Good Cop Bad Cop

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.

"He's insufferable," I moaned, taking a bite of pizza and washing it down with a sip of beer. "He's so arrogant. So smug. So-"

"So what you're saying is, you miss me?"

"Yes, you ass!"

I was having dinner with my partner, Jon Eckert, at 800 Degrees, our favorite pizza place in Santa Monica, a few miles from where we both lived and worked.

Jon and I are homicide detectives for LAPD and have been partnered for just over three years. However, Jon's been out for the past week recovering from knee surgery and will be on desk duty for the next two weeks when he returns Monday. In his place, I've been temporarily partnered with a wet behind the ears detective on loan from Van Nuys. Jason Kennedy was young and eager. He was also confrontational, insolent, and a real pain in my ass.

"I had to pull him aside this morning for a 'come to Jesus' meeting," I said. "Let me just say he wasn't happy."

"You said he used to be in our division?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Patrol. He had a chip on his shoulder even back then. He transferred out just before you transferred here. He seems like a bigger dick now that he's made detective."

"Give him a break," Jon said. "He's green."

"No, it's more than that," I said thoughtfully, taking another swallow of my beer. "I can't put my finger on it, but there's something hinky about him. It's like he's challenging me. Not just my authority and my experience, either, but me personally... maybe not physically, but definitely my manhood."

"Your record and integrity speak for themselves," Jon pointed out. "Everybody knows you and respects you, so that's stupid of him to even try to go there. But to challenge you personally like that? That sounds petty and immature."

"I don't trust him."

"Well, your instincts are usually spot on," Jon acknowledged, reaching for another slice, "but I hope this is one time when you're wrong."

"Yeah, me too," I said. At that moment my phone chimed with a text. "Speak of the devil," I said, holding it up for Jon to see.

Jon squinted as he read the screen. *Sorry about today. Truce?* "That's encouraging," he said.

I sighed. *Sure,* I typed back. *Thank you.*

*Having some friends over. UCLA-Golden Bears game tonight. Wanna join me?*

"He wants me to watch the UCLA game tonight," I said.

"You both graduated from UCLA, right?" Jon asked. When I nodded, he said, "Might be something to bond over."

I shrugged and typed. *Sure. Where?*

*I'm staying at my parents' place while they're in Europe. It's near the beach.* An address popped up.

"That's a nice neighborhood," Jon noted, "and not too far from here. Want me to drop you?"

I looked at my watch. "That'd be great. The game starts in twenty minutes. I can Uber home after."

"Let's roll," Jon said, shoving the rest of the pizza into his mouth while gathering up our debris.

*See you in 20.* I typed to Jason and then slid my phone into my pocket.

*~*~*~*

"Nice place," Jon said, whistling softly as he turned onto Marguerita Avenue, a quiet street lined with mature trees, and stopped in front of Jason's parents' house. The house was a huge Spanish hacienda on a large lot and looked professionally landscaped. There were a few cars in the driveway and more on the street, so Jason must be having other people over.

I'd called my girlfriend on the short drive over. She, Jon's fiancée and my younger brother are academic librarians at UCLA and were at a conference in Oakland presenting a paper. They were scheduled to be back late tomorrow afternoon. I'd vented to her a few times this week about my run-ins with Jason. Like Jon, she thought the invitation was a positive sign and a gesture of goodwill.

I cast a glance over at Jon as I unbuckled my seatbelt. "No," he said with a smirk, "I don't want to join you."

"Ass," I muttered as I stepped out of the car. He laughed and flipped me the bird as he drove off.

Jason must've seen us pull up because he opened the large front door as I was walking up the sidewalk.

"Hey Kev, glad you could make it," he called. "I guess since the old ball and chain is out of town you can go out tonight."

"Ha, it's not like that at all with my us," I replied, bristling inwardly as I handed him the six-pack of Arrogant Bastard (a Freudian slip, I swear) beer I'd picked up along the way, pushing it a bit more forcefully into his arms than I'd intended.

"Chill, Kev, I was kidding," he said, slapping me on the back. Yeah, right. I don't know why I was letting him get under my skin like this, but I really needed to let it go.

He introduced me to a few people as we stepped inside, and by the way he was acting it was clear he'd already had a few drinks. I looked around and noticed that I was easily the oldest person at the party. Everybody looked at least a decade younger than my 38 years.

