Finally deciding to post this here. Unbeta'd, but big props to husband for his input about police-related things. Cover image by Cheriiart (same name on tumblr)

Cas can feel the migraine starting and he hasn't even been on shift four hours yet. It doesn't help that the "drunk and disorderly" in the backseat won't shut the fuck up. He rubs the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.

"God give me strength," he mumbles before turning around to face the man behind the grated partition in his backseat, "Hey fuckwad! Pipe down!" The suspect stops kicking at Cas' seat at his outburst and glares at the officer. He doesn't look like your normal criminal type. Cas is used to dealing with meth heads and drunken trailer trash. With large green eyes, broad shoulders and tanned skin, this guy looks like a male model, but Cas well knows that pretty-boy types with daddy's money can be violent criminals too.

The suspect is cuffed, knocking his head against the back of the seat like a petulant child. When Castiel had arrived, he had been about to get into a fist fight with the owner of the bar that he had just been kicked out of. Normally, Castiel would have just taken him in on a "drunk in public" charge, until the GQ-model-wannabe had reeled back and clocked Castiel. Now, in addition to drunk and disorderly, he was going to be charged with a felony assault of an officer. Castiel catches his reflection in the rearview mirror, grimacing at growing bruise at his cheekbone. He touches it gingerly, wincing at the pain. Castiel hears pretty boy cluck his tongue from the backseat.

"Oh, did I hurt you, officer?" GQ Wannabe has crunched down his large frame against the door, feet pushed up against the front seat, sarcastically pouting toward Cas. "Hurt that pretty face of yours? Worried you're not going to be attractive anymore? Ah, well don't worry, officer. You're still pretty. You got those big ol' baby blues and those pink, full lips." The suspect runs a tongue over his bottom lip and gives a humorless laugh. Cas can feel his ear reddening in embarrassment. Castiel isn't used to this kind of behavior. He can handle surly suspects, violent suspects, suspects so high they've called him mommy, but flirtatious…this is new. It doesn't help that the guy is astronomically hot and he's barely flirted with by non-criminal types.

"Aww, look you blush, too. How sweet. You got really nice lips, y'know? Those dick-sucking lips." the guy's mouth curls into a sly grin, "I wonder what my cock would look like with those DSLs wrapped around it. Mmmm, bet that would feel real nice. Bet you have the kind of mouth that just won't quit." Castiel can feel his cheeks warming at the man's words. He can't deny the coil of warmth that has pooled in his gut in response, but he can maintain his professional demeanor as he takes a deep breath to clear his head.

"I said shut the fuck up!" Ok, mostly professional.

The suspect cackles with laughter. Castiel rolls his eyes as he grabs the radio.

"Unit 16 calling in. I need a check on a suspect, white male, name…" Cas glances down at the ID card he grabbed out of the man's wallet and frowns, "Jesus Christ… Disregard that please." The desk sergeant calls back an affirmative as Castiel rifles through the wallet he confiscated earlier. Sighing, Castiel turns toward the backseat.

"Where is your actual ID?" He says. The man cocks an eyebrow and tips his head toward Cas.

"You've got it." he says. Castiel glowers at him, holding up three different ID cards.

"This one says you're the lead guitarist of Led Zeppelin. This one has you as the Incredible Hulk's alter ego and this one says you are the lead singer of Motorhead, Mr. Kilmister," Castiel lays the sarcasm on thick. The man just smiles, running a pink tongue over one of his canines, distracting Castiel just enough to derail his train of thought. Cas blinks a few times before continuing. "Now, where is your ID?" The smile drops off the suspect's face and he shoots Cas a withering look.

"What are you gonna do? Arrest me," he spits sarcastically. "Or would you rather bend me over the hood and strip search me?" He blows a kiss toward the officer. Cas clenches his jaw in frustration and once again grabs the radio.

"Unit 16 calling in. Suspect in custody, refuses to give name. White male, six foot, 175 pounds, light brown hair…"

"Soft tongue, mouth like a hoover, ass you could bounce a quarter off of... " the man interrupts from the backseat. "You know you want to test that out, officer." Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel catches the wink in his direction.

"Green eyes…" Castiel continues, glaring at his charge over his shoulder. "Please check for any open warrants with suspects fitting this description, over." Cas drops the radio and leans his head back against the partition, rubbing the bridge of his nose tightly. He is getting a drink once he gets off shift, that's a necessity. A drink and a couple motrin. And definitely a little private time in the shower when he gets home. He can hear his suspect shifting around in the backseat. He glances a look at the guy, now reclining over the bench seat, one leg propped up. He looks like he's posing. Castiel had to hand it to the guy, not many people could pull off "male-model" while intoxicated.

