Finale

joemorgantap:

He gave a small shrug and continued with his cheeky little grin as the phone was jiggled and placed on the counter. It had all seemed fair at the time, he was willing to admit and well, he didn’t really regret it at all. In fact, he had had a blast. His brow went up as his husband was taken and he was lead to a different chair. “War?” he echoed and the interesting idea of the two of them being at some sort of sexual never ending conflict made him grin greatly as he sat there and looked up at his husband who looked delicious in his uniform.He radio went on and suddenly Rhys was straddling him, hips and body working. He smirked at the statement, licking his lips and digging his wallet out of his back pocket. He was more than ready for this, delighting and lusting after his husbands movements when suddenly it all stopped. He gaped and pouted and fished into his wallet, took a hold of his husbands belt and stuffed a ten dollar note into the waist band of his pants, leaning in to kiss at a stripe of skin he made appear by fighting with his top out of his pants. “I have tips,” he said softly, grinning up at his husband cheekily.

Rhys blushed at the ten. It was a good thing Joe didn’t go to the strip clubs often, they’d be broke otherwise. “You want this train wreck? I think you just like my body, you’re not interested in my moves.” Rhys teased him and started unbuttoning his shirt. Little bits of skin were revealed, ready to be ravaged by a soft mouth and gentle hands. His shirt all the way unbuttoned, Rhys peeled it off and let it fall to the floor. “I was in my squad car, jerking off to your videos. Each of them. Your face—” he ran his fingers over Joe’s jawline and twisted his hips again, bucking them forward. “Touch me.” He bent, squatted, legs spread and he was between Joe’s thighs, tugging at his slacks. “Off.” 

(Source: rhys-tap)

Finale

joemorgantap:

The videos were fun and he made note to do it again. Later. As a surprise. To spice up Rhys’ work day, because it obviously needed spicing up. He looked up at the sound of the car approaching the house and hearing how it parked, he guessed it was Rhys. He smirked a little and remained at the kitchen counter, sipping his cup of tea as his husband wandered into the house. He let out a little giggle and shook his head somberly. “Not now. But you just missed the 12 bikers that were here earlier,” he teased, flicking the newspaper over. He grinned and sipped his tea, his own face coy and sort of in trouble and he knew it as he looked at his lover. He lowered the mug from his mouth and canted his head to the side, his expression genuinely interested in the answer to his question. “How was work? I can see your day picked up after you saw me,” and that was the upside of Rhys having been in UFC and the Marines. A few scraped and Joe knew he would be fine, he would be able to look after himself.

"My day was great. I can see yours was good too," he said, wiggling his phone in his hand before he set it down on the counter. "Twelve bikers are gonna have to stay away for a bit though while I do something entirely embarrassing." Rhys took Joe by the hand and smirked, pulled out a chair and sat him down. "We’re at war now," he said, and quickly, using the remote, he turned on the radio to some hip hop beat and started to work, straddling Joe’s legs as he found a basic rhythm. "I expect tips, sir." Rhys gave a roll of his hips, bucking his pelvis out towards Joe and this, this was his worst idea. "I’ll stop. Fuck, never mind. Let’s ignore that attempt." 

(Source: rhys-tap)

Hit Record

[VIDEO MESSAGE]

START

The video was a little shaky and the light was a little dim but everything was still clear and there Joe was, smiling into the camera. “Now I’ve got a little more comfortable,” and the camera swung to take in the naked stretched out expanse of Joe’s body, his chest lightly flushed pink and his dick, still hard and angry and leaking resting against his hip. “I’m going to put this up here,” and he positioned the camera above him, presumably on the head board and wrapped his fingers around himself. “And we can begin.”

STOP

Finale

The videos weren’t fair but he deserved it entirely and he knew it. There were only a few more speeders after Joe and then Rhys was told to go on the hunt for a caucasian male on foot who was suspected of murdering his wife who’s body they just found wrapped up in a shower curtain, dangling out of her apartment window after she wouldn’t fit. Rhys was excited to go drag down suspect. He got a little scuffed up when he found him but it was all apart of the job. At the end of the day, Rhys was left a little tired. He passed up the after-work bar meeting that the other guys always did and he made a b-line for the house. His squad car parked nice and tight to the mustang, he grinned and wandered into the house, found Joe and offered him a coy smile as he played with the cuffs on his belt. “Anyone else here? They’re gonna be in for a surprise if they are.” 

