Liam should never have mentioned the damn police incident on AWNP, because he knows Sam filed it away in the NSFW part of his brain, and so now he’s here running lines (from Kindergarten Cop, because he is an asshole), pacing back and forth until a strong hand clamps down on his shoulder from behind.
“Sir, we’ve had a call about a person engaging in suspicious behavior in this neighborhood. Mind showing me what you’ve got there in your hand?”
“It’s just my phone,” Liam says defensively. “I’m an actor, I have an audition—”
“Sure. Sure.” The hand that runs down his arm and relieves him of his phone is familiar, but the touch is somehow impersonal. “Just step this way for a moment.”
“Really? I—” The air escapes Liam’s lungs in a whoosh as he’s pushed face down over the hood of a car. The surface is warm but not uncomfortably so; Liam notes that Sam’s draped something over it, possibly a poncho, but he doesn’t have time to examine it before he’s bent over, face pressed against warm rough fabric. “What—”
“Just a quick frisk. It’s standard procedure.”
“It was just my phone!”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not concealing any other weaponry, and it’s my job to keep this neighborhood safe.”
His sides and ass get a rudimentary pat down, although a little more lingering than any he’s experienced before. Solid hands check his ankles, his calves, his knees, and then work in between his denim-clad thighs. Then one hand is on his ass again, squeezing, and the other is overtly groping at the front of his jeans. Liam feels an embarrassed, angry flush rise to his cheeks.
‘Is—is this really necessary?”
Sam expertly strokes his cock, palm rubbing and fingers curling. “Feels necessary to me.”
“Officer, please, this isn’t appropriate—”
Sam chuckles at the honorific, but his hand does at last stop its far too intimate search. He takes a step back and Liam moves his feet, about to straighten up when he feels something close around one wrist. It’s thick padded leather rather than metal and so the thought of handcuffs doesn’t enter his head immediately. When Sam pulls the second cuff snug around his other wrist, that’s when it comes together, and Liam tries to tug his hand away.
“Just be calm, this is standard procedure,” Sam says again, clipping the cuffs together. Liam tests them with a loud rattle of the short chain, adrenaline rushing through his system. He’s trapped and at Sam’s mercy, but even in the midst of this quite different for them scene, Sam has taken care to make the cuffs comfortable and give Liam a modicum of freedom of movement.
Not that he’s terribly focused on that; the at Sam’s mercy part is foremost in his mind.
When he turns his head he can see the crisply ironed blue cotton of Sam’s shirt and the triangular emblem at one shoulder. It’s not a perfect imitation (although of the things they could be arrested for, impersonating a police officer is probably quite low on the list), but from the moment that Sam’s hand first clamped onto his shoulder, it’s been extremely sufficient. Apart from anything else, they have more than enough imagination between them to bring the scenario to life.
He tries to straighten up again now the cuffs are on, but Sam’s hand lands between his shoulderblades, pushing him back down.
“Please stay put, sir. I have to be absolutely certain you’re not a threat.”
“This is ridiculous,” Liam protests, and Sam kicks his feet apart this time, if Liam weren’t already pinned to the hood of the car he’d collapse, then Sam’s groin is pressed tight against his ass and fuck he’s hard, rolling his hips to draw a cry out of Liam that is not entirely one of protest.
“Do you want me to arrest you for obstructing an officer in the course of his duty?” Sam growls, bent over Liam’s body to say it right by his ear. “You need to cooperate, sir, or I’m going to have to make you comply.” And there’s the prod of something else long and hard against his ass, a surprise accessory.
“You’re going to beat me with a baton for running fucking lines for a fucking audition? You’re crazy.”
Sam whaps his hip with the baton just hard enough to establish that it’s not a baton but something with a little more give to it. Liam’s heart rate increases exponentially and a low moan escapes him, his hips shifting.
“Well, look at this.” Sam’s hand strokes down Liam’s spine to cup his ass. “Are you getting horny? Is that what being treated this way does to you?” Liam hears the smirk in his voice. “I guess I’ll be adding soliciting an officer to the charges.”
“What? I haven’t offered you shit!”
“Really?” Sam slides his hand between Liam’s legs, rubbing along his cleft. “You’re face down ass up over the hood of my squad car, wearing jeans that look painted on. Seems like an offering to me.”
“You put me here, you asshole!”
“That’s enough profanity,” Sam says, which nearly sets Liam off, the fussy way he says it, but then Sam’s pulling him to his feet by the cuffs. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you. Turn around.”
“Wh—”
“Turn around,” Sam repeats less patiently, yanking on the cuffs. Liam stumbles and Sam catches him; then they’re face to face and Liam can drink in the whole picture. This man is far from his smiling Sammy; with his scruffy beard and stony eyes above his uniform, this is a cop who got called to investigate what turned out to be some yahoo waving a cell phone around and decided to take advantage of the private area to have a little fun off the record.
