Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Antonio Dawson is pretty protective of CIs. They make his life easier, they help the city, they put themselves in danger. He respects the hell out of someone putting themselves on the line like that.

He also gets how stressful it can be, staring down the barrel of a gun, lying to lifelong friends. The betrayal, the danger. Sometimes people slip, and they don’t deserve to suffer for it. That’s what Antonio thinks, anyway.

So when Antonio is staking out Kilpatrick for a mid-level drug bust and he spots one of Adam’s CIs, he figures he can do his partner a solid and get the guy out of there before two dozen cop cars pull up, even though he definitely just bought and pocketed something illegal.

He hardly lets the punk get a word in, just grabs him by the jacket collar and drags him to his car. He can’t help admire the guy’s smile, though. He’s wearing a dumb, crooked grin even while Antonio is pulling him along like a kid.

“Look man, I don’t have any money, I don’t- hey, would you get your hands off me?” He looks like he’s about to get loud so Antonio pushes him up against the car door.

“I’m a cop, idiot.” Antonio growls in his ear. “We’re about to flood this street with sirens, you wanna be here when that happens? Huh? I didn’t think so, now get in the car.”

His playful smile has dropped and he drags his feet to the other side of the car, but he gets in.

“Listen man, this isn’t necessary. I work with the cops, I go undercover and-“

“You do not go undercover. You’re a CI for Ruzek at the 21st. You don’t work with the cops you work for the cops. You’re a criminal,” Antonio pauses to let that sink in, “that gets a pass because you help us put worse criminals behind bars.” Antonio pointedly corrects him, locking the doors.

“You know Ruzek?”

Antonio rolls his eyes so hard his whole head follows the movement. “I work with him in Intelligence, jackass.” He starts the car and begins searching for a side alley where they can chat.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, you’re not gonna pull one over on me. Now what’s your name?”

“Zaco. Or Z.” Zaco fucking winks at him.

“Zaco, really? You want people to call you Zaco? Okay, you can lose the smile now, Zaco. You know it’s not a good look for a CI to show up at a stakeout to buy drugs.”

The smile remains, but his eyes flicker with worry before he shrugs, then slowly reaches a hand over. “I didn’t buy anything, man. Just out for a walk. Now why don’t we talk about why I’m really here?” Zaco’s hand rests on his thigh.

He has the drugs Zaco bought in his pocket, he pulled them out of the man’s jacket when he searched him for weapons.

Antonio really hates that smile. He wants to-

He wants to… oh.

God he’s lonely.

That fucking smile.

“Get your hand off my leg, Zaco.”

“If I don’t will you put me in cuffs?” He says it all excitedly, his fingers squeezing and slowly moving back and forth.

Antonio sighs and wills the hardness away. Gives Zaco a hard stare but does not remove his hand. “You think you’re special, Zaco, huh? What makes you any different from the thousand other junkies who think they can blow me to get out of drug charges?”

“Blow you? Nah, daddy, you got it all wrong.” Daddy. Huh, that’s new. Antonio doesn’t know if he likes that. “Anyone can blow you. I’m not anyone. I can eat your ass, sit on your face when I swallow your dick. No gag reflex, guaranteed. I’ll ride you, fuck you, suck on your toe, stick a finger in your hole while you pound me. I’ll do all the things your wife won’t, man.” Zaco is still wearing that dumb smile, like this is all a kind of game. Antonio is pretty split on whether to fuck Zaco or slap that smug, stoned look off his face. Or can’t he do both?

“I’m going through a divorce.” He says matter of factly.

Zaco doesn’t miss a beat, just shrugs and rubs his thumb over Antonio’s knee. “Even better, no need to feel guilty after.” This is disgustingly rehearsed, but Zaco does appear to be sporting a genuine boner. Sicko.

Antonio is so very tempted. He has complete deniability. He didn’t force or coerce or anything. Just some cute boy whose obviously hot for cop.

Truth is all Antonio really wants to do is kiss. That’s why he hasn’t shut this down from the start. He just wants to make out with someone. Feel lips against his, tangle tongues, breathe someone else’s air. That’s probably what he misses most about coming home to a partner, the intimacy of a long, passionate kiss.

And unlike alot of offenders he picks up, especially junkies, Zaco has nice looking teeth, his breath smells like toothpaste.

The thing is that if he kisses this guy, he’s gonna do more than kiss. What kind of rep would he have, letting an offender off for nothing but a kiss like some inner city cop-criminal fairy tale? If he kisses Zaco, he’s gotta fuck him too, and he’s not sure he’s up for that. But the way Zaco keeps rubbing his thigh, creeping closer to his groin, it is getting him hard.

Also Zaco is already leaning across the console and the man’s face really is fair and handsome and kind of goofy looking.

He immediately reacts to Zaco’s lips, tilts his head so their noses aren’t jabbing at each other, slides his mouth a little across Zaco’s, licks the other man’s lips.

Looks like he’s fucking this guy.

Antonio pulls off Z’s stupid beanie to reveal an unkempt mop of brown hair, the man needs a trim. Still, the length of his hair has some clear advantages. Antonio buries his fingers tight against Zaco’s scalp and pulls him closer, pressing the younger man’s mouth open with his own and licking his teeth when they clack against each other because while Antonio is kissing with more vigor, neither of them is being careful.

“Mmmmmmm.” Zaco hums pornographically. “Uhhh, fuck yeah daddy.”

Antonio yanks Zaco back by his hair, which just makes him moan again, biting his bottom lip.

“Don’t call me daddy.” Antonio growls. “Fuckin perv.”

Zaco raises an eyebrow but denies nothing. “You’re the one about to fuck a criminal, officer.”

Officer. Antonio likes that one better.

“Am I? About to fuck you?” Antonio gives his hair another tug.

Zaco’s face falls just for a second, then his grin is back, confused this time. “I mean, I hope so.”

Antonio thinks for one more second. He can still turn this around. He can still… oh but that dumb grin makes him angry. Angry enough to take it out on Zaco’s ass. “Hm. Get your ass in the back seat then.”

His grin turns happy as he fumbles to obey, crawling over the console while fiddling with his belt.

Antonio rolls his eyes and gets out of the car like a normal person, after he pulls the seat all the way forward, and gets in the back seat through the door, also like a normal person.

By the time he’s in with the door closed, Zaco looks impatient, sporting his purple tee and denim jacket, and socks, his pants and shoes on the backseat. Antonio knocks them to the floor. He doesn’t need dirt on his seats.

Zaco is smiling as bright as ever, excited and clearly horny with his nipples hard enough to cut glass with how prominently they're showing through his shirt, and his thick cock fucking dripping as it twitches. He reaches for Antonio’s shirt to pull him closer. If Z is putting on a show just for Antonio’s benefit, he’s doing one hell of a job.

“You got a condom, Z?” Antonio murmurs in his ear, placing a kiss there too.

“Oh uh, maybe? You can check my pants but I don’t think so. You can hit it raw though, officer.”

“Uh, how about no.” Antonio snorts. “I have no idea what’s been in your ass. Or in your arm, for that matter.”

“Hey! I don’t shoot up, man.”

“Really? Never heard that before.” He reaches into his own jacket pockets, because it’s a weird tradition to put condoms in an officer’s jacket when they get divorced at the 21st, and the patrol officers haven’t let up yet.

“So you have a problem with my ass and my arms, but you had no problem swapping spit a second ago. In fact, I think you liked it more than me.”

“Shut up.” To Z’s credit, the next thing Antonio does is stick his tongue down Zaco’s throat. A thought tickles his forehead. That smile… that fucking smile that hasn’t vanished for more than two seconds since he laid eyes on the man. He can’t help but wonder if he-

Antonio opens his eyes, not pausing his utter invasion of Zaco’s mouth, and sure enough, while moaning and kissing back with fervor, Zaco is still. Fucking. Smirking.

When he starts to pull away, Zaco leans back in and licks from Antonio’s chin to his nose like a dog. He licks again, this time from cheek to cheek.

“Man, would you stop slobbering on me?” Antonio doesn’t mind as much as he’d like to mind, but this feels like something that warrants a warning at least; enthusiastically licking someone’s face.

“Sorry officer, I just wanted to see if you taste as good as you look.”

Antonio sighs in what feels like defeat, and begins to work on his pants, which are very tight at this point, and he’s sure his briefs have a wet spot in front.

His fly is open, and he figures for the sake of convenience he should just keep his pants on. He only needs his dick for this, so he tugs it out through the folds of the soft fabric and gives his trooper a few good strokes.

Zaco looks at Antonio’s dick like it’s Christmas morning, practically drooling at the sight. Antonio does have a nice dick, he will say that himself. A bit longer than average, and as fat as the mushroom head of his dick was, the shaft was conical, getting wider toward the base.

“Fucking yes.” Zaco breathes, he’s almost hyperventilating. “Fuck yes stick that in me.”

Antonio strokes himself for another few seconds before reaching for the condom he pulled out earlier. He ends up having to get another when he puts it on upside down at first and can’t roll it. The second one goes on okay.

