trashywoman69: Angel TV Series (Default)
[personal profile] trashywoman69
Title: The Smell of Sex
Author: Trashy Woman
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Warrick/Brass
Summary: Jim Brass is having some serious fantasies about Warrick and this case isn’t helping matters.
Archive: Yes
Feedback: Always appreciated
Disclaimer: None of the characters are owned by me. No profit is made from this writing.

Another fucking murder. I was so bored shitless with the routine I was ready to kill someone myself. Shooting, stabbing, strangling… what was it this time? I didn’t really give a shit.

I got out of my car, flashed my badge at the rookie guarding the scene, and ducked under the tape. I nodded at the couple of people I didn’t hate and ignored the ones I did.

Vega greeted me.

“What’ve we got this time?”

“Got a weird one for you, Brass. Maid finds the body in bed this morning. Everything looks normal, but she can’t wake him. She pulls the covers down and he’s nude. Body’s covered with whip marks. Marks on the wrists and ankles, like he’s been tied. Swelling and marks around the lips and mouth indicate he’d been gagged for a while. And, get this, he’s got metal rings that go through his nipples and the end of his dick.”

I looked at Vega from the corner of my eye. ‘ Rings in his dick. Just dandy. Another nut case.’

“Does he live alone?”

“No. Lives here with his cousin.” Vega flipped open his notebook. “A guy named Thomas Whitcomb.”

“The restaurateur?”

“Yeah. Know him?”

“Of him. Got his fingers in a lot of pies.”


“Seems to be.”

We entered the mansion through the servants’ entrance, which had already been checked for evidence. Gil, Catherine and Warrick had arrived an hour ago to begin the processing. Out of habit, I scanned everything as we walked. Details were embedded in my brain with every blink of my eyes.

The house was nice---what I would want if I were rich. Everything was top quality. Elegant, but masculine at the same time. And understated. No screaming frills that flashed WEALTHY like a fucking neon sign. This guy, Whitcomb had taste.

Vega rattled off more information at me as we climbed two flights of stairs.

“What’s the cause of death?”

“Cant tell. Lots of weird marks. Nothing that should be fatal, though.”

“Body’s name?”

“Todd Lyons.”

I pushed past the rookie guarding the entrance to the bedroom---swear to God it was the same damn rookie who’d been standing outside---and surveyed the scene. I gave a quick nod to Gil and Catherine---looked around for Warrick.

“Where’s Rick?”

“Hello to you too. Warrick’s outside looking for evidence and checking all the doors and windows for forced entry.”

I went on about my business without a response. The room was tasteful and rich as the rest of the place. Nothing out of place, except for the smell of sex. My dick twitched at the overpowering smell of semen. Goddamn thing got hard if it even heard the word “sex” lately. Pissed me off.

I shifted my weight and concentrated on the scene.

The body was still in bed. The covers were pulled down. The curtains were closed. I walked slowly toward the bed, focusing my attention like a telescope, my field of vision getting smaller and smaller as I neared the body.

Lyons was probably in his early 40s. Handsome. Looked peaceful, not murdered. The welts on his body looked severe, but Vega was right: On first glance, nothing seemed fatal. Vega was also right about the rings. They were pure gold---and the one through the end of his dick was huge.

My own dick grew tighter in my pants. I flinched. Jerking off was becoming an hourly event, the only way I could keep the fucker down. I put my hand in my pocket to try to adjust it, but the damn thing humped my hand so I pulled out fast. Thankfully, Vega didn’t notice.

Lyons was on the right side of the bed. His body was straight, his hands on his chest. The smell of semen was much stronger near the body. There was something else too. I closed my eyes and breathed in. Leather. There was an odor of leather. My dick leaked in my pants and I had difficulty focusing, I looked around but could not find the source of the leather smell.

I tried hard to return my attention to the scene. The covers were thrown to the left. Made sense. Maid would come in, stand on the right next to Lyons, and toss back the sheets to the left. The left side of the pool-sized bed was undisturbed except for the pillow, It lay close to Lyons pillow and was sunken by the obvious impression of a head.

I leaned closer to look at Lyons right cheek---the cheek by the empty pillow. It had dried patches on it. Residue. Semen? Tears? Continuing my body scan, a tiny drop of blood in the crook of Lyons right arm caught my eye. Needle mark.

I straightened and looked at Lyons crotch. It was completely hairless. I hadn’t noticed it before because the sight of a pierced dick had been such a teeth-gritter, but I noticed it now. Smooth as a baby’s butt. Even the balls. Didn’t look shaved, but I’d never seen a man so hairless before.

No sign of semen either.

“Who was Lyons guest last night?”

“None, according to the maid. Doesn’t look…”

“How about Whitcomb?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where is he now? Was he here last night? His cousin is dead. How come he’s not here?”

Vega shrugged. “Left for work before the maid woke up. Typical, apparently.”

“Has he been notified?

Vega shrugged again.

Words, scenarios, and pictures ricocheted in my head. It was always like that before my brain started processing the information. Made me a little dizzy. That, combined with my raging hard-on, made me positively nauseous.

