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"Step out of the car, please," the voice commands from behind the flashlight shining directly in Mac's eyes, the cop's other hand tossing his documents back in through the cracked open window of the car Dee doesn't know he stole. "Away from the vehicle."
Mac's already a bit annoyed, he had other plans today, which the pig would know if he had any common fucking sense to ask, or to care, before pulling a guy who wasn't even doing anything. Not that they can fucking prove. To Mac he's just a guy borrowing his friend's car to visit another friend. 'Cause he's got loads of those. A friend who lives halfway out of the city. Even more of those.
"You can't be serious," Mac argues, but he's already getting out, trudging through the gravel shoulder of the road to stand in front of the old, beat up cop car they pulled him over with. This would be the point where his father either pulls a gun, resists arrest, or starts otherwise assaulting the officers, but the look of them stops Mac in his tracks.
The two cops standing in front of him are nothing like the types he's used to, either fifty-something pavement pounders looking for a pension and a good men's girdle or the buff, overcompensating for the fact they can't make their wives come with the tiny french fry between their legs. These two…are odd.
For one, the guy who spoke to him, demanded his license and registration, is not as buff as he'd expect, all lean muscle and pale skin under the matching uniform which seems about twenty years out of date, rectangular bulge of a pack of smokes in his breast pocket. He's got some shitty sunglasses on, his hair spiked with gel like he's trying to match it to the costume's era. He's clean shaven, but attractive. Mac wouldn't fuck him, because he wouldn't fuck a man to begin with, but if he had to he would probably pick a dude that looks like this guy or his partner.
His partner looks weird and out of place in his matching bright blue shirt and slacks, has a weird hat shoved haphazardly on his head like he put it on the second the first officer's back was turned, matching sunglasses on sunburn-freckled cheeks. He's shorter, but a bit more built, scruffy beard adding an air of intrigue Mac wants nothing more than to disregard. He's…cuter…than the other officer, but no more or less hot, and he saddles up with the kinda walk that tells Mac right away he has a big dick, his legs pointed just slightly out with no visible reason. He's swinging handcuffs around his finger, ratty sneakers kicking up dust.
They're not the type of officers who carry guns, Mac eyes, each instead brandishing a long baton on their hip, the sun reflecting off each of their huge, shiny silver belt buckles. Mac pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, tries to hide the fact that he's thought about this more than he'd ever admit to a cop or God or both.
"Nothing silly about the law, sweetheart," the taller cop says with a slow, heated brush of the eyes over Mac's body while Mac stares down at the ground. "Not too typical we get a whore as pretty as you out here."
His heart drops to his stomach. "'M not a whore. I'm…"
Don't say shit to cops, and definitely don't answer questions you weren't asked, son.
His father's words ring clear as a bell in his head. It's one of the rare times his father ever imparted any sort of lesson on him, and one of the only times he actually acknowledged Mac as his child.
"Probably a mule, Den," the shorter officer offers, while the taller—Den, Dennis—pulls a long, thin cigarette out of the pack. "Should search him."
Mac's heart sinks into his stomach. They're not gonna believe that he's not carrying anything, or smuggling anything, and any sudden movements will be certain to get him beat. Plus they don't just think he has a gun, they think he's a mule. Small bags and balloons, easy to hide in nooks and crannies. His only option that gets him out of this is to run, but the shorter guy looks like he has a type of endurance build, like he's scrappy but lasts a long time in a chase, and Mac hasn't done cardio since high school. So he's trapped. The only thing he can do is stand there and take it.
The lighter isn't what he's expecting, though it's probably only due to his uniform that Mac anticipates a vintage Zippo or some offshoot. Instead he brandishes a shitty gas station lighter with a naked chick on it, flips it in his hand which allows Mac to notice she's wearing a bikini on one side and her tits are out on the other.
He lights it while he speaks, cigarette jerking in and out of the flame while he asks, "A mule? This little thing?"
"Fuck you, asshole," Mac spits, but he's blushing despite himself.
"They always go for the pretty ones," the other officer explains. "More fun to shove a bag up his ass than some three hundred pound guy who's gonna shit himself when you get your fingers in there."
"What? What?! There's nothing shoved up my ass! I-I'm not a mule, I'm just fucking going somewhere!"