Hit Record

[VIDEO MESSAGE]

START

Joe grinned a little into the camera and sat back on the bed, still clothed from where he had encountered his husband on the road. He gave a huff and smiled. “Hi,” he said almost shyly, obviously toeing off his shoes. “So, you looked fucking amazing in uniform by the way,” and he grinned into the lense before looking away. “But you left me with this,” and pointed the camera down to reveal his open pants and a red, angry looking, leaking dick peering out from the fabric. “And this,” and his hand slid between his legs and he pulled it out, revealing sticky cum. “I’m going to be doing something with them both,” he said before sucking his fingers clean. “Stay by your phone okay?” and he winked.

STOP

sodamnflossy:

Stop wearing my glasses.

10-43

joemorgantap:

His lashes fluttered and he looked up, the hand on the back of his head a nice reminder, an always welcome weight. His lips parted wider as he was pushed down further, whining as the fat dick pushed further into the vacant space of his mouth and throat, precum slicking his tongue as the fat cock oozed and dribbled. And then he was up, up, the dick sliding out from between his lips and he was bent over the hood of his car again, as in the air, the same strong and holding him down and yup. This was it. They were going to fuck over the hood of his car, in broad daylight and jesus did he hope everyone saw. He keened and moaned as the slick head ran between his cheek, over his fluttering hole and he swore and wiggled and moaned as the head poked and prodded and teased at his opening before the fat, wet thing pushed its way in. His back arched, his ass went up and like a bitch on heat, he keened as the meat spread his ass open, taut and raw and tight and round. “Officer, you’re so fucking big,” he gasped, fingers working behind his back.

The car rocked with their bodies, giving a wave-like, back and forth motion. Nothing else existed. It was the same in the cafe in Paris on their honeymoon. Nothing fucking existed but Joe and his ass and their love. Rhys gave the side of Joe’s bottom a little smack, smirking as the cheeks bounced against the palm of his hand. He grunted as his cock dragged trough Joe’s tight ass, feeling muscles and flesh constrict tight around the girth of his fat dick. He paused when he felt fingers brush through his pubes and that was just hitting home for him, seeing his lover in the cuffs. Seeing him bound and vulnerable. Rhys grunted and groaned and moaned, his head fell back and he pushed in deeper, rocking the car back further until he was reeling and he was closer and closer to popping off. He mumbled the warning, held Joe down by his hips and his hair and his neck, Rhys laid on top of him on the car while his hips and pelvis thundered away at Joe’s built ass and he was creaming, shooting hot, thick strands of cum up his husband’s ass. He sighed as he came down. “I’mma’ let you off with a warning but slow down, sir.” he said as he slid out, uncuffed Joe and pulled his pants up. 

(Source: rhys-tap)

10-43

joemorgantap:

Joe gave a little gasp his pants were yanked down his thighs, exposing his ass his obviously leaking dick to the world. He flushed and swallowed and moaned, pressing his face into the metal of his hood as his cheeks were spread and he felt his hole flutter. And then Rhys was licking him, licking over his fluttering hole on the side of the road and pumping his dick and jesus fucking christ. He keened as the finger pushed into him and his ass stuck up a little further in the air, shuddering as big, callused hands gripped at his dick, tugged him from root to base. He keened as he as licked again and nodded his head eagerly. “Yes,” he replied, breathless and eager. “I want you daddy, please,” and he wiggled, crying out softly as Rhys’ tongue remained in his ass and he pushed back on it a little. He heard the sound of a belt going and he was being tugged away and onto his knees, pushed to the ground and faced with a big, leaking, eager dick. Giving head on the side of the road, this was a new experience. “Yes, daddy,” and he leaned forward, curling his tongue up the underside, just picking the best spots right off the bat to make his husband melt before running his tongue under the foreskin, sucking on it before pushing it back with his lips and wrapping the hot, leaking head in his lips.

Along with the dent there would be Rhys’ ass print left behind on the Mustang’s pretty, orange hood. His fingers gripped tight to the curve along the back of Joe’s head and when the other man sucked particularly hard, Rhys moaned, twitched and pushed Joe down further, filling more empty space with his fat cock. His slit fluttered open and shut as precum came drooling out and into his perp’s mouth. “Up Mister Tap. On your feet.”  Pulling and shoving and tugging, he had Joe back on his feet and bent over his hood again. The same strong hand holding him down as before and Rhys ran the hard, hot dick between his suspect’s cheeks, running the tip over his head and he poked and prodded it inside until his ass opened up and he easily slid the slobbery meat inside. “Fuck—you’re tight, Mister Tap.”