He gave me a tour of the house, introducing me as we went from room to room, then out back to the pool and back inside again. We went into the kitchen and I almost did a double-take when I saw the amount of liquor bottles on the large island. I've seen bars that weren't as well stocked.

He put the beer in the fridge and turned to me. "Let me make you a real drink, Kev." A real drink? Was he serious? I was too shocked and off-put to respond so I just leaned against the counter.

"You like whiskey sours?" he asked. Not waiting for me to answer, he scooped ice into a large tumbler and added a generous amount of Canadian Club whiskey.

"Uh, sure," I said, my eyes widening at his heavy pour. If he was bartender tonight I was going to have to pace myself. I'm pretty much a beer and wine guy, and when I do drink hard liquor it's usually something like Basil Hayden or Maker's Mark: something I can sip slowly and savor, not guzzle like a frat guy.

"Here ya go, Kev," Jason said, holding out the drink. I got the feeling he was sizing me up or something so I pushed away from the counter, rising to my full 6'4, a good six inches over his 5'10 - maybe 5'11 - and accepted the glass. It took a bit of an effort to keep my face schooled as I took a sip - oh yeah, I was definitely making my own drinks for the rest of the night - but he must've seen something because he gave me a knowing, almost challenging smirk. I stared at him. He stared back. I blinked first - shit - and gulped. I didn't like this. I didn't like this one bit.

He continued the introductions and I did my best to make small talk. Normally I don't have a problem meeting new people, but most of the the people here, especially the guys, struck me as total douchebags. Most of the girls looked like those wannabe models on Instagram who post endless, filtered-to-heck selfies making that stupid duck face. Even if I didn't currently have a girlfriend I'd have turned down the propositions I got as we made the rounds.

I wasn't surprised that a few guys hit on me. This was West L.A., after all. Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with gay people. My younger brother, the librarian, is gay. In fact, his husband, who was my partner when I first joined the force, is my best friend.

The problem I do have with people - gay or straight - is when they won't take no for an answer. But I didn't think that was going to be a problem here.

I remembered the game was on and by the time I found the viewing party it was midway through the first quarter. There were only five of us watching on the big screen in the den, and I was relieved when Jason didn't join us. Instead, he was out by the pool playing beer pong with some of the others.

I re-introduced myself to the guys in the room: Austin, Ryan, Charlie and Nic. We all talked a little as the game progressed. Austin had also graduated from UCLA - he was wearing a Bruins tank top - and we shared an instant bond. None of the others had gone to UCLA but they were still rooting for the Bruins. My older brother had graduated from Berkeley so we texted back and forth as the game went on, keeping up our long-distance rivalry.

As the first quarter was coming to an end I noticed that Charlie and Nic had moved closer to each other on one of the couches and were starting to make out. I laughed to myself thinking if they kept this up they were going to need a room.

When the first quarter ended I got up to get a beer. However, there wasn't any to be found. Apparently the six-pack I'd brought was the only beer in the house, and that was going fast with the beer pongers. I shrugged and mixed myself another whiskey sour, going easy on the whiskey.

I went back to the den and noticed that Charlie and Nic had gone from making out to petting and full-on groping. I shook my head at their brazenness.

"Wanna join us?" Nic asked, brushing his hand up my leg as I eased past them.

"Sorry, no," I said nicely and sat down.

"Your loss," he replied.

I noticed Ryan was keeping more of an eye on them than the TV, but Austin and I were focused on the game. It was close and it seemed like whenever one team scored the other immediately tied it up.

At halftime it was 21-21. It was a good, tough game. I decided I needed to find Jason. I might as well play nice, especially since he'd invited me here to bury the hatchet, so to speak.

As I turned to go, I noticed that Charlie and Nic were now stroking each others' cocks through their shorts. Damn, I wondered if they were going to get naked.

I found Jason in the kitchen and, as I rinsed my glass in the sink, casually mentioned he might want to suggest to Charlie and Nic that they take their show to another room - preferably one with a bed. He just shrugged and told me it wasn't a big deal as long as they cleaned up any mess they made. That surprised me but, not being my house, I couldn't protest.

I wasn't sure what else to say, so I decided to go back to the den. I grabbed a bottle of water from a cooler on the counter and turned to leave when Jason stepped in front of me. "Have another drink, Kev," he said, crowding me. Normally I don't like people in my personal space, so I don't know why I let Jason invade mine.