“Fuck me already, come on.” Zaco positions himself on the console, lifting a leg to show his hole, wriggling and pink, for Antonio to presumably fuck up into.

“You aren’t uh, you aren’t going to,” Antonio clears his throat. “I don’t know, finger yourself? I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Z’s eyes go dark. “Why not?” He sticks his tongue out playfully and makes a show of biting it. “You should know, I like when it hurts, officer.”

Antonio’s not sure about this one. He’s not a slim fit, and while Zaco is clearly not a virgin, he’s not sure if…

Zaco is wrapping his legs around Antonio impatiently, trying to aim the bigger man’s dick into his ass, one hand gripping the headrest of the driver seat, the other hand a vice grip around the base of his own dick. “C’mon, c’mon.”

Antonio gives in and goes for it, gripping Zaco’s hips hard and giving his dick a good, hard nudge up into Zaco’s hole.

Zaco moans, shrill at first, gripping Antonio’s shoulders to dust as he slowly gets split in half. His hole pushes back but pulls him in, like Zaco’s hole is hungry for cock but he’s intentionally tensing up.

“Mmmmmmm!” Zaco hums when the rest of Antonio’s fat cock is shoved inside him. The condom rolled up a little during the thrusting and friction, and he can feel the hot skin on skin of Zaco’s asshole around the base of his dick. He can’t deny it feels heavenly. “Oh fucking shit, yes!”

Antonio waits until Z meets his eyes to nod at where Zaco is still just holding the base of his cock tightly. Tight enough that Antonio can see the strain of his fingers, knuckles all rigid. “You waiting for something, man? Jerk yourself off.”

His answer is a labored chuckle. “No need officer, I just- heh! Oh, oh g- I’m trying not to cum. It- I mean your dick, dude, it hurts so fucking good!” His eyes are screwed shut tight and his smile is as pleasured as ever. His imprisoned dick gives a twitch in his hand.

Antonio wouldn’t mind tasting that dick.

But right now he has other things to think about, because it seems like Zaco might be able to cum just from getting hurt.

“This isn’t your first fuck in a car.” Antonio notes when Zaco doesn’t flinch even when his head bonks the car ceiling. “Or with a cop, huh?”

Zaco grins, smug again. “No, sir. Not even close, sir.”

“Slut like you is probably loose enough to take two dicks like mine, huh?” Antonio feels possessed to try his hand at something kinky here at least.

Turns out Zaco sneers with a smile, too. “I do kegels. Every day, keeps my asshole real tight. Ask Ruzek, he’s had a go. Or Trudell at the 47th, Garbey at 6th, Jeers from west.”

“Okay! Okay, I get it, you have a magical butt that hypnotizes the dick of every cop for ten miles. You can shut it, I don’t need to hear about all of them.” He pulls Zaco down by the hips, releasing a thigh to meanly brush his knuckles against Z’s twitching length.

“Mmmnnnn- Hey!” Zaco sort of frowns, but it’s still humorous, still with his lips curved up. How does he do that? “Not just dicks. I fuck chick cops, too. Show some respect.”

That strikes a wire in him for some reason. It also makes him horny. Also inexplicable. His hand travels to Zaco’s hair again and resumes it’s strenuous grip.

“You got some nerve demanding respect from an officer of the law who caught you buying a controlled substance.”

Zaco’s eyes sparkle and his demeanor changes just a touch and his smile takes on a pout. “You’re right. I’m sorry, officer. I was bad, wasn’t I? I was sooo bad. Maybe I need to be punished.” He’s grinding back down into Antonio’s hips every time he goes balls deep.

Antonio has been second guessing everything this punk has said. Maybe he should listen for a minute. That’s what he decides as he growls into Zaco’s neck before he bites down hard.

“Fucking yes! Oh, harder, fuck, bite me harder!” Zaco begs and he begs very prettily, so Antonio bites him again, harder, on the other side of his neck. Then he licks and sucks at the skin like a goddamn vampire, because at this point he’s into this masochism thing Zaco has going on, at least enough to want to leave bruises on him.

Antonio yanks Z’s hand off his cock and drowns himself in the surprised yelp he gets for it.

“Wait-“ Zaco gasps as Antonio moves the hand to his own hair, which he spent no small amount of time styling this morning. Immediately Zaco grips tight and pulls.

Oh okay. Yeah. Turns out Antonio gets how that could turn someone on, make them hard.

It also turns out that Zaco wasn’t lying about keeping himself from cumming, because that’s exactly what he does after another couple deep thrusts and two tugs from Antonio’s hand. Antonio’s starting to enjoy how wide Zaco’s hole opens up for him when he goes all the way in. It’s hot and it’s obscene.

It’s also really hot and obscene when Zaco cums on his dick when his own cock was virtually untouched, save to prevent orgasm.

“Oh god. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.” Zaco begins to shy away from Antonio’s thrusts, wincing, grimacing. Antonio feels a tug to stop and make sure Zaco’s okay, but his dick is smugly telling him that he finally wiped the smile of Zaco’s dumb face, and that thought makes him fuck up into Z harder.

Zaco screams. It sounds pleasured and pained and Zaco bites down on his jacket sleeve to muffle himself. None of that. Antonio quickly replaces the jacket sleeve with his own fingers, and Zaco’s teeth clamp so wonderfully.

“Fuck! Oh fucking fuck fuck fuck!” Zaco is convulsing on Antonio’s dick now, and still without that smile, finally. “Dude are you gonna cum soon? This is fucking- ah! Fuck! Oh, fuck!”

Antonio has mercy on the man and fucks him faster, letting the knot in his stomach tense up harder so that he can just push over the edge-

He grunts and bites down again on Zaco’s already mauled neck, huffing and puffing into the blotchy red skin as he empties into the condom.

“Ah- fuckin, just stay there for a second, I need to breathe.” Zaco wheezes. His smile is back, curving more with each breath.

Antonio will give his ass a break, but not his mouth. He wraps a hand around the back of Zaco’s neck and yanks rudely. Zaco doesn’t seem to mind, just hums needily into Antonio’s mouth.

————————————

The bust is over by the time they’re done, and Antonio drops Zaco off a few blocks away.

Outside the car, Zaco leans on the open window frame, that same stupid shaping his lips. He clears his throat.

“So uh- officer. I’m hoping that, given how well our meeting just went, we can forget anything that either of us might or might not have seen-“

Antonio doesn’t look at Zaco, just does his best to fix his hair in the visor mirror. “Zaco, I was never gonna bring you in. Never said I would, never said you were under arrest. You’re no good to Ruzek locked up.”

Zaco’s eyes go wide and his lips are moving even before he starts to sputter. “Wh-wh-bu-but-bu- but I-“

“As far as I’m concerned, you were on that corner gathering intel. Thought I’d scoop you out of there so you could avoid any heat once we make the bust.”

“B-but you- I… why did you-“ Zaco’s blushing now, flushed with embarrassment and anger. He’s cute when he’s mad, too, and the edges of his lips are still curved. So he has an angry smile, too.

“I never said you were under arrest, did I?” Antonio put his hands up recusingly, then rests them on the window slot. “All I did was mention it’s not good for a CI to be caught with drugs, and you started making all these offers.”

Zaco’s jaw hangs open in disbelief and Antonio can’t help but laugh. His mouth stays like that until he tosses Zaco his beanie.

“See you around, man.” He gives Z one last exaggerated wink before flooring it. Looks like there’s two ways to get that dumb smile off his face.

It isn't until he gets back to the 21st that he realizes, the son of a bitch swiped his wedding ring.

Chapter Text

Antonio does just about everything he can to find Zaco over the next three days, everything that doesn’t involve anyone else, particularly Adam. Because right now his coworkers are all congratulating him on a successful night out, with all the hickeys Z left on his neck. As soon as he starts frantically looking for a CI, the half dozen detectives who know him decently well at this point will put two and two together.

He’s pretty sure Sergeant Platt knows. He’s not sure how, but her eyes are telling him something and he just has a hunch that somehow, she knows.

He makes some inconspicuous calls to pawn shops asking about the ring, but nothing comes up.

He remembers the sex, vividly. It was some good sex, he remembers almost every detail. He left nine big bite marks on Zaco’s neck, two sets of finger imprints on his legs.

So when did Zaco slip his ring off? It had to be when their fingers were twined together in Zaco’s hair. Antonio had bigger things on his mind than whatever was pulling on his finger at the time.

That little dick. He played Antonio, acting all surprised when he learned he was never in trouble. Made it seem like Antonio was all wiley when Z, Z was the one with wiles. Thieving, handsome wiles.

Antonio is sipping a beer in his apartment, googling a couple more pawn shops, alone. Ordering pizza, alone. Making dead-end calls for his ring, alone.

Pondering, alone, how goddamn pretty Zaco was, stuffed to bursting with fat Dominican police dick, probably his favorite flavor, bruised and bitten, humming as he held his bottom lip between his teeth, lazily looking Antonio up and down letting the cop hurt him and hurt him some more, loving every second of it.

