FicWad

"This is bullshit!"

James groaned, "Ya, Jase. We fucking know, you've said that three times now!" He leaned his face against his arm, elbow digging into the hard, cold steel bars.

"Well, it is," Jason repeated. He sat on the lone bed, which wasn't much more than a slab sticking out of the wall, covered with a mattress thinner than a jacket. He leaned his head against the wall, arms crossed, a sour grimace on his face. One foot shook with impatience.

While James sagged against the bars, Kirk started to take a drink from the water fountain attached to the toilet, above the flushing part. Not two drops of water hit his tongue before Lars slapped him away and scolded, "Don't drink that shit, man! It's on the back of the fucking toilet!"

"Aw, come on! It's gotta be clean, or it wouldn't be here!" Kirk whined, rubbing his hand.

"I don't give a shit if it's cleaner than bottled water, it's on the back of a fucking toilet, that's fucking disgusting!" Lars snapped.

"Well sorry for grossing you out, but I'm Godamn thirsty!" Kirk said with a frown, but he made no further move towards it. In a subdued tone, he added, "We've been in here for hours."

"Ya, well, you can wait," Lars said. He patted Kirk's shoulder in a peaceful gesture. "We'll be out of here soon," he said, not really believing it, as he took a place beside James. He sighed and looked to James, who didn't look at him back, instead content to stare out at the bare wall and not make a sound besides his breathing. Lars looked back to his two other friends and gruffed, "Someone will bring us some fucking dinner or some shit. You can get a drink then."

"We've been in here all fucking day!" Jason protested, and he looked to Kirk, who crossed his arms and tried to keep his eyes down. "Shit, for all we know, they've forgotten about us!"

"They haven't fucking forgotten about us," James growled, turning around. He gave everyone a hard look, one hand still clutching a bar. "Just fucking wait."

"It's been hours!" Jason said, getting excited. "An-and even that one guy left before us! That was like...three hours ago!"

Lars and Kirk didn't want to say anything, but they both felt the same. When they were brought there this morning, there were a few guys in there already. One by one, those other people eventually left, leaving James and his guys alone. No one could even tell what time it could have been, as there were no windows that gave a clue of the sun's position, and no one had a watch.

And no, no one had come to bring them any food in the entire time they'd been there. A few hours ago, or maybe just twenty minutes, Lars had called out to a guard. He had to really yell to get his attention. He'd asked for a blanket, because it was cold in there, and the guard had just answered, "Too bad," and left.

"Look, we're gonna get out of here soon, ok?" James assured everyone. "This is just a holding cell. We have to get charged with something before we go to jail."

"O, big motherfucking difference!" Jason snapped. "Only they at least feed you in jail, right? Shit, aren't we fucking lucky?"

"Just cool it, Jase," Lars said, leaning against the wall opposite him. "We just gotta fucking wait." He looked to James. "Right?"

James matched his eyes for a moment, sighing. "Ya," he said softly, and then turned away, back to his vigil at the bars.

"We should have left that place like I said," Kirk said under his breath, glaring at the floor.

Lars put his arm around Kirk's shoulders and whispered something in his ear that James couldn't hear. Kirk seemed to be mollified, but James demanded, "What was that?"

"I was just telling him it wasn't anyone's fault, fuck!" Lars snapped back, glaring at James while he held Kirk close.

"Ya, I'll bet that's what you said," James growled.

"What'd you think I told him?" Lars sneered.

"Come on guys, just forget it, ok?" Kirk said. He didn't look either of them in the eye, and he sounded like he already expected a fight.

"No, I wanna know what he said," James persisted, glaring at Lars, who glared right back. "Probably that it was no one's fault but mine, huh?"

"I never said that, James," Lars said through gritted teeth. "You said that, not me."

James let go of the bars and turned to face him fully. His lips curled into a sneer as he leaned his back against the bars. Kirk threw his head back, sighing with exasperation as the two faced off against each other. Jason took this as an opportunity to turn on his side and try to get some sleep. "No, come on, tell me. It's my fault, isn't it? Isn't that what you think? What you told him?"

"Jesus fucking Christ! Let it go!" Lars shouted, making Kirk jump slightly.