"I'm good," I said. "Thanks."

"Don't be a pussy," he said dismissively, almost imperiously, taking the bottle of water from my hand and setting it down. My jaw nearly dropped as he picked up my glass and began mixing me another drink.

What was up with him? He was the one who'd called for a truce, but ever since I got here he'd been acting like this was some kind of pissing contest.

He gave the drink a quick stir and held out the glass. I took it without comment, along with the bottle of water, and left the kitchen. I felt his eyes on me as I walked down the hall and knew he sensed my unease.

*~*~*~*

The second half was just getting underway when I got back to the den. I saw that Charlie was now on his knees in front of Nic, sucking his dick, and I almost tripped over him as I made my way to my chair. I started to say something but thought better of it. It wasn't my house or my party.

I couldn't help but notice though, that Nic had a huge cock. It had to be at least nine inches long and as big around as my glass.

Charlie caught me staring and he came up for breath. He looked at my crotch and winked at me. I laughed a little uneasily, took a big sip of my drink, and returned my focus to the game.

I nursed my drink throughout most of the third quarter. It was strong and I should've dumped it, but I didn't want to give Jason the satisfaction.

The game had turned into defensive struggle with neither team able to keep up much of a drive. During a time out near the end of the quarter, Austin, the other UCLA alum, grabbed another round for everybody. As he pressed the glass into my hand I almost said no, but I didn't want to look rude or unappreciative. I gave him a nod of thanks and took a sip. Fortunately, it didn't taste like Jason had mixed it. It tasted different than the drinks I'd had earlier, but it wasn't bad.

By the time the third quarter ended the score was tied at 24 apiece. I'd finished half my drink and had to pee badly (I hadn't gone since before leaving the restaurant) but found I was a little unsteady on my feet when I stood up.

I held onto the back of the couch as I mentally ticked off how much I'd had to drink tonight: one beer at the pizza place with Jon, and then one, two... shit... Apparently I'd had more to drink than I thought. Four whiskey sours - two of them fairly potent - was more hard alcohol than I'd had had in years. I was definitely feeling the effects and decided to stick to water for the rest of the night. No way did I want Jason seeing me drunk or even tipsy. I had a bad feeling that wouldn't go well for me.

Charlie and Nic were now lying on the couch in a 69 position, their heads bobbing up and down like buoys in rough seas. They were also passing a small brown bottle back and forth - poppers - each taking a sniff here and there. I almost tripped over them as I maneuvered past, and barely managed to stay upright as I headed out the door. I don't know why I kept staring at them, and I reddened when Nic caught me adjusting myself. He smiled broadly.

Fuck. Why did I have a boner?

I staggered down the hall in such a fog that I passed right by the bathroom. Realizing my error, I stopped and spun around. Mistake. My feet got tangled in each other and I pitched forward. Austin was right there though, and grabbed me, preventing me from executing a spectacular faceplant. Even though he was shorter than me, maybe 6'1 to my 6'4, he was stronger and easily scooped me up.

He helped me into the bathroom and held me up as I got into position. My fingers fumbled with my zipper but I was having trouble getting it undone. Before I knew it, Austin reached around, pushed my hands away, and unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts. He then reached into my briefs, pulled my cock out, and pointed it at the bowl. I wanted to protest but it was just as well he was there because as soon as my dick was out and aimed, I let loose a full on jetstream.

As I watched the water in the toilet bowl turn yellow, the cop in me was telling me something was wrong. But there was a warm, glowing feeling sweeping over me, shushing me and assuring me that everything was just fine, and that feeling was winning out because suddenly it was too hard to think of why anything would be wrong. I relaxed against Austin as he held me up, still holding my dick while I pissed, not even tracking that his free hand was slowly easing my shorts over my ass and down my legs.

I struggled to find the words to thank him for his help, but couldn't think of anything to say other than a lame, "Thanks, man."

"Don't worry about it," he laughed, giving my dick a slight squeeze to make sure I was finished. "You're not the first guy I've helped do this." He then gently shook off my dick, tucked it back into my briefs, and steadied me on my feet.