A knock on his door tells him pizza is here, but instead of the pizza delivery guy, he finds himself handing a delivery tip to an infuriating smile. Zaco.

Zaco tries to take the tip from him, too, but Antonio just snarls and grabs a fistful of Z’s shirt to pull him inside and throw him to the hardwood.

“Oof!” Z thuds. “Damn officer, I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Antonio almost throws himself on top of Zaco, pinning him. “Shut up! Where is it?”

The smug on his face makes Antonio see red. “Where’s what, officer?”

“You think I won’t knock your teeth in, Zaco? Where the fuck is my ring, and how did you find me?” He lifts his arm off Zaco’s neck, just enough for the man to answer.

“Ohhh, so it is your ring!” Zaco looks far too pleased with himself. Antonio isn’t sure why, it’s not like he’s selling a compelling narrative here. He’s probably high as shit. “I told Ruzek I might have information about some missing property of yours, and he gave me your address.”

If that’s true, Antonio needs to have a little talk with Adam tomorrow, about not giving out his personal details, and about very much giving him a fucking heads up if he does.

“I just- I found this in my pocket, officer, after our meeting. No clue how it got in there, honest! As soon as I realized who it belonged to, I came to give it back.” Zaco is giving him these, eyes, like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar. But this is like if the kid walked into the room elbow deep in the cookie jar and shouted “I’m not eating cookies!” Zaco’s not even trying to be convincing.

Antonio’s about to snarl out some explicitly insulting variation of the word liar, but he’s stopped by confusion.

What- what is Zaco doing here?

He stole Antonio’s ring but didn’t pawn it, which was smart. Pawning stolen property from the police never ends well. Zaco must know that. But if he knows that, then he never intended to pawn the ring. And the ring sure as hell didn’t fall off into Zaco’s pocket.

Did… did Zaco steal the ring… so he could give it back?

…so he’d have an excuse to be here… with his dumb ugly gorgeous goofball grin.

“Look man, you have your ring back, everyone’s happy.” Zaco shrugs and stretches out like he doesn’t have a cop on top of him. Hell, this guy has probably done gymnastics under a cop at this point. “So… I think you owe me. I just gave you back your wedding ring, right? Mind if I grab a shower while I’m here? My sister says I have to be sober a week before she lets me back in.” He wants to bite those flapping lips.

Antonio’s eyes narrow. This is- is Zaco playing him? Is there some scheme here? He stares at Zaco’s unchanging expression for at least a minute before another knock at the door has him reluctantly rising to his feet. Hopefully its pizza this time, not another criminal. This is Chicago though, could easily be both.

“Bathroom is the open door at the end of the hall. I’ll bring you a towel.”

Zaco’s expression just glows. “Yes sir, thank you.”

Why? Why did he just agree to let the criminal into his bathroom?

‘Why do you think?’ His dick answers, hard in his sweats. When did that happen?

He’s sent the pizza guy on his way and getting out two plates, because this is happening, when from the bathroom, over the running water, Zaco starts belting Beyonce.

Antonio huffs and starts marching to the bathroom to tell him to pipe down, grabbing the promised towel from the linen closet on the way.

“Still the one I need! I will always be with youuuuu!” He’s off key. Not terribly, but Antonio can guess he’s not in the church choir.

“Don’t ever let me go! Say it real loud if you fly-!”

Antonio pushes the door open and he’s not sure whether to laugh or, or something else. The shower has a glass door, and Zaco is shaking that ass without shame or reserve to the off-beat of his pitchy Beyonce.

“If you leave me you outta your mind!” Zaco starts pumping his fist to the countdown.

Antonio drops his pants and starts languidly stroking. He wonders if Zaco is still sore from the other day. He wonders if he likes it that way. He could walk in the shower and give Zaco another pounding right now, no prep, no condom, and Zaco would thank him for it.

He bangs the shower door open, startling Zaco but he recovers fast. In his zeal, Antonio forgot to shed his shirt before entering the hot stream of water, and Zaco immediately helps him peel it off.

“Mmmmm, officer, been laying off the donuts recently, huh?” Zaco runs a hand up Antonio’s exposed belly. It’s ticklish, and for some reason Antonio doesn’t want him to know that so he does his best to stand still and let Zaco have a little fun.

Not too much fun, though, because he’s dying to get his tongue back in Zaco’s mouth, so he does, pulling the smaller man flush against himself and grabbing two handfuls of bouncy, fuckable ass as he grinds his dick against Zaco’s.

Zaco isn’t a slouch in the dick department himself, but he looks small rubbing against Antonio’s monster.

Then Z reaches both hands up and gently grabs Antonio’s nipples. Antonio doesn’t spend too much time there so even the beginning contact has him groaning and gasping fast. When Zaco starts twisting and tugging, Antonio whimpers.

Even though it hurts, he can feel his dick twitching more, harder.

But soon its too much, so Antonio rests his hands firmly on Zaco’s shoulders and presses down hard. Zaco goes down easy, knees thunking against the shower floor, he starts stroking Antonio’s monster immediately, also nuzzling his face against the shaft, gently kissing the tip, burying his nose in Antonio’s pubes. Its cute.

Then he starts licking- lapping at Antonio’s cock like its a popsicle, sliding his mouth up and down the sides with feather-light nips like a corn on the cob. Man, Antonio is hungry.

Then the head of his dick slides between Zaco’s lips, and he’s eager to take more but when he’s approaching the base, he struggles to just fit it all in his mouth, his eyes furrowed in concentration. It makes Antonio chuckle.

Zaco decides to focus on the upper two thirds of Antonio’s cock and starts bobbing a nice rhythm, tilting his head this way and that for a little additional friction. He’s moaning and humming. It all feels good enough that it takes Antonio a minute to realize Zaco is humming Beyonce around his dick, and that’s while giving a decent blowjob.

“Hey.” Antonio grunts.

Zaco makes a hum of inquiry but does not stop, slow, or look up.

So Antonio does what he knows will get the other man’s attention, digs his fingers into Zaco’s hair, pulls them together tight, and yanks.

He watches as the hand Zaco was using to jerk off suddenly grips tight around the base of his cock and stays motionless. God that’s hot, he has to ask Zaco about that later.

“I said ‘hey,’ bitch.” Antonio spits, even literally a little bit. Zaco doesn’t flinch. Just shows some teeth along with his smile, cheeks flushed from exertion and the heat of the water.

“Sorry, officer. What can I do for you?”

Antonio grabs his chin gruffly, and predictably his smile just widens. He runs his thumb across Zaco’s lower lip, lets it slide into his mouth where Z immediately begins sucking and licking his finger like a dick. He pulls his thumb from Zaco’s mouth just to put it in his own, he can’t help but moan at the salty taste of Zaco. Zaco. Delicious.

“You can choke on this dick, right now.”

Antonio feels like he’s seen Zaco’s expression before. On TV. It’s the same face people make when they win game shows. So Antonio really has no problem securing both of his hands to the back of Z’s head and slamming his thick and pulsing cock as far as he can into that warm, dripping wet mouth.

Zaco’s face turns red, and then a little bit blue, but he’s still clinging to the back of Antonio’s thighs, holding himself in place, begging no mercy.

He wants the opposite of mercy. And there’s no hand around his cock right now. When Zaco is choking for breath, Antonio yanks him off. He doesn’t even give Zaco a chance to wheeze or cough before he delivers a solid backhand slap across his right cheek.

The force of it sends Zaco from his ankles down to his bottom. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He whimpers, and yeah, there it is. Antonio got rid of that stupid grin again. Zaco is keeping very still, Antonio assumes because the slightest friction might set him off, and Antonio… he’s feeling kind of mean.

He lifts his foot, places his heel on Zaco’s balls, and steps on his cock. He grinds his foot down as he applies pressure, and Zaco is wailing now, digging his nails into Antonio’s thighs just so he has something to grab onto as he loses it under Antonio’s weight.

“Damn pretty.” Antonio murmurs. Zaco is breathing hard, and his smile is forming once more. Antonio rubs his foot into Zaco’s ass crack, presses against his hole to see the man squirm.

———————————————

They end up sharing the towel, at least for a bit, before they sit down to eat pizza. Antonio wraps the towel around his waist at least. Zaco just lets it all out. When he shakes his head like a dog and flicks water everywhere, Antonio is hardly surprised. The guy couldn’t get any goofier.

He’s two slices in when he feels Zaco’s hand on on his bare knee. Apparently the refractory period is over. He wolfs down the rest of the crust and drags Zaco to his bedroom, and before long they're wrapped up in sheets, Zaco in Antonio’s lap as the cop sucks bruise after bruise and bite after bite into Zaco’s chest, arms, neck, really anywhere he can reach.

The way Zaco is squirming in his lap, he’s trying to get Antonio’s cock in him.

