Warning: Explicit sexual content. A lot. And some pretty bad language, and later some violence. I know I'm bad ;) Leave a review! Love, M.
Motherfucker, Smoker thought.
He was his usual grumpy self, not caring 'bout shit, but damn, he was pissed that he got the late night patrol shift in this shitty area of Grand Line City, just sitting in his car, trying to find some sleep. He was the head of the arson investigation department, but apparently there hadn't been any major arson case the last months, nothing besides some cars that magically caught on fire. So he had been degraded to do some patrol shifts late night. That fucker Firefist could at least start burning some major shit down again, instead of setting trash cans on fire. Firefist. Firefist. Firefist. That fucking name haunted him.
Smoker just joined the arson investigation department about five years ago because he had wanted to catch Firefist. And now he sat in his rusty and shitty patrol car waiting for something to happen, because of course in his shitty career in the department he didn't catch Firefist. He knew nothing about him, nothing more than five years ago.
But he'd developed a feeling. If he came across a fire he could immediately tell if it was arson or not, hell, he could even distinct if it had been Firefist or some other fumbler. That had been one of the reasons why he was now on top of the arson investigation department. He didn't really mind his position, though. He still liked to partake in other departments of the police. He didn't really had a life outside the force, so he spent most of his free time in Hina's department, helping her with some gang related shit.
Often Tashigi would remind him to go home when he worked late night shifts again and came back to work the very next morning for the day shift, but he needed the work, he needed work to distract him from his empty house, his empty life that was just ruled by his need for revenge.
Yeah, revenge. Motherfucking revenge. There wasn't much left in his life, there was only one major drive for him to get out of his bed every morning: REVENGE.
Nobody knew about his wish for revenge, nobody did, since everyone he would've trusted with this was dead. And that led to the cause of his need for revenge: He wanted to avenge the innocent, the innocent that were dead now, the innocent that were the only ones he'd ever loved.
After the incident, he refused to call it anything else, after the incident he swore he would make them pay. That was the reason he'd joined the police in the first place. Then he came across the fucker that named himself Firefist.
Firefist was his second purpose in life. He wanted to catch that goddamn motherfucker. Sometimes he wondered if his desire to bring Firefist behind bars would even outrun his carnal desire for revenge.
Yeah, shit, since he'd first stumbled over the name all he could think about was him, when he'd heard the name all made sense again, the signs burnt in the green grass of golf courses or parks or sports fields… The irrelevant things that magically caught on fire overnight…
He'd never seen Firefist so far, but he guessed that he was young, probably somewhere in his early or mid twenties, and definitely male. That was it. And of course, the most ridiculous name: Firefist.
Shit. He couldn't sleep properly if all he thought about was fucking Firefist. Fuck that motherfucker, late night patrol shifts in this shitty deserted parts of Grand Line City were usually a guarantee for some good hours of sleep. Now he was wide awake, chewing on his cigar, polluting the air in his car and bored to hell. The radio stations in Grand Line City were the shittiest radio stations in the whole country in his opinion so music wasn't an option. He thought about paying the 'Arabasta' a quick visit, the club was only a few miles away, but if someone would see him there while on patrol duty – Kizaru would castrate him.
Damn. He knew that he was just making excuses to himself. Kizaru probably wouldn't even mind if he'd be at the 'Arabasta'. Nobody would mind, just your stuck up morals, you old shit, Smoker told himself. He groaned. He knew why he avoided the 'Arabasta'. It was known that the 'Arabasta' was an unofficial gay bar and there would be one temptation after another.
I cannot let me get distracted, Smoker thought. I need to focus on Firefist and my revenge. He wondered when Firefist became more important than his bloody revenge. A visit at the 'Arabasta' would definitely distract him, but wait, wasn't he pretty distracted right now? Wouldn't a good hard fuck ease his mind?
Fuck.
He groaned and lit another cigar. He blew the smoke out of the window and sighed. The night was warm but cloudy, but it wasn't raining yet.
He sighed again. Damn, he was fucking lethargic tonight.
That was when he suddenly heard it: The loud screaming and roaring of a tuned engine. He looked in the rearview mirror and noticed a bike coming down the road with at least twice the speed limit. That motherfucker on his tuned bike had just disrupted his peaceful inner monologue. Fucker was going to pay.
He started the engine of his old police car and started racing after the motherfucker on his ridiculous bike.
Shit, that fucker was fast – but he was faster. This wasn't his first race after all. He turned his sirens on when he reached the man on the bike. Stupid fucker wasn't even wearing a helmet. He wondered if the black haired man on the bike just ignored him and his blaring sirens, but after another five minutes he kept on chasing after the bike the man finally pulled over.
They were in a deserted industrial area with hardly any street lanterns. He immediately got out of his car and yelled at the black haired driver of the bike: "Get the FUCK of your bike, you crazy shit! I followed you for about ten minutes until you finally pulled over, are you fucking kidding me?"
The raven haired man got of his rather flashy bike and met his angry stare with a toothy grin.
