Good Cop Bad Cop

Distant muffled shouts and a faint clanging pulled me up from the depths of sleep.

I opened my eyes and the bright sunlight streaming through the half-open curtains nearly blinded me. I groaned and heaved onto my front, half burying my face in the pillow.

I lifted my head and realized I wasn't in my bed. Huh? I turned onto my side and gazed around the room. It took me a few seconds to remember that I was at Jon's parents' house and that this was the guest room.

I rolled onto my back and threw the sheets off. Why was I naked and what was all this gunk all over my stomach and chest? I ran my hand across my belly; it felt tacky and gummy. I sniffed it. Wha- the events of last night began to tumble into place. Oh shit. Jon had invited Ja-

Grunts and what sounded like chains rattling drifted down from upstairs and I sat bolt upright. What the hell? Realization hit me full force- Jon!

I jumped out of bed, immediately regretting the action. My head throbbed and I was sore from head to toe and everywhere in between. E-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. Ohhhhhhh... fuck!

The Levi's I'd worn Friday night were draped over the chair and I reached for them, pulling them on, not bothering with underwear. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and, verifying it still had a charge, slipped it into my back pocket. Then I rifled through my overnight bag and found my Glock. I didn't know if Jason and Austin were still in the house, and if they were, whether or not they were armed.

I stepped into the hall, gun at low ready, safety thumbed off, and cleared each room on the first floor before I made my way upstairs. The noises were louder now - more frantic - and were coming from Jon's bedroom. My gut told me Jason and Austin were gone so I rushed to the room... and froze in the doorway.

It was just like my dream from Friday night, except it was Jon trussed up instead of me. His legs were spread about three feet apart in a "V" formation, cuffed in leather bindings that were attached to a metal rod that hung suspended by a chain from the bed's wrought iron canopy at a 45 degree angle. His arms were pulled up in the air, wrists similarly cuffed and fastened to the canopy. My eyes were immediately drawn to his exposed armpits and the tangled forest of sweat-matted hair, and I had to make myself focus.

His black Calvin Klein briefs - the pair he'd been wearing since Friday morning and that he'd shot at least one load into - had been pulled over his head like a mask, the cum-crusted pouch covering his nose and mouth. He was wearing my underwear and there was what looked like a tail attached to the seat of the briefs. However, when I stepped closer, I saw that the tail actually protruded from a small slit cut into the fabric and was part of a butt plug. Holy shit! Jon had a butt plug in his ass!

"Jon!"

He went still, then started to frantically pull at his bonds, his head thrashing back and forth as his muffled voice cried out. "Kehin?! Keh?"

I set my gun down on the nightstand and pulled the underwear off his head. He was wide-eyed, hair disheveled, face matted and crusty. Dried tears streaked his face, leaving track marks in the caked cum and spit. There was a gag in his mouth.

"Easy," I said as I dropped the briefs and reached around his head to unbuckle the strap that held the gag in place.

"Kevin," he gasped when I eased the long rubber penis from his mouth. He worked his jaw. "What the fuck?! What the hell happened?"

I stood and freed his arms and he gratefully shook them out and then began rubbing them. I moved to undo the leg restraints and gently lowered his shaking limbs. The briefs he was wearing were sopping wet with cum but I couldn't tell if it was pre-cum or if he'd actually shot a couple of loads into them. The thin white cotton was nearly translucent and I could see not only his erection, but his circumcision scar as well.

"There's" - I cleared my throat - "a, um... butt plug-"

"I feel it," he groaned as he rolled to his side and reached for it. "Ouch! Oh fuck, can you get it out, Kev?"

"Um..." I wasn't sure what the protocol was to remove a butt plug from your partner's ass. I touched it gently.

"Stop," Jon gasped, pain creasing his face. "It hurts."

I peered closer and noticed the skin around his hole was dry. I turned to the nightstand and saw it was cluttered with condoms, lube, and a bottle of poppers.

"I'm going to use some lube," I said as I reached for the tube of Astroglide. "Get up on all fours."

Jon did as he was told but his arms were weak and he ended up collapsed onto them, his ass high in the air and the white briefs stretched tautly across those firm globes. The pink tail wagged with every move he made.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, silenced it, and snapped a picture. Yes, I was going to hell.

I squeezed some lube onto my fingers and gently dabbed at the base of the rubber plug, coating it as well as I could along with the tender skin of Jon's well-fucked, abused hole.