"Like what you see?" the suspect says with a sly grin, catching Cas staring at him. Cas quickly faces forward, ears once again warming in embarrassment.

"It's ok if you look. I don't mind," The man repositions himself, hands still cuffed behind him. He sits up straight, leaning forward to the grate and plexiglass partition. "I was checking you out earlier. As soon as you got out of the car, all I wanted to do was take a bite out of you. I like a man in uniform, y'know, and you wear yours very well. I just want to hook my legs around your waist, ride you like a bronco. You could just lay back and fuck up into me. Mmmm… You got me so hard just thinking about it." Castiel watches him from the rearview, leaning back into the seat and spreading his legs wide. He obviously isn't lying about his arousal, his thick cock clearly outlined against his blue jeans.

"We could have some real fun, me and you. Bet we could put these cuffs," he pulls his hands to the side to show them, "to very good use, not to mention that weapon you're packing. And I'm not talking about the .38 on your hip."

Castiel breathes deep, slyly pressing the heel of his hand to the base of his groin. Dirty talk always gets him going. He's thankful for the crackle of the radio cutting off the suspects increasingly lewd (hot) banter.

"Unit 16, no open warrants matching that description." the desk sergeant replies. Castiel curses under his breath as he grabs the radio.

"Unit 16 here. suspect in custody, name unknown, on drunk and…"

"There are so many things I want to do to you. You ever been rimmed, Officer?" The suspect interrupts Castiel, "Would you want that? My tongue lapping at your hole? I bet I could have you coming just like that. Look ma, no hands!" He gives a wicked laugh at his own joke.

".. Disorderly, resisting arrest, public…"

"… You can get rough with me. I like it kind of rough. You wanna throw me down? Press me into the mattress and just slam into me."

"um… Public, public intoxication… um..." Castiel grits his teeth and tries to focus on something, anything, trying to drown out the utter filth being whispered to him behind the glass. He cups his hardened cock, whimpering in relief at even the slightest touch.

"Or would you rather have me on top? I could take you apart nice and slow, fuck you open before just sliding into to you. I would fuck you 'til you couldn't see straight, baby …"

"Um… Pleas dis… um, Disregard, please." Castiel turns toward the backseat, catching his captive's hooded eyes and wolfish grin. "I said shut the fuck up." His voice is even, his mouth a hard line, but his anger seems to radiate from his eyes. More sarcastic laughter bubbles from the backseat.

"The only way you're shutting me up, Officer, is if you shove that thick cock of yours down my throat." The suspect smirks at Castiel. For a moment, the air is still. Castiel's face is impassive, eyes locked on the man in cuffs in the back of his squad car. Slowly, he reaches over and turns off the radio with a soft click.

In a matter of seconds, Castiel exits the car and pulls model-wannabe out of the backseat, throwing him onto the gravel behind the squad car. He grabs him by the collar and drags him out of view from the road.

"On your fucking knees" Castiel hisses. The man scrambles to his knees. He quickly works on his belt as he approaches his suspect. The man still has his cocky grin, but the look of fear in his eyes is hard to ignore. Castiel quickly undoes his fly and pulls out his throbbing member.

"This what you want?" His mouth set in an angry grimace. His pale blue eyes are blown wide; out of lust or anger, it's hard to tell. Castiel approaches him, cock hot in his hand. His fingers suddenly dart out, grabbing the suspect's jaw and prying open his mouth roughly. Without pretense, Cas slams his shaft down the man's throat.

"That's what you fucking want, right?" Castiel spits out between his teeth. The suspect gags in surprise at the intrusion. He coughs and sputters for less than a minute before finding his bearings. He draws his head back, hollowing his cheeks as he does, before once again swallowing down Cas' cock. Castiel groans at the slick warmth of his mouth. He moves his fingers from the suspect's jaw, sliding them up to grasp handfuls of short, brown hair.

"Oh God!", Cas cries out as his back slams into the side of the car. The man licks up and down his shaft before wrapping his tongue around the head of his cock, lapping rhythmically over the slit. Castiel stares down at the man, thick lips shamelessly working over him, hands still cuffed behind his back. It's a depraved sight and it causes Castiel to pull tighter on the suspect's hair. He pulls off of Castiel's cock suddenly and stares up at him, saliva and precome coating his lips.