(Source: rhys-tap)

Photoshoot by Greg Williams.

(Source: king-hardy)

10-43

joemorgantap:

"No officer," and he shook his head rapidly, still attempting to hide his hard on from the on coming traffic. He watched as his husband walked away and he let out a groan, leaning against the car for support for just a second as he swooned all over the place. He right himself before he came, thanking him for his papers back with a small nod. He felt excitement stripe down his spine at the way Rhys said mister and he bit his bottom lip gently. “Of course,” and he nodded his head, following as he was lead around to the other side of the car. A hand cupping the back of his neck and he grunted as he slammed into the hood, bent in half as his ass stuck in the air and his hands were clapped in handcuffs. He glared at the dent in the hood of his car and swore revenge for it later. And then big hands were feeling him through his light silk suit pants and not much else was on his mind. He sighed softly as big hands felt his legs, cupped his ass and squeezed and felt up his dick and already he dribbled a little at the contact. He blushed at the words and grinned, pinning his teeth into his bottom lip before groaning shortly and rutting back against the hard press of the fat dick sliding along the crease of his pants. “I’ll do anything officer,” he begged prettily, pouting out his bottom lip. “I can’t afford another ticket on my licence and I won’t have enough to pay for it,” and he looked up out of the corner of his eyes. “Please, officer,” and he rubbed his ass along the hard dick pressed against him. “Anything,”

Anything

Rhys grunted and it took exactly six seconds for him to control his own throb of his dick that came hammering out like it had its very own pulse. He creamed himself, just a little and pulled away. Rhys yanked the dress slacks that hugged his lover’s ass almost like liquid paper down to his thighs and spread his cheeks open wider. And Joe had an ass. A big, toned, muscly ass. Rhys licked down the cleft, flicking his tongue at the pucker, fluttering it over folds of skin and he gave a suck, closing the muscle up around his lips. A finger slid inside, slow and gentle, dragging flesh along Joe’s insides and he gripped and tugged Joe’s prick lazily from the root to the tip. “I want you to suck me, Mister Tap. It’s been a few days since my dick’s been played with.” He gave another lick to his perp’s ass. “Can you do that for me? Daddy will take such good care of you if you play with his cock.” One hand gone, leaving Joe’s ass empty save for Rhys’ tongue and he was undoing his own pants, letting them fall to his thighs as he stood up and pulled Joe away from the car. “On your knees,” he said, leaning and spreading his legs. “Suck me.” 

(Source: rhys-tap)

10-43

joemorgantap:

He almost summoned a glare but he couldn’t even manage it. He tried, honestly, but it wasn’t happening. He would like to try and flirt with his husband, but his voice and his brain would have to function and that looked like it was going to be a long haul restart. Joe’s eyes went a little wide and he gave a little smile at the compliment but he shook his head. “No, officer,” he managed out. He actually had some fair idea, but he was willing to play along. He did squirm at the threat of the ticket. Sure, he paid them all, but he was beginning to wrack up quite a few of them. You would think he would slow down at some point, but alas. “No, no officer I haven’t,” and he shook his head, licking his lips and tugging one his ears. “I’ve been lecturing at the university all morning-” and he was cut off by a raised brow and a curt instruction and he nodded his head. “Of course, officer, yes,” and he slowly and careful exited the car, leaving his papers on the drives seat and standing near his left front tire, trying to hide his hard on and fidgeting a little.

"You have any weapons on you?" Rhys went for the information left on the seat, took his license, the papers, walked back to his car with the dog and typed in Joe’s information. Tickets, summons, jury duty—all kosher. He left Henry and walked back to Joe, handing him back his information. "Mister Tap, I’m gonna’ have to ask you to turn around and put your hands on the hood of your vehicle. It’s routine, I’m sure you understand.” He coaxed his perp around to the front of the car, away from the camera in his own. He had it down to a science after watching the mandatory videos for work. With his hand on the back of Joe’s neck, he slammed him down on the hood of the mustang, already aware he might be chewed out for dinging it up. Cuffs out, snapped around each of Joe’s wrists, and he started feeling the man up. Up his legs, up his ass, cupping each cheek before squeezing it and around to the front to feel the already-obvious hard on. “I’ll classify that as a weapon, Mister Tap.” Rhys gave a cheeky buck into his husband’s ass, letting his own hard length slide along Joe’s cleft. “I might let you off with a warning, if you’re willing to work for it.” 

