Occupy My Ass by Jen Harker

Joe runs the wrong way when the cops tear-gas his Occupy protest, and ends up alone in a dark alley with an adrenaline-charged cop. When he's taken down, he finds himself getting inexplicably turned on, and has to make a choice: struggle on or submit.


This 3000 word story contains rough gay sex, first gay experience, uniform fetishism, oral sex, anal sex, bondage, and bdsm.


As Joe ran through the tear-gas-obscured night he couldn't help but feel aroused by the police presence around him, looking for him, hunting him. With every step he took he felt like a stag in an urban woods filled with predators. Every time his foot hit the ground he couldn't help but wonder if it was last, if a hunter's arrow would find him, take him down, overpower him...


The cop's shoulder hit his back like a battering ram, knocking him off his feet and into the refuse of a dirty alleyway. Joe had been so lost in his "being hunted" fantasy that he hadn't registered the dark forms moving through the gas ahead of him, hadn't seen one of them suddenly turn and dash laterally to intercept him, hadn't noticed the officer looming out of the darkness until it was too late. He had the brief impression of a broadly built and very solid looking officer barreling into him before he was knocked aside to land stunned and splayed. The officer was on him in an instant, his hot heavy weight pressing into his back, gloved hands roughly yanking Joe's arms behind him and zip-tying his wrists.


This can't be happening, Joe thought, a deep dark abyss opening in his gut as he felt utter helplessness settle around his shoulders. The cop had a knee between his shoulder-blades as he yanked up -- painfully -- on Joe's bound wrists, pulling them almost up to the small of his back. Joe gave out a cry that was half agony and half delicious ecstasy.


"Stay down!" the officer pinning him growled, the scent of his aftershave heavy in Joe's nose, and he instinctively obeyed.


The cop rose to his feet, dragging Joe along with him and slamming him into the alley wall. The roughness of the brick scratched his cheek and he felt his chest compressed, struggling for breath. "I'm not resisting arrest! I'm not resisting arrest! I'm not resisting... arrest!"


"Shut the fuck up."


Joe felt the cop's strong hands running over his body, frisking his chest, his pits, his abdomen. He felt small next to the burly officer, compact, tiny. It was strangely arousing, feeling kept. Feeling owned, almost. The cop had somehow taken possession of him, and he found himself incredibly turned on. The cop's hand froze when it felt Joe's hardening erection through his jeans.


"What's this? Concealed weapon? Marijuana pipe?" he mocked...