The Hood of Justice by Mark Alders Page B

putting on his best haughty manner and sarcastic tone.
    Randy looked up with a casual glance, trying to remain disinterested. "I'm not answering any of your questions until my lawyer gets here, you fucking pig."
    Bruce turned to Casey. "Did you hear that, Case? He's not going to answer any of our questions." He leant forward on the table to get closer to Randy, his knuckles white from the pressure. "Suppose we didn't come in here to ask anything. Suppose we just came in here to see how you've been…buddy."
    Randy snorted the air. "You mean you've come to sexually abuse me with your partner's magical fucking cock."
    Bruce smiled. "Yeah, his cock fucks all right."
    Casey came forward, Bruce backed off. Randy seemed taken aback for a moment, his face draining white. "You're going to do that thing, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice wavering.
    Casey nodded. "Yeah."
    Randy swallowed hard. "I'm not going to let you, you fucking dirty prick."
    Bruce said, "See, here's the thing. You're not only going to let Casey dock with you, you're going to do it without fuss, too. Why, I hear you ask yourself? Well, because we've got enough to put you away for a very, very long time, that's why. The charge of shooting me enough for that. And let me tell you one thing for free, in the slammer, fags aren't so welcome as they are out here in the real world. That fuckable arse of yours will be pounded red raw twenty-four seven by all the unsavoury souls the likes of Casey and I have been putting away each night for the past year. Imagine that, pretty boy, while you sit there all high and mighty. Just imagine it."
    Randy sneered. "I should have shot you properly instead of just grazing your leg."
    Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "You can bet they'll do a proper job of you in the slammer. You have quite the reputation for being a dungeon master, don't you? I'd wager a lot of folk, the simple minded if you will, would love to show you how they torture their victims. You'd be a proper little bitch. Something you deserve, no doubt in my mind."
    Randy spat. "You don't scare me. I'm not doing nothing, not saying anything until my lawyer gets here."
    "Suit yourself. Case, do you thing."
    Randy's eyes widened. "You can't do that to me. I have my rights. I want my lawyer in here right now. I want--"
    As soon as Casey unzipped his pants, Randy shut up, that familiar shock plain to see and one all perps got when they knew they had been beat. Thank fuck. Then, seconds after that, and after he had got used to seeing a police officer whip out his cock in front of him and in their own interrogation room, too, he swallowed hard and began to talk again.
    Casey didn't hear what he said. Bruce had come around so he was behind him. The man was handcuffed, so any sort of struggle wouldn't be a problem to deal with. Not for the likes of Bruce, anyway. All that mattered now was getting on with it before anyone, including the two guards Bruce sent from the room to wait outside, raised the alarm to the Sarge that they were in there with Randy unsupervised. 
    He knew they were taking a big risk. Heck, he could even lose his job over this. But Bruce was right. If Randy squealed, then no amount of charges against him could erase that doubt in people's minds about Casey's behaviour while he was wearing his police uniform. Even if any charges were unfounded, no evidence produced, getting the stigma of sexual harassment wiped away could never happen. There would always be those who had doubts. Doubts which would always arise when it came time for promotion. Casey didn't want to stay a constable all his life. He had dreams of becoming a detective. A superintendent.  
    Bruce unzipped Randy's trousers, the noise loud and jarring. He rummaged around in his pants, grabbing his cock and holding it ready for Casey. Randy sure was magnificent.
    "Retract his foreskin," Casey said.
    Bruce obeyed, pulling him up off the chair so Casey could access him easier.
    Casey came closer, not