"What'd he tell you, Kirk," James snapped.

"Don't answer him, Kirk," Lars hissed. "If he won't believe me, he can go fuck himself."

"I know you're lying, 'cuz why would you fucking whisper that to him if that's all you said?"

"O my God, I can't believe this," Lars said, throwing up his hands. "You're just looking for a fight, man!"

"Just trying to find out what you said, that's all," he answered coldly.

Lars stepped away from Kirk and shoved James from the bars. James grabbed at a bar for balance and stared back, wide eyed, heart pumping, ready to do something. "Asshole! Ya, it was your fucking fault. All your Godamn fault. Drunk son of a bitch! We tried to fucking stop you."

"So I'm supposed to just stand there and take it, after what that prick said to you? Huh?" James snapped, standing over Lars, very close.

As usual, Lars didn't let James' size or pugnacious demeanor phase him in any way. "O, my knight in shining fucking armor!" Lars sneered, shaking his head. "Maybe a punch in the face would have been enough, James. A nice clock to the nose, and that's it! Walk the fuck away, you're done. My fucking honor's restored, no one can call you a pussy. But no, you gotta take out the whole fucking diner!"

"Jesus, you saw those guys! Fucking bastards coming out of the damn woodwork, you saw them!" James argued.

"And you had to take them all out, didn't you?" Lars sassed. By now their faces were as close as they could be without very much warmth. Kirk was watching, waiting for the second things got out of control.

"You think I had a choice? You think I like beating up assholes? Lars, they were coming after me!"

"Ya, 'cuz you punched out their fucking leader," Lars sneered. "You see how this works?"

"Doesn't fucking matter who he picked a fight with," Jason muttered from the bed, not even looking at any of them. "We wouldn't be here if he didn't knock out that damn cop."

"I didn't knock him out!" James shouted, now feeling the affront from both sides.

"O, thank God!" Lars said in a fakely exuberant voice. "I am so relieved to hear that, James!"

"Shut up," James groaned, turning away.

"No, no really! That's wonderful fucking news! They're gonna be so much nicer to us once they find out you only broke his nose."

Gripping the bars with both hands, James gnashed his teeth and hissed, "Shut the fuck up, Lars!"

"Or what? Gonna break my nose?" Lars taunted.

"I swear to fucking God..."

Lars' expression turned from belligerent to somberly attentive before James could finish his sentence, and he backed up, but not because of James. The blond turned to see a cop at the door, keys in hand.

"Hetfield," the cop gruffed, opening the door just enough for one person to leave. The other three's attentions were firmly fixed on the cop, examining his face for signs of a fight. The man's eye was bruised pretty badly, but he looked alright other than that. Either way, the cop had James to thank for that shiner.

James looked to the others with an apologetic look, as if more sorry to be leaving them alone rather than for anything he'd done. All of Lars' animosity faded as he watched the cop take James away.

The cop was holding James' arm lightly as he took him down the hall. Now that James got a good look at him, he noticed that the cop was fairly young. Didn't look too bad, either. Well, except for the black eye and the the fact that he was a pig, James considered.

At least since the man was not much older than himself, James felt that maybe he could talk to him, guy to guy. "Hey, man," he muttered. "Sorry 'bout punching you like that." He glanced at the cop, who didn't turn to look at him, or change his expression at all. As he looked down, he saw his name tag: Nowak. James felt a bit better putting a name to this person, making him less some faceless, emotionless pig, and more of a person.

James had to admit to himself that it was pretty cool to see such a wicked bruise on a cop's face from his own hand.

Nowak took him into a small room at the end of the hall, past mostly empty cells, and shut and locked the door. "Have a seat," he said.

A bit reluctantly, James did so, shoving his hands between his legs at the knees, one leg jittering. His heart began to race. "Look, I really am sorry, dude." When he looked up, he saw Nowak's eyebrow raise, so he added, "Officer."

"You know you're lucky it was me you assaulted, Hetfield," Nowak said, leaning back in his chair. His eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a small grin to his lips.

James cringed at the term, "assaulted." This clean cut, uniformed kid didn't get half what the those other punks got. "How the fuck you figure that?"