“I told you, I use condoms.” He grunts, leaning over awkwardly to fish one out of his nightstand.

“But whyyyyyyy?” Zaco whines. “It feels way better bareback. And I want to feel your cum drip out of me.”

Fuck. Fucking hell, Antonio wants that, too.

“Show me a clean STD test, then we’ll talk.” Antonio says, rudely letting Zaco tumble out of his lap so he can roll on the rubber. He’s just as rude when he pulls Zaco back into his lap and begins stabbing at his hole with no warning.

Zaco braces himself and sinks down, down, until he’s fully seated on Antonio’s dick, a blissful grin gracing his lips that Antonio wants to devour.

“Now.” Antonio wraps his arms back around Zaco’s lithe body and pulls him close, ready to sink his teeth into a nipple. “Where were we?”

———————————————

“Thanks for letting me stay the night.” Zaco mumbles into his chest.

Antonio snorts but keeps playing with Zaco’s hair. “When did I say you could stay the night?”

“Just now.” Zaco sighs.

Antonio could kick Zaco out. He has that option. The true issue here is that he doesn’t want to.

“Fine.” He grits between grinding teeth. “Just… ask before you eat any of my food. And don’t touch my liquor.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n.” Zaco snuggles in deeper, eyes closed, smiling, smiling, smiling no matter what, even in his sleep.

Antonio uses his free hand to roll his wedding ring between pointer and thumb. There’s still a very notable imprint on his finger where the ring sat for years, unmoving.

He sets the little metal circle on the nightstand and pulls the lamp string.

Chapter Text

Antonio wakes up to a cold bed, which is disappointing for two reasons. One, it’s depressing as fuck to wake up expecting someone in your arms and find yourself holding nothing but sheets. Two, now he has to check to make sure Zaco didn’t steal any more of his shit. His ring is still on the nightstand. That’s a start.

But there’s noises coming from the kitchen. Sounds like… like fucking Beyonce. And it smells like food, too. Sort of.

Antonio pulls on his pants before groggily traipsing out to the kitchen, where Zaco is disappointingly fully clothed, but he’s not wearing his jeans jacket so Antonio can see his neck, so purple and red it looks like he’s wearing a scarf, except the back of his neck which is notably unmarked.

He’s fiddling with something in a frying pan when Antonio walks up behind him and wraps his thick arms around Zaco’s waist, leaning in to suck a light mark into his nape.

“Mmmmmmmm, good morning to you too, Officer.” Zaco leans into the touch. “I like your name. Antonio. Tones. Tony. Tonio. You know you never told me your first name? I saw it on your mail when I got up.”

“You mean I fucked you twice and you didn’t even know my name?” Antonio is too busy chewing on Z’s earlobe to really care.

“What? You think it says Zaco on my birth certificate? I know now. And I’m saying I like it. You ready for brunch?”

“Zaco it’s too early for brunch. Get out of my apartment. I thought I told you not to touch my food.”

“Ah-ah!” Zaco holds the spatula aloft. “You said don’t touch your liquor. And not to eat any of your food without asking. I’m not eating, I’m cooking.”

“Uh-huh. And what are you cooking there?”

“Eggs on pizza.”

“Eggs. On pizza.”

“That’s right! I’d make this for my sister growing up and we’d call it Southside brunch.”

That’s adorable. “You’re cute.” Antonio mumbles, because he’s still sleepy and uninhibited. But he’s also gotta go, he slept in because he was tired from last night’s workout, so after another bite to the side of Zaco’s neck, he whispers, “Get out.”

“Seems like you don’t want me to go.”

“That’s circumstantial at best. I have to go to work, and I’m not leaving you in my apartment alone. Take your pizza to go, and get.”

“Okay, okay, just give me a second.”

Antonio definitely slaps that ass as Zaco wraps his ‘brunch’ in a paper towel. He doesn’t seem to mind, and plants another sloppy kiss on Antonio’s mouth before fetching his jacket.

“I’ll see you around, Officer Tonio.” Zaco winks at him and takes a big bite of pizza, the door creaking under the strain of his pull.

Antonio walks to the door after him, watches him look for the stairs. “It’s the red door right there. Hey! Hey! If any of my shit is missing, don’t think I won’t find you!”

He swears he can hear Zaco laughing. Everythings a joke.

————————————

When Ruzek asks to go over the details of the Nematski case in the locker room, Antonio figures it's the perfect time to remind Adam not to give criminals his address, but Ruzek beats him to it with a finger pressed accusingly into his chest.

"Are you screwing Zaco Munn?” Oh, okay. So definitely not about the Nematski case. And yeah, he takes a second too long to answer, but also it’s not like he’s been careful and he doesn’t want to deny it if Adam has proof. “Oh my god, you are, you’re screwing my CI.”

“Look man, it wasn’t- I picked him up off Kilpatrick on Monday so he wouldn’t catch any heat during the bust. Then he started, you know, propositioning me and-“

“Of course he did, Antonio, of course he fucking did, because he’s a copknocker, and you have a badge!” Wow. That hurt just a little bit, even if Antonio already knew it. Adam is acting a bit too incredulously for this not to be personal. Looks like Z wasn’t lying about fucking around with Ruzek.

“Look, do we have a problem here? How did you even find out? You stalking me or something?” Antonio crosses his arms.

“No! Okay maybe a little. Some of the guys and I made a bet on who your new ladyfriend is,” Adam points to Antonio’s still marked-up neck, “and I saw Zaco leave your apartment this morning looking like, like, well, like that.”

“You guys made bets on who I’m sleeping with? Are you all really that bored, cuz I’m almost impressed.”

Adam huffs. “Look, if you need some guy-on-guy action, I can find you someone better to roll with than Zaco. He’s- he’s a fucking badge bunny, man.”

Antonio makes his best meh face. “Maybe I dig it. How much money did you guys bet? And who were you betting on?”

“Dude, he’s a CI? That’s like, four flavors of wrong on two scoops of illegal. Alright, you need to spill, Antonio. I was worried before but now I’m just… I’m confused. Maybe a little curious, actually.” Ruzek leans in close. “Look, its been years since he and I have…” Adams voice drops to the floor, “…you know. Has- has he gotten that good? That it’s really worth, all this?” Adam is whispering but his hyperbolic hand motions speak volumes.

Antonio has to think for a second. Is the sex good enough to jeopardize his job? It might just be. It was mind-blowing sex. And even though he enjoys being gentle with a delicate partner, it’s pretty hot that he doesn’t have to be careful at all with Zaco. But that’s not it, not entirely. Not if Antonio’s being honest.

“It’s the way he smiles.” Honesty. He loses himself, thinking of that smile, in all of its cleverly curved variations. “I know that sounds stupid. Anyone can smile. There are lots of… I don’t- lots of great smiles out there. But he- he just smiles at everything. Getting roughed up, arrested, he’s smiling just the same as if he’s telling a joke. He smiles when he’s mad, he smiles when he eats, he fucking smiles when he sleeps. It just… I don’t know how to explain it. I just want to be around that.”

After a nice, silent moment of contemplation, Ruzek starts laughing. Hysterically laughing, into his hands, with sparkling, humorous eyes, the whole bit. Aaaaaand this is exactly why Antonio doesn’t talk about his feelings.

“I also… might like the way he sings Beyonce when my dick’s in his mouth.”

“Oh man, dude. Oh, man! Beyonce?” Somehow the laughing gets more intense.

Antonio frowns and straightens his jacket. “What? What is it, Ruzek?”

Adam leans against the lockers and smiles warmly, mischievously. It’s not cute the same way Z’s smile is. “Nothing. Beyonce.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you got something to say.”

“Nope, nothing to say man, forget I asked. And uh, heh, give Z my best, okay?” Adam’s still chuckling when he walks back to his desk.

“What you think you’re better than me man?” Antonio calls after him. “I didn’t do anything you didn’t do, I’d put money on that!”

Sean walks in as Adam’s shadow disappears, looking befuddled, thumb over his shoulder. “What did you two do?”

Antonio groans and smacks his forehead. “I forgot to tell him not to- never mind. Good to see you, Sean.”

————————————

For the next couple weeks Zaco shows up at Antonio’s apartment every two or three days, always with a lame excuse.

“Hey ‘Tonio, I’m really hungry, think I could come in for a sandwich?”

“’Tonio some asshole on the corner fucking yakked on my shoes! Mind if I use your washer?”

“Oof, I got a bad headache, dude. Got an aspirin?”

“Hey Officer, I’d like to report a crime, someone stole my jacket, and it’s freaking cold outside!”

“Man just let me in for a glass of water, then I’ll be on my way.”

Antonio gives in every time.

Most of the time Z just starts feeling up his abs and sucking on his tongue, but other times he has to work for it. He has to admit that he wants it.

For instance when Z came all the way across town and took an elevator several floors up for a glass of fucking water, which he drains dramatically, gulp by gulp, while Antonio watches with crossed arms. Then Z tries to leave, as if he actually just wants the stupid water.

