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The bottom of his leather seats is pressed into my back as his body rests over mine. His tongue is in my mouth, exchanging the lingering taste of the cigarettes we smoked together not even ten minutes ago, while his thigh presses between my legs. We're parked behind a restaurant like a couple of teenagers fooling around after their curfew. It's a Monday, barely anyone is there, much less anyone who would bother to see what we're doing in Mr. White's car. Fortunate, since it wouldn't do us any good to have anyone like this, two queers touching each other while we're supposed to be casing a jewelry store.
My body moves against his thigh, seeking friction. It's a loop in my mind, wanting just a little more, just a little more, just a little more. Everything I do with Mr. White, I always want a little more. I take everything I can get with him, knowing that our clock is running out. We're going to rob the place. The cops are going to swarm in. White will go to prison, and I will be lauded as a hero that busted a diamond heist. And he'll know it's my fault.
I'm selfish. I know that. I want it both ways. I can't let this robbery go ahead. But I want to be in this moment forever, kissing the man I've come to love.
I pull back, gasping for air as I look up at his weathered face. We aren't allowed to know much about each other, but I would guess he's old enough to be my father. There's so much I want to know about him. Has he done work that has nothing to do with this life? What kind of house does he live in? What's his name? What is someone like him doing with someone like me?
I won't get to know any of this until he's locked up. It will be too late for me to enjoy any of it.
"What would you do to me if you found out I was a cop?" The question leaves my mouth before I can stop it. I already know how stupid it is to ask. He looks down at me, his eyes tracing my face. They remind me of oak wood, and I find a stupid, stupid part of my brain begging me never to look away from them, to burn them into my own vision.
"I wouldn't be stupid enough to fuck a cop in my car, kid." The response feels like an icey needle in my heart. I know what I am. He won't until it's too late. I want to pull him in, tell him he isn't stupid, I'm just a liar, disgusting for lying to someone who would let me in like this.
"That's not what I asked, I wanna know what you're gonna do if there's a rat. We don't know these guys." I give a quick excuse, thinking he might brush me off with a threat and kiss me again. I'm used to stories of what he'll do to a manager that mouths off, or a customer that tries to take his weapon. He'll tell me about how he'd shoot me in the gut and leave me to die, and I'll laugh like it's funny, and then maybe I'll talk him into taking off his pants.
That isn't what happens.
He grabs my neck hard enough that I swear I see stars. I grab at him, trying to make him stop, but he's dragging me out of the car. The trunk opens, and I'm thrown in. A million thoughts are going through my head. I'm going to die. I'm going to die because I was stupid and asked a criminal the wrong question, and he's going to kill me, and I should never have loved him-
"I'd toss you in the trunk like this." He says before he slams it shut. It begins moving. I don't know how long it is before it opens by a warehouse. The same place we're supposed to meet once the job is done.
He drags me inside, a hand over my mouth. "I'd tie you up." He shoves me against a pole, bringing my hands behind my back. Cuffs are put on my wrists, similar to the ones that will throw him into jail soon. He takes out a knife, and I think this is it, he's going to kill me. He brings it closer, and I screw my eyes shut. I can hear fabric tear, feel it fall away, but there is no pain. I only dare open my eyes when I realize he's stripped me naked.
"I owe you a new suit." He breaks character from only a moment, but it's enough. I'm not going to die here. I let my body relax, but it's only a moment later that he grabs me by the hair and shoves my head into the pole. The pain is immediate, tears welling in my eyes as he continues his explanation. "You would beg for your life."
I don't react for a moment until my head meets the metal again. I understand now, and I begin babbling out pleas for mercy. "Please, please don't kill me, oh god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" In a way, it helps to scream it out. I hope he just thinks I'm a good actor.
A familiar sense of genuine fear ignites inside of me when he shoves the barrel of a pistol in my mouth. The steel scrapes against my teeth as I stare up at him, wondering just how pathetic I look. My eyes still haven't dried. He takes a moment to admire the view before he speaks again. "Suck it if you don't want me to paint the floor red." I don't think he's serious, but I don't want to find out. So I suck the gun. The end of it isn't very long, maybe an inch or two at most, but the shape doesn't feel right in my mouth, and I find my thoughts drifting to what would happen if he accidentally pulled the trigger, sending my jaw flying and forcing blood to gush out of my throat.
It's dangerous, it's stupid, it's terrifying, and it makes blood rush to my cock.
I moan against the barrel, spit dripping from my lips. White's other hand comes to my chin, tilting my head up for a better angle. We stay like this for another 30 seconds or so before he pulls the pistol from my mouth. I don't hesitate this time before I beg. "I won't tell them anything, I swear, I'll do whatever you want.."
He removes the cuffs, forcing me to turn to face the pole. He handcuffs me again to prevent me from leaving. There's nowhere I would rather be, of course, but I wouldn't ask for their removal.
He traces the side of the gun across my inner thighs, making me shiver. "You put me in a hard spot. I'm supposed to kill any rat I find, you know that." My mouth feels dry as he keeps speaking. "I really liked you, kid. You need to pay for that trust." The gun pulls away, and I don't have time to guess his next move before his knife is to my throat while the rest of him presses against my back. I gasp softly.
"Stay still, kid."
He slides his cock inside me (I don't know exactly when he slid his pants off), and I almost cum right then and there. His arm presses against my chest, forcing me still as he fucks me. He's careful, perfect as he always is. He knows exactly how much pressure would break the skin in my neck, how little force would cut a vein. We both know how much real danger I'm in. I prefer it that way.
He moves faster and holds me tighter, and I almost feel like I know what enough feels like, as if a hole in me is finally being filled, and there's more, more, cold steel warming against my flesh, his dick inside me, my own twitching between my thighs, and the longer it goes on, the more strangely painful it becomes, and something has to give.
"Dirty fucking cop, it's like you wanted to get caught."
I let go, my legs shaking, my body tensing as my cum drips down my upper legs. It seems to feel better for him this way, his hips stuttering behind me. He shoves his cock into me as hard as he can and as deep as it will go as I feel him cum inside me. The sudden push hurts, and I yelp.
We stay there for a couple of seconds, catching our breath before he slides himself out and takes the knife from my throat. I collapse onto the ground, barely registering the cuffs being removed and him gathering me into his arms.
"You're okay, kid, let's get you up.."
He takes me back to the car, the most comfortable place he can really take me right now. He lays me on the backseat, running his hand through my hair. "Was I too rough on you?"
I find myself laughing. "Hey, you'd be rough on a cop.." And maybe I like him that way.
"Well, you're not one, I don't need to be as rough on you." Oh, White. If only he knew.
I wordlessly pull him onto the backseat with me, the door closing behind him. He kisses the spot he pressed the knife into, and I hold him close, soaking up a little more of Mr. White.