"You can fuck my mouth, if you want." he offers, and if Castiel wasn't already rock hard, that would have done it. With a growl, he tugs the man's face toward him, drawing himself in to the hilt. He begins to fuck in at a frantic pace, chasing his orgasm. The suspect's mouth is soft and pliant, tightening as he shoves the head of his cock down his throat.

"Oh fuck, your mouth… it's so… Jesus," Castiel can't control his random babbling. The man just looks up at him, green eyes sparkling and hums around his cock. Castiel bites his lip to stop a moan from escaping. His pace becomes more erratic and he can feel the suction of the suspect's mouth tightening.

"Fuck, I'm gonna…" Cas' vision blurs a little as he releases down the man's throat. He swallows like a pro, a few droplets escaping down the sides of his mouth. Castiel's knees buckle and he leans back against the squad car before sliding to the ground. Both men are panting heavily. Castiel looks toward the man, mouth wet, come dribbling down his chin, and surges toward him in a filthy kiss. He revels in the taste of his own release on the man's tongue. The kiss is fierce and quick. As he draws back, he takes a second to lick his come off of the model wannabe's mouth. Cas tucks himself back into his pants as he gives him a lazy smile.

"Dean" the man says quietly, still catching his breath.

"What?" Cas is shaken from his revelry.

"My name is Dean." The suspect, Dean, looks up at him with serious wide eyes. Castiel would almost say "demure" if he wasn't aware of what he was capable of. He smiles as he reaches for his gun belt, removing a handcuff key.

"Well, Dean" Castiel moves behind him and undoes his cuff, "I should bring you into the station, but it seems that you just… overpowered me, and got away." He smiles impishly. Dean rubs at his wrist and huffs a laugh.

"Yeah, I supposed I did." He stretches his arms above his head, revealing just a sliver of skin at his midriff. Dean bites his lip, it's a shy gesture, and Castiel wants to laugh at this personality change in him

"I really did shut you up," he kids. Dean grins sweetly and runs a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, you kinda did, I guess," he laughs. His eyes fall on Cas' name badge, "Well, uh, I guess I should get out of here, Officer Novak. Thank you." Dean gives a toothy grin, and Castiel can feel his inside melt into a puddle. As Dean turns to walk away, Castiel's heart constricts. Before he can stop himself, Cas quickly strides after him.

"Dean! hey… Um, if you … uh… If you're ever out, um, drinking… uh," Castiel takes a deep breath, composing himself and putting on his 'serious cop voice', "Next time you're out, before you do anything stupid, like get tossed out of a bar, you can call this number and I can make sure you get home safe." He hands him a small white card. Dean looks at it thoughtfully.

"Oh, thanks man. 'Castiel Novak'," he reads aloud. He glances at the officer and arches an eyebrow, "Castiel?"

"Just call me Cas" he mutters, trying to fight the burning embarrassment in his cheeks. He points toward the card, "That has, um, my personal cell number. You can call anytime if you need a ride or… something." Dean looks up through thick eyelashes and smiles warmly.

"You want to give me a ride, huh?" And now Cas really is blushing. Dean chuckles lightly as he pats his back pocket. "I think you still have my wallet." Cas perks up and open the front door of the squad car, reaching over and grabbing Dean's wallet off the passenger seat. He hands it to Dean, who carefully places Cas' card inside.

"You got a pen?" Dean asks. Cas hands him the pen out of his shirt pocket. Dean grabs Cas' hand and begins to write. "This is my number. Just in case you need a ride." Dean winks at Cas, causing the blush to creep up to his ears. He loves the warm feeling of Dean's hands as they hold open his palm.

Castiel checks the area and pushes his shoulders back, attempting to instill the image of 'badass cop' instead of 'guy with a crush'.

"I oughta get out of here. So should you," he looks pointedly at Dean.

"What are you going to say about my escape?" Dean asks, green eyes betraying his concern. Cas shrugs lightly.

"I don't know. You punched me?" Cas replies sarcastically. Dean laughs, and he looks at Cas one more time. Without warning, he surges forward and catches Cas' mouth in a kiss, pressing him hard against the side of the car. It's a fast, frantic meeting of lips and tongues and Castiel can't help his hands from rising up and carding through Dean's hair. As quickly as it started, it's over and Dean pulls away. He carefully runs a thumb over the bruise on Cas' cheek and smiles.

"See you around, Officer," Dean says, "Don't lose that number, ok?" He walks down the street before turning the corner and in a moment, he's gone.

Castiel stands there for a minute, collecting himself. He looks down at his hand and runs his fingers over the phone number written on his palm. He enjoys the warmth that coils in his stomach as he gets back in the car and drives off.

I'm on tumblr as well under the same name