“Getting Off Easy”
Written by Urban-Coyote @ Furaffinity.net

	Sean Rockefellar, a young man of nineteen, slid down from the open window with cat-like agility. The cold grass emitting a soft crunch under his tattered sneakers. His trousers tugged down against his belt, heavy with valuables. The job proved quite lucrative, the old lady's apartment had been filled with antique jewelry; gold, diamonds, and pearls. Vintage was always the easiest to pawn, Sean thought with a grin, dealers loved the older shit.
	Hiking his up his blue jeans, he began the sojourn back to his mothers trailer on the lower east side. No doubt the bitch was passed out on the couch with a bottle in her hand, she wouldn’t even notice his absence. Then again, it isn't like she'd even care, he only existed when she needed money, cigarettes, or booze. Slinking around the decrepit apartment complex's tall grass hedges, Sean rounded a corner towards home, when his world was suddenly bathed in blinding flash of white.
	"Freeze." came a deep masculine voice, crisp, with ta distinct edge of authority. "Let me see your hands Mr. Rockefellar." the stern voice continued, it's source obscured by the harsh light. Given a moment to collect his thoughts, Sean was able to ascertain that the glaring light most likely originated from a cop's flashlight. Begrudgingly he raised his hands, the subtle squeaking of his leather jacket mingling with the frantic barking of some distant dog. Light still trained on the teenager's face, the officer approached, removing something from his belt with a metallic jingle.
	"Sean Rockefellar, you have the right--" he began, but the figure in the searchlight vanished from sight, leaving the tall officer's words hanging in the air. Cursing, he jerked the beam of light around the yard trying to locate the suspected thief who was out of sight, but far from silent. The officer quickly gave chase in the direction of the rapid footfalls. His flashlight caught the thief just as the shadowed figure disappeared over a tall brick wall. The gaunt officer followed suit, landing with a crunch as his feet came down on a pile of broken bottles and rubbish, his tan trench coat catching along the top of the brick barrier. Without hesitation he continued in the direction of his quarry. Given a head start, the thief was already down the alley, many paces ahead of him. The shadow leaped up, clutching a fire ladder and frantically began scrambling up the rusted metal rungs. Within seconds, the officer was also ascending the ladder in pursuit. Grasping the flashlight in his mouth, inky darkness enveloped him as he stepped onto the building's roof. He scanned the roofs pebbled surface, becoming more agitated with each scan of the surface. He was huffing now. The night air, crisp and cold, betrayed each labored breath. It was quiet up here, it was as if the city no longer bustled on the streets below the urban castle. From the corner of his eye, came a glint of metal unlike the twinkling city lights. Too late he realized the glint was closing fast, a sudden burst of pain jolted through him. He felt himself falling, watching the stars of the night's sky above him fade as things went black.
						************
	"Wake up, Sunshine." came a strange sound, the voice reverberated, as if distant or underwater. The officers eyes fluttered open, vision blurred, and he tried to sit up. He became aware of a weight on his legs, his head surged with pain and he collapsed back onto the ground.
	"You don't look like no street cop. You a fed or somethin'?" asked the disembodied voice. The officers eyes dropped to his legs, a figure slowly coming into focus. His suspect was kneeling on his legs, the thief's features gradually resolving. Black hair styled into a slick pompadour, a smooth young face with fierce gray eyes. No older than early twenties,. The boy was smirking, his posture seemed completely relaxed.
	"No." the officer finally rasped, "I'm Detective Benson, and you're under arrest for theft and now you can add assault on an officer." Again he tried to sit up, and again a shock of pain racked his body.
	"Gee officer, I was just tryin' out my new brass knucks." the youth confessed with an exaggerated shrug, something metal reflecting light across his slender fingers. He leaned forward and whispered.
	"They seem to be pretty effective." A soft sound of metal hitting stone could be heard as the weapon was discarded.
	"Now Old Man, why the midnight game of cat and mouse?" the thief asked feigning innocence in the same melodramatic way.
	"I already told you, Sean. I know you've been robbing people." Benson sighed between ragged breaths.
	"Me, under arrest? What would my mother think? I can't go to jail, it would just break her heart!” Sean clutched his chest theatrically, “I'm sure there's gotta be somethin' we can work out." Sean's smooth voice purred. A firm pressure came suddenly as hand clutched the detective's groin. The suited man inhale sharply, his face twisted in disapproval. 
	"Do you...really want to add sexual assault to your rap sheet, Sean?" he growled as the hand massaged him through his black dress pants.
