Chapter Text
Officer James “Jim” Gordon sighs in exasperation. He’s been busted back rank again. This time to traffic cop, of all things. He tugs at the ill-fitting drab black uniform. It’s even scratchier than his typical cheap suits. At least out here, he can dispense with the shiny black hat. He hates traffic duty, which is why his current Captain assigned him here. Here, being a lonely highway leading out of Gotham. It’s in poor repair and not often used. It’s a sadistic punishment duty for a cop who lives for the action.
He doesn’t even have the bustle of the City to keep him interested. He shakes his head in exasperation, and runs his fingers over short golden-blonde hair. It’s only now growing out of the military regulation length. Bright blue eyes narrow in annoyance. Only in Gotham would he be reprimanded for doing his job!
He holds out the radar gun. He’s trying to focus on the job he’s given. It’s hard after the rush of chasing down and catching murders. Then again, it’s Gotham, and even a murder can be careless of their speed. He wants to be ready to prove himself and be reinstated to Detective.
His radar started beeping and he looks to see a dark sedan approaching. He clocks it at over 65 MPH, 25 over the speed limit. He turns on the siren and pulls out after the sedan.
He grins for the first time as the thrill of the chase rushes through him. This part, at least he loves.
The sedan pulls over after only a short chase. Jim stalks up to the driver’s side window and knocks on it.
A petite raven-haired man with intense light eyes nervously rolls down the window, his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight.
“I need you to step out of the vehicle,” Jim demands, still high off even the brief chase, irritated that the excitement hadn’t lasted longer. He aims his flashlight at the man, seeing wide startled eyes and full rosebud lips.
“I am. What?” the man asks perplexed at the order.
Jim snarls at him and flings open the car door. He reaches over and unbuckles the man from his seatbelt. He pauses briefly as the man’s fragrance envelopes him. He inhales cinnamon, and vanilla with some other floral notes he can’t place. It’s intoxicating.
Blood rushing to places it shouldn’t during a traffic stop; Jim is a bit rougher when he drags the man out of the car.
He grips him by the front of his buttery soft lapels, pulls him close, and growls, “I told you to get out of the car.”
He slams him back against the sedan and presses into his body. The man in his grip is frozen. Those full lips are slightly parted and he’s panting out small breathy sounds.
Jim glares into his eyes. He’s assessing the man to see if he’s frightened or harmed. “Well,” he barks, “why didn’t you get out of the car?”
“I’m sorry,” the man shudders.
Jim’s pupils dilate with lust; it’s not fear he sees in the smaller man’s eyes. It’s desire. Jim rakes his eyes over him. He’s shorter than Jim, petite and slender. He’s wearing an exquisitely designed suit; made to fit him, if Jim had to guess. It’s dark out, with only the moon, Jim’s headlights, and flashlight for illumination. Jim can’t tell the exact color of suit, or of the man’s eyes. He examines the man’s face. His skin is pale, but alluringly so. He has high, sharp cheekbones, and a rather adorable pointed nose. He feels himself harden as his hands loosen their hold on the man’s jacket.
‘Interesting development’, Jim thinks.
“What’s your name?” Jim demands, pushing further into the other man’s body. He watches his expression closely. He wants to see this beautiful man’s reaction to his growing erection.
“Oswald. Oswald Cobblepot,” he all but moans out.
Jim feels Oswald’s cock harden against his thigh. He shakes Oswald, roughly but not enough to damage. Jim’s rewarded with a deep throaty groan.
He presses his nose against the pale line of Oswald’s throat. “You smell delicious,” he growls. Jim languidly rocks his hips against the smaller man. He bites down on his neck sucking that pale skin into his mouth. His smell is driving him mad with desire.
“So hard for me,” Jim praises. “Want to touch you,” he leaves red marks on Oswald’s neck as he licks and bites down towards his collarbone. Jim loosens Oswald’s tie, unfastening the top few buttons, so he can lick and bite more of that smooth silken skin.
“Yes. Please touch me,” the rest of his plea is lost in a wordless note of pleasure as he feels Jim hand snake between their bodies to press against his erection.