Nowak grinned. "Well, if it was anyone else, you'd all have been arrested, like you were, held in that cell until morning, probably longer, and then given a court date, and probably be given some time. One little incident could very well fuck you and your friends far more than it should." The cop took off his hat for a second to smooth back his lightly colored, thick hair, then put it back on. Nice and sharp, like the rest of him. Except for the bruise, of course. "But I'm willing to cut you a break."

James looked up. "Ya?" he asked, a bit suspicious, but willing. Perhaps the cop's youth really did mean he'd end up being cool about this. But then he hardened, and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' Hell. How much you want?"

Nowak laughed. "I don't want any money."

"Well, we don't have any fucking drugs, if that's what you're after," James said. The fact that the cop's face didn't change expression disturbed him. He had a feeling...he hoped it was just a feeling. "What do you want, man?"

Nowak leaned forward in his chair, a dreamy sort of grin on his face as he gazed off into space. "What's the pretty one's name?" He paused and glanced at James, taking in the look of barely controlled fury. "You know, the little one?" His grin faded as he stared James full on in the face, and he let his teeth show as he said, "Lars, is it?" The men stared at each other for a moment. There was no doubt in James' mind now what the officer wanted, and what they'd all get in return.

"Get fucked, pig," James hissed, his hands clenching on the chair.

If that bothered Nowak, he didn't show it. He didn't even bat an eye, which unsettled James even further. "What about the Mulatto?"

"The Mul-" James snapped, sitting up straighter in his seat. Actually, he'd just stopped himself short of getting up and blackening the cop's other eye. "First off, asshole, he ain't a fucking Mullatto, and you're not fucking touching him!"

"How about the sour puss one?" he said in an icy voice, eyes narrowing. In this whole time he hadn't taken his eyes off James.

"None of 'em!" James yelled, standing up.

"Sit down, Hetfield," Nowak said calmly.

"Fuck you!" James spat, stepping closer to him, towering over the sitting cop. "Sick fuck, we're done here!"

Nowak's lip curled into a grin. "Well the other three are ruled out. That leaves only one..."

"Fuckin' pig!" James threw a punch to the cop, who caught his fist in one hand, and got up from the chair in a second, throwing his knee up between James' legs. James was slammed face first into the wall, his arms wrenched behind him, the cop's body firm against his. His wrists were bound together in cold cuffs before he even knew what was happening.

"Stop calling me pig," Nowak hissed in his ear, yanking his head back, his body straight. He pulled on James' wrists, straining his arms, and slammed James' head into the wall. "Hurts my feelings." Once James stopped moving, aside from his snarling breathing, Nowak pulled him from the wall and shoved him into the seat. Nowak crouched to meet James' eyes and lifted his chin with his fingertips. He smirked at the fierce glare from the cuffed blond and said softly, "You have no idea how lucky you are that it's me you're dealing with. Just now, for example? You attacked me. If you'd done that to anyone else, you'd be on the floor right now, choking on your own blood."

"Good old police brutality," James growled, meeting Nowak's eye spitefully.

His fingers caressing the night stick at his belt, Nowak drove the fingers of his other hand through James' hair, clutching tight at the base of his neck. He pulled, forcing James' head up, and James hissed from the strain on his arms, the cuffs chafing his wrists. His body was shivering with the desire to strike back in any way he could, a desire he had to stifle.

Hand cuffs or no, God help the pig if he made another comment about Lars, James promised himself.

"Are you gonna behave?" Nowak asked, his voice thick, his fingers tight on James' hair. "Can I trust you?"

"Fuck you, pig," James growled through gritted teeth. His eyes were blazoned on the cop's.

Nowak's lips pursed for a second, and he let out a sigh, shaking his head in disappointment. He let go of James' hair just to pull the night stick free. James had a split second's warning before he was struck on the side of the head. The force of the blow sent him to the floor, where blood smeared from his mouth along the cold white tiles.

"Maybe you like getting beat up," Nowak snarled, and kicked James in the side. "It turns you on, huh?"

