*~*~*

"I'm gonna be so stiff tomorrow," Jon moaned when I joined him in the kitchen after my twenty minute shower.

"Join the club," I replied. "It was totally worth it, though."

"Oh, definitely." He closed his eyes and pulled his right arm over his head and dropped his forearm behind him in an overhead triceps and shoulder stretch. He arched his back and yawned, and as he held the stretch, I found my eyes traveling down his broad, brawny chest to his exposed belly. It was tanned and taut with a light dusting of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his briefs, which were sticking up a good three inches over his jeans. He really was in fantastic shape.

He opened his eyes and caught me eyeing him. "What?" he asked, flashing me a lopsided grin.

"Nothing," I said.

"You need to stretch more," he lectured, poking me in the shoulder before he repeated the stretch on the other side. "Especially at your advanced age."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh brother. I'm barely a year older than you."

There seemed to be a slight tinge of male body odor in the air and I gave my pits a quick sniff to make sure it wasn't me. Had Jon not showered? He'd changed clothes... Odd.

We ordered Round Table Pizza for dinner and while we waited for it to arrive, Jon broke out the Sailor Jerry.

I was surprised at the level of rum in the bottle. "Did we drink that much last night?" I asked.

"We?" Jon replied, hip-checking me. "You mean me. You're a lightweight, remember?"

"I am not," I laughed, bumping him back. "You're such a dick sometimes."

"Hey, I had to practically carry you to bed last night."

"Did not!" I remembered my dream and I felt my face redden. Suddenly the not-all-that-flaccid shaft of my dick thickened. Oh shit, and I was only wearing flimsy basketball shorts!

"What?" Jon asked, giving me that funny look again. "What're you all red about?"

"Nothing. Just pour me a drink, bitch."

"I'll show you 'bitch'," he said as the doorbell rang.

The pizza arrived - Pepperoni Smokehouse Combo - and we dug in. We were both famished and it didn't last long. After we cleaned up Jon mixed us each another drink and we moved into the living room to watch the Dodgers game.

Even with the windows open and a cross breeze, it was warm in the house and as we talked and Jon continued to mix drinks, the day was catching up with me. I rested my head against the back of the couch and eventually drifted off as the TV droned on.

*~*~*~*

"Kev. Kevin, are you with me?"

I opened my eyes and looked up at Jon. My head felt thick and muddled and I let my eyes close again. What the heck?

He gave my shoulder a shake. "Kevin."

I opened my eyes. "Hmm?"

"We have a visitor."

I turned to where Jon was gesturing and saw, oh, fucking shit...Jason. He had a big nasty smile on his face.

"Hey there, Pussy," he said as he set down a backpack and reached down to give my cheek a light slap. "Ready to have some fun?"

What was he doing here? I looked back up at Jon and blinked until he came into focus.

"It's okay, Kev," Jon said reassuringly. "Trust me, okay?"

What the hell? Jon? I wanted to be mad but I just felt mellow, like I was floating. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

"Did you give him all of it?" Jason asked him.

All of it? All of what?

"Yup," Jon replied. "Just like you said. What was in it anyway?"

"GHB, some liquid Viagra, and a muscle relaxant. He'll be nice and compliant."

GH - Jon drugged me? What was going on?!

"And you're sure it's safe?"

"Absolutely," Jason assured him. "It's the same thing I used last time."

"Okay then," Jon relented and I thought I saw the slightest flicker of anger skate across his face before he schooled his features. He pointed at my crotch and laughed. "But I don't think you needed the Viagra because he's already boned as fuck."

"Yeah, I forgot," Jason said and he laughed too.

"Bet you're wondering what's up, hey Kev?" Jon asked as he sat down next to me on the couch and put his hand on my knee. It was a reassuring gesture and even in my addled state, I felt the comfort it gave and, I think, the comfort he intended.

He squeezed my knee and looked at me. "Okay, I saw the videos. I saw what went down at that party and then the next morning at your house." I turned my face away. Fuck.

"I was pissed at first," he said and I could hear him struggling to keep control. "Hell, I still AM pissed. Well, kind of. I mean, I was all set to kick Jason's ass when I noticed something. You wanna guess what that was?"

I turned my head to look at him. "You liked it," he said.

"The hell?" I protested weakly.

"You did," he continued, his voice confident. "Shit, you were practically begging for more. And every time over the past two weeks whenever Jason sent you a picture or a clip - yeah, I know all about those too - you popped wood."

"Ughhh," I groaned as I threw my arm up to cover my face. It was already starting to feel heavy.

"But I think it's more than you just liking it and wanting it," Jon went on. I began to protest again but he cut me off, "Now hear me out because I've thought about this. A lot." He put his hand on my chin and gently turned my face so I was looking at him before softly saying, "I think you need this."

"Oh shit, did you see that?" Jason snickered. "His dick just lurched when you said that!"

I wasn't so out of it that what Jon said wasn't registering. But did it make sense? Was it true? I wasn't sure what was the more frightening prospect: wanting it or needing it.

"I'm right, aren't I Kev?" he asked. "You put so much stress on yourself all the time that I bet deep down you probably want and need somebody to step in and take charge."

There it was again. Was it true? Did I need this? Did I need somebody to take charge of me? Did I WANT somebody to take charge of me?

My face flushed hot and I groaned in embarrassment as I remembered the way my body had reacted when Jason had fucked me and dominated me. How it had felt to be filled with his cock. To be used so roughly, whether it was on my back with my legs up while staring up into his eyes, shamefaced, as he challenged the conventions of my manhood, or when he'd pushed me down on all fours and taken me from behind like I was some kind of bitch in heat. And I recalled how humiliated and then thrilled I'd felt every time my phone received a text from him with pictures or video clips showing me in all sorts of degrading positions and situations. And now to find out that Jon knew about it too? Knew what had happened to me? Knew what I'd let continue to happen to me? Oh fuck!