The Hood of Justice (2 page)

For a moment the man was taken aback. "Don't ya mean, put my
hands
on the wall?"

"Nope. Put your back on the wall. Do it or I will cuff you and make you do it."

The man snarled, "You got nothin' on me."

"I've got suspicion, that's all I need."

"Don't you have to read me my rights or somethin'?"

Casey stepped closer.

The man's back hit the wall with such force he let out a breath. "Fuck."

Casey licked his lips, before adding, "I'll read you your rights when you give me some information. Nothing wrong with me asking, is there?"

"I ain't tellin' you nothin', pig. You cops are all bent."

Casey holstered his gun. Seconds later, he reached down to unzip his trousers, to free his erection from its cloth prison. He smiled at the man when the cold air struck his erection. The moonlight had bathed his cock in a lovely glow, his long, loose hanging foreskin glistened with pre-cum to reflect his excitement. The light sure did show off his cock in all its glory, set a perfect mood for what he was about to do.

His foreskin tingled even more. Casey never retracted. He was going to need his beautiful foreskin in more ways than one in a few moments, anyway. "You can say that again."

"What the fuck are you doin'?" The man's eyes were wide, but Casey couldn't help but notice he had glanced down many times. There was an interest there. Interesting.

Then, without warning, and while the man was still in a state of shock, pinned to the wall from both surprise and disbelief, Casey reached over and grabbed his pants. With all his might he pulled down so the man's trousers were at his knees. Seemed the man didn't burden himself with underwear. Seemed the man was excited, too. His cock sprung up, all hard and magnificent, sprouting from a thick bush of red pubic hair. "Now, in a few moments I am going to ask you some questions."

"This…is…" The man blinked. "I'm going to report…you. You're…fucked."

"What are you going to report me for, making love?" Casey got into position, one where he could whisper into the man's ear, get close to him so he could use his foreskin to full advantage. An advantage he planned to make full use of. After all, docking with a hot guy to get information out of him, what was wrong with that? Sure, it was against all police procedure, not exactly covered in the academy in any class, but what the force didn't know, wouldn't hurt them. Right? So long as Casey got his man, that's all the Sarge cared about. He was honest. He was loyal. The force needed him.

Besides, how would he explain to anyone he had a magical foreskin? They'd laugh him out of the office if he even breathed a word about such a thing. The force had only just accepted gays. A gay with a superpower might be too much of a leap for any straight laced internal board of inquiry to comprehend, let alone understand. 

The man groaned and then nodded, seemingly relaxed and malleable to whatever Casey needed from him. The reason he didn't resist, couldn't resist in fact, was because Casey had touched the man's cock with his foreskin. He groaned some more. The man's voice, like a delicious aphrodisiac, spurred Casey on into an even more wonderful bliss. His cock, solid as a rock, oozed pre cum so that it dribbled from his slit like spider silk soaked in morning dew. Such a reaction from any man was always the first effect his foreskin had when he touched their genitals. He also noted, the man's foreskin had retracted a while ago, nowhere near as long and beautiful as Casey's, but still, he was a fine specimen. Damn fine. If circumstances were different, he would rumble between the sheets with this red head without any encouragement at all. He was attractive, no doubt about it.

With deft movement and a smile which couldn't be erased, Casey rolled his foreskin over the young man's exposed head. A head which so happened to be wonderfully moist, too. The man's pre cum helped matters. The experience was so sensuous, so intimate and one he couldn't believe more men didn't want to share with each other. Casey
loved
the feel he got from docking. Even the uptight Sarge could benefit from a good cock dock, he'd wager.

The man groaned deeper.

When he had pushed his foreskin so that it completely covered the man's bulging head, over his coronal ridge and held into place a little better, Casey asked with a whisper, "What were you doing here, my man?" The red head had the look all guys got when Casey docked with them. Sheer and absolute stunned silence, writhing in ecstasy, gasping, moaning, as hard as hell themselves, until they were asked a question. When a question was asked, a flood of information would follow. This man was no different.

Casey knew his name, where he lived and the reason for prowling the homeless, all with a matter of minutes and before he ejaculated from the manual stimulation required to keep the docking connection viable.

