Good Cop, Very Angry and Scary Cop

God was glad Day wasn’t on his heels when he walked out the door. The way he’d described wanting to fuck his partner had his dick ready to detonate and him practically running to the locker room—which he was hoping would be empty.

He burst through the heavy door and quickly stepped past the assigned lockers, his head scanning the aisles. He pushed through the glass doors and shouldered his way into the last stall. He slammed the metal door shut and leaned his back against it. With his head tilted back, his eyes shut tight; he unbuttoned his jeans with shaking hands, lowered his zipper, and forcefully dug into his briefs, yanking his dick out into the cool air. He tried not to groan but failed miserably.

He spit in his palm and got a punishing grip on his cock and rapidly pumped his fist up and down his steel rod. He thought this had to be the hardest he’d ever been. No woman or man had ever excited him to the point of having to jerk himself immediately. The smell of Day was still on his body and the scent of the man’s soft hair lingered in his nose.

“Fuck, Leo,” God moaned as quietly as he could manage.

His body jerked violently when he felt his orgasm barreling to the surface. He dug his other hand into his underwear to free his balls, and that was all he’d needed. He fingered then pulled at his tight sac.

“Ohhh, fuuuck.”

With a tight hold on his blushing cockhead, he squeezed it repeatedly, letting his seed spill into the toilet. God slammed his eyes shut and bit his bottom lip to muffle the moans threatening to break free. He braced his legs apart trying not to fall, his knees buckling at the intensity of his thoughts of Day underneath him taking his load deep inside him.

“Ugh, damn.”

More come shot from his slit, knocking him back against the stall.

Holy shit.

He let his head fall back and hit the stall door again, trying to catch his breath. If he felt like this just from thinking of him and Day together, God couldn’t imagine how it’d be if he ever got to fuck the gorgeous man.

God had thought of him and his partner together plenty of times, but decided never to act on it. More than a few times he’d caught Day looking at him with want in his pretty eyes. He didn’t consider himself gay, straight, bi… who gave a fuck? God would do whatever and whomever he wanted. Period. It was just that simple to him, because his life was complicated enough without him worrying about a damn label for his sexual preference.

God flushed the toilet and made sure there was nothing on the seat, then left the bathroom. He washed his hands and splashed some water on face. After pulling back his hair, he went in search of his partner who he figured was waiting at his truck.

God pulled on his leather coat as he stepped outside and noticed Day leaning casually against the passenger door. He wanted to wipe that condescending smirk off his face.

“What are you grinning at?” God frowned while unlocking his truck.

Day boldly swept his eyes down to God’s groin and licked his still red lips. “You missed a spot,” he said, and jumped up into the cab.

God walked around the back of the truck’s long bed and looked down at his jeans, and he’d be damned if there wasn’t a small, not quite dry spot there. Dammit. He got up in the truck and started the powerful engine.

“Damn shame to have wasted that in a toilet. I could’ve thought of a couple good places for it to go instead,” Day said nonchalantly, scrolling through his cell-phone messages as if they talked about fucking each other every day.

“Shut up,” he said and peeled out of the parking lot toward the jail.

Day was inwardly pumping his fist at the knowledge that the always cool God had to jerk his dick after all the dirty talk he’d tortured Day with in that conference room. Day was imagining God fucking his hand in some bathroom stall, groaning and moaning his name when he came, and just like that Day’s dick was hard again. Unfortunately he didn’t have the luxury of getting some much-needed relief. Day gazed out the window and palmed his aching cock.

“You all right over there?” God’s deep country drawl ricocheted around the large cab before smacking right into Day’s balls.

“No. Why? You offering to help?” Day looked into God’s eyes.

“Nope,” God responded easily and plucked the small toothpick from his mouth and tossed it out the window.

"Come on, we need to shake this dude down.” God swung into an official use parking space. “He’s going to give us a fucking name today, or he’s going away for way more years than he thought.” God stepped out of the truck and came around to stand beside him.

“Is the ADA already here?” Day said while checking his weapons.

“He didn’t need to come. The offer is the name of the kingpin for twenty years, possibility of parole in fifteen. That’s a hell of a lot better than life.” God was talking to him, but his eyes were scanning up and down his body. Day was going to have fun proving to the big man that he wanted him, and he'd have him too.

“Good cop bad cop.” God smirked.

“Cool. This should be short but sweet… like me.” Day winked

“Let’s go, flirt. Stay focused if you can. And I don’t mean on my cock.” God admonished.