“Has he been moved?”

Vega shook his head. “Waiting for you.”

“Photo’s done?”

Vega nodded.

“Help me roll him.”

I took the head and shoulders before Vega could, leaving him with the ass. We pushed Lyons onto his right side and I looked at his back. More welts but no other wounds. The ass was clean. Too clean. The bowels should’ve released. There was residue on his back, though, all along his spine. Thicker than on the cheek. Crustier.

Semen and leather. My nose and my dick burned with the odors.

“Let him down.”

We rolled Lyons back into place and I straightened up. I knew I was hard as a rock, but Vega seemed oblivious to the whole thing. He left and I managed to finish my notes and get back to my car without anyone noticing. I scanned the grounds around the house from my car, but there was still no sign of Warrick.

My first stop was a convenience store bathroom where I could jerk off in peace.

Ever since the shooting, I’d gotten increasingly hornier until I’d reached the point I was at now. I’ve been sex free for a very long time. I’ve had offers, but my own hand seemed more appealing. There was only one person who could do it for me and the chances of that happening were slim to none. So my hand would just have to suffice.

I pondered these facts as I pounded my meat, then thoughts of the case began to work their way in. The images bounced around in my head and my hand picked up speed. Welts, pierced cocks, sex smells, leather, smooth balls and dried semen swirled in my brain. I shot to a vision of Warrick, tied up and naked. My come dripped down my hand. I crammed my dick back into my pants with shaking hands and told myself it meant nothing.

I drove to Whitcomb’s office after stopping at home for a fresh suit. I felt edgy and angry and ready for a fight.

Whitcomb’s office was what I expected after being in his home. Powerful, controlled, masculine. The curtains were drawn and the lack of natural light added to the feel of controlled power. So, when I saw Whitcomb for the first time, I was not surprised to find he was the same way. What did surprise me, though, was the immediate revival of my just-jacked dick.

Whitcomb was hot, but not as hot as Warrick. I wasn’t too crazy about thinking it now but it was pretty damn hard to deny.

Whitcomb was 6 foot 1 or 2. His hair was black with strands of silver mixed in. His body was lean. He looked somewhat older than Lyons---maybe 46, 47.

He stood a few feet away from me and there was no way to hide the fact that my dick was trying to close the gap between us. It was disorienting to have a hard-on for someone other than Warrick. This was the first time it had ever happened. His eyes were as hard and blue as ice and they looked straight into me.

“You’re here about Todd.”

I ignored the sweat trickling down my face.

“You know he’s dead.”

He turned away from me and sat behind his desk. “Yes.”

I waited for more , but Whitcomb wasn’t giving any.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

“I killed him.”

Easiest fucking confession I ever got.


“He wanted me to.”

I waited again. Whitcomb said nothing.

“You know, Whitcomb, I’m no good at 20 questions. So why don’t you tell me everything?”

“Todd and I weren’t cousins. We were lovers. We’ve been together for over 20 years. He was my entire life and I would do anything for him. He was dying. Terminal cancer. No cure. No hope. He didn’t want me to watch him wither and die. He said he’d find a way to end it---if I didn’t help him. He was my lover. I had no choice.”

“You’re going to have to come downtown with me.”

“I expected that. It no longer matters what happens to me. I’ve lost everything that meant something. So I’m ready to go, Captain.”

I read him his rights. I didn’t cuff him. I thought I should leave some of his dignity in tact. I felt sorry for the guy. However, it wasn’t my place to judge. It would all play itself out in a court of law. Guilty or innocent, it wasn’t my call.

Back at the office, I went on a manhunt for Warrick. I hadn’t seen him in over 24 hours. My eyes, body, soul, were going through withdrawal. I had to see him and look into his green eyes. It would definitely renew my hard on. I didn’t give a shit. I had to find him now!

The locker room was dim and deserted except for one lone figure. He was seated on the bench, pulling on his boots as I entered. I wanted to drop to my knees and lick those boots.

He looked up and our eyes locked. He knew! He knew what I wanted. What I craved. What I had to have. I wanted his cock crammed 10 inches up my ass. I wanted him to make me howl in pain and ecstasy.

Silence throbbed in my ears to the rhythm of my dick. Warrick rose to his feet and stepped closer to me. I met him half way. He didn’t speak. He pulled on my suit coat and I followed him out of the locker room, into the parking lot and into his car. As we drove, he still didn’t speak. He didn’t really have to. We both knew where we were going and what we were going there for.

When we reached Warrick’s apartment he led me inside. He spun me around and crushed his lips to mine. When he pulled back he was smiling.

“Give me your handcuffs, Jim.”

I swayed on my feet. I reached under my jacket to the back of my belt. The cold metal of my cuffs shocked my fingers and I jerked my hand away.

“Give them to me.”

I touched the cuffs again and remembered all the times I’d slapped them on a prisoner, wishing it had been Warrick. Since the shooting, my handcuff fantasies had become increasingly hard to ignore. I made excuses for it---but there was no ignoring it now. I was about to let Warrick Brown handcuff me and do whatever he wanted. No questions asked.