	"Rocky. If you're gonna say my name during this, I prefer Rocky." he cooed as he shimmied forward. The smaller man began to grind himself against Benson's crotch, his tight blue jeans leaving little of his excitement obscured. Benson squeezed his eyes shut; how had things fallen apart so fast, reached this point? He thought it would be a routine arrest, after all the kid was just a scrawny punk. Now he was on the roof of some weathered apartment building, gravel digging into the small of his back, pinned beneath his suspect. Cold hands reached under his his white button-down shirt, hastily pulling it up dragging him back from his daydream. Before he could protest, Rocky began kissing the detectives thick neck, nuzzling against the coarse stubble on his chin. Benson gasped as the thief ran his tongue along his earlobe, the cold hands on his chest began gently rubbing each nipple in turn. The detective's pants had become uncomfortable tight as the hands continued their exploration and the soft tongue now probed past his lips. Benson's hips pressed against the worn blue jeans, grinding against Rocky as the two men made out. The teenager's hands slide down his athletic torso, finding the detective's belt. In one smooth motion the belt fell free, a quick caress and the trousers came open, revealing the man's sizable erection.
	In the back of his mind, Benson knew he should throw the bastard off, arrest him, send the little shit to juvie. But he couldn't hold the thought. A lean hand, warmed by the detective's chest, firmly wrapped around his exposed erection.
	"F-Fuck..." he stammered, his own hands trailed down Rocky's black leather jacket and stopped, grabbing the thief's hips.
	"Looks liker yer really pent up, dick." the greaser jeered, amused by the detective's eagerness. Benson didn't seem to hear as he rocked his hips into the enclosed hand. Releasing his hold the teenager began undoing his own belt, pulling his tattered jeans down as he stood up, taking his briefs with them as he pulled them over his battered sneakers. He fanned the detective's dirtied trench coat out, cushioning his knees as he once again straddled the masculine man. Benson watched, disconnected, until Rocky reached back and again began stroking him, this time much more vigorously than before. The detective's toes curled within his wingtip shoes, his hands balled into fists as he became fully aroused. The friction become more enjoyable as he became slick with precum. The thief leaned back, gently pressing the erection against his taut anus. Rocky licked his soft lips, looking down at the breathless man below him. Benson's eyes were squeezed shut as he moaned, clutching at the stones around his large powerful hands. Ensuring adequate lubrication the teenager slid the tip into himself, his warmth encompassing the crown of the warm throbbing muscle. This was definitely the largest cock he'd taken and he was going to take it slow.
	“God...fuck...please... just... let me fuck you..." Benson pleaded through clenched teeth, clawing at the pebbled roof, desperate for more penetration. Rocky smiled, the concept of a figure of authority begging him for pleasure elated the delinquent. A moment longer and Rocky cautiously leaned back, taking the full length into himself, the feeling of fullness sending pangs of ecstasy through his body. The thick cock pressing mercilessly against his silky innards. As he reached the hilt he exhaled, looking into the detective's face as if taking in the man's features for the first time. The officer's hazel eyes were fixed on the night sky, his short brown hair disheveled.
	Unable to wait a second more, Benson gently pushed up, delving into the smaller man. The two began moving in tandem, the gravel grinding beneath them in a lewd rhythmic tattoo. Rocky began moaning, goading Benson to go deeper, to fuck harder. Entranced, the detective obliged, his hips began bucking more vigorously, hastening his pace. The wet sound of his thrusting mingled with the sounds of the two panting men. 
	Tearing open the officer's shirt, Rocky briskly clawed at the man's muscled chest, astonished by how fit he really was. No doughnut cop here. Rocky felt himself abruptly grasped around the hips and held steadfast as he was penetrated more forcefully. The detective was biting his lip, as he looked up their eyes finally met. Benson's body became rigid, his back arched up harshly as warm fluid filled Rocky with each rough thrust of the detective's pelvis. Rocky felt himself releasing, semen landing in strings across the detective's chiseled chest. For  a moment, the two men remained in the that position, sweat painting their exhausted bodies. Benson felt light-headed, unaware of the cum collecting in the dips of his chest and abs. He tensed and shuddered as Rocky gingerly pulled him out, his spent cock lolled heavily to the ground, leaking one last thick load of cum. Ejaculate drizzled from the greasers ravaged hole. After a moment, there was a faint click and a flash of warm light as the teen lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. He pulled a ragged handkerchief from his back pocket, gently cleaning himself off with the black scrap of fabric. Standing up, his legs wobbled as he pulled his trousers back up, fastening his belt. 
	Rocky gazed down at the exhausted detective, the man looked like he might already be asleep from the exertion. The greaser smirked, it would be an uncomfortable walk home, but it sure as hell beat jail. He patted his pocket and heard the reassuring jingle of the stolen jewelry. Dropping the soiled handkerchief on Benson's groin, Rocky silently sneaked away, escaping down the fire escape and was enveloped in darkness.