"Looks like we've got ourselves a liar, too, Charlie," Dennis huffs, blowing smoke in Mac's face as he steps closer. "Y'know it's a crime to lie to a police officer?"
Mac knows it isn't, one of the first things you learn as his father's son is, as long as you don't swear on shit, you can lie all you fucking want to the police. Luther has gone down for dealing, possession with intent to distribute, attempted murder, and assault and battery, but he's never been convicted for lying. Except for those couple times, but that was because he swore beforehand.
"I'm not lying—Y'know what, fuck you, man. Fine! Search me, see if I ca—"
Dennis grabs him hard by the shoulders and throws him onto his front against the hood of the cop car, blunt thudding against his ribs. Mac wails in pain, tries to heave in a breath but it's all knocked out of him at once.
Charlie rushes up to help him, wrangling Mac into a too-tight pair of cuffs, metal digging into his skin as they click shut. Mac cries out, wriggles, but of course the chain between them doesn't give. Dennis grabs it, along with the meat of Mac's upper forearm and tugs him back to standing straight, the lithe line of his body pressed against Mac's own. Before Mac can struggle, try and run away like every cell in his brain is telling him to, Charlie shoves up against his front.
"Fuck you guys," Mac huffs, but any bravery he could claim is wilting the longer he focuses on the cop's eyes, the heat of Dennis' cigarette radiating like a small, dying sun just next to his ear.
Charlie doesn't wear gloves, instead carding his fingers through Mac's hair like they're best fucking friends. He's also not very thorough, skating along his hairline and behind his ears, tracing his finger along his neck before thumbing over his nipples. Mac whines, 'cause it's been a while since he last got laid, and he's got sensitive nipples, and he's sandwiched between two hot guys in the middle of nowhere with no way of getting out. Not that he would be into that. Any aspect of that at all.
"Someone's enjoying this too much," Dennis comments, and Mac flushes with shame while Charlie's hands smooth down his sides.
"Fuck you." But he does, can't ignore the way heat surges through him and his heart races even faster.
"Way too much, I'd say," Charlie agrees, palming Mac's half-hard cock. "You do that for your dealer?"
Mac bangs his head repeatedly against Dennis' shoulder. "There is no dealer! I'm not…"
The protest dies on his tongue as Charlie starts working his belt open, shoving his shorts and his boxers down. He squeezes his eyes shut while Charlie wraps a loose hand around his dick, giving it an appreciative but overall apathetic stroke while Mac starts shaking against Dennis. Charlie creeps under his balls, rolling them in his hand like this is still about checking for drugs or whatever and not their sick control fantasy of being cops who take advantage of a young, hot guy.
"Don't think he's got anything in the front," is all Charlie mutters before he leaves, steps aside so Dennis can bend him over the hood of the car.
"What're you doing?" Mac thrashes again against the handcuffs, the light sear of the hot car along his chest and stomach. "Dude, what're you doing?"
They're on a back road, sure, but the sun hasn't even set yet, and he swears he saw a car pass by just a minute ago. Anyone could pass and see him like this, spread out like the whore he's not.
Charlie takes Dennis' place behind Mac, kicking Mac's feet as wide as they go with his jeans still pooled around his ankles, hand splayed wide on his back while he shoves his hips against Mac's ass. Mac deflates against the car, stops fighting as he grabs his ass with wide hands, leaning over him and skating his breath down his body until he finally hovers over the small of his back.
"Oh, we're gonna have fun with you," Charlie breathes, his voice rumbling, pressing a kiss to his tailbone.
Mac gasps so hard his lungs ache as Charlie licks a stripe up his hole, so sloppy saliva drips down Mac's perineum and the seam of his balls. He feels his whole body ignite nerve by nerve when Charlie starts licking him open, fucking his tongue inside him every couple strokes while his beard scratches against his skin.
"Y-You…you guys are…so fucking fired once I get back to…to your…oh, please," Mac moans, trying to muffle it against the unforgiving metal of the car. He tugs against the cuffs again, digging his nails into the meat of his palms, to no avail. His dick prods uncomfortably at the still-warm side of the car, smearing precum there.
"You're not even gonna know the words commanding officer when we're done," Dennis argues, tossing his cigarette onto the ground and shoving Mac backwards so he can shimmy between him and the car, his hard cock trapped in his pants grinding against Mac's face.
