Rhodes needed a cop. Not in the way he had needed one in Detroit. He had more mischief in mind. However, law enforcement in Cheatham Hill proved difficult to seduce, male and female. By the time Rhodes did end up with a cop, he was naked and hand-cuffed in the back of a patrol car. His heart pounded in his chest, unsure as to whether Deputy Beaumont (male) was driving him to the police station for processing or to a more private locale.
When the patrol car stopped on a path in the middle of the woods, Rhodes had his answer. Beaumont was a lanky man, leaner than Rhodes, but around the right height (and shoe size, hopefully). He was rough when he pulled the naked man from the back of the cruiser, and wore a surly expression, even when he pushed Rhodes to his knees.
Rhodes grinned up at Deputy Beaumont, but the deputy turned away. Wearing the same surly expression, Beaumont walked around a bit, investigating the surrounding area. When he returned, he dumped his duty belt on the trunk of the cruiser, stood before Rhodes, and pushed his pants down around his hips.
“Are you sure you don’t want my hands free for this?” Rhodes asked teasingly.
“Shut up,” Beaumont said, looking around again. “Don’t talk. And can you not look at me?”
Rhodes suppressed a snort. Despite Beaumont’s words, once Rhodes got started, the deputy found it difficult not to look down at him. Every once in a while, a sigh escaped him. Rhodes kept him entertained, making him want more. As soon as he knew that Beaumont was irretrievably gone, Rhodes stood up.
“For my next trick,” he said, “I’m going to need my hands… at least in front of me.”
Beaumont, his surly expression returned, shook his head. He clapped a hand on Rhodes’s shoulder and shoved him down to one knee.
“Finish what you started, you fucking faggot.”
For a moment, Rhodes forgot that his goal was to play nice. He stared up at the deputy with a murderous expression, then forced himself to smile again. He began to plan a different kind of fun for this one.
“No one will know,” he whispered. “Not a soul. You’re running this show… and you know you want it.”
Beaumont huffed, looking away from him. Rhodes leaned back, spreading his knees wide and rolling his shoulders back, putting his best features on display. Beaumont took him by surprise when he slipped a hand under his arm, dragged him to his feet, and led him back to the car.
(Fuck. I went too far. Fuck, fuck, fuck.) He was going to have to think of something before Beaumont could get him back into the backseat, or else he was going to end up in jail, and all of his hard work and money would come to nothing. He didn’t know what kind of sentence was handed down in Cobb County for public indecency, but he was pretty sure he would be returning to four dead bodies and a very angry boss when it was served.
But Beaumont didn’t throw Rhodes into the back of the cruiser. He threw him against the back of the car, knocking the wind out of him, then shoved his head down against the trunk. Rhodes resisted the urge to fight back as Beaumont positioned himself behind him. He paused a moment to run his fingers over the bullet wound on Rhodes’s back in admiration before spitting on him. Beaumont rubbed the spit in with the head of his penis.
Rhodes cringed at how sloppy the man was, but was distracted when he turned his head to find his face inches from his duty belt. As he suffered through Beaumont’s clumsy fumbling, Rhodes imagined the ways he could get his revenge with the tools before his eyes. It wasn’t long–thanks to Rhodes’s first trick–before Beaumont was moaning and quivering.
As soon as he was finished, he put a hand on Rhodes’s shoulder and shoved him to the ground. Despite the indignity, it was exactly where Rhodes needed to be.
“Mother fucker,” Beaumont muttered, looking down. He pulled his duty belt off the back of the car and popped the trunk. Grabbing a towel, he used it to wipe off his penis.
“Yeah, that’s why you use a condom,” Rhodes said.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep your fucking mouth shut?” Beaumont demanded, turning.
Rhodes’s hands were no longer behind his back. Grabbing the gun from the belt, Rhodes shoved his shoulder into Beaumont’s chest and barreled him into the trunk of a tree. He pressed the barrel of the gun into Beaumont’s mouth.
“Unlock these handcuffs,” Rhodes growled, “and take off your clothes.”
Raising his hands, Beaumont complied. Rhodes made sure his uniform was a safe distance away before handcuffing Beaumont and gagging him with the towel. He heaved and fell to his knees. Tears began to stream down his face. His eyes begged Rhodes to stop. He gestured bargains, but Rhodes ignored him. Picking the duty belt up from where it had fallen, he perused his options. A gun would be far too loud. A Taser would not be lethal. He pulled out the pepper spray and grinned like a mischievous kid.
Slipping a hand under Beaumont’s arm, Rhodes pulled him to his feet and shoved him back against the tree trunk. The deputy whimpered behind the soiled towel. Rhodes hacked and spat on Beaumont’s genitals, then rubbed it in. Tears began to stream down the deputy’s face. He wailed in vain.
“I’ve seen this before…” Rhodes said, twisting the safety off the canister. “It didn’t look very pleasant.”
He pointed the pepper spray at the man’s penis and pressed down.
“Fuck! Fuck me!” Rhodes yelled, jerking away and dropping the canister. His eyes began to water and sting. His throat and mouth burned. Behind him, Beaumont was screaming in agony.
Rhodes collected himself enough to kick the canister out of Beaumont’s reach and to stop touching his face. Leaning against the car, he took a few deep breaths. He was relieved to find a case of bottled water in the trunk, and poured several bottles over his head, flushing his eyes.
The pain began to subside. (Well, that was embarrassing.) Behind him, Beaumont echoed his thoughts. Hysterical with pain, he began to emit a muffled, squealing laugh.
Rhodes looked around him for the canister, tempted to spray him again–from a safe distance this time. But his eyes found the duty belt first. Sniffling, he picked up the flashlight. It was the heavy, metal type with several different settings. Rhodes played through them with a child-like curiosity as he walked back over to where Beaumont sat against the tree.
Pulling the towel free from Beaumont’s mouth, Rhodes dabbed at his still-watering eyes with a clean corner. Beaumont watched, his laughter becoming a frightened huff. Rhodes dropped the towel onto the ground and stared down at the naked deputy. He seemed to put the pieces together as he saw Rhodes’s grip on the flashlight tighten and loosen a few times. Too late, he opened his mouth to scream. He was cut short with a powerful blow across the face. With a few more blows, Rhodes made damn sure that the deputy would never wear that surly expression again.