"You are resisting a police officer; you know that you little shit if you don't immediately pull over?" Smoker growled.
The young man still smiled his rather annoying grin, Smoker felt tempted to wipe that grin of the man's face, preferably with his fist.
"What's your name, brat?"
"Ace Portgas. Yours?"
"Don't get cheeky, little shit."
"You're mean, old man."
"I ain't old." Smoker growled. Damn, why was he even getting riled up by this insolent brat? He took in the appearance of the speeding culprit. The man had tousled black hair, glittering dark eyes and a few freckles across his cheeks. He wore a black sweater and black shorts and some heavy looking boots. He wasn't lean, he had actually a pretty muscular body, but not as broad and bulky as Smoker himself.
The brat must've noticed that Smoker was checking him out, because that was exactly what he had just done, fucking great, he did not do it – the cheeky brat, Portgas had been his name if he remembered it right, started to giggle, no shit, the man in front of him was now giggling under his threatening glare.
He had to correct himself: There was no way he could describe Portgas as a man, he was definitely a boy, no shit, that brat was still laughing his ass off.
"What's so funny, Portgas?" Smoker grunted to cover up his embarrassment that he actually got caught checking him out.
"You're funny, old man!"
"This situation isn't funny, at least not for you. You were speeding. Twice the speed limit. You should be happy if you don't lose your driver's license."
"Just twice the speed limit? I'm disappointed-"
"You damn brat, don't you listen? You're going to lose your driver's license-"
"What driver's license? What you don't have you can't lose." stated the still smiling brat.
"You gotta be kidding me."
"Haha, of course I am! But you ain't getting my license, officer." For some reason those words sounded like an insult to Smoker, fuck, that kid wasn't taking him serious at all.
"You're going to come with me brat, spend a nice night at the station with me, how does it sound? And we'll see bout your ticket, over a hundred where fifty-five is allowed…" Smoker trailed off. The kid in front of him pouted at his words, and he was damned in hell, that pout was one if the fucking cutest things he'd seen in a long while.
"And there is nothing I can do?" Portgas asked in a whiny voice. "You know, I've never been stopped by such a good looking police officer, even if you're a little old-"
"I ain't old, Portgas."
"Fuck, I like how my name sounds when you pronounce it."
Shit. Motherfucking shit. That wasn't supposed to happen. Was that little fucking attractive shit serious? Did he really think he was good looking? Or was that brat just playing with him, mocking him? Damn, at least he thought that the raven haired kid was fucking hot.
"You speechless?" Portgas asked with a damn knowing smirk. Fuck.
Suddenly Portgas was way to close in his personal space. "Is there really nothing I can do?" he breathed into his ear. Smoker suppressed a shudder.
"Get off me, kid."
"But I don't want to."
Smoker gulped. Shit. That damn brat smelled good, really good. He was reminded that he hadn't had a good fuck in a while, man, he hadn't even jerked off the last week, he'd been distracted by this and that – and now he felt all the built up pressure collecting in his groin, he was hard in an instant.
He shifted uncomfortably and hoped that that damn Portgas wouldn't notice. He was still standing on his toes, whispering in his ear: "Come on, grumpy old man, I like you, and you obviously like what you see. Why don't we solve our little problem-" That damn brat even came closer and pressed his body into his, fuck, he must've felt his erection poke in his stomach because suddenly he grinned and let his hand slide down his chest. Smoker gulped audibly.
"What do you think you're doing? Get off me!"
"You're kidding, officer. Your body tells me exactly what you want. And it's me, on my knees."
Smoker swallowed. He had to be dreaming. This wasn't happening. This wasn't a cheap porn production, right? There had to be a camera hidden somewhere-
"Listen brat, back off. I'm serious. Or I'm gonna arrest you for assaulting an officer."
The raven haired boy seemed to get the hint and backed off a bit, but not as far as he would liked. He merely stepped back a feet and still grinned.
"So, officer, are you going to tell me your name?"
He didn't know why he complied so easily his request, maybe it was because he was taken by surprise that the damn brat actually backed off and for an instant didn't suggest something sexual. "It's Smoker" he rasped.
"That's a fucking weird ass name, did somebody tell you that? Man, your parents must really hate you-"
That was it. He lost control over his usually not so short fuse and punched the fucking annoying brat in the face. He was not talking shit about his parents. He was not making fun of his name. No one ever dared to make fun of him. No one.
He withdrew his fist and stared at the mess he'd made. Motherfucking shit. Did he just really punch this kid in the face? Damn, that could cost his job – shit, shit, shit-
"Ouch, you got a hard punch, Smokie."
He swallowed again. Hopefully that insolent brat wouldn't press charges for arbitrarily police violence, fuck, he'd be in some deep shit.
"You alright there?"
"Don't you worry, Smokie, your punch ain't that hard."
"I-" Smoker wanted to tell him he was sorry, but he couldn't lie, and god damn, he wasn't sorry at all for punching that fucking brat for making fun of him, he just didn't want to deal with the shitload of paperwork that sure was about to come if the boy would press charges.