Antonio knows he’ll turn around. He will. He has to. But then Z gets too close to the door and Antonio gets anxious that Z really will leave, so he tackles the other man against the door before he can open it and starts assaulting the back of his neck with punishing teeth.

Antonio’s absolute new favorite activity since meeting Z is having the other man sit in his lap, fat dick lodged comfortably in Zaco’s guts, and just necking and biting and leaving hickeys until his cock was tingling and sore.

He never thought he’d be into spanking, but Z is turning him onto some stuff. He likes to spread Zaco’s ass out across his lap, lick and scratch at his hole, landing slap after satisfying slap down on Z’s bouncy cheeks while the man begs for more, harder, asks Antonio to bite his ass, make his hole hurt.

But there’s something tugging on just one of Antonio’s heartstrings. Zaco’s so pretty, especially split open on a dick. Antonio wants to… wants to take him apart. Slowly, gently, like he did with his girlfriends. He wants the chance to finger Zaco open slowly, kiss him hard but not rough, match his pace, meet his thrusts. Maybe even suck on that cute dick of his. He always wants to try sucking Z off, but he gets too distracted, especially when Zaco is humming Beyonce so nicely around him, happy to have his throat fucked full.

He wants- he wants to make Zaco cum without hurting, just one time, just to see what it looks like. Just to say that he did.

—————————

He’s ready for Zaco’s next lame excuse, answering the door for his tweaking ass, again, but instead he’s greeted by a fistful of big bills.

“It’s payday, baby!” Zaco bites his tongue playfully.

“Ah jeez, who did you rob, Zaco?” Antonio scoffs as he pulls Zaco inside, naturally wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing.

“No one! Well, some dealers I guess.” He throws an arm around Antonio’s shoulder. “That bust on Kilpatrick? That was from a tip I gave Ruzek. 6 kilos of dope means 6. Gs. For. Me.” He’s fanning himself with the money.

“Paperwork finally went through, huh? Sorry to say, Z, but I think they scrimped on you. That doesn’t look like six Gs to me.” He runs a finger over the cash.

“Ha! Good eye, officer. It’s not. I gave half of it to my sister, Marla. She uh- she had a little trouble making rent last month soooooo. Anyway, the rest of it is all for the Z-man. Lets go out!”

“Lets? You and me?” Zaco’s never suggested they leave the apartment before.

“Hell yeah, there’s a bar with a mechanical bull on Rickston, if you stay on it for 30 seconds or more you get free drinks all night.”

Antonio shakes his head, reaching for his jacket because he already knows he’s going to cave. “So let me get this straight. You wanna celebrate your big payday by trying to win free drinks?”

“Uh, duh. Great work detective. If we don’t win I’ll buy your drinks. Now come on.” He starts tugging at Antonio’s wrist.

“Zaco, chill out, give me a second to put my shoes on. Some of us were actually working today.”

—————————

Zaco makes it 11 seconds on the bull. When he comes tumbling off, he has such a grin on, laughing at himself so freely. He looks like something good, something pure, and Antonio can’t help pulling the man in for a kiss, right in the middle of the bar, before everyone cheers him onto the bull.

Antonio makes it 16 seconds, so drinks are on Zaco.

Antonio nurses a beer until Zaco makes him try something that looks and tastes like the color blue. Then Z pulls him to the back to hustle some smashed hipsters at pool, which is actually really fun. Z shoots a good game and they both walk away $40 richer.

“Ooh, ‘Tonio! I got something to show you.” Zaco is leaning onto his arm when they’re back at the bar.

Antonio shrugs him off. “What is it?”

The sound of crinkling paper is preceded by his eyeline being overwhelmed with white. He takes the paper from Zaco’s hand and holds it an appropriate distance away, trying to make out letters in the dim bar lighting. Theres a familiar blue caduceus in the corner.

“I made it over to med, saw that doctor you told me to ask for. Clean bill of health, baby.” Zaco claps his hands like this is some accomplishment on his part. “So now will you do me bare?”

They’re both drunk and Zaco is getting more handsome by the minute, and suddenly Antonio can’t come up with a single reason to say no. Just imagines what Zaco’s cute hole would look like, gaping and leaking cum. He’s familiarized himself with the taste of that ass over the past few nights. Tastes good. Would it taste even better, dripping with Antonio’s seed?

He pockets the paper and leans into Zaco’s ear. “My place, now.”

—————————

There are some lines Antonio won’t cross. Not even with Zaco, not even when he’s drunk. Like risking his uber rating by hooking up in the backseat. He basically has to put Zaco in a chokehold to keep his hands off, which is so much worse because as soon as he’s being choked Zaco starts moaning, and Antonio has to shove him into the door, which the driver clearly does not approve of.

“Sorry about that. Drunk friends, you know?” Antonio chuckles. A flat glare tells him he received no sympathy.

The elevator, on the other hand, Antonio has far fewer qualms about. He still won’t take clothes off in the elevator, but gives in to some dry humping while they wait.

“Come on, come on, come on!” Zaco hisses, grabbing aggressively at Antonio’s ass when the keyhole becomes a challenge.

When they tumble inside, Zaco kicks the door closed way too hard and falls to his knees and pulls Antonio close.

“M’ fucking hungry.” Zaco whimpers into Antonio’s crotch, rubbing his face unabashedly against the bulge that he’s so very fond of.

“Have at it punk.” Antonio breathes, shoving his pants down. “All yours.”

“All. All mine.” Zaco slurs reverently, nuzzling his nose into Antonio’s dick as if to say hello before licks once, twice, so wet. Then he gets down to business and takes Antonio in his hand, guiding the head to his mouth so he can swallow him down.

Antonio throws his head back and groans. “Oh yeah, suck it, all of it, you know you want to, yeah.” A minute later, the hum begins around his shaft.

Antonio knows this one. Beyonce performed this at the Super Bowl, and then Eva sang it nonstop for two years.

His lips are moving before he knows it.

“Hit me like a ray of sun.” He exhales and is brilliantly rewarded by the feel of an unconfined smile around his cock. He… he loves that smile. He does. “Burning through my darkest night.”

Antonio looks down. Zaco is looking up at him with those brown eyes like Antonio is a god on Earth. So Antonio keeps going. Can’t stop himself from cupping Zaco’s cheek too tenderly as he deepthroats him.

“You’re the only one that I want.” Antonio throws his head back again. Not because he’s overwhelmed, but because the words are doing something to him. He’s… he’s… he can feel his eyes prickling, just a little. “Think I’m addicted to your light.”

He can’t sing the next words, they choke in his throat but he panics at the thought of Zaco knowing or stopping, so he replaces it with a throaty moan.

“Like I’ve been awakened.” He recovers.

Zaco moans.

“Every rule I had you breaking. It’s the risk that I’m taking.”

He can’t stand it any more, he really can’t. He yanks Zaco off his cock and onto his feet and smashes their lips together, somehow kissing and mumbling into his mouth at the same time. He wants to but he doesn’t and he can’t stop himself with the alcohol making his blood and brain boil.

“…surrounded by your embrace…” He begs a prayer into Zaco’s mouth.

“…you’re everything I need and more… written all over your face.” Antonio loses it, buries his nose in Zaco’s neck just to make sure the other man can’t see his eyes as he falls apart on the inside.

“Get in my bed, right now.” He chokes out into Zaco’s ear.

“Yes, sir!” Zaco doesn’t miss a beat. He wants to say call him Antonio.

Antonio takes a second to feel what’s inside him, to decide what’s the booze and what isn’t. It’s just the fucking song, and the nostalgia of home, right? He doesn’t… he doesn’t feel this way about Zaco, does he? It’s just sex. All they’ve done is fuck.

But… no. They’ve eaten together. They drink together. And tonight they went out together. That was a date, wasn’t it? It was a fucking date. And Antonio was the one who kissed Zaco in the bar, not the other way around.

What the fuck ever. None of it matters, he decides. What matters is that he’s going to spend the next hour making Zaco feel so amazing all he can do is smile that fucked out smile.

He slides next to Zaco in bed and cups the mans balls, swallowing his gasps.

“You’re gonna take my dick tonight, punk.” He says against Zaco’s tongue. “All of me. No rubber, no lube. Just spit and dick, cariño. Does that sound good to you?”

“Yes, oh god yes, fuck me Officer.”

“Say my name, Z.” Z looks startled for a moment, just a split second.

“Fuck me, Tonio. I want your big fucking dick in me. Cum in me, fucking knock me up if you want.”

Better, but not gentle enough. Antonio sticks his fingers in Zaco’s mouth to shut him up and get them wet, three of them. When he brings them out Zaco whines so cutely. He makes Z shiver when he trails them down oh so slowly, grazing his dick before he nudges clemently against his hungry hole.

“Wh- whatcha doing, Tonio?” Zaco laughs against his cheek. Antonio just pulls him closer into his side and shushes him, nuzzles his face.