That’s all Liam has time to think—that and how embarrassingly hot the scene has turned out to be—before Sam’s hand is on the top of his head, pushing down the way they’ve seen people be pushed down into patrol cars on every cop show, except that instead of into the backseat of the car he’s going to his knees on the pavement, masked from the world by the car, and there’s a rush of blood to his cheeks and his groin at the treatment.
Then Sam tugs his head back by the hair and with a tug of his zipper he’s guiding his cock out of his blue uniform pants and nudging the head against Liam’s shock-parted lips.
“You can’t be serious,” Liam says, attempting to keep his teeth together while he speaks and failing. He can already taste Sam on his lips and it’s hard to hold back from just opening up and taking him in.
“Shut up.” Sam pushes his thumb into Liam’s mouth. Liam nips him. Sam just shakes his head. “Open.”
“Or?”
“Or I summon an eagle to fly you to freedom, pat you on the head, and let you go. What do you think?” He glances down to where the baton is back in its holster at his hip. “There are worse things I could put in your mouth.”
Liam glares up at him, but lets his jaw relax, Sam’s thumb readily levering his mouth open. Sam moves fast; his cock is sheathed in Liam’s mouth within moments, a low filthy groan escaping him as the head pushes into Liam’s throat. Liam manages a quick deep inhale through his nose before Sam starts fucking his mouth, using him carelessly, gripping Liam’s hair.
“Fuck yeah,” Sam says with a grunt of effort, planting his other hand on the hood of the car, caging Liam in. “That’s it, don’t move, don’t you fucking move...”
It’s rough. It’s visceral. It’s incredible.
They aren’t exactly new to a little roughness, a little kink, a little PDA when they can get away with it. Throwing all the ingredients together and shaking them up has elevated this to a heady new level of desire.
Liam barely notices the slight strain on his shoulders. He’s utterly focused on the moans and curses emanating from Sam’s mouth, and the relentless reckless thrusts into his mouth. Sam could be playing this up as much as anything else, but it doesn’t feel like he is. It feels real.
“I think you were waiting for something like this,” Sam says, voice strained. “Why else would you be out here doing dumb shit, if it wasn’t for attention?”
“Hhhh,” Liam chokes out around Sam’s length.
“Any attention’s good attention for miscreants like you.”
Liam snorts saliva out of his nose and starts coughing laughter. Sam pulls out of his mouth and goes to one knee, watching Liam’s face go red until Liam can breathe again. There’s the edge of a smile on his face, but it is a sharp smile.
"Public Indecency", Sam/Liam, Explicit, 1/?
“Sir, we’ve had a call about a person engaging in suspicious behavior in this neighborhood. Mind showing me what you’ve got there in your hand?”
“It’s just my phone,” Liam says defensively. “I’m an actor, I have an audition—”
“Sure. Sure.” The hand that runs down his arm and relieves him of his phone is familiar, but the touch is somehow impersonal. “Just step this way for a moment.”
“Really? I—” The air escapes Liam’s lungs in a whoosh as he’s pushed face down over the hood of a car. The surface is warm but not uncomfortably so; Liam notes that Sam’s draped something over it, possibly a poncho, but he doesn’t have time to examine it before he’s bent over, face pressed against warm rough fabric. “What—”
“Just a quick frisk. It’s standard procedure.”
“It was just my phone!”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not concealing any other weaponry, and it’s my job to keep this neighborhood safe.”
His sides and ass get a rudimentary pat down, although a little more lingering than any he’s experienced before. Solid hands check his ankles, his calves, his knees, and then work in between his denim-clad thighs. Then one hand is on his ass again, squeezing, and the other is overtly groping at the front of his jeans. Liam feels an embarrassed, angry flush rise to his cheeks.
‘Is—is this really necessary?”
Sam expertly strokes his cock, palm rubbing and fingers curling. “Feels necessary to me.”
“Officer, please, this isn’t appropriate—”
Sam chuckles at the honorific, but his hand does at last stop its far too intimate search. He takes a step back and Liam moves his feet, about to straighten up when he feels something close around one wrist. It’s thick padded leather rather than metal and so the thought of handcuffs doesn’t enter his head immediately. When Sam pulls the second cuff snug around his other wrist, that’s when it comes together, and Liam tries to tug his hand away.
“Just be calm, this is standard procedure,” Sam says again, clipping the cuffs together. Liam tests them with a loud rattle of the short chain, adrenaline rushing through his system. He’s trapped and at Sam’s mercy, but even in the midst of this quite different for them scene, Sam has taken care to make the cuffs comfortable and give Liam a modicum of freedom of movement.
Not that he’s terribly focused on that; the at Sam’s mercy part is foremost in his mind.