(Source: rhys-tap)

10-43

joemorgantap:

Joe was coming back from the university where he had just done a guest lecture for a series of lectures done for spring break for those who wanted to go and see experts in their field go and talk about the things they loved. He figured there was a worst way to spend his morning. When he excited the hall, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping and yes. It was the sort of day where you drove fast because the car liked being in the sun as well. So tie off, jacket cast in the back, buttons undone and sunglasses on, he took off at an irresponsible pace from the car park and continued that trend all the way out to the longer stretches of road that made it his way home. And that was when he was speed trapped. He looked up at the sound of the siren, glancing in the mirror and he swore. “Son of a-” and he pulled over as he was flashed, diving for his registration and licence and anything else he thought he might need. “What the-?” He didn’t really think the dog was needed, but alright, sure, who was he to question the law?

He glanced up and pushed his glasses into his hair, rolling down his window and offered a small Good afternoon officer without looking up. He gave a sigh, nodded, looked up. And froze. Dead. And nearly creamed his mother fucking pants. He made a series of choked noises, that might have been words in a previous life as he looked his husband over. Aviators, marine cut, and that fucking uniform. Not only was it Rhys in a uniform (he fucking loved Rhys in uniform) it was the sort that hugged every muscle and showed off every line of his body. He glanced in his review mirror and caught sight of his husbands ass in the reflection of his back passenger door window and he groaned softly. “Ah-” was what he managed to get out, shifting and palming himself as he did so. “Speeding,” he croaked out, ears bright red and flushed as he finally looked up at his husband, lips parted as he tried to breath and think and function and not collapse in a pile of ooze.

He scoffed a laugh at Joe’s inability to function. It was flattering. So far today he was flirted with three soccer moms, a questionable gay dad in a mini van and a car full of young, wild teen girls having a good day. And then there was his husband. Not flirting, just eye balling like he was a piece of eye-candy. It was delicious. “Nah, that’s the excuse I’m gonna give though. I pulled you over because I had a suspicion that the owner of this vehicle had a hot ass. Do you know the punishment for that, sir?” Rhys clicked his pen and pulled the ticket book out of his back pocket. He wasn’t going to write one up or anything, but the threat of it looming was decent enough. And a further lean in, he smelled the car. It still had that new-car smell. “Sir, you were stumbling your words a second ago. Have you had anything to drink today?” He canted a brow. “Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of your vehicle. Don’t make me do it by force or I will have Henry here search your car. Please, step out for me.” 

(Source: rhys-tap)

(Source: Spotify)

10-43

Rhys sat on the side of the highway, drinking his iced tea and talked to Henry a little bit. His K9 partner in the backseat, in the dog harness being an awfully good boy. And just as Rhys set his cup in the holder, a Mustang went whipping by. “We have a 10-49, in pursuit.” he said into his radio. The dispatcher replied ‘10-17’ and Rhys said ‘10-4’. Another voice came in and confirmed, Rhys replied with ‘10-43 which meant ‘in pursuit’. He had it covered. All other officers on location could relax and fuck off, he had this. He didn’t bother typing in the license plate, he knew the car well and good. It was Joe’s. Naughty boy likes to speed. His sirens on, his lights flashing, he pulled the driver over and waited the appropriate time in his car to make his lover sweat bullets. Joe hadn’t seen his car yet. Or his dog. Or his uniform—or any of it. “Let’s go sniff for weed and booze.” Rhys grabbed the leash to the dog’s harness and after he went around to the back, pulled the dog out with him and they walked up to the driver’s door. 

Reflective glasses, his marine hair cut and a navy blue uniform that was pressed and fit his form like a glove. Rhys wondered why he didn’t go into this field a long ass time ago. He smiled at his suspect and glanced around the car, routinely. “Good afternoon, sir.” He said, professionally. “Do you know why I pulled you over today?” Again, he asked. It was routine. The dog sat on his heels, cocked his head and looked up at Joe through the window. “We’re waiting, sir.” His radio hissed and beeped with voices. Numbers and codes were thrown out left and right. There was a 187 in Brooklyn and a 10-18 in SoHo. And Rhys turned it down just to sweat his perp out.