I pulled the cuffs from the leather holder. I stood before him and held out the handcuffs.


I sank to my knees, the handcuffs still offered.

“Lock them on your wrists.”

Sweat dotted my body. I tried to lick my lips but had no saliva. I clicked one cuff on. My entire body trembled. I locked the other cuff into place and looked back up at Warrick. His cock was out, standing erect before me. He didn’t touch it.

My head fell back and my eyes closed. My dick burned. I heard a pathetic, needy whine---then I realized it was me. Something touched my face and my hips thrust forward. I whispered Warrick’s name. Something slid into my mouth. The blood in my veins was on fire. I sucked from instinct. I licked and devoured and gave pleasure. I ate dick and new the sublime comfort of doing for the very first time that which I was always meant to do.

I don’t know how long it went on, but eventually Warrick took hold of my head and pulled out. I was disappointed with the loss. My mouth felt so good wrapped around his cock.

He pulled me to my feet and led me by the cuffs into his bedroom. He pushed me onto the bed and stripped me, leaving only my shirt on, unbuttoned and hanging from my shoulders.

I wanted to tell him how I felt but no words seemed appropriate, so instead I simply said, “Will you fuck me?”

He laughed. “Oh, yeah.”

I felt better knowing I was about to get what I wanted and probably a whole lot more.

“Spread you legs.”

Warrick kneeled between my spread legs. He pressed a finger to my balls and fire spread throughout my body. He rubbed my balls with one finger until my dick was rigid. His finger slid lower and grazed my hole. My body shook and he withdrew immediately. His hand slid up my balls to the base of my cock, then all five of his fingers coiled slowly around it.

My chest was crushed. My breaths came in hard bursts. Warrick placed his other hand on the back of my right thigh. Pulling my dick and pushing my thigh, Warrick raised my ass off the bed. He watched my asshole pucker and beg, then he smiled at me. “Nice hole.”

“Empty hole.” I added.

He let go of my cock and wrapped his fingers around his own cock in the same slow, serpentine way he’d held mine. His thumb skimmed the head and precome emerged. He leaned forward, forcing my leg to my shoulder. I had to hold my hands over my head to keep the cuffs out of the way. He stuck his flavored thumb in my mouth. I closed my eyes and nursed. His cock pushed along my tailbone and rested on my hole. It throbbed, sending chills up and down my spine, and it vibrated some tiny spot deep behind my belly button.

I groaned and rocked. His cock fucked my crack. He pulled his thumb from my mouth and kissed me. I rocked harder. My asshole burned. I felt every ridge and vein of Warrick’s cock dragging back and forth across it. I felt my hole pop and I knew it had opened for him.

Warrick licked my lips and kissed my earlobe. He whispered, “very nice hole,” and his cock plowed in, steady and relentless. It hurt like a motherfucker, but we both knew it was no longer my asshole, it was his. And, thank the Lord, he was going to do anything he damn well wanted to with it.

I closed my eyes, focusing my entire being on that tearing burn in my ass, and I whispered the only words that were in my mind. “Yes. God, yes. Thank you.”

His first few strokes were so slow and painful and so glorious and so erotic, I wasn’t sure I would survive. Then he sat back on his heels, pulled me deep onto his cock and started stroking mine. He pressed his free hand hard onto my belly and I felt my insides pressing down on his cock. Kneading my stomach and fisting my cock, Warrick jacked both our dicks at the same time.

“Oh fuck. Fuck me.”

I felt my balls tighten and knew I was about to blow, but Warrick grabbed the backs of my legs, forced me into a ball, and started fucking me so hard all I could do was whimper. He didn’t let me come right then. He fucked and fucked and I’d never felt anything so unbelievably incredible in my life. Nothing---absolutely nothing---could describe the beauty of what Warrick was doing to me.

Warrick’s pace slowed and he flipped me on top of him. I sank impossibly deeper onto his cock. I rode him that way for an eternity. I bent and kissed him. His hands ran sweetly and tenderly up my back. Tears slid down my cheeks and landed on his chest. This time when he took my cock in his hand he didn’t hold back. He pumped it and pumped it, until long ropey spurts shot out across his chest. I felt my asshole tense. He grabbed hold of my hips and pounded furiously into me. His face was beautiful and his eyes looked deep into mine when he came. I’ve never even come close to such bliss before.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me down for another kiss. Those damn handcuffs were becoming a nuisance. I wanted to wrap my arms around him too. He seemed to sense it, because he rolled me over, got up and retrieved the keys out of my pants pocket. He removed the handcuffs and massaged my sore wrists. I laid my head on his chest and he kissed the top of my head.

“I love you,” I whispered as I lay there in his arms.

I knew from that moment on that I wouldn’t be needing my hand anymore.

Warrick pulled me closer and growled, “mine.”

Oh, yeah. I’m yours alright. Was there ever any doubt?

I fell asleep with the smell of sex burning in my nose.

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October 2012

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