“I make no promises.” Day yanked open the heavy door and they quickly made their way to the metal detectors, pulling out their badges.

While they waited for their inmate and his lawyer to come into the small interrogation room, Day and God stared openly at each other as if they were seeing each other for the first time.

“What are you thinking?” Day asked.

God leaned against the wall in the corner with his arms crossed over his broad chest, already in his position as bad cop. His job was to stay lurking in the corner with a hard scowl on his face to intimidate their suspect.

“Nothing in particular.” God shrugged.

“Not thinking about me?” Day asked, his voice husky.

God looked up at him. His eyes held a seriousness that made Day lose his smirk.

“Of course I’m thinking about you, Leo,” he whispered.

Day had to hurry to catch his breath and get his bearings when he heard the clanking of the heavy metal locks as their suspect stepped into the small room with his lawyer and a guard. His hands were handcuffed behind his back, the guard checked with them before he undid the cuffs and pushed the man down into the small metal chair.

Day pushed all thoughts of sexing his partner to the back of his mind and went into his role as good-want-to-help-you-I’m-your-friend sensitive cop. In a soft, professional tone Day spoke, “How ya doing buddy… ya holding up in here?”

“It’s fucked up in here, Day. What the hell you think? You said you were going to get me in minimum-security.”

Day looked at the man with what he hoped was his best I-understand face. Lamar’s long dreadlocks were pulled back in a ponytail. His faded jeans and prison-issue shirt looked like they'd missed the last couple laundry rounds. He smelled like he was avoiding shower time as well. Day had no doubt that most of the cliques and gangs in the maximum ward didn’t take too kindly to child killers. Word traveled fast, especially on the inside. There were men in there that were serial killers, rapist, robbers, you name it… but as soon as someone came in who'd harmed a child, even the most hardened criminal took offense. Had something to do with children being unable to defend themselves… inmates that were child abusers, molesters, or whatever would always have it worst in prison.

“I’m working on it, Lamar,” Day said soothingly.

“You don’t deserve a fucking thing. You don’t cooperate, we’re not cooperating.” God barked from the corner of the room. He wore a menacing glare and stood to his full 6’4” height with his feet shoulder width apart, like a military drill sergeant.

Lamar snapped up out of his chair. “No one was talking to you, God. Everyone knows you don’t give a fuck. I should’ve run from your big ass when I had the chance ya heartless bastard,” Lamar yelled back at a stone-faced God, who never flinched at Lamar’s rage.

“I would’ve loved for you to have run, Lamar, then I would’ve had a reason to put a bullet in your thigh. I find it baffling that you’re the one that shot a kid in the back but I’m the heartless one.” God snarled at him.

“Detective Godfrey, enough.” Day frowned at him, like he was really upset with God. He turned his focus back to their suspect. “Look, Lamar, I’m still working on your placement, but let’s talk about right now. I’m sure your lawyer has already counseled you about the handgun found in your home. We have your prints and a ballistics report that confirms that gun was the one used to kill fourteen-year-old errand boy Enrique Lopez.”

“Yeah. I know I can’t beat that charge,” Lamar said, casting his eyes downward.

“You can’t beat it fuck-face because you’re guilty,” God huffed.

Lamar jumped up but his lawyer pulled him down before he could yell again.

“Look, detectives, we want to make a deal. My client is willing to give over the locations of the other guys that got away, in exchange for ten years with the possibility of parole in eight.”

Day had to be careful not to break character, because he desperately wanted to slap that dumbass lawyer across his face for even suggesting something so ludicrous. Lamar had enough weed in his house to supply an entire reggae concert, in addition to three illegal automatic weapons, and if that wasn’t enough to warrant twenty years, one of those guns was used to kill a kid. Day didn’t have to say anything, because God would.

God rushed forward and slammed his large hands on the metal table so hard that Lamar and his lawyer practically fell backward out of their chairs.

“Eight years for drug possession, intent to distribute, guns, and murder one! Fucking kill yourself!” God roared, glaring at the lawyer. “If you’re going to waste our damn time, then we’re leaving. Let’s go, Day.” God stood up and stalked toward the door.

“Hold on, Detective Godfrey, give them a chance.” Day put both his hands up as if to calm everyone. This was all part of their act. He looked back at Lamar. “Come on, Lamar. You gotta do better than that, buddy. Give me something good and I’ll see what I can do for you. You and I both know that you’re holding on to that kingpin's ID. You were the biggest dealer on the street; you carried the most weight. Tell us who he is, and I swear I’ll do everything I can with the DA to get you a good deal.”