He falls forward the second Dennis settles, mouth smushed into the crease of his thigh while Charlie laps at Mac's hole like he really is trying to find drugs in there. He pulls back a fraction of an inch only to spit, and Mac croaks as his finger fucks into him alongside his tongue. He feels so deeply an emotion he cannot name, pressing against the confines of his skin until he's afraid he's going to explode. He almost wants to cry, but somehow not in a bad way, like he's a frequency of light vibrating on a higher plane, a high-pitched ringing in someone else's ears. Charlie shoves another finger alongside the first and Mac yells into the evening sky, shoving against the hand Dennis weaves into his hair.
"So loose," Charlie mutters against Mac's wet, open hole, his voice thick and rumbling against his skin. "Barely fingered him and I bet he's loose enough to take the baton up this pretty cunt."
Dennis groans with Mac. "You sure, Charlie? The baton's pretty fucking big."
"Maybe not all the way," Charlie concedes. "It's too long for that. But if he can't take the baton there's no way I'm gonna fit inside him."
Mac whines, knees nearly buckling if it weren't for Charlie catching him at the last moment, bruising grip supporting all of his weight against the car. "Please, no. You…you can't. Never…" He clenches his eyes shut. "Never…been fucked before. It…You're supposed to help me."
"We are helping you, baby," Dennis coos, and Mac wants to bite his dick off. "Sometimes civilians need…to go to prison, o-or an ambulance. Others, like you, need to get fucked."
He's crying into Dennis' leg as he shakes his head. He can hear Charlie unsheathing something from behind him, but he wants so badly for it to just be his phone, or something, that he ignores what he knows it is.
"No, I don't! I promise I've learned my lesson! I-I won't…won't smuggle anymore, or-or whatever you think I'm doing!" Mac sobs, gulping in air as the blunt head of the baton nudges against his hole. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I've learned my lesson!"
Dennis pulls him by the hair to look at him, even though all Mac wants to do is squeeze his eyes shut at the hard, unrelenting pressure of the baton sinking into him inch by inch. "And what's your lesson, Mac?"
"N-Not to…to…" He wails when Charlie pulls the baton out of him, a cold pull all along his insides that sets his whole body alight. "Fuck, fuck!"
"Your lesson…" Charlie whispers, using his body to shove the baton back in as far as it will go and hold it there, raking his hands possessively up Mac's body. "Is that you're our bitch. And we can fuck this pretty cunt as long as we want."
"What're you gonna do? Call the police?" Dennis tacks on, his voice breathless and his face flushed, barely able to tear his eyes away from Charlie.
Embarrassment and rage burn in Mac's chest in equal measure as he thrashes again against his restraints. He knows it's pointless, he knows he's too weak in the knees to do anything but lay there and take it, but God, he hates how they look at him. Like he's an object. A toy.
"Fuck you," he spits.
He screams when Charlie yanks the baton out of him, too quick and too fast and leaving a burning pit of dissatisfaction boiling in his stomach before it's quickly replaced with the blunt shock of pain as Charlie brings it hard down on his ass. Mac gasps, arching against the car and Dennis' lap while Charlie mercilessly spanks him, holding the baton by one end instead of its handle and bringing it down with his full strength over, and over, and over, a burning brand on his ass that boils under his whole body. Dennis' cock twitches against his face, and Mac watches between violent jolts from the impact as his drool spreads along the weave of the fabric. His hands grasp until Charlie comes close enough, catching his shirt in his hands and pulling him close enough by it that he pauses.
"Had enough?" Charlie asks, but all Mac can do is nod.
His whole body is shaking, and he's not cognizant enough to notice it's not from fear. His eyes slip shut as his hands unfurl from the fabric, whispering, "...Yes officer."
"Such a good girl now that your ass is all beat up," Dennis praises, petting Mac like he's a fucking dog. "Now, what's the lesson?"
"I'm…your bitch." He sniffles, keens when the head of his cock bumps against the car, a barely-there shock of pleasure. "M-My…you can fuck my cunt as long a-as you want…"
"There we go," Charlie concedes, placing his hand on the small of Mac's spine and fucking into him all at once.
