Kiss The Sky

Her Mugshot

Flip's POV

He stood there disgusted. Landers had had a reputation in the department for being a complete douche. His misogynistic and racist behaviors baffled Flip to this day. He often wondered who and how could someone love him, like his parents, girlfriends, and even friends. His words were just as toxic as his actions, and he only wished it would catch up with him one day soon.

He watched from down the hall to make sure he didn't make any other moves at the horrified girls being escorted by him. He noticed Patrice right away but had a hard time placing the other face accompanying her. After they went through the doors untouched he turned and walked towards his spot in the bullpen.

"What the fuck was that about