Day watched Lamar drop his chin to his chest and knew he was thinking it over, so Day decided to go in for the kill.

“Come on, Lamar. Do you want to walk out of here when you can still have some kind of a life? Or do you want to leave when you’re old and gray and your dick doesn’t work anymore? Just give us a name and where we can find him.”

“I want your word, Detective, that the DA is going to do a deal if he gives you a name,” the lawyer added.

“We want the name, a location, and how the drugs are getting in here. Or else you don’t get shit,” God growled.

“Detective Godfrey, that’s an awful lot of intel. What assurances are you going to give my client? Especially since his safety will be in jeopardy,” the lawyer responded.

Day watched God size up the pudgy lawyer. His hands were fat and his hot-dog sized fingers were clasped together as he stared up at God with light blue, beady eyes. God snarled back at him and Day knew he had to jump in now.

“We’re willing to offer twenty with parole in fifteen. That’s a damn good deal for murder one and possession, Lamar,” Day said in a low, sensitive tone.

“Twenty years, Day… come on, man!” Lamar yelled. “I can’t see myself even doing a dime in this place, man.”

“Well it’s good you can’t see yourself doing ten, because you’re doing twenty, asshole.” God laughed.

“Fuck. You. God!” Lamar stuck up his middle finger.

“Lamar, look at me, man.” Day interrupted. He looked into Lamar’s worried eyes; his lip trembled as the reality hit that he was indeed going to lose the next two decades of his life. Day played his sympathy card. “This is a good deal. I want you to be able to go back home and be with your mom and kid brother one day. If you keep your nose clean while inside, you can pull your fifteen and be out. You got a newborn son, man, he can still get to know you when you get out, he won’t even be in high school yet.”

A tear ran down Lamar’s face when Day mentioned his son. “You could be looking at life if you take your chances with a jury. You killed a kid, dude. Even though he was a small time runner, the parents thought he would eventually turn his life around… and they want justice. I begged the DA for this deal, but we need the kingpin’s name.” Day watched Lamar take a deep breath.

“His name is Joe Hansen, they call him Sandman.” Lamar looked up. “He’s dangerous and he’s got an army that’s not afraid to kill for him. Not too many people can get close to him. He’s got several houses, but his main one is on the coast.”

Day watched God move closer and stare into Lamar’s eyes. “Address.”

Lamar huffed. “2021 Palisades Drive.”

“Tell us about the shipments,” God said in a harsh voice.

“We want this deal in writing,” the lawyer started.

“Shut the fuck up,” God barked. He looked back at Lamar. “Tell us about the shipments. Who’s bringing it in where and when?”

Day wrote down everything Lamar told them. Finally they were going to nail this bastard. Day knew there was a kingpin… there always was. Lamar told them shipment times, ports, other big weight runners, and even the men that worked the docks that were on the take. They also got the next shipment date, which was a month from now… and it was a big one. It was going to require a huge multi-agency task force to pull off this seizure.

“Thanks, Lamar, you did the right thing,” Day said as he got up.

“Hey, Day, hold up, man. When am I going to get moved to the minimum security?”

“Go fuck yourself,” God said disgustedly; his handsome face a mask of hate.

Day turned around very slowly. They had their information, so good cop was off duty. He braced both hands on the table and lowered himself, firing a heated stare into the inmate’s worried eyes, and spoke in a fierce snarl.

“You shot a scared kid three times in the back when he tried to run away. You took his body and put it in a goddamn Dumpster like he was motherfucking trash. You sold coke to high school kids right before they walked into class. You put guns into the hands of kids so they could kill for you.” Day was in Lamar’s face now. “I hope you spend the next twenty years with your back against the fucking wall, asshole.” Day turned and left through the large metal door with God on his six.

When they were out of the jail and back in God’s truck, they looked at each other for a long time. Neither one saying a word. Again, communicating without speaking. He stared into God’s brilliant green eyes. Took in the man’s strong features—his Roman nose and cupid’s-bow lips framed by just the right amount of stubble.

It looked as if God was focused solely on Day’s mouth. They knew shit was about to get real serious. They had the information and were going after the kingpin and his army. There was no doubt that he was a dangerous man, and one of them could end up getting killed.

“Have dinner with me tonight?” Day asked, his voice full of emotion.

“Yes,” God answered immediately.