Oswald ruts wantonly against Jim’s hand, chasing his pleasure. He’s completely lost in the moment. He feels a familiar tightness in his balls and holds back wanting to delay his release. He’s hasn’t been given permission to come yet, so he resists.
Jim is pleased by his reactions. Aside from his initial confusion at being ordered out of the car, he’s been completely obedient.
“Good boy,” Jim whispers in his ear before sucking his earlobe into his mouth. He’s delighted by the other man’s gasp when he bites down on it. A sharp stinging bite, meant to hurt, but not break delicate skin. A shiver runs though Oswald.
Jim whirls the man around, and bends him over the hood of his patrol car. He roughly grinds against his ass, while holding him firmly down. “God that ass. Made to be fucked,” he growls near Oswald’s ear.
“Keep your hands stretched out on the hood of the car,” he orders. He wants to feel those taut globes flex under his hands. Oswald’s ass is perfectly formed for spreading apart and sinking into.
Jim keeps a steady rhythm with his hips, with each pass of his hard cock, he can feel the crack of Oswald’s ass spasm.
“You want me. Want me to fuck you raw, bent over the hood of my car, then take you home and use you. Fill you up with my come.”
He watches as Oswald rakes his nails over the paint. “Yes,” Oswald groans.
“Yes, Sir,” Jim corrects, moving his hands to the man’s hips and squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. “Want me to use that ass of yours? Turn you into my perfect fuck toy?”
Yes, Sir. Fuck. Use me,” Oswald pants rubbing back against Jim. Jim holds him there, pinning him in place with his body. He runs his handcuffs over his shoulders to dangle in Oswald’s face.
“You like these?” he growls in his ear.
“I do, Sir; please,” he loses the ability to speak and ruts back against Jim.
Jim eases his lower body away from Oswald. “Such a good boy,” he’s delighted as Oswald arches his back, leaving his hands splayed helplessly over his head. He chases Jim’s body, wanting Jim’s cock against him once more. Jim takes advantage of the open space between the man’s crotch and the car. He slowly opens the zipper of Oswald’s pants, freeing his cock. He runs one hand over his hard, leaking cock, and one over the subtle swell of Oswald’s hip. “Any time you want this to stop say the word, ‘red’.”
“Do you want me to stop, Oswald?” Jim asks keeping his hand still.
“Don’t stop. For god’s sake don’t stop,” Oswald pleads, voice needy and slightly panicked at the thought of this ending.
“No coming till I say, understand?” Jim demands.
“Yes, Sir. Please,” he begs fucking against Jim’s hand.
Jim delivers a sharp stinging slap against his ass. Even though clothing, that had to hurt. He grins darkly. “No moving either. Not until I tell you to. You're mine to use, understand? Until you say red,” he allows.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he orders curtly. Oswald complies, so Jim fastens his handcuffs to the man’s wrists. Careful to make them tight enough to hurt, but not tight enough to cut off his blood flow and harm him. It would be a shame to damage such a beautiful toy.
He roughly turns the other man back around facing him. “On your knees Oswald. Show me you deserve to be used, and maybe I’ll fuck that pretty ass of yours.”
He sees the second the smaller man’s eyes lose focus. Oswald’s hips snap forward chasing warm friction.
He sinks gracefully to his knees in front of Jim. Jim loosens his duty belt and unbuttons his pants. “Can you pull down the zipper with your teeth?” he asks
Oswald leans forward, and bites down on the cold metal of Jim’s zipper. He trembles as he lowers it. He holds on to the zipper until Jim strokes his dark hair, “Good boy,” he praises. “So good for not letting go until I tell you to. You can let my zipper go now.” Jim pulls his pants off his hips, “Now pull down my underwear.”
Oswald whines, and moves his teeth to the band of Jim underwear. He fastens them around the band and starts pulling them down, revealing a tanned flat stomach; chiseled and leanly muscled. He angles his head and repositions his mouth a few times to work the white briefs around the bulge of Jim’s hard cock. It’s arousing to watch Oswald maneuver. Jim imagines how talented that mouth must be, and aches to watch those perfect lips swallow him.