LAPD cop Mickey Stanton knew the minute the new guy, Jeff Chandler, a transfer from Seattle PD ended up in his division, he was crazy about him. Ending up in the same patrol car working as partners, Mickey couldn’t believe his luck when one late evening at the end of shift, they revealed to each other their sexual preference. From that moment, the two of them began a fiercely wild love affair which included risqué sex on duty.
As the exhaustion and stress of the job compete with their volatile relationship, Mick and Jeff struggle to keep what they have alive as the battles between them are as passionate as the sexual bouts. Can the two big cats, the sworn officers of LAPD make it happen? Or will the job and the anger separate these top men? Sometimes the answer is sitting in a patrol car by your side.
"Ah! Mickey! Not here, you maniac!"
"Shut up and come." Mickey Stanton knelt down in the middle of a living room that was not either of theirs. Unbuckling Jeff's utility belt; the radio, the cuffs, mace, keys, flashlight, and his Glock and extra magazine clips, hung heavily from the leather holders clipping it to Jeff's pant's belt. He flipped Jeff's hard cock from his briefs and wrapped his lips around it.
"Oh, God!" Jeff panted in heaving gasps.
He loved it! Mickey got off on him and Jeff doing wild things on calls. It was such a rush. There they were, in the middle of checking an open premise for a residential burglary alarm in West LA, having oral sex. It just didn't get any better than that.
The scent of Jeff's body, his dark pubic hair brushing his face as Mickey drew him in deep, he felt Jeff on the verge, his cock going rigid and his hands. Mickey reached out to grip Jeff's dark blue uniform shirt.
He wanted to release his own cock and jack off, but he didn't think the residents would like finding spunk on their plush white rug.
"Ah! Oh, Christ!"
Mickey groaned in pleasure as Jeff's cum filled his mouth.
"Ah…Mickey…dispatch is calling…"
"My mouth is occupied." Mickey lapped at the head of Jeff's cock.
After an audible nervous swallow, Jeff keyed his shoulder mike. "Eight-Adam-One."
"Checking your status on the open premise."
Mickey laughed wickedly.
"Under control, Eight-Adam-One," the dispatcher acknow¬ledged.
Sitting back, he looked up at Jeff's gorgeous face. "You sounded like you just came."
"Shut up." Jeff stuffed his soft cock into his pants and hoisted the heavy gun belt back to his hips. "You are insane."
"Don't you love it?" Mickey stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Two cops sucking dick in the middle of a residential alarm? It's so fucking hot."
"Jesus, Mick…" Jeff double checked his zipper and caught his breath. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Suck mine on the next one." He winked, walking out of the living room.
After securing the home, Mickey dropped into the passenger's seat of their patrol car and began writing up a ticket for a false alarm.
Jeff collapsed next to him behind the wheel, resting his head against headrest and the Plexiglas divider that separated the backseat from the front. "I can't believe we got paired up together. What fucking luck, Mick."
"Yes, Officer Chandler, we are fucking lucky." Mickey finished writing the citation and tore off one copy. "Be right back." He hopped out, stuffed the paperwork into the mailbox and returned to the car.
"Lunch?" Jeff waited for him to get buckled in and cram his citation book back into the full nylon briefcase at his feet.
"Just had mine," Mickey replied, licking his lips and giving Jeff a sensuous grin.
"Was it enough to hold you all afternoon?" Jeff put the car in drive and began cruising down the street.
"No. I'll want seconds. Sloppy seconds."
"Shut up." Jeff laughed and slapped Mickey in the chest, hitting his Kevlar vest.
"Christ, I love doing that." Mickey squirmed in the seat.
"Make a decision, Mick. Clear the call and ask for lunch, or just clear the call. We can't milk it much longer."
"I want to milk you." He grabbed Jeff's crotch.
"You already did! Sheesh! Sucked me like a Hoover." Jeff grinned at him. "Clear the damn call."
Mickey picked up the mike. "Eight-Adam-One."
"Clear. Code One-Two."
"Eight-Adam-One, clear Code One-Two."
Mickey hung up the mike and stretched his legs as much as he could in the tight space. "What are you hungry for?"
"My cock up your butt."