When I felt it was sufficiently greased, I touched the butt plug and Jon instantly clenched. "You need to relax," I said as I stroked his flank to gentle him.

"Fucking easy for you to say," he snapped, his face screwed up in a grimace. "You're not the one with a Titan missile crammed up his ass." I thought back to last night when Austin had fucked me with his own Titan missile and I almost said something.

Jon glanced at the bedside table. "Give me the poppers."

"What?"

"I said, give me the fucking poppers!" I could see the pain etched in his face, the deep furrows in his forehead, and I grabbed them, scrambling to uncap them. I put them to his nose but he held his hand out for them. "Give them to me," he ground out, his tone harsh.

I nodded and placed them in his hand. He immediately took a long snort and then another. I remembered his reaction to them last night - fuck, was it only last night? - and when I saw them begin to take effect I gently eased them from his grasp, coaxed him into a couple more hits, and put them on the stand.

I squirted a bit more lube onto the butt plug and then began to gently move it back and forth trying to dislodge it.

"Ohhhhh..." Jon moaned and I saw his eyelids flutter and his eyes roll up into his head. "Fuck..."

I continued to lightly rock the plug from side to side, and every time I tried to pop it out, Jon would groan and sigh.

"More," he breathed out. "Poppers." The hell?

This time he let me hold the bottle and he just inhaled. Oh fuck, but this was hot.

I took a sniff for myself and something inside of me took over. I put the bottle back to Jon's nose and he readily inhaled, deeply. Then I tapped at the base of the butt plug, causing it to vibrate in Jon's hole.

"Oh," he gasped. "Fuck. Yes."

I tapped on the plug a few more times and then began to move it back and forth, in and out, gently fucking him with it under the guise of removing it. He grunted and groaned and asked for more.

Fuck!

"Ungghhh," he moaned lowly as he began to shudder and I knew he was cumming. Holy shit. As he wailed and groaned, I popped the butt plug out and dropped it on the bed. Jon collapsed onto his side.

I let him gather himself for a couple of minutes and then helped him to his feet. "Let's get you into the shower so you can clean up." His legs were shaky and his knees buckled twice, but I wrapped my arm around his waist and held him close to me.

I opened the glass doors to the large walk-in shower and turned the taps on. Then I lowered Jon's briefs, my jaw dropping when I saw his pubic bush had been shaved off. The hell?! I slipped my hand down the front of my jeans... Fuck! I was shaved bare as well!

I didn't say anything to him as I eased him onto the built-in shower bench, getting soaked in the process. When I stepped back he looked up at me and I gestured for him to get cleaned up. "I'm going to see if I can find some aspirin or pain relievers."

I stepped out of the shower and closed the door. I grabbed a towel and dried off as I went down the hall to Jon's parents' bedroom. I rummaged through their medicine cabinet and found extra strength Tylenol and - bingo.

I returned to Jon and did my best to keep my gaze averted as he slowly bathed, washing the cum, spit and filth off his skin. He looked shell-shocked, shaking and twitching every few seconds as another memory surfaced. My heart broke every time I saw his face twist up, and at that moment I knew I could gleefully strangle Jason. Beat him to death with a smile on my face and a song in my heart.

I was caught up in my thoughts and it took me a while to notice that Jon was sitting on the bench again with his head in his hands. He wasn't moving, just staring at the floor, watching the water sweep down the drain. I opened the door and turned the water off. I wrapped him a large, fluffy bath sheet and helped him step out of the shower. I put the toilet seat down and had him sit while I towel-dried his hair.

"Here," I said as I handed him the pills and poured a glass of water for him. "These should make you feel better."

He palmed the pills and tossed them into his mouth. "Thanks," he said in a small, hollow voice after he drained the glass.

I helped him to his feet and wrapped a dry towel around his waist. I held his arm and walked him out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom, and down the hall to his parents' bedroom. I pulled the sheets back and sat down with him. We were quiet for several minutes and I could feel him withdrawing.

"I'm sorry, Jon," I finally said. He nodded but didn't say anything. "I'm so fu-"

"Why am I so tired?" he interrupted.

I averted my gaze.

"Kev?"

"I gave you an Ambien."

"What?" he snapped. "You fucking drugged me?"

I sighed. "Jon, you're upset-"

"You're fucking right I'm upset! You drugged me."

