ArchivedLogs:Dirty Cop

Dirty Cop
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Eric	2013-12-22 Warning: Kissing, biting. Definite Adult Content.
Location <NYC> Village Lofts - Rooftop - East Village
It tends to be windy, up here, but the presence of plastic table and folding chairs suggests that nevertheless building residents occasionally make their way out to this rooftop. With a good view of Tompkins Square Park less than a block away it's a good spot for city-watching. There's a railing around the edge, though it might be possible (if /unwise/) to climb over it to the narrow concrete ledges beyond and from there to the fire escape. Centrally, someone has broken down crates and constructed a small raised-bed garden up here, barren in winter but filled in three other seasons with a small assortment of herbs and vegetables. The concrete wall that rings the roof has been decorated, painted in vivid bright shades by some artistic hand to add colourful cheer to the rooftop. The mural shifts in terrain One wall sports a beach, flecked with grass and seashells and driftwood and shore birds. Beach transitions into meadow, colourful with wildflowers and butterflies and dragonflies; meadow shifts into snow-capped mountains, subsides into piedmont and sprouts into a verdant forest on the fourth, alive with animals. The text messages were brief, flitting back and forth between Eric's phone and Dusk's, setting up this little rendevous. When Eric steps out onto the rooftop, clad in a pair of blue jeans and a black jacket, he glances around the top of the building with a slow movement. One hand dips into his pocket and withdraws a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out and sticking it between his lips. He lights it with a small blue lighter, stepping further out onto the rooftop and letting smoke curl up into the Sunday afternoon air. Dusk arrives not from the roof door but from high overhead. With a bizarre burst of real /warmth/ he's /relishing/ the chance to stretch his wings without freezing them off, and by the time he lands there's a gleam of sweat to his muscles, a flush to his face. He's in camoflauge cargo shorts and a plain black tank, old battered Vans sneakers thudding down onto the roof. The hard muscles of his back shift slowly as he pulls his wings in, folding them with a sharp fanged grin. "I needed a day like this." Eric's eyes watch greedily as the other man swoops down onto the rooftop next to him, and they waste no time in raking up and down Dusk's body, watching the wings fold against him and his muscles shift and tense. The police officer grins and gives a wolf-whistle, winking at Dusk. "Yeah, it's been a great day t'a be in the park. Bein' a bike cop in the winter fuckin' sucks, but today was perfect." Eric takes a few steps forward towards Dusk, one hand rising to skim along the back of one of Dusk's wings, fingers light and trailing. "Thanks for talkin'ta me." "Pretty much perfect." Dusk doesn't seem to mind the ogling one bit. Either by his usual habitual distaste for clothes at home or to /facilitate/ it, he's already peeling off his tank top once he lands; it takes some finagling to work his wings back out of it but he seems pleased to be rid of it once it's off. He tucks its sleeves into a pocket to let it hang down against his shorts. His wings stretch out, brushing fuzzy and soft against Eric's skimming hand, to unfurl to their full enormous span, muscles rippling against with the motion. "You hear we're getting evicted? I think the weather's apologizing." Eric's eyes smoulder as Dusk pulls off his shirt, and his hands both move to run along Dusk's chest, fingers trailing up and down his body before moving out to press to either side of his wing and run along the musculature inside them, gentle but firm. "Ain't surprise me. You guys fight back, n' nothing'll happen for a while, yet. The courts can't hardly deal with the felonies comin' down, and I don't think there'll be any free officers to do the eviction either." Eric's tone has a trace of gravel in it, as his hands continue moving along Dusk's wing to run along his back, chest, and switch sides. "I actually came here ta' talk, you know." "Won't renew our leases either though, I'd guess, and it's going to be hard as fuck to find new places after this." Dusk shivers under the touch, stepping in to it with a slow smile. "We can talk." Though he's lowering his head instead, lips brushing against the side of Eric's neck. He steps in to the other man, pushing him slowly back against the side of the wall housing the entrance up onto the roof. "After." Eric's smile tugs at his lips for a moment, arms wrapping around Dusk's shoulders as he presses his body against the other man's. But in the same movement that he does so, he leans in, murmuring into Dusk's ear, "I need high explosives." He nips at his ear a moment later, mischevious smile spreading on his face. "And that ain't an analogy." Dusk growls with the nip, leaning in to press Eric harder into the brick. /His/ nip comes harder, fangs briefly sinking in against Eric's neck, licking away the blood with a hungry husky purr in the moment before the wound