James didn't say anything. He kept his mouth firmly shut, knowing that anything he wanted to say right then would get him only more of the same. He coughed, letting out a fine red spray, and tried to bring himself to a less demeaning position than sprawled on his belly at the cop's feet. Nowak helped him to his feet, arms around his shoulders, firm and unyielding.

"You have a very simple choice to make," Nowak said as he pushed James back down on the seat. "You give me what I want, and you and your buddies walk. I'll drop all the charges, I'll let you guys off on a warning and ban you from the restaurant. End of story. You go on your merry fucking way, probably never to return to this podunk little town you kids most likely turn your noses up at." James flinched when Nowak lifted his hand, but he was merely fastening the night stick back on his belt. Then he put both hands on the arms of the chair, leaning close to James. "Or, I take you back to that fucking cell. You faggots spend the rest of the night locked up, and when you're finally freed, you gotta come back to this lovely town in the middle of nowhere for court, where you'll be charged with assault and battery on not just the restaurant fucks, but on a police officer, drunk and disorderly conduct, disturbance of the peace..." he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And I'm willing to bet you didn't pay your bill, either. And that's just you. As far as the other guys, well, they'll have to come back too." He stood up and smirked. "What a fucking mess that'll be for you. Imagine calling up your manager, telling him you can't do a show tonight 'cuz you gotta be at court. Telling your fans you can't make your schedule 'cuz you're in jail."

"How the fuck do I know you're not gonna go back on what you say?" James said miserably.

Nowak shrugged and shook his head. "That's the risk you're gonna have to take, Hetfield. How bad you want you and your friends to get out of here tonight?"

James stared at him, eyes stinging, biting the inside of his lips mercilessly. He looked away, trying to think, but he couldn't put any logical, reasonable thoughts together, except guilt. He was the one that got himself and everyone else into this mess, he should be the one to get them out...

"Well? What's it gonna be?" the cop prodded.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he hissed, "Fine, just let us go tonight!"

Nowak smiled and pointed at the floor at his feet. When James gave him a strange look, he sighed, exasperated, and dragged James off the seat by his neck, thumb pressing into his throat, and slammed him on the floor.

"Take these fucking things off!" James said, his voice thick with panic. He could already smell the cop as he unzipped himself.

"No way, gorgeous. They're staying on," Nowak said, and grabbed James' by the back of head, pushing him closer to himself. "I can't trust you not to assault me again. Now open up."

James felt some tears streak from one eye, as the cop's cock was pressed to his lips. He kept asking himself what the fuck he was doing, but knew he had to do this. Either that or go back to that cell, bloody and bruised, and tell Lars they were going to spend the night in a filthy, freezing cell with nothing to drink but water from the back of a toilet.

"Come on, Hetfield," Nowak urged, his fingers tightening. "Don't make me force you."

He thought of his friends as he finally opened his mouth, taking a sharp sigh, and more tears flowed as he could feel nothing but shame. The cop was pushing his head back and forth, at times ramming himself in so deep, James had to wait for him to pull out a bit to breathe.

If only he'd listened to Kirk, he kept telling himself. If only he'd left when the guys said they should. If only he hadn't drank so much he couldn't tell hick from pig.

The third time Nowak deep throated him, James let his teeth drag along the skin when Nowak finally let up. With a grunt the cop pulled out, yanked James' head back, and backhanded him. "No teeth!" he hissed viciously, and shoved himself back in. James finally had the idea to stretch his lips over his teeth to avoid biting the cop in any way. By the time Nowak pulled out again, James' mouth and jaw were aching, that strong, musky taste of another man thick and hot in his mouth. Nowak had not come yet, though.

"Get up," he barked. "Come on, you can do it." He watched with a grin on his face as James struggled to his feet, without the use of his arms. He took a few steps backwards when Nowak came for him, bumping into the table behind him. The cop stepped closer, bringing his face a few inches from James', and his eyes closed half way, his lips parting. James stiffened, watching the other man. His hands were tight fists at his back, and he was desperately trying to sniff back the snot from his nose and keep any more from spilling.

James opened his mouth slightly as Nowak leaned closer, but the cop pulled back, grinning at him. "Kiss you? I have no idea where your mouth's been, sorry," he laughed. With that grin still on his face, he pressed James hard against the table and slapped his hand to his crotch, making a small sound when James jumped and bit his lip. The blond panted and turned his face away as Nowak rubbed him. He cupped him over the pants, his fingers rough and eager to grip everything they could.