I put up my hands. "You have every right to be upset, but you're exhausted. You need to get some rest."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

"Jon," I said in a placating tone. "Jon."

"Fuck you!"

I was silent for what seemed like an eternity, then, "Jon."

"Fuck. You." He bit off each word, jaw clenched. We sat in silence again for about a minute. I felt defeated. I'd misstepped, badly. I stood to leave.

"Okay," I said finally.

"Kev," he said suddenly, grabbing my hand almost desperately. I didn't look at him. Couldn't. "Please don't go. Please."

"Okay," I said quietly. "I won't."

"Okay."

I found a pair of sleep pants in the dresser and helped him into them. "Sleep for a bit," I said.

"Yeah, okay," he acquiesced as he crawled under the covers. "Thank you."

I pulled a chair next to the bed, sat down, and pulled out my phone.

"Kev?" he said a few minutes later, his voice thick with exhaustion. I glanced up and the look on his face just about devastated me.

"Yeah?" I managed to rasp out.

"I'm really- sorry." His voice broke on the last word.

I got out of the chair and slid under the covers next to him. "Shhh," I said as I took him in my arms. "It's okay."

He nodded into my shoulder, sniffling a couple of times as his shoulders shook and shuddered. I didn't let go until I felt him drift off to sleep, a dead weight in my arms.

I eventually eased out of the bed, covered him and switched the lights off. Back in the downstairs guest room, I stripped off and stared at my bare crotch for a long time. What the hell. My cock looked bigger and I wondered how I was going to explain this to Kristen.

I stepped into the shower. The hot spray felt good and I braced myself with one arm against the wall as I hung my head and let the water cascade over me as I recalled the events of the previous night, replaying them over and over. I turned and let the water beat down my back and sluice over the crack of my ass. I began to jack off, slowly at first, but increased my pace, and soon I had two fingers in my ass, finger-fucking myself as I masturbated. Moments later I arched my back and roared as I blew my load against the tiled wall.

What the hell was I doing? What was I turning into?

I turned the shower off and reached for one of the large fluffy bath sheets.

I dressed and went to check on Jon and found him sleeping peacefully, the deep grooves that had creased his face just minutes earlier had smoothed out. I watched him for a while. What was going to happen now? What was going to happen to us?

I couldn't let my mind dwell on that. Not yet because, well... because that way there be dragons. But I needed to talk to him. However, his emotions were all over the map and he was going to need time to process what had happened to him. I just hoped he wouldn't hate me for it.

I slipped out of the room but left the door open in case he woke and needed something. I went back to his old bedroom and stood in the center of the room, surveying the wreckage from last night.

One thing about being raised by a single father who was also a Marine gunnery sergeant, was that my two brothers and I learned how to clean quickly and thoroughly. I opened the windows to air out the room and then stripped the sheets from the bed, surprised (and relieved) to discover the mattress in a zippered, waterproof protector. I took everything, including the wet towels, and tossed them into the washing machine.

I found a Bissell steamer in a closet downstairs and used it on the carpet and upholstery in Jon's room. I scrubbed the bathroom and liberally sprayed the entire room with Febreze until the smell of sex and sweat was gone.

When the washing machine dinged to signal the sheets and towels were finished, I tossed them into the dryer and threw our soiled clothes into the washer. I paused when it came to our dirty briefs - my white Hanes and Jon's black Calvins. I held them both to my nose and inhaled deeply. My lust finally got the best of me and I put them into Ziploc bags. I told myself I was 'preserving evidence', but deep down I knew I'd be sniffing the cum-crusted underwear during future jack off sessions. I palmed my hard cock through my jeans at the thought and I could feel a wet spot begin to form.

Fuck! What the hell was I doing?

I needed a distraction. I looked at my phone and saw I'd been cleaning, scrubbing, and doing laundry for the past three hours. I was hungry. I knew Jon wouldn't be asleep for much longer - I checked on him again (he hadn't moved) - and decided it was okay to venture out to pick up some breakfast.

I googled the nearest bagel place - Bruegger's Bagels in Corona Del Mar - and headed out. As I drove I passed the Newport Centre shopping mall I saw there was a Macy's. I pulled in.

*~*~*~*

Jon was still sleeping when I got back. I pulled the chair next to the bed again and read the news on my phone while I waited for him to wake up. He began to stir about 20 minutes later and I idly stroked his hair until he was fully awake.