Mac howls, writhes against the car while Charlie doesn't offer him the mercy of bottoming out. He was right. The baton is longer than his cock but his cock is far thicker, spreading Mac open so wide he feels like he's going to split in half. He tries to grab Charlie's shirt again but he can't, instead forced to hold his own for dear life, fingers aching as they try to take hold of something, anything.
"Condom," Mac grits out, even as his brain goes fuzzy from the thought of Charlie dripping inside of him, of this hot police officer he doesn't know marking him from the inside on a random street in the middle of nowhere.
Charlie just tuts at him, rolls his hips so good Mac almost loses his balance. "Scared we're gonna get you pregnant?"
He's distantly aware of the connection between his brain and his body, but he doesn't necessarily feel that connection at all, his body a molten core of pleasure and blurred pain as he moans again at Charlie's words: the handcuffs, the stretch of his hole around Charlie's fat cock. He wants to come so bad but he isn't stupid enough to ask them to get him off. He's a hole to them, nothing more. And he's past the point of lying to himself that he doesn't like it a little bit.
He smells Dennis' next cigarette before he can pick up his head to see it, the car wobbling with the force of Charlie's thrusts. He's so fucking full, clenching around him and the small satisfaction of Charlie's huffed string of curses as he grinds deeper inside him.
"You know, Charlie," he drawls, smoke curling up towards the stars. "You forgot to check his mouth when you were searching him earlier."
Mac groans, but Charlie isn't paying attention. "Yeah, sure, go ahead," he chokes out, sinking all the way inside of Mac and holding him there, impaled on his cock. The warm line of his body covers Mac as he leans over to bite his shoulder, hard. "Feels so good, Den. Don't…Just…Make sure you fuck him, not…just his face."
"Well, obviously I'm going to fuck him, Charlie, I'm just saying let's look in his mouth for—Oh, whatever."
He doesn't give Mac a command, and he would've most likely ignored it if he had. Instead, Dennis grabs Mac by the hair and squeezes his nose shut, letting the element of oxygen deprivation enter his body-wracking ecstasy. Charlie laughs, fucks into him so hard it forces a gasp out of Mac's mouth followed by Dennis' fingers quickly entering it. He thrashes, screams around the intrusion, but his eyes flutter shut as Charlie's cock grazes his prostate, turning him into a puddle in Dennis' lap.
"There we go," Dennis coos, ashes his cigarette carelessly on the hood of the car, and Mac wants to fucking kill him.
His fingers taste like nicotine, but at least his nails are short, sliding along his tongue to the back of his throat. Mac chokes, swallows around them, shoves himself down on them further in the hopes they can get this over with quicker. Spit drips down his chin, whimpering around Dennis' fingers as he's filled up so completely from both ends. Dennis runs the pads of his fingers along his molars, spreading them wide against the fleshy parts of Mac's cheeks before slipping them into his throat, grinning when he swallows diligently around them.
"Fuck, fuck him harder," Charlie insists. "He…clenches around me so tight when you do that."
"I'm not just fucking him, I'm searching for—fuck you." Dennis shoves his hand as far as it can go, his knuckles shoving against the line of Mac's teeth. "That what you want, whore? Want me to fuck your throat with my fingers?"
He rips them out all at once, leaving a trail of saliva down Mac's chin. His breathing is ragged, and he has to fight from falling against Dennis' front while Charlie fucks him in earnest as the cool night falls on them. He leans back so he can look Mac in the eye, calmly smoking while he waits for an answer, blowing the smoke in Mac's face.
"N-No…" Mac mumbles, gasping for breath and hoping it allows his brain the renewed ability to form sentences. Dee's taillights switch on then, bathing the three of them in a spotlight Mac hates more than anything. "W-Want you to fuck me with your cock…fuck my mouth with your cock, please."
Dennis laughs, smoke pouring from his nose and between his teeth. "And where do you want my cum, pretty girl?"
"Throat," Mac barks as Charlie starts what he can only assume is a punishment, pulling out nearly all the way before sinking back inside over and over, drowning Mac in him.
Dennis snorts before rearing his hand back and smacking Mac so hard he almost falls off of Charlie entirely. "Wrong answer."
"My hole! My hole!" He flinches as Dennis smacks him again, pushing his hips back onto Charlie's cock.
