Cliches: undercover as a prostitute! Satanists! flavoured condoms! Plot-what-plot!
Ray shifted on his stiletto heels and tried to scratch under his arm unobtrusively. The fishnet tank top was made from some scratchy synthetic fibre that he didn't find seductive at all. The more he slunk about the block, trying to look like a successful middle-aged prostitute, the more his nipples chafed.
He hoped like hell that the Satanic ritual torturers made their move tonight. He really didn't need any more awkward transactions.
"How much?" a deep — and deeply amused — voice said from right behind him. Ray jumped about three inches off the ground, which wasn't far considering what was already being done to his feet. His arches would never be the same.
"More than you can afford," he told his partner, limping towards the alley where he carried out all his skanky police business.
Ben pushed him back behind the dumpster so they were out of sight. Ray was already undoing the placket of Ben's trousers. Ben sucked at undercover: his shirt was neatly ironed and starched and he refused to wear the worn jeans that Ray insisted better fit the image of a john (No, Ray he said, those are for yardwork and Ray was sorely tempted to add Silly Rabbit).
Ray dropped to his knees and took out one of the condoms in Ben's right pocket. This was the only part of this rotten undercover assignment that he liked, the versimilitude part. He rolled the condom on with his mouth. He liked these mint ones better than the fruit-flavoured. Call him old fashioned, but he thought a dick should not taste like pina colada.
"You were being followed," Ben said, and Ray's tight leather shorts were suddenly tighter. He had a bad, bad kink for Ben chatting conversationally through sex. Ben never even got breathless, what was the deal with that? "We called in the license plates, and the Duck Boys got some good photographic evidence. The left rear tyre displayed a distinctive wear pattern in it's tread that I believe — oh God — matches the tyre tracks found outside the abandonned theatre. Do that again, please, Ray," he added, before going on with his report.
Ray hummed assent and took Ben as deep as he could, his other hand reaching back to cradle Ben's balls. He could feel Ben's legs shake with the effort to stay still, which he appreciated. The first time they'd done this, he'd lost his balance on the heels when Ben'd fucked his face. He'd ended up falling on his arse, with Ben's abandonned dick waving above him like a flag. Not very smooth. Not very cool. But pretty damn funny, looking back on it.
"Excuse me, please, Ray," Ben said, sounding distant and closing his eyes as he tried to have a quiet and dignified orgasm. Ray did his best, with tongue and hands, to make Ben give up the fight. Sometimes Ray won, sometimes Ben did. Tonight it was a tie: Ray only got a few muffled moans, but Ben had to grab Ray's hair, twisting his fingers in it and pulling like he had no control. Ray considered that a win-win situation.
Ray took the condom off and flicked it into the dumpster to join all the other DNA samples. His knees hurt like a sonofabitch when he stood. He cracked his shoulders and adjusted his shorts and licked his lips, smiling knowingly at Ben. Ben felt deeply that sex should be reciprocal. Ray kind of liked the opportunity to focus only on Ben's pleasure.
Ben handed Ray a folded bill that Ray stuck in his pocket without opening.
"You really should get the money first, Ray," Ben said. "Sadly, not everyone works on the honour system."
"Yeah, but you do," Ray said, and Ben ducked his head and kind of glowed. "Come on, I've got to hit the streets again. Apparently, I'll be blowing a couple of boys from Vice in about half an hour."
"You certainly are the social butterfly," Ben said, and Ray cracked up laughing, because really, what? Where the hell did that come from?
Which was the same thought he had a split second later when two figures backlit by the lights from the street moved down the alley: where did they come from? and how long had they been there?. Backlit made Ray think backup, but Ben was ahead of him, his hand hitting the transmitter in his pocket. Ray kicked off the shoes, because he wasn't stupid, and got ready to fight.
He absolutely hadn't noticed the person sneaking up on him from behind; all of a sudden, his head exploded in sickening pain, someone said hail, Satan, and the world went dark.