"Enjoying yourself, I see?" he taunted, and squeezed hard. "Well?"

He growled in a low voice, "Not on your fucking life, you filthy fucking-"

Nowak gripped James' throat with his free hand and hissed, "Be careful, buddy. I just wanna fuck you and let you on your fucking way. Don't piss me off." He let go slowly and asked sweetly, "I'll ask you again. Enjoying yourself?"

James grimaced, knowing exactly what answer he was expected to give. As Nowak rubbed him harder, his hand taking possession, James moaned, and forced out, "yes," in a rough growl.

The blond yelled out in pain when Nowak took a good hold of his crotch and pulled, holding James still by the wrists with the other hand. James was forced against Nowak's body, his head against the other's neck, as he was being pulled in opposite directions. "I'm not just some dip shit off the street, Hetfield."

James whimpered, "Yes, Officer."

With a satisfied grin, Nowak let go. "That's better. All I ask for is the most basic respect. Now turn around." When James just gave him a dumb look, Nowak forcefully turned him around and bent him over the table, slamming his face down. As the cop forced his jeans down, James choked a few sobs back, feeling himself about to lose it. His body tensed, his heart raced. He knew what was going to happen, and he knew it'd be agonizing. He had the vague thought to ask the cop to not be too rough, but he kept his mouth shut and focused as hard as he could on Lars, trying to forget that argument that was still fresh on his mind.

"Ever take it up the ass before, Hetfield?" Nowak asked, inserting a finger, ramming all the way to the first knuckle without giving James a chance to relax. He screamed out and tightened even further against him.

Another finger forced in, and James hissed, "No!" He couldn't hold back a deep, low moan when Nowak scooped his fingers around inside him, rubbing hard against his prostate.

"Somehow I don't believe you," the cop snarled, and pushed in a third finger. James' body was resisting, but he pushed on through, no concern of how badly he was hurting James, who was struggling to keep quiet. James was tugging at the cuffs as he struggled, and by now his hands were nearly numb.

"I'm not fucking lying!" he whined, and screamed as Nowak began to force in another finger. He felt the fingernail scrape and cut all the way inside, as the fingers stretched him out. His cock was being rammed into the table beneath him, causing aching pain, and other intense sensations, to race up his spine.

"Think I can get the whole thing in there?" Nowak grinned, pushing all four fingers in deeper. His thumb teased the entrance, warning.

"Please!" James yelped, his knees bending, face drenched in tears. "Stop, please!"

"If you answer my question truthfully, I can fuck you like any decent person," he said, and started pushing the tip of his thumb inside.

"Yes!" James screamed, his heart ready to explode from panic.

"What was that?" Nowak teased.

"Yes, Officer," James half-whined, half-growled, and he sighed as he felt the cop start to very slowly pull one finger out.

Nowak leaned over the table to his ear. "Who?"

James groaned, "No one you'd know, just some fucking guy."

The cop stretched his fingers inside James. "One of your buddies in there?"

"No--no, Officer," James hissed. "Fucking no one you'd know!"

"James," the cop whispered in James' ear, brushing his lips on it. "You've been honest with me so far, you can trust me. Just tell me who it was so we can get on with this." He started pumping his hand in and out inside James, pressing on the spot cruelly. James' body tightened and tensed, even though that only made it much worse, and he howled from the assault. Being hit with such achingly intense feelings alone would have made him claw at the table, if his hands were free.

"Dave! It was Dave!" he screamed when he could take no more. Nowak shoved in extra hard and deep, and James threw up in his mouth, tears flooding as the cop then stopped.

"Dave who?" he hissed, his hand still but ready for more.

James spat out the bile that he'd brought up, but he couldn't get rid of that bitter taste. His body shaking, he whined, "Mustaine...O-offic-er."

Nowak's lips stretched into a wide, smug grin as he let his mind entertain this idea. "You know, that doesn't surprise me," he laughed, and he pulled his fingers out, his other hand holding James still as his body sagged. He spat in his hands and coated himself, using his own precome to lube himself. It still was barely enough when he finally pushed it in, though. It was still a dry and very difficult fuck.