Dennis is sweeter after that one, strokes his hair without pulling it. "One more guess. That last one was close, though."
Tears roll down Mac's cheeks, sighing in defeat. "My cunt. C-Come in my cunt please."
"See, I feel like that wasn't so hard." Dennis smirks. "There might be some hope for you yet."
Mac can hardly breathe, can't get a word out before Dennis is pulling his cock out and shoving it in Mac's mouth all the way down to the hilt. Mac coughs around it, chokes, feels his mind slipping from him all too quickly, fucked out of him as Charlie and Dennis ride him like he's not capable of breaking. His cock gets no form of satisfaction where it's just rubbing against the side of the car, but he's scared he's going to come anyway. He can feel it building, heat spinning frantic in his gut as he's turned out in the open air.
"Just a little bit, now," Dennis says, fucking dirty into his throat. "Think our boy Charlie is about to come."
"Fuck you, Dennis," Charlie huffs, but Mac can tell it's true. His thrusts become erratic, desperate, his breath wet against his neck. "Not my fault he feels so good."
"Charlie…" Mac moans, sighing out in relief when Charlie grabs the chain to the cuffs and lets Mac grab his wrist, digging his nails into the hammering veins there.
"Shit!" Charlie hisses as he comes, the rush of his cum marking him filling him. He can feel Charlie gasping through his orgasm, the rise of his chest meeting Mac's back, until cum drips from him and into the dirt and Charlie is finally still.
Dennis rolls his eyes. "Finally."
He's not gentle when he pushes Mac off the car and face-first into the dirt, gravel kicked up in his mouth and nose. He hears Charlie collapse against the side of the car and Dennis jumping down from it before he takes his place behind Mac again.
"You're such a dick," Mac mutters, a dot of blood blooming on his lip. Still, he pushes his hips up, groans when Dennis starts fucking him in quick, rapid thrusts. "You're not gonna last either."
He buries his face in the dirt when Dennis smacks his ass, and he can already feel it bruising from the baton. He grips Mac's hips hard in both hands, dragging him down on his cock as he relentlessly pounds into him.
"Fuck, your cunt is so sloppy with it. With Charlie's cum. You want another?"
"Yes! Yes, please, please, please," Mac fucks back onto his cock, eyes closed so tight and so laser focused on it that he doesn't even notice Charlie crawling in front of him. "Please come in me, in my cunt, need it, both of you, please."
Charlie scoops up Mac's head in both his hands, pushing him up with all of his weight until he's sandwiched between them again, falling bodily forward onto Charlie while Dennis fucks into him faster and harder.
"Please," he begs, a new wave of tears springing from his eyes as Charlie wraps his hand around his cock. He sobs, falling further into his arms while Charlie jerks him off, his tight fist a blessing after so long of this.
"There you go, baby," Charlie assures, and it's always him who goes soft at the end. "Gonna come for us?"
Mac nods, fucking into Charlie's hand in time with Dennis fucking into him. The road is empty, has been since they stopped him, and so all he can hear is his own moaning, his rampant breathing, and the smacking of Dennis' skin against his own. Dennis, panting harshly in his ear, holding back his whimpers because he thinks he's not supposed to make them when he tops.
"G'n come," Mac cries, hiccuping before he's spilling over Charlie' hand. He bites hard down on Charlie's shoulder when Dennis groans, feels the second load of cum claim him as deep as possible.
For a few seconds, they just all kneel there breathing. Dennis presses in deeper so he can get closer to the both of them, mouth at Mac's neck while he reaches down and releases him from the cuffs. He leans further back until they're touching without the barrier his arms presented, can't give a shit about Dennis softening inside him because he needs him to be there, wrapping his arms tight around Charlie's middle in front of him.
"Not driving home," Mac says, feeling fragile and like he's floated somewhere dark, but warm, like a bath he's fallen asleep in. "I'll pass out."
"I can do it," Dennis offers, one of his rare moments of shining kindness which usually come after moments like this. "Dee'll bitch if she knows you stole it, plus it rides like a fucking nightmare and your ass is gonna feel today for a while."
Dennis goes, but they haven't even got Mac to his feet before the sputtering of the engine roars around them, drowning out any ambient noise of the night. Silence, then sputtering again, then silence.
Dennis' head pops out of the cracked door. "Battery's dead!"