“Gonna make you feel amazing, babe.” Antonio grunts. He slips a finger inside and Zaco jolts and gasps. Another follows quickly behind. Zaco takes them so nicely, he’ll take Antonio so nicely, that sexy hole taking everything its given.

“Heh, I won’t break, Tonio. Come on, you can-“

“I know, I know, but I want to take my time with you. You’re so pretty.” He presses gentle kisses into Zaco’s freckles.

“I’m-“

“Fucking perfect.” He’s sliding three fingers in and out of Zaco’s sweet ass now. He’s so soft and warm inside. “Angel.”

“Angel?” Zaco whimpers.

“Mi ángel.” Antonio slips for a second. “So pretty taking my fingers, gonna look so pretty on my dick, like a goddamn painting. Masterpiece. Take a- a picture of you on me and make it my screensaver.”

“Oh- oh- oh.” Zaco sounds almost distressed, it’s cute. Antonio’s making him fall apart.

“You’re so good, angel. So good, you deserve- Z?” His cute hiccups intensified, and it takes a moment for Antonio to fully register that Zaco doesn’t sound like he’s in distress. He is in distress.

At once Antonio pulls his fingers out of Z and wraps him in his arms, but that just turns his hiccups into sobs.

“I’m-I’m-I’m not-“ Z gasps.

“Not what, babe? You’re okay, okay? I’ve got you, you’re here.”

“I’m not good!” Zaco wails into Antonio’s chest, thumping a sorrowful fist into his pectoral. “I’m not good. I’m not-I’m-I’m f-f-fu-fucking junkie trash!”

What the fuck?

“You’re not.” Antonio insists. He takes Z’s face, horribly screwed with sadness, into his hands, tries to meet Z’s eyes. “You’re not trash at all. You, you helped get dirty drugs off the streets. Hey, you gave half of your reward to your sister, right? Does that sound like something junkie trash does?”

He sobs harder and tries to shake out of Antonio’s grip. “Cause I stole from her! That’s why she almost got evicted last month, because I stole two hundred from her wallet. For- for fucking drugs. I-I’m-I’m-“

Antonio does the math real quick. Yeah, stealing from your sister is not the best move, but paying her back with… fuck his drunk brain, but a LOT of interest seems like a decent tradeoff. He’s sure Mary or whatever her name is isn’t complaining.

But every tender thing he does just sets Zaco off more.

He feels helpless, and small. All he wanted to do was show Zaco… he wanted to show Zaco how he… And now Zaco’s not smiling at all.

This all just went terribly wrong in every way.

Well, if being gentle and tender is what made Zaco upset, maybe…

Antonio takes a risk, and grabs Zaco’s hair roughly. Violently, even. Shoves his head away so he can look at him properly. Zaco gasps, and his tears slow. That’s a start.

“So what if you’re junkie trash? You’re my junkie trash. My little junkie slut.” Antonio sneers cruelly. It works, Zaco’s eyes begin to fill with excitement. “So here’s what you’re going to do slut. Shut up, stop crying, and take this fucking dick in your ass. If you beg nice enough, I might even let you suck my dick after I’m done with your whore hole.”

Zaco takes a shaky breath, flicking the forgotten tears from his cheeks. “Yes, sir.”

Chapter Text

Chicago cops have a lot in common with New York cops, not the least of which is that they both know how to handle a hangover. Doesn’t mean Antonio enjoys them, though. What he does enjoy is waking up next to a handsome, naked, cuddly, smiling slut.

Poor Zaco. After the fiasco that was Antonio’s attempt to be gentle, he made sure to give Zaco exactly what he wanted. He fucked Zaco long and hard and beautifully raw, smacking his ass and biting his shoulders the whole time, twisting Zaco’s arm to pin him to the mattress. He dumped two loads in Zaco’s begging hole while Z came untouched from the brutal fucking.

Zaco is still on his stomach, Antonio can tell that much as he blinks his eyes open painfully. He rubs a hand up Zaco’s beautiful naked back, middle finger riding the bumps of his spine.

Zaco made a sleepy noise of approval, needy even when asleep. Some of the turmoil from last night is still banging around in his head, but one thing is for sure. Two things, actually. One is that he is happy Zaco’s in his bed. Two is that his head hurts like a mother and his mouth is bone dry and tastes the way the morgue smells.

He lets out a pathetic groan and rolls off the bed onto his feet, lumbering to the bathroom. It’s a graceless undertaking, he settles for resting his head sideways in the sink and turning the faucet in the hopes some water goes in his mouth. He’s pretty successful, and once what he figures is a cup’s worth of H2O has comfortably moistened his gullet, he slaps some water onto his face.

His bladder starts knocking, rudely and insistently.

“Shit, shit.” He flings the toilet seat up and lets out a relieved breath as the pressure he didn’t realize was in his groin ebbs away, until he feels like he can fill his lungs easier.

A bit more awake and feeling a couple pounds lighter, he trudges out of the bathroom and turns back to the bedroom. And freezes.

Zaco is still on his stomach, face pressed deep up into a pillow at the headboard. His legs are spread just a bit, keeping his butt tilted up but revealing his hole. His lovely, cute white hole that is somehow tight as hell and somehow can take, he learned last night, a fat Dominican cock plus three Dominican fingers, like nothing.

And in the middle of that cute little hole is a shiny white pearl. Antonio’s dick goes from 0 to 110 in an instant, because that’s his cum. That’s his fucking cum, leaking out of Zaco’s perfect perky hole.

Standing there, barely hydrated with Zaco’s dripping hole right in front of him, his stomach rumbles and a single thought crosses his mind.

Breakfast.

Breakfast.

But then he has to decide. What is his brain telling him to eat? The leftover Chinese in the fridge? Or his own load that is literally overflowing from Zaco's ass? He passed out before he could find out if Zaco’s butt tastes better filled with jizz.

His hungover brain debates for a couple blurry minutes. Cum has protein in it, right? He reasons. It’s basically like a protein shake. Plenty of people drink a protein shake before breakfast.

Ass, he decides. He’ll eat Zaco’s ass until he’s awake, and then they’ll both eat breakfast.

Despite coming to this rational dick-brained decision, some fragmented thought has him walking to the kitchen. He’s not sure why he’s walking that way. He’s talked himself for enough into the protein lie that sense didn’t carry much weight.

It isn’t until he opens the fridge door that he realized his stomach and his dick were working in cahoots.

Antonio finds himself gathering all the typical waffle toppings. The waffle station is mostly for the kids but Antonio liked a good breakfast treat. Maple syrup, chocolate syrup, butter just in case. Also the whipped cream and marshmallow fluff. There’s a pause. His arms are getting full, and the crusty top of the maple syrup is making his chest sticky. But if he’s doing this, he may as well do it. He stacks on the ketchup, the powdered sugar, and for good measure, a banana. He finds himself running back halfway to the bedroom for a plastic knife.

Standing at the foot of his bed, head pounding, stomach growling, and Z’s truly gorgeous round butt leaking cum, Antonio tries to take a moment, a breath, and figure out what he’s doing.

‘Focus, man.’ His dick tells him. And his head hurts too much to think, too much to disagree.

He falls to his knees and drops his torso onto the bed with a grunt, whimpering his discomfort because fucking hell his head hurts. Even so, he grabs Zaco’s legs and drags him down until he can rest his face on Zaco’s ass cheek like a pillow. Benefits of having a bubble butt, he supposes. He opens his eyes to see that shiny white pearl, moving, rolling down his perineum oh so slowly.

Antonio smiles. He knows not to say it now, but Zaco is such a good boy. Even in his sleep he dutifully kept Antonio’s cum inside him as best he could, and Antonio’s dick twitches at the knowledge that both of his loads are still filling up Zaco’s ass.

Zaco’s butt tastes good. Antonio has rimmed people before, mostly women but a few men, too. None of them had a butt like Zaco’s. Antonio didn’t even really know that a butthole could taste good on its own.

Cautiously, he tips his face into Z’s cleft, nose poking into the top of his crack. He sighs and drags his tongue from perineum to Zaco’s sweet, sweet fuckhole.

Antonio stops cold. The world stops cold. Fucking hell, his jizz tastes good. Salty, bitter, and creamy, on top of Zaco’s natural taste. It sent electricity through his brain. The electricity hurt his migraine. It also made him hungry.

Half in a daze, maybe from the hangover, maybe from the revelatory new cuisine he just discovered, he reaches blindly at the condiments spread at his feet, feels for the long metal tube. Voila. He shakes the whipped cream, the ache of his tricep ignored so he can spray a thick line of the topping all across Zaco’s crack. Zaco moans and shifts his hips, as if he knows what’s coming.

Antonio lets his face fall into Zaco’s ass, squishes his nose and chin against the whipped cream until they meet skin. He has to hold his breath while he does this, which isn’t easy, so he focuses on eating the whipped cream while licking as sloppily and obscenely as he can. There it is. He can taste traces of his cum mixed with the sweet cream, locating the hole, he digs his tongue into it. There’s enough cum waiting there at the entrance that he can basically scoop it out with his tongue, filling his mouth with more whipped cream in the process.

