The Hood of Justice Read Online Free Page A
a one-hundred yard dash, "Hey, you piece of shit, what the hell you playing at?" The words he spoke didn't hold any particular meaning or purpose other than to distract.
His plan worked.
In the split second between Casey finishing his words and the man diverting his gaze, Bruce was upon him, turning him around and cuffing him within a blink of an eye. His partner was sheer brilliance to watch. The knife fell harmlessly to the floor, kicked away.
When Casey got to Bruce, he said, "Thanks."
His partner's words were all he needed. He had done good. He had helped, even though he didn't arrive sooner. "Don't…mention…it."
"Let's haul this bag of crap back to the station. I've read him his rights. He knows he's been bad. Smells of sweet fly spray, too, wouldn't you say?"
"I don't think we can book him for smelling like a desperate and sad man who tries to pick up young boys outside school gates, now can we?"
Bruce snorted. "He pulled a weapon."
In that instant, while they were momentarily distracted by their banter, talk which had taken them a couple of years to perfect, the perp shot forward, breaking free from his partner's grip. Casey, without thought, without consideration for his own safety, lunged forward, too. In an instant later, and with a dull thud which rocked him to the core of his bones, he landed on top of the hand-cuffed perp.
"Too slow, my friend," Casey whispered, still trying to catch his breath. But something happened which Casey knew all too well, yet didn't welcome now. His foreskin tingled.
The perp sneered, his lips forming a cruel snarl. Sure, he wasn't an unattractive man, not by any stretch. Thing was, he wasn't all that handsome either. He reminded Casey of a weasel, in fact. All thin faced, beady eyed, and lanky. His hair was even a dull brown, like a weasel's would be, he imagined. Not that he'd ever seen a weasel in real life. Still, that was the impression.
The other concern, and one which Casey knew he would have to do something about, was the fact his groin was in direct contact with the perps. Lying there, face to face, lips and genitals lined up, seemed to send Casey's mind toward a different path to what he wanted right now. He got hard. Even when Casey tried to move to ease the pressure of the man against him, his hardening cock, complete with tingling foreskin, just got harder, the touch of the material of his pants making matters worse not better.
"You question him, Case. You seem to have the knack."
Casey craned his neck. Bruce was standing over them, smiling like a man victorious, hands planted firmly on hips. "You go call it in, I'll start with the questions."
"Uh no, I'm not leaving you with this one. He's a sly dog and I don't want him to slip away." Bruce's smile widened. He could imagine what his partner was thinking, seeing Casey on top of the perp, unable to move for fear of him getting up and running away, ruining Bruce's efforts.
"I can handle it, buddy. He's cuffed."
"Oh, I can see you're handling it. I just want to watch you question him. Love to know what you do to get so much information out of someone so quick."
Casey then had an idea. "Sure, you can watch. Just know, it may get a bit gay from here on in. You know how us fags all stick together."
The look on the perp's face, all wide eyed and awash with concern, when he finished his sentence reflected Bruce's next action and words perfectly. "Fine. I don't want no part of it, then. Do whatever you have to." Bruce turned and left, heading for the patrol car.
Casey diverted his attention to the man beneath him. "What's your name, mate?"
The man spat. His wad of saliva landing on Casey's cheek. "Fuck off, fuzz. I'm not telling you anything without a lawyer. I know my rights."
Casey, by instinct more than conscious thought, sent his hand down to the man's jeans zipper. "You have the right to remain silent," he began.
By now his hand was rummaging within the perps underwear, desperate to grab his cock so he
His plan worked.
In the split second between Casey finishing his words and the man diverting his gaze, Bruce was upon him, turning him around and cuffing him within a blink of an eye. His partner was sheer brilliance to watch. The knife fell harmlessly to the floor, kicked away.
When Casey got to Bruce, he said, "Thanks."
His partner's words were all he needed. He had done good. He had helped, even though he didn't arrive sooner. "Don't…mention…it."
"Let's haul this bag of crap back to the station. I've read him his rights. He knows he's been bad. Smells of sweet fly spray, too, wouldn't you say?"
"I don't think we can book him for smelling like a desperate and sad man who tries to pick up young boys outside school gates, now can we?"
Bruce snorted. "He pulled a weapon."
In that instant, while they were momentarily distracted by their banter, talk which had taken them a couple of years to perfect, the perp shot forward, breaking free from his partner's grip. Casey, without thought, without consideration for his own safety, lunged forward, too. In an instant later, and with a dull thud which rocked him to the core of his bones, he landed on top of the hand-cuffed perp.
"Too slow, my friend," Casey whispered, still trying to catch his breath. But something happened which Casey knew all too well, yet didn't welcome now. His foreskin tingled.
The perp sneered, his lips forming a cruel snarl. Sure, he wasn't an unattractive man, not by any stretch. Thing was, he wasn't all that handsome either. He reminded Casey of a weasel, in fact. All thin faced, beady eyed, and lanky. His hair was even a dull brown, like a weasel's would be, he imagined. Not that he'd ever seen a weasel in real life. Still, that was the impression.
The other concern, and one which Casey knew he would have to do something about, was the fact his groin was in direct contact with the perps. Lying there, face to face, lips and genitals lined up, seemed to send Casey's mind toward a different path to what he wanted right now. He got hard. Even when Casey tried to move to ease the pressure of the man against him, his hardening cock, complete with tingling foreskin, just got harder, the touch of the material of his pants making matters worse not better.
"You question him, Case. You seem to have the knack."
Casey craned his neck. Bruce was standing over them, smiling like a man victorious, hands planted firmly on hips. "You go call it in, I'll start with the questions."
"Uh no, I'm not leaving you with this one. He's a sly dog and I don't want him to slip away." Bruce's smile widened. He could imagine what his partner was thinking, seeing Casey on top of the perp, unable to move for fear of him getting up and running away, ruining Bruce's efforts.
"I can handle it, buddy. He's cuffed."
"Oh, I can see you're handling it. I just want to watch you question him. Love to know what you do to get so much information out of someone so quick."
Casey then had an idea. "Sure, you can watch. Just know, it may get a bit gay from here on in. You know how us fags all stick together."
The look on the perp's face, all wide eyed and awash with concern, when he finished his sentence reflected Bruce's next action and words perfectly. "Fine. I don't want no part of it, then. Do whatever you have to." Bruce turned and left, heading for the patrol car.
Casey diverted his attention to the man beneath him. "What's your name, mate?"
The man spat. His wad of saliva landing on Casey's cheek. "Fuck off, fuzz. I'm not telling you anything without a lawyer. I know my rights."
Casey, by instinct more than conscious thought, sent his hand down to the man's jeans zipper. "You have the right to remain silent," he began.
By now his hand was rummaging within the perps underwear, desperate to grab his cock so he
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