Mickey broke up with laughter. "And you say I'm bad!"
Jeff pulled into the parking lot of their usual Mexican restaurant.
"You realize that's the one thing we haven't done on duty yet." Mickey unhooked his seatbelt as Jeff parked.
"On duty? Come on, Mick. It isn't possible." Jeff picked up the mike and asked the dispatcher for a lunch break. She gave them one.
They exited the car and walked together to the entrance.
"I'm not so sure about that," Mickey said. "I bet on the next alarm we could do it. You sitting on my lap. What do ya say?"
"I say you're nuts."
"I've got a rubber and a small packet of lube in my pocket."
"You've got your brains and a horny dick in your pocket." Jeff opened the restaurant door, allowing Mickey to enter first.
"I will nail your ass on duty," Mickey whispered out of the side of his mouth.
"I doubt that's gonna happen, babe. Too risky." Jeff straightened his expression for the woman who waited for them to approach.
"Hello, boys," the hostess greeted them. "Busy day?"
"Not too bad so far." Jeff smiled at her.
"Got a table up front by the window. I know you guys prefer it."
"Thanks, Conchita." Jeff winked.
Once they sat down she asked, "The usual, or would you like to look at menus?"
Mickey licked his lips wickedly at Jeff. "I know what I want."
"So do I." Jeff chided Mickey with an imploring look and said to Conchita, "The usual, please."
"Coming right up."
Mickey adjusted the volume on his radio so he could hear it but wasn't loud enough to annoy anyone else. "What are we doing tonight?"
Jeff waited as Conchita set down two glasses of water for them. After he thanked her, Jeff sipped his. "What do you want to do?"
"Fuck each other in uniform."
Choking on his water, Jeff cleared his throat. "Don't you get sick of always being in this thing?" Jeff tugged on his shirt.
"Not when my dick is up your ass."
Once he took a look around the area, Jeff leaned over the table. "You're lucky you're so fucking good looking, Stanton, because you're fucking high maintenance."
"Moi?" Mickey pressed his fingers against his chest. "That's crap. I'm so easy to please."
"Yeah, when we do it in risqué places." Jeff took another paranoid glance around.
"Hey, this," Mickey tugged at his own uniform shirt, "is just my stinkin' job, not my whole life."
"Then why do you want us to screw wearing it?"
"'Cause it's hot. I've had a cop fetish since I was ten."
"Yeah, huh?" Jeff finished his water.
"Yeah. Always played cops and robbers and wanted the cops to punish me, handcuff me, and beat a confession out of me. Mm."
"Shh. Food's here." Jeff pointed as Conchita brought over their meals.
"Here you go, men."
"Thank you. You're a doll for getting it out so fast." Jeff smiled at her.
"I love the food here." Mickey began devouring his enchiladas.
"And they love us. I hate wondering if someone has spit in my food." Jeff took a big bite of his taco.
"No secret sauce here." Mickey dabbed his lip with a napkin. "We should ingratiate ourselves with our local fire department."
"You mean the two hunks?" Jeff smiled.
"I mean the two hunks." Mickey continued to stuff his face in case an emergency call came across the radio and they had to drop their food and run. "You know they cook dinner and lunch at the fire station. We could happen to stop by at meal time."
"Why don't we just go out with them socially?"
"Yeah?" Mickey sipped his water.
Conchita brought a pitcher and refilled both their glasses.
"You're wonderful," Mickey acknowledged her.
"You're making me blush." She winked and walked to the next table.
"If I was straight, I'd do her." Jeff looked over his shoulder.
"Anyway…" Mickey rolled his eyes. "You want to see Hunter and Blake socially?"
"I wouldn't mind. But other than a few chance meetings on the job, do we really know them?"
Mickey was down to his last bites quickly. "We could get to know them better."
Jeff paused to listen to a call broadcast over radio. He resumed eating calmly, looking up at Mickey.
"You're hot for Hunter," Mickey hissed.
"I am not," Jeff replied, shaking his head.
"No? Why not? Big beefy fireman?"
"I never know what you want me to say?" Jeff pushed his empty plate aside and took out his wallet.
"I keep you on your toes, Officer Chandler."