It’s all so sweet and salty and fucking delicious in the most filthy way he can imagine, and he doesn’t realize how loud his porno moans are until he’s probably woken up his poor neighbor.

He rests his cheek on Zaco’s again to take a breather, one hand on Zaco’s back, the other drops the whipped cream to stroke his cock. He feels himself drifting off and has to will himself awake by reaching for the maple syrup this time.

He holds the bottle up over Z’s ass and drizzles it slowly back and forth across his cheeks and his crack, the golden liquid dripping down the curves of his ass to make a river down his cleft. Antonio hastily discards the bottle so he can catch the syrup with a finger at Z’s hole. He pushes his sugary finger inside of the loose hole, all the way, drenching his syrupy digit in a fresh coating of his own cum. He’s even more hasty pulling his finger out so he can stick it in his mouth and moan at the clashing tastes.

He conquered that ass last night. He made it his, marked Zaco, from the inside out. Now Zaco tastes like him to prove it. Antonio groans and pulls over the chocolate syrup. The withdrawal of his finger brought with it a small stream of cum that Antonio squeezes the Hershey’s bottle over.

Satisfied with the generous chocolate glob, he mixes the two substances with his fingers until he has his very own chocolate milk. He excitedly laps at Zaco’s hole, burying his nose and tongue in that spunky well. It opens so easy for every part of him. Dick, fingers, tongue. Zaco’s ass was made to take. Made to take Antonio.

He rubs his face back and forth, rough as can be, hoping for a chocolate milk mustache.

Zaco seems to have one toe dipped out of dreamland, still groggy and sleeping but leaning into Antonio’s touch, gasping and moaning to egg him on.

They spend the next hour, maybe two, like that. Drifting in and out of sleep, Antonio snoring against Z’s pillow of an ass until he half-wakes, at least enough to grab a new condiment and bury his face back between those bubbly, sticky cheeks before happily falling asleep again, sometimes with his tongue half-buried in Zaco’s hole, tasting himself inside Zaco and the marshmallow fluff on the outside, Z’s clenching muscle squeezing his tongue in the middle.

And to think he ever considered eating the leftover Chinese.

————————————

Around noon, Antonio gets up for real and starts to clean up the massive sticky mess he made. He feels hot and flushed the whole time, floating in a bit of disbelief of what he’d done to, or rather with Zaco’s ass.

He never knew he could be so filthy. He never knew he wanted to be so filthy. Not even in his darkest, most shameful fantasies that he lies to himself about.

And the worst part, the absolute worst part of what he did- is that he wants to do it again.

Once all the condiments are put away (he considered just throwing them away, but it’s not like Eva and Diego are visiting soon) and Zaco has been dutifully scrubbed with a wet wipe and left with a glass of water and three ibuprofen on the nightstand, Antonio hustles out the door. Fighting his headache, he has someone he needs to see.

———————————

When he was looking for his wedding ring he hit up Marla Munn, Zaco’s sister who he is reportedly very close to. Antonio can believe it, if only for how fiercely she told him to stay the hell away from her brother.

She’s no happier to see him this time.

“I thought I told you to leave us the hell alone,”

“You did.”

“So unless you have a warrant, I suggest you get off my property.” She starts to close the door, but Antonio stops it with his boot. “Really?” She growls. “Do I need to take a video of a policeman illegally entering my home?” She reaches for her phone, at this juncture far more dangerous to Antonio than a gun.

“Calm down toots. I just want to know about Zaco.”

“I don’t know where he is, and if I did I wouldn’t tell you.” She crosses her arms.

“Yeah, I heard you kicked him out for a few days.” It sounds perhaps a bit more accusing than he has the right to be. “You know, he told me he stole from you last month, I know that probab-

“I don’t give a shit about the money. I didn’t care last time or the time before, either. What’s it to you?”

“He’s stolen money from you before?”

Marla shrugs. “Every now and then. He always pays me back, plus extra. Still thinks he needs to take care of me. You gonna try and arrest him for petty theft now?”

Ironically, Antonio still could, for his stupid ring.

“Thats okay, I’m not looking for him. Just for some information.”

“Information?”

“Yeah, just a little insight on his past, I was hoping you could shed some light.” Antonio looks inside the apartment but Marla doesn’t budge.

“So, what? You’re really his boyfriend, then?” She scoffs.

Antonio raises an eyebrow but gives away nothing. “Did Zaco say that?”

“I don’t know, he won’t really shut up about you.” Marla says it with wide, accusing eyes, like this is some sort of omen. Stay away from us. Stay away from me. Stay away from my brother. Stay away from my brother.

Antonio sighs. Then he lies. “Look, tell me what I want to know and I’ll do my best to steer clear of Zaco from now on. You're his sister, I know you only want what's best for him.”

Marla raises an eyebrow, suddenly interested. “You mean it? You won’t let him into your house when he comes by?”

“Next time he shows up unannounced I’ll send him packing.” Antonio feels bad for lying to her face, but he needs to know. He has to, it’s tearing at his guts.

She looks at him suspiciously, weighing her options. Antonio’s a pretty good liar, so either he’s convinced her or she’s desperate enough to take a gamble. “Fine. Come in. You get five minutes.”

“How generous.” Antonio steps around her and takes in the apartment, sitting on the ratty beige couch. “Nice paintings you got there.”

She sits across from him and glares. No offer of coffee or tea. He doubts he’s even really welcome to breathe the air in there. “What do you wanna know?”

“When did he start using?”

“When we moved out of our stepdad’s house.” Short and curt.

“Okay.” Antonio clears his throat and shifts. “Why did he start using?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“Marla, are you gonna cooperate with me here or not? Come on.” He shows his exasperation, despite being a lying son of a bitch from the start.

“Fine.” Her eyes narrow. “But you leave him alone after I tell you this, got it? You close your door and lock it for him.”

“Done.” Antonio says easily. Never. Not ever.

“Dad didn’t stick around long, and Mom had a stroke and couldn’t take care of us anymore. So our stepdad looked after us. If you could call it that. I guess he bought groceries now and then and signed a permission slip if he was in a good mood. He was a miserable piece of shit who liked to make us more miserable than him, every day. But… Zaco never let him lay a finger on me. Not once, no matter what he had to do. He’d hide me at the neighbors house, roofie our stepdad or just fight him. When we got older for a while he would pay girls our age to come by so that bastard would perv on them instead of me.” Her eyes drift to the floor in a moment of weakness, shame. “He did some stuff he’s not proud of, all to keep me safe, and for most of my life, I had no clue he was even doing it. That’s how well he protected me. Do you understand?”

“I- I think so.” Antonio doesn’t understand. He understands more than when he walked in, but still-

“As soon as I knew what was happening, I got us the fuck out of there. I worked three jobs so that we wouldn’t have to live with that monster anymore. And once I didn’t… once I wasn’t in danger, Zaco just… he couldn’t keep it together anymore. He was too messed up. Messed up from keeping me safe.” She stands, anger rolling off her. “So now it’s my turn. I protect him now, got it? Right now, that means trying to get him clean, so if I have to kick him out for a few days for using in my bathroom, I’m fucking gonna do it. What are you doing to get him clean, since you care so damn much? Huh? Giving him a place to sleep every time he shows up, tweaking out? That’s great for his habits I’m sure.”

Antonio looks at where his hands are clenched together, pursing his lips guiltily. He really had no idea… none.

He can taste blood in his mouth. “What’s this stepdad’s name?” Antonio asks casually.

“No. Nope. You’re not doing that. We don’t need your help.”

“Hey, you didn’t ask me for anything, you don’t know nothing, just tell me his name. I can find it one way or the other.” Antonio can smell it, smell revenge clouding his every sense. He can feel it, like what he imagines a drug craving must feel like.

“Your five minutes are up, officer.” She says, stone cold.

Antonio stares at her but quickly concedes. “Thank you for your help, Marla, I really appreciate it.” He fixes his jacket and starts for the door, Marla eying him with a scowl.

She doesn’t speak again until he’s halfway out the door. “You son of a bitch. You’re not gonna leave Zach alone, you’re going to see him right now, aren’t you?”

He can’t bring himself to answer, just sighs and gently closes the door behind him. He hears it open when he’s halfway down the hall, Marla crying out with rage.

“You piece of shit, cops aren't fucking good for him! When’s the last time someone you helped got sober?”

Antonio doesn’t have an answer for her, just keeps on walking, clenching her heavy truths in his fist.

Chapter Text

Antonio only has to call in a small favor to find a name. Gregor Jellins. Thrice divorced widower of Charlene Munn and step-father of her children. He has priors for domestic battery, possession, and carjacking. 603 N Sedgewick, owner of a green sedan with an expired license K112GN9.

He’s in his car inside of two minutes.

He definitely runs a red light on his way to the scumbag’s LKA, after that he takes a minute to calm himself. Not too calm, just enough to not cause any accidents.