When he turns his head he can see the crisply ironed blue cotton of Sam’s shirt and the triangular emblem at one shoulder. It’s not a perfect imitation (although of the things they could be arrested for, impersonating a police officer is probably quite low on the list), but from the moment that Sam’s hand first clamped onto his shoulder, it’s been extremely sufficient. Apart from anything else, they have more than enough imagination between them to bring the scenario to life.
He tries to straighten up again now the cuffs are on, but Sam’s hand lands between his shoulderblades, pushing him back down.
“Please stay put, sir. I have to be absolutely certain you’re not a threat.”
“This is ridiculous,” Liam protests, and Sam kicks his feet apart this time, if Liam weren’t already pinned to the hood of the car he’d collapse, then Sam’s groin is pressed tight against his ass and fuck he’s hard, rolling his hips to draw a cry out of Liam that is not entirely one of protest.
“Do you want me to arrest you for obstructing an officer in the course of his duty?” Sam growls, bent over Liam’s body to say it right by his ear. “You need to cooperate, sir, or I’m going to have to make you comply.” And there’s the prod of something else long and hard against his ass, a surprise accessory.
“You’re going to beat me with a baton for running fucking lines for a fucking audition? You’re crazy.”
Sam whaps his hip with the baton just hard enough to establish that it’s not a baton but something with a little more give to it. Liam’s heart rate increases exponentially and a low moan escapes him, his hips shifting.
“Well, look at this.” Sam’s hand strokes down Liam’s spine to cup his ass. “Are you getting horny? Is that what being treated this way does to you?” Liam hears the smirk in his voice. “I guess I’ll be adding soliciting an officer to the charges.”
“What? I haven’t offered you shit!”
“Really?” Sam slides his hand between Liam’s legs, rubbing along his cleft. “You’re face down ass up over the hood of my squad car, wearing jeans that look painted on. Seems like an offering to me.”
“You put me here, you asshole!”
“That’s enough profanity,” Sam says, which nearly sets Liam off, the fussy way he says it, but then Sam’s pulling him to his feet by the cuffs. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you. Turn around.”
“Wh—”
“Turn around,” Sam repeats less patiently, yanking on the cuffs. Liam stumbles and Sam catches him; then they’re face to face and Liam can drink in the whole picture. This man is far from his smiling Sammy; with his scruffy beard and stony eyes above his uniform, this is a cop who got called to investigate what turned out to be some yahoo waving a cell phone around and decided to take advantage of the private area to have a little fun off the record.
That’s all Liam has time to think—that and how embarrassingly hot the scene has turned out to be—before Sam’s hand is on the top of his head, pushing down the way they’ve seen people be pushed down into patrol cars on every cop show, except that instead of into the backseat of the car he’s going to his knees on the pavement, masked from the world by the car, and there’s a rush of blood to his cheeks and his groin at the treatment.
Then Sam tugs his head back by the hair and with a tug of his zipper he’s guiding his cock out of his blue uniform pants and nudging the head against Liam’s shock-parted lips.
“You can’t be serious,” Liam says, attempting to keep his teeth together while he speaks and failing. He can already taste Sam on his lips and it’s hard to hold back from just opening up and taking him in.
“Shut up.” Sam pushes his thumb into Liam’s mouth. Liam nips him. Sam just shakes his head. “Open.”
“Or?”
“Or I summon an eagle to fly you to freedom, pat you on the head, and let you go. What do you think?” He glances down to where the baton is back in its holster at his hip. “There are worse things I could put in your mouth.”
Liam glares up at him, but lets his jaw relax, Sam’s thumb readily levering his mouth open. Sam moves fast; his cock is sheathed in Liam’s mouth within moments, a low filthy groan escaping him as the head pushes into Liam’s throat. Liam manages a quick deep inhale through his nose before Sam starts fucking his mouth, using him carelessly, gripping Liam’s hair.
“Fuck yeah,” Sam says with a grunt of effort, planting his other hand on the hood of the car, caging Liam in. “That’s it, don’t move, don’t you fucking move...”
It’s rough. It’s visceral. It’s incredible.
They aren’t exactly new to a little roughness, a little kink, a little PDA when they can get away with it. Throwing all the ingredients together and shaking them up has elevated this to a heady new level of desire.
Liam barely notices the slight strain on his shoulders. He’s utterly focused on the moans and curses emanating from Sam’s mouth, and the relentless reckless thrusts into his mouth. Sam could be playing this up as much as anything else, but it doesn’t feel like he is. It feels real.
“I think you were waiting for something like this,” Sam says, voice strained. “Why else would you be out here doing dumb shit, if it wasn’t for attention?”
“Hhhh,” Liam chokes out around Sam’s length.
“Any attention’s good attention for miscreants like you.”
Liam snorts saliva out of his nose and starts coughing laughter. Sam pulls out of his mouth and goes to one knee, watching Liam’s face go red until Liam can breathe again. There’s the edge of a smile on his face, but it is a sharp smile.