I turned to leave but my feet got tangled in my shorts that were now somehow puddled at my ankles and I lost my balance, almost falling again. My good Samaritan was right there to catch me, though. My knees were buckling as he held me, sagging, against the wall. "Easy there, Kevin," he said as he put his hand on the back of my head and buried my face in his sweaty armpit.

I didn't resist and after several seconds and a few whiffs of him, he pulled me up to my full height and held onto me as he backed us out of the bathroom. I was really dizzy and didn't even realize he'd had me step completely out of both my shorts and flip-flops so that I was stumbling about in just my vintage Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and tight white briefs.

Instead of helping me back to the living room where the game was going into the fourth quarter, he pushed open another door along the hall and carried me - arms wrapped around my waist and lifting me off the ground - over to the bed. He set me down, turned me so I was facing him, and eased me down onto the bed. As I flopped onto my back, he grabbed my legs and maneuvered me until I was lying with my head on the pillow.

"Just lie here and sleep it off a bit," he said. I was so out of it I didn't register what was going on. I shut my eyes and told myself to rest for a few minutes.

*~*~*~*

I must've passed out because when I opened my eyes again the lights were off and I was completely naked from the waist down. And... what the hell? There was something draped over my face, a fabric of some kind that smelled male and musky. Oh shit. No way. I reached a hand for it - my arms felt so heavy and I felt so sluggish - and squinted at it in the darkness. My briefs? What the fuck? How did my underwear get on my face?

Then I felt it. Warm, wet heat. A mouth on my cock. Holy shit, somebody was in here giving me a blow job!

I managed to lift my head, but my eyes hadn't adjusted to the dark yet, so I couldn't see who was servicing me. But... damn, it sure felt good! So good, in fact, I don't think I'd have stopped it even if I could have! I felt myself getting close to coming, that familiar tingle in my balls getting more pronounced, and I began thrusting my hips into the mouth on me.

I wanted that release - needed it badly - and after a few seconds I felt it. My cock started to throb and then spurt after spurt of cum gushed into the sucking mouth. It was so intense and whoever was down there was working overtime to swallow it all down. Then I felt a finger push into my ass and I erupted even more. I passed out.

*~*~*~*

I woke again and wondered if the blow job had been a dream. I started to sit up only to discover that it hadn't been a dream: I was naked from the waist down and my briefs were resting on my chest. I sat up and put them on, but I was still out of it and crashed back heavily onto the bed. I lay there for a moment and then climbed to my feet again and felt my way to the door.

I staggered back into the den. The opening credits to Saturday Night Live were blaring on the TV so I'd been out longer than I thought. Austin and Ryan were gone, but Charlie and Nic were still there, too engrossed in each other to register my return.

My still half full drink was sitting where I'd left it and I sat down and reached for it. My throat was dry and I gulped it all down.

"There you are," Austin said, walking back into the room. He looked at me slumped in the chair - I still hadn't realized I wasn't wearing my shorts - and smirked. "Feeling better?"

I nodded. My head was still thick and murky, but at least it wasn't spinning anymore. "Thirsty. Need to find my phone," I slurred. "Have you seen it?"

"The question should be, have you seen your pants?" Nic said with a snicker. He and Charlie were looking at me appraisingly.

I gave him a querying look and then gazed down. "Fuck!" I gasped as I climbed to my feet to a chorus of laughter.

"Nice tighty whities!" Nic called after me as I stumbled out of the room. How the hell could I not know I was half naked?

I wove my way down the hallway, searching for the room I'd been in, when I realized I had to pee again and made a stop in the bathroom. I caught my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were glassy and I had a dazed look on my face. I also had a major boner tenting the front of my briefs.

"Oh fuck," I groaned as I fished my dick out and pissed, bracing myself with one arm against the wall and doing my level best to hit the bowl. I finished and quickly tucked my dick away.

Extremely embarrassed that I was only in my 'tighty whities' and sporting such a massive erection, I moved as quickly as I could to the bedroom where I hoped my shorts - and phone - would be. I needed to get an Uber. No, I needed to call Jon to come get me.

I had to hug the wall but finally made it to the room and found the light switch. I flipped it on and spied my shorts on the floor next to the bed. I bent down to pick them up but when I went to stand back up straight, I swooned. I grabbed for the nightstand to keep from falling and managed to sit on the bed. My head was spinning in a daze again and I slumped onto my back.