"How are you feeling?" I asked cautiously.

He looked up at me and rubbed his eyes. "I can't believe you fucking drugged me," he groused.

"Yeah, I'm so horrible," I deadpanned. "Blah, blah, blah. Get your ass out of bed; I picked up bagels. I'll put some coffee on and it'll be ready by the time you're dressed."

He sat up and looked around. "Where are my clothes?" He sounded subdued. Small.

"Bathroom counter," I answered. "Everything's clean."

He nodded but didn't say anything.

"I picked up some underwear, too," I said as I pulled one of the three-packs from the Macy's bag, opened it, and handed him a pair. "They didn't have black."

"Thanks."

*~*~*~*

Jon was quiet and withdrawn on the drive back to Westwood. I tried engaging him a couple of times but he'd been silent since he'd come down to eat and I eventually gave up and let him be, focusing instead on the road in front of me. I knew he was beginning to remember more and more of last night and what had happened to him.

I glanced over at him periodically, but his now-frosty glare never wavered as he continued to stare straight ahead, his profile rigid. I swear I could feel anger pouring off him in icy waves.

Traffic was typical for a Sunday afternoon and we made good time, arriving back at Jon's condo in just under ninety minutes. He still hadn't said a word.

I keyed the code to his underground garage into the number pad and parked in his spot. He didn't say anything, just reached into the back seat for his bag and held his hand out for the keys. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

I turned the car off and placed the keys in his outstretched palm. I started to say something but he jumped out of the car and slammed the door hard, causing the entire SUV to reverberate. I sighed, quickly gathered my things, and got out.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I said as he strode off, his only response the chirping of the alarm arming itself.

Well... Fuck.

*~*~*~*

I went for a long run (running always helped clear my mind), showered, and made a sandwich. I was just finishing the dishes when there was pounding at my front door. I tensed, my mind immediately flashing back to that Monday, two weeks ago, when Jason had showed up at my door and fucked me. I pushed the thought out of my head even as my dick hardened in my briefs. The hell?!

"Kevin..." Jon's voice sounded through the door. "Open up, please?" More pounding. "Come on, Kev... I'm sorry!"

I rushed to the door, adjusting myself, and opened it to find Jon leaning against the frame. He had a garment bag slung over one shoulder and an open fifth of Jack Daniels in his hand. He was half-drunk and he looked wrecked.

"Kev," he slurred, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Fuck. Kev, I'm so sorry."

"Oh boy." I grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. "Get in here before the neighbors start to grumble," I said as I hung the garment bag in the hall closet and put the whiskey on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, his face crumpling as he reached for me. "I'm so sorry."

"I know," I said, pulling him into a hug, feeling him shake in my arms as he grabbed me. "I know." He held me tightly for several long seconds before he stepped back.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket, tapped the screen and handed it to me. It was a text message and read, 'I OWN YOU'. But it was the attached photo that both shocked me and made my dick thicken in my briefs. Jon was on his knees, snorting what looked like a line of cocaine off an erect penis.

"He made me do fucking ketamine!" he cried, running his fingers through his hair, pulling at it. It stuck up all over in tufts. "I'm so fucked! He said if I don't do whatever he says, whenever he wants, he's sending this, and more, to the Captain. I'm fucked, Kev. My career..."

He didn't finish. We both knew ketamine residue could be detected in hair samples for up to ninety days, and while our random drug tests were 'piss tests', an anonymous call to IA, or this picture, would trigger immediate and intense scrutiny.

I swallowed heavily and nodded. I picked up my phone from the coffee table, opened it, and thumbed through a couple of screens before handing it to him. On the screen was a picture of me taken in my bathroom, a hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back, showing my nostrils covered in white powder. There were three lines of what looked like cocaine on the marble vanity top.

Jon went ashen. Absolutely pale. He looked at me and gulped. His eyes welled with unshed tears. "Seriously? Oh my God. I didn't even think... Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrugged and he collapsed onto the couch, hanging his head. I sat next to him and rubbed small circles on his back until he had himself under control.

He put his hand on my leg and squeezed as he turned to face me. "Can I stay here tonight? I don't want to be alone."

"Of course," I said, covering his hand with mine. "Always."

He turned his palm up and laced his fingers with mine. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked away like that earlier. I was-"