Soon, Casey felt himself shudder, too, letting out a relieved sigh. His balls tightened and a wonderful sensation swept through him, sending shivers up his spin and making his stomach tremble. He had cum. So had Jason.

His foreskin no longer tingled, either.

Now was the time to break the docking and digest the information which had spewed freely from the man's lips. Carefully, he rolled his foreskin off his cock, their ejaculate lubricating his action. A long, thick dribble of cum found its way to the cold ground. His job was done. Casey had got the information he required.

Seemed the man, one Jason P. Caruthers of Meadow Heights, age nineteen, high school dropout, was indeed offering incentives to the transient folk for services they would soon become involved with. Turned out, Jason was a runner, a leg man for someone higher up in the tree, not a shark at all. He was working for a fellow named Randy Piper.

"Put your dick away," Casey ordered, hearing footsteps on gravel in the distance.

Jason blinked, doing as he commanded automatically. "Sure," he said, his gaze still distant, obviously feeling the effects of both his orgasm and the residue of power which emanated and imbued from Casey's foreskin.

When Casey had licked his fingers clean and stuffed his own cock back into his pants, he smiled, patting Jason on his shoulder. "You okay there, mate. Look like you've seen a ghost."

Again, Jason blinked. "Yeah. I'm a bit lost, I have to admit. Glad you're here. Perhaps you can tell me how to get back to Meadow Heights. I'm late home and Mamma's gonna kill me."

Casey knew the man had no recollection of what happened. None of those he docked with ever remembered. Which was a good thing, to tell the truth. It was also another reason why the Sarge should never know, and why it wasn't worth telling him or anyone else about the sort of tactic he employed to get answers out of perps. The perp never remembered. A perfect situation as far as Casey was concerned. He got to feel up any guy he wished while performing his duty, too. Talk about a win-win situation. 

"What you got there, Casey?" Bruce called out.

"Just some small fry." Disappointment soaked Casey's words. One day he would get closer to this Randy Piper. One day.

"Well, has he done anything wrong?"

Casey shook his head. "Nope. Other than get a little lost and attempt to get some tramps to be
Serfs
for our friend Randy Piper."

"Ah, yes. The big fish Randy." Bruce was now within sight, the moonlight making even his rough exterior look serene. "Did this one tell you anything? He looks a little confused to say the least."

"He gave me an address where he was to send any potential
Serfs
for a Western Union scam which they're planning to hit the local post offices with."

Bruce nodded. "Seems Randy can't keep away from his favourite game of money laundering. Interesting he should use that method this time, usually the Nigerian's like to scam folks that way with all that get rich shit."

Casey sucked in the air. "Never thought of that. You reckon Randy might be getting too big for his boots, muscling in everyone else's turf?"

"Who knows?" Bruce glanced at Jason. "So what you want to do with him?"

Casey smiled. "He's served his purpose. We know where he lives now, anyway. If we need him for any more questioning, I can interrogate him some more."

"Cool. You always seem to get guys to talk. How you do it is beyond me. In all my years, I've never seen a cop extract information as quick as you from anyone, even those who are willing."

"My boyish good looks, I suppose." Casey tilted his head toward the patrol car, the signal for Jason to know he could have a lift home if he needed one.

Bruce let out a laugh. "If you say so." All three men proceeded toward the car. "My Maria says you're as cute as a button. I can't say 'cause I only stick my dick into women, but if she says so then it must be so."

"Well, if you ever get sick of pussy, you can stick your dick into my tight man hole, no worries, buddy."

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks. "Great, I must be getting older. No way would some hot chick ever say that to me these days."

"I would hope not. Chicks don't have man holes."

"Shut the hell up, will ya." But Bruce's words were joyous, taking Casey's words with the light-hearted intention they were given. Casey liked how Bruce wasn't in the least bit offended or concerned by him being gay. They made a good team and had been together since he had graduated. He couldn't imagine working with anyone else.

"Sure thing, Bruce. Sure thing."