"So, how are we going to solve this mess?" The brat asked and removed some blood from his face. Smoker knew that his punch must've hurt like a bitch but the boy showed no sign of discomfort. He had to admit that he was a little impressed.
"What do you mean?" Smoker was dumbstruck.
"Don't make me say it, Smokie."
Fuck. He hated how much this stranger affected him. He hated how much influence the voice of the damn brat had on him. He hated how his cock in his pants wouldn't behave. He shifted uncomfortably. He hoped that Portgas didn't notice it, but of course, that cheeky brat was a smart one. He saw that Portgas eyes widened slightly at the sight of his rather huge bulge in his pants. Damn uniform pants. Why were they made out of thin cotton instead of thick leather? You could see basically every outline of his dick, straining against the fabric.
Why was that happening to him now? Well, the brat in front of you is a fucking hot piece of ass, that is why, Smoker answered the rhetorical question in his head.
The raven haired boy smirked devilishly and dropped to his knees, right in front of Smoker. Shit. This situation was getting out of control fast, really fucking fast. He tried to back off, but his back hit his shitty excuse of a police car.
"What…what are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Portgas smirked.
Smoker fumbled with his hands and finally placed them on the hood of his car. This wasn't happening. But apparently it was. Dark eyes were looking up at him, an alluring mouth was grinning and then the hands of the damn brat were on his belt, opening it.
His fly was opened and his pants dropped to the ground. He was panting hard by now. He told himself he let this happen because he owed the kid, he punched him hard, but why the hell felt owing this damn brat so damn good? Portgas groped the bulge in his pants and Smoker bit his tongue to suppress a moan. Damn this kid, he would not let him know how much he enjoyed the whole thing.
Portgas grinned up at him and gripped the hem of his boxers. Slowly, ever so slowly Portgas pulled them down and returned his hot palm to his cock. Smoker jerked his hips.
"Eager, aren't we?" Portgas grinned.
Of course he was eager; he had no other than himself touching him there in a long while. And no one that hot in an even longer while.
The raven haired boy seemed to know exactly what he needed right now, because without any other fussing or talking or cheeky grinning up to him he just took his huge swollen cock in his sweet hot mouth and gave it a long lick.
Fuck, Smoker thought, he forgot how good it felt when some hot delicious mouth sucked on his cock. He shivered and he buried a hand in the thick dark hair of the youth down on his knees below him. He urged Portgas to go deeper, to suck harder, and to take him whole in his mouth. Portgas seemed to get the hint. He sucked faster and harder, his hands were buried deep in the cords of muscle on his hips and saliva was dripping down where mouth and cock connected.
They found a rhythm, fast, hard, merciless. Smoker's cock hit the back of Portgas throat each time he urged his hips forward to meet the bobbing of Portgas' head.
Every other man had to be choking by now, Smoker thought for a second, but then pleasure washed his rational thoughts away and only need was left, need for more heat, more friction and more of that fantastic tongue and throat and lips.
"Deeper!" Smoker commanded.
Instead of letting his cock down his throat, the raven haired kid had the balls to refuse him and to actually let his throbbing and dripping cock slip from his mouth. At least one hand stayed still on him. Dark eyes gloomed in the faint light of the industrial scenery around them. Suddenly Smoker realized that they were out in public, right on the side of a street, in open view of anybody who'd come down the street. But still: "Put him back in your mouth."
"No."
He pulled on black strands of hair. "Yes."
"Say my name."
"What?"
"Say my name."
"Portgas. Put my cock back in your mouth."
"Almost. Call me Ace."
"Ace. Put my fucking cock back in your fucking mouth."
Ace smiled and let his tongue teasingly lick the tip of Smoker's cock. He grinned and finally put his weeping member back into the hot cavern of his. Now he couldn't suppress the moans any longer.
"Ahh!"
He felt the damn brat smiling around his cock. Ace took him deep to the hilt, his nose was buried in his pubic hair.
He couldn't possibly last any longer. He felt his orgasm racing through his veins, he felt his stomach muscles clench, he felt his cock stiffen and twitch, he felt Ace' silky hair beneath his fingers, he was on fire. He heard himself moan one single word: "Ace".
He needed a couple seconds to come down from his pleasure-high. Fuck, that had been intense. He forced his fingers to unclench from the damn brat's hair. He was still sucking and nipping on his cock, cleaning it. He swept Ace' fingers and mouth away and pulled his pants back up.
He started to realize what just happened. He let some stranger blow him while he was on duty. And he always thought he was an honorable and incorrupt cop. Motherfucking shit.
He straightened his pants and fastened his belt and was about to yell at that fucking Ace Portgas when he noticed that he was already mounted on his bike. He waved and grinned and then Ace was gone. Just like that. He could only watch the tail lights of the tuned bike.
He wanted to slap himself.
He got back in his car and drove off in the opposite direction. I will never mention this to anybody, or even think about this anymore, he swore. I can't let myself get distracted so easily, not with Firefist out there, not with his revenge still waiting to be accomplished.
TBC