"That's an understatement." Jeff counted out some singles for a tip.
"We got five minutes. Sit." Mickey slouched, moving his legs to lean against Jeff's under the table.
Jeff mirrored his posture, sitting low in the chair. "I'm fucking wiped. I'm not so sure about this three/twelve bullshit."
"Want to go on four/tens?"
"Can we just do that?"
"You don't like the extra days off?" Mickey drank more water.
"I do, but twelve hours is an eternity." Jeff watched two men pass, staring at them warily.
"Talk to the sarge."
"Would we still work together?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
Jeff straightened his back and leaned over the table. "I love working with you, Mickey. You're so much fun."
Mickey met Jeff over the table, nose to nose. "Likewise."
At their seductive pose, Jeff appeared paranoid and moved back. "Let's hit the road."
After they paid the check and were once again in their black and white patrol car, Jeff cleared their lunch break and headed to their district to cruise the streets. Mickey rested his hand on Jeff's broad thigh, rubbing it affectionately.
"Want to head to Venice Beach and check out the eye candy?" Jeff asked.
"Is anything holding?" Mickey turned to the computer screen that was bolted to the dash between them and typed in some codes to get his information. "Since July fourth, it's really calmed down."
"Yeah, that usually means something huge is going to happen."
"Shut up. I'm not in the mood for a big shooting." Mickey tapped at the keys. "Nothing in our district."
"Eye candy it is."
Mickey returned his hand to Jeff's leg. "I feel like I've known you for longer than three months, Jeff."
Jeff peeked over at him as he drove. "Are you going anywhere with this?"
"Well, yeah." Mickey laughed softly.
"You want us to move in together."
Rubbing Jeff's thigh, he replied, "Smart cop."
"Are you ready to be exclusive? Or just sick of living with your sister?" Jeff parked the patrol car with a good view of the beach and paved path. He kept the motor running with the air conditioning going as nearly nude men and women walked, jogged, or skated by.
Mickey noticed Jeff's attention resting on a very buff stud who was giving him the eye through the windshield. "This isn't about Aura. It's about us. I'm ready, but obviously you're not."
"I don't know. I just moved here from Seattle, Mick. I feel like I haven't had a chance to explore."
Mickey took back his hand and rested it on his own lap.
Jeff looked at him. "Mick, don't go all pouty on me."
"I guess we haven't talked about it, you know, how we feel about each other."
Laughing, Jeff said, "No. It's been pure sex and very little else between us so far."
Mickey paused as the dispatcher announced a new stolen vehicle, information only. "I want to talk to you more. But you fuck me senseless, then go to sleep."
"Twelve hours is a long day, babe." Jeff's eyes wandered out the window again.
"Well, I suppose at least I know where I stand." He crossed his arms over his chest. Angry, very angry.
Jeff tried to adjust his vest in the confines of the tight seat, pushing it up off his hip. "Mickey, please don't make it an issue between us. We love working together, don't we?"
Suddenly he felt like telling Jeff to fuck off, but didn't answer, instead staring out at the ocean waves.
"Why do you have to see other men?" Mickey growled a little more defensively than he'd intended.
"Hang on." Jeff held up his hand. He picked up the mike and responded to their call sign. "Eight-Adam-One."
"A report of shots fired in the area of Hancock Park."
"Roger, Code One." Jeff hung up the mike and put his seatbelt back on.
Mickey rubbed his jaw as they left the beach area. "This isn't an end to the topic."
"I didn't think it would be." Jeff checked the time on his watch.
Mickey thought they had something special. He'd already dated around. There was no Mr. Wonderful or Perfect out there. Jeff Chandler, with his tightly packed body, thick brown hair, and sea green eyes, was his Mr. Wonderful. It hurt to find out he wasn't Jeff's.
As they approached the park, Jeff opened the window of his cruiser, listening. "Who's the complainant?"
"Who fucking cares?"
"Mickey," Jeff admonished. "This is why I hate talking."
Mickey read the call off the monitor. "Anonymous."
"Just an area check then." Jeff slowed to a crawl, looking into the park.
For the last few hours of their shift, Mickey tried not to be upset, but it didn't work.