He plans, with every available neuron in his head, exactly what he wants to do to this asshole.

A kick for every year that Zaco had to put himself between Marla and this man’s fists. A solid, gut-crushing punch for every year Zaco’s spent suffering, using, traumatized from keeping his sister safe.

Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s not an even trade by any means but it might make a small dent in Gregor’s karmic ledger.

He screeches to a stop in front of a shabby cardboard-looking shack with half a screen door and at least five obvious property violations, slams his own car door shut, and he can’t really see where he’s going because everything is looking really red, but he’s comforted by the solid feel of his gun in his hand.

He pays no mind to the screeching coming down the street until a car almost runs him over. A fucking cop car.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going, asshole!” Antonio barks.

The asshole, it turns out, is Adam Ruzek, wild-eyed and looking ready to throw down.

“Put the gun down, Antonio!”

“Adam? What the hell are you doing here, man?”

“Me? What the hell are you doing here? Marla Munn called me screaming bloody murder, told me you were out looking to get her and Zaco’s old man, and that you were a lying sack of shit.”

Antonio doesn’t have anything to say to that. Both things are true. Adam being here doesn’t change anything.

“Hey, hey, hey! Back up Antonio! I said back the hell up, Dawson! This is a crime you’re about to commit. Witnesses everywhere, traffic cameras definitely caught your car on the way here. And who do you think the detective on the case will figure put you up to it?”

“That son of a bitch.” Antonio growls, pointing a shaking finger at the house. Another monster’s den. “Is an animal! Do you know what he’s done?”

“As a matter of fact I do. I’ve known a lot longer than you. Zaco and I first met when we were kids.”

“And you didn’t do shit about it?” Antonio snarls. “Why are you defending him?”

Adam tenses back up. “Don’t go there man. I’m protecting your dumb ass. You and Zaco. You aren’t the first cop to give a shit about Z. I care.”

“You don’t care like I do.” Antonio snaps, enraged. “Get back in your car, Adam.”

“Damn it, Antonio! What are you trying to prove here?”

“Get your dumb ass back in the car, Ruzek! Drive away, this has nothing to do with you!”

“No man, this has nothing to do with you!”

Antonio stops dead in his tracks, his toes clench and he grinds his shoes into the asphalt. He holsters his gun. Immediately Adam relaxes by ten percent. “What?”

“This, right here? This is none of your business, Antonio. Did Zaco ask you to do this? Because Marla sure as hell didn’t!”

“The hell are you talking about Ruzek?”

“I’m talking about you, being here when no one asked you to. Sticking your nose in a CI’s personal business never ends well. Ever.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Antonio snarls.

Adam stops him with a big, solid, unfairly steady and unyielding hand on his chest. When his hand starts to give, he uses two to push Antonio a couple feet back.

“What are you gonna do, huh? You, you gonna go in there and beat up an old drunk bastard? Rough him up? Listen bro, no matter how hard you knock him around, it won’t help Z. It won’t make him feel better, won’t make him stop using. You think I don’t want to go in there, make that sick fuck pay? Think I haven’t been where you are now?” He keeps shoving Antonio back. “So I’m gonna tell you what Marla told me when I tried to pull this shit. Are you here to help Zaco, or are you here to help yourself? If you’re here for yourself, go inside, beat him to a pulp, make yourself feel better. But if you’re here because you care about Zaco, turn around and drive away.”

Antonio looks Adam in the eyes. Really looks at him, like Adam is holding his head perfectly still. And Antonio has to think.

Who is he here for?

What’s going to happen if he opens that door? Who will feel better after? What will be fixed?

It would feel really gratifying to break Gregor’s fingers, really make him feel scared, the way Zaco and Marla must have been.

Zaco’s face appears clearly in his mind. That smile. That beautiful ray of sunshine permanently etched onto his face.

Pummeling his stepdad. Would that make Zaco happy? Would that make him smile more?

Any way he plays it out, Adam is right. If he walks through that door, he’ll be a man who beats up someone weaker because he can. Doesn’t really matter if they deserve it or not. That’s the kind of man that drove Zaco to what he is.

Antonio can’t stomach being the same flavor poison that robbed Zaco of a childhood.

But he still needs somewhere to put this rage.

As fortune would have it, he and Adam are standing not ten feet away from a beat up green sedan. Antonio looks from Adam to the car and back.

Tongue in his cheek, he nods at the vehicle. “Do me a favor, check the plates on this rustbucket.”

“What are you doing man?”

“Just do it, Ruzek.”

“K112GN9.”

The spark in him flares. “That’s Gregor Jellins car.” He says, eyes wide, he slides a hand roughly across the window and the door handle.

Adam gives him a side-eye, but it slowly transforms into an understanding grin. “Okay Dawson. I’m game.”

Antonio smirks and reaches for his baton. He’s still writing Gregor up for all the property violations.

———————————

They go for a drink, Adam calling out of the rest of his shift. Adam goes for a drink. He makes Antonio get a burger, because he missed breakfast (even though he really didn’t) and lunch.

“How did you get there so fast? And right as I pulled up? It was kind of cool.” Antonio sloshes some water in his mouth to get rid of the yuck.

Adam snorts and sips. “Bro I was waiting for you at the corner for like fifteen minutes, Marla called me as soon as you left her place.”

That makes a lot more sense.

“That girl is going to kill me, isn’t she?”

Adam shrugs. “Only if you hurt Zaco. Around her, you’re safe right up until you hurt Zaco.”

Great. Antonio might as well be dead then.

“So.” Adam clears his throat, “I don’t care like you do, huh?”

“Shut up, I just meant-“

‘I know what you meant.” Adam stared straight ahead at the rows of liquor bottles. “You picked a hell of a badge bunny to fall in love with, Antonio. Z will mess you up in the head.”

“I’m not in love with Zaco, Adam. This isn’t some rainbow Disney movie.” He tries to deflect. “Is that what happened with you and Z? He mess up your head?

Adam shrugs. “Just a little. Okay, so you’re not in love with him, but you love him though. Kim says those are different.”

“Different how? You just used the word love twice. Hey, love is love, isn’t that what the queers are all about these days?”

“Dude, we are queer.”

“Speak for yourself, I ain’t queer.”

Adam gives him an incredulous look. “Really? You’re really gonna- wow, you’re really gonna say you’re straight, Antonio? Get some balls, man.”

“My balls are right here, where they should be.” Antonio obnoxiously spreads his legs. “You might not be familiar with the placement, I know you’re still waiting for yours to drop.”

Adam socks him in the shoulder.

“Screw you man.” Antonio chuckles. “Nah, I never said I’m straight, either. I’m just not queer.”

“Dude, we’re men who have sex with other men. Well, not recently for me, but I’m hoping Kim is open- never mind. That’s the definition of queer my guy.”

Antonio thinks on it for a second. “Nah.” He decides. “Find another word.”

“Dude!”

“You will never catch me calling myself queer, Adam. Why do you know about definitions and all that? Never pegged you for a social justice warrior.”

“I’m not. Just figure if I ever am out looking for a guy to roll around with, would help to know a little bit, you know? Now eat your burger.”

———————————

On his way home, with his head relatively cleared, he has to wonder why he was so mad. Maybe it was the hangover mixed with his hungry anger. But that doesn’t feel right.

It doesn’t take long for him to identify the real source of his rage. It’s familiar. He’s mad at himself. He doesn’t need a reason, but he has a dozen off the top of his head.

He’s mad that he loves a junkie CI.

He’s mad that Z is still using.

He’s mad that he’s lonely.

He's mad that he fell hard and fast like a thirteen year old girl.

He’s mad that he still wakes up to an empty bed half the time.

He’s mad that he can’t help Zaco.

He’s mad that he can’t tell him how he feels.

He’s not crying. He’s not.

Antonio spends the rest of the drive trying to come up with something, anything to say to Zaco when he gets back to him. He can’t come up with a single word.

It’s a cruel mercy the universe grants him, because Zaco is nowhere to be found when he returns to the apartment.

—————————————

Antonio is coming back from the gym and a proper workout where he got to relieve a lot of that pent up rage (his shoulders hurt now). He’s ready to hit the hay, maybe finish those chinese dumplings and watch some animal planet.

He isn’t expecting Zaco to be sitting outside his apartment, huddled in on himself, looking strung out, like he needs a fix.

His smile is a nervous one, but still. It’s a smile.

“Hey, Tonio. I know I’ve never stayed over two nights in a row but I’m- heh.” He pulls himself to his feet and Antonio reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you mind if I crash here tonight, too?”

Antonio moves his hand to Zaco’s messily matted hair and strokes it gently. Then he grabs it and pulls.

Maybe he can’t be gentle with Zaco the way he wants. Not now. Maybe not ever. But, at least he knows how to make Zaco smile.

“You’re a dumb bitch, you know that?” Antonio shoves his head away and Z’s eyes are fucking sparkling. He’s mean, just how Zaco likes it. “You don’t have to ask to come home.”