His body getting into a solid rhythm, the cop gripped James by the hair and cooed, "Well, you can imagine I'm Dave, if you want."

James panted loudly in rhythm with the cop's pounding, and his cock swelled beneath him, aching and restrained. He kept tugging at his hands even though the metal of the cuffs only bit into his wrists, and by now the cop's soft moans of pleasure were echoing his own sounds.

He did actually try to imagine that Nowak was Dave, but soon lost grip of that image, unable to sugar coat the reality at all. Even with the cop's image burned deep in his mind, the feelings were no less intense, his erection no less desperate.

The cop came inside him, deep inside him, and held himself inside for a minute as he panted and leaned over James' body. Finally he pulled out and told James to be still, while he took a box of tissues from a shelf beneath the table and wiped James clean, on the outside at least. Then he pulled up the blond's pants, redid his belt, and had him stand before him, holding him by the shoulder.

Gazing hard into the blond's puffy red eyes, Nowak said softly, "I'm gonna let you go now. Take you back to the cell and release you and your friends." He pulled James closer against himself and reached around behind him to unlock the cuffs. James whimpered and shut his eyes as he felt the cop's chest hard against his own, his crotch pressed hard against Nowak's belt buckle. "Don't make me change my mind."

As Nowak secured his cuffs back on his belt and straightened out his uniform, James stood, just barely keeping himself upright. He couldn't bring himself to look at the cop, so he stood with his eyes nearly closed. He held himself tightly, his fingers clawing into his own arms, as he tried to keep himself calm and quiet. The very thought of being brought back to face Lars made him nearly lose himself in panic.

Nowak unlocked the door, but held the doorknob still and looked over at James. "Got anything to say before I let you go?"

James forced himself to look the cop in the eye, and just stared at him a moment, eyes blazing hard, lips trembling. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists, but forced himself to hiss, "Thank you, Officer," in a dead, small voice. Nowak smirked and took him by the arm, leading him back to the cell.

James wiped his face raw, desperate to remove any evidence that he'd been crying as they walked down the hall, and he felt the cop's hand holding him as a dead weight. He was still painfully hard.

At the cell, he hung back as Nowak unlocked the door and invited everyone else to come on out. The other three were definitely eager to get out finally, and very happy to hear that this was the end of it for them, but it was very discomforting to see James turning his back to them, refusing to speak. Instead, he just hung back by the cop's side, keeping his face hidden.

"I have to escort you boys out," Nowak said, in a much more friendly tone than when he first brought them here. James walked on ahead, and no one dared to approach him at that moment. Once they were out of that hallway, away from the cells, and back amongst other people, Officer Nowak warned them to stay out of that diner and to be on their best behavior if they ever decided to pass through this town again. As the other three turned to leave, he winked at James, giving him a wolfish grin that left James shaky and nauseous.

The four walked on out in silence till they were clear of the police station, and Lars caught up to James. "What happened?" he asked, frowning in concern.

James warned, "Just...don't talk right now, ok?" There was so much pain in his voice, that Lars was quiet the entire time it took them all to walk all the way back to the diner, and their car. James got in the back seat, and Lars jumped back in there after him, while the other two sat up front. The other three were tense from James' mysterious silence, but after a few minutes of driving, they started talking about how relieved they were to finally be out of there. The first thing Kirk said he wanted was a fucking bottle of water, so off they went to the nearest grocery store. It was already dusk, and they hadn't eaten all day.

Lars carefully put his hand on James' leg, watching his face. He didn't prod or force James to say anything, he just waited. Finally James turned to him and pulled him close to himself. Lars wrapped his arms around James, pressing his head against his neck, and held him close as James held him tightly back. The blond kept the tears firmly held inside and kept Lars close. His mind raced with fresh, violent memories, but he at least could feel Lars' hair beneath his hand, and his breath against his throat. Lars was crying by now, terrified of what secret James was keeping to himself this time.

As they pulled into a parking space at the grocery store, James held Lars' shoulders and told him, "Don't ever let me near a cop again."

THE END