heals back up. "Fuck makes you think I've got /those/." Eric lets out a groan as blood swells up on his neck; healing doesn't mean it doesn't hurt in the first place. "You're a computer guy. Can't you use some'a that... titcoin or whatever to get some without anyone knowin' who it come from?" The police officer asks, fingers running down Dusk's back with just a hint of nails and a breath of a tug forward. Dusk reaches up under Eric's shirt, twisting firmly at a nipple. "Titcoin. Yeah, you can definitely buy explosives with that." He presses his lips to Eric's, this time, fierce and hard and hungry. His hands dip down to work at Eric's jeans. "Stop being a goddamn tease, it doesn't suit you." Eric grins, hands running down the other man's side as he, suddenly, drops down to his knees. His eyes gleam up from his new position, own hands coming up to quickly work at the other man's pants. "Yeah, true." It is quite a bit later when Eric finally turns the conversation back onto what he came for. "So, can you get it?" By this point Dusk's face is flushed deeply, and he's more than worked the sweat back onto his muscles. His tongue swipes out, licking fresh blood off the corner of his mouth as he buttons his shorts back up. "... I don't want to know what you need explosives for, do I?" "No. And you want to make very sure it ain't goin' ta get back to you, lest you want the chair." Eric says, turning and giving Dusk a grin. "So if you ain't comfortable, tell me now, and forget I ever asked. For anything but seconds." He adds, eyes raking up and down the other man, winking. "'Cause I still want seconds." "You'll get seconds." Dusk presses Eric back against the wall with hand running slow over the other man's chest. His teeth nip gently again at Eric's neck; though he's /more/ than drunk his fill apparently he wants seconds as well. "But dude you can't just ask a guy for explosives and not -- the hell's gotten into you, you remember you're a cop, right?" "A sergeant. And I'm /angry/, Dusk." Eric says, his voice a low growl. "I've served my country since I's old enough to do so. All I've ever wanted to be was a cop, and in a few months, I'm going to be out on the street." His voice is low, and he presses his forehead against the other man's shoulder. "When I've served next to dirty cops working for the mob and dealing drugs, and /I'm/ goin'ta be thrown off the force." Dusk's pressure against Eric lets up enough that he can slip his wing in around the other man's back, wrapping him in warmly and holding him close. "You've served next to shittier people than that and they get laws named after them." His wing rubs gently at Eric's back, his fingers slipping up to curl into the other man's hair. "There's plenty of reason to be angry. But flying off by yourself -- /explosively/ -- that's just likely to get you fucking -- I guess not killed but not dying won't help you at all in jail." His teeth press down against his lip. Then against Eric's neck, not breaking skin this time, just lazily /gnawing/ as he thinks. "... I can't make any promises. But give me a couple days and I might be able to scrounge up some people who can help. With more than just handing you some grenades." Eric's arms cling to Dusk suddenly, the grip changing from something of feeling and touching to something of support in a few instants. The police officer's face buries into Dusk's shoulder, and a quiver runs through his body, shoulders crumpling inwards. He draws a ragged breath in, nose rubbing in a small circle on the other man's hand. "I don't know when I started carin', but I really wish I'd stop it." Dusk's wing wraps in tighter. His face just nuzzles, now, against Eric's neck. "Doesn't tend to be a thing you can turn on and off. You just /care/. And then you're fucked because you can't help but get involved." Eric takes in a long, slow breath and steadies himself. "Ain't what I meant. Ain't all I meant, I mean." He frowns and then chuckles, shaking his head, only a moment later. "Never mind. Talk t'a your friends. I'm goin'ta go get smashed, I think, unless you're still hungry." "I'm /always/ hungry." Not that Dusk's pushing; his wing brushes against Eric's back and then falls away. "What did you mean?" Eric's cheeks color slightly, and the police officer shakes his head. "Nothin'. Ain't nothin' you want to hear, considerin' your friends." Eric says, looking up with a little smile. "Come on. Think you still got more in'ya, old man?" "My friends?" Dusk looks puzzles at that. The teasing earns Eric a /sharper/ bite, fangs sinking against the officer's neck with a throaty growl. Dusk sucks eagerly at the blood that flows, and pushes Eric to turn him around, shoved face-up against the wall this time. "You're older than I am. /Sarge/. And yeah. I think you can have one more in you." Eric lets out a long groan, turning and pressing against Dusk greedily. "Only one?" he drawls, voice teasing, though there is still a trace of heaviness to his words. There is none to the way he presses back towards Dusk, though. Dusk's only answer to that is another hard bite. He presses Eric up hard against the bricks, a soft low growl rumbling in his throat.