Chapter Two

Bruce pulled the patrol car up to the curb in front of the soup kitchen Jason had told them about after they had taken him home. The truth be told, if the guy had a job, took better care of himself instead of falling prey to the underworld, Casey would have asked him out on a date. If he thought the guy was adorable in moonlight, when he got him to the lights of his home he was even more stunning. Damn cute fuckable arse, too. Not too much of a bubble butt, but not an extension of his back, either. Just enough flesh to grab hold of and admire. Casey wouldn't need his nicotine inhaler tonight, thinking of Jason's plump lips around his cock would keep him occupied, that's for sure. He only started smoking when Braden left him, then gave it up a few weeks later, determined not to ruin his own health over some cheating arsehole. Trouble was, he got used to doing something with his hands. Nights get lonely and drinking wasn't a good idea when he was on call.

The local guy at the chemist, some beautiful looking twink with coal black hair and a smile which Casey found irresistible and alluring all at once, suggested he try an inhaler. The device would give him a rush and occupy his hands, he had said, eyes glistening, lips moist, nose wrinkled. Casey's thoughts wandered to what he would do to the assistant with a lot more than his hands, no doubt about that. He'd massage every part of him with his throbbing cock for a start.

Still, the guy, his name was Jayden, could have suggested he insert a bomb up his arse and Casey would have bought ten of them for good measure. He was that fucking good looking. Casey also noted he had a girlfriend. She hung around near closing time, looking all done up like a cheap hooker, all dark eyeliner and white foundation, a smile on her lips which told the world she was sucking Jayden dry at any given chance. The lucky bitch. Casey could imagine the delicious foreskin on him, all lickable and worship worthy, a wondrous doorway to the delights underneath when retracted. Why was it the stunners were always straight? What a waste.   

Casey was brought back to the moment when Bruce nudged him, nodding for him to get out of the car. He had a semi thinking about Jayden…and Jason. The place they came to investigate was run by the local Salvation Army, a foodbank which opened its doors before the sun rose to feed the hundreds of homeless in the area. The line was already long. Many transient folk waited as patiently as they could, considering they all knew the food the kitchen had only lasted so long.

"Poor bastards," Bruce whispered under his breath.  

Casey understood the lead Jason gave may or may not prove worthy of their attention tonight. They may not even be here. And even if they were, if one of the sharks caught wind the cops were about, they'd be long gone. Still, it was worth the chance. Worth anything if they could get a glimpse of Randy Piper or one of his henchmen.

At the door, still locked because opening wasn't for a few minutes, Bruce banged with enough determination to let whoever was inside know he meant business. He also bellowed in his deepest voice that it was the police and they should open up. The way Bruce spoke when he was all commanding would make Casey open up his legs for him, no worries, flat on his back and underwear thrown off without a care within a heartbeat. Bruce had that kind of voice. Sure, announcing they were present probably wasn't the best idea, but without a warrant for entry, they had no choice. They had to follow procedure. Follow established protocols.

The door creaked open. A disinterested man, balding and looking flustered with flushed cheeks, and with a kitchen apron on, acknowledged their presence with a nod. "What's up?"

Bruce cleared his throat. The crowd of tramps behind them began to murmur. "May we come in and have a chat with you for a minute?"

The man glanced beyond Bruce. "Better make it quick. We open soon and the horde of the hungry don't like to wait. In fact, they don't like coming here and wouldn't if they didn't get their daily hand out."

The door was opened wider and Bruce and Casey went inside the soup kitchen. Bruce didn't waste any time with his questions. "Have you noticed a reduction in numbers lately?"

The man shook his head. "No, not really. I serve then their food until I run out. I turn away the rest. That's my day."

Casey decided to take a different tack to the impromptu interrogation. "Have you seen anyone hanging around who doesn't belong, you know, fancy clothes, well kept, that sort of thing?"

The man scratched his chin. "Come to think of it, there is this one guy. They all call him something weird--well, those who know him, I imagine. He doesn't wear fancy stuff as you put it, but I know he does like to smell nice. He must splash himself with that men's cologne that's popular at the moment. Yeah, that's it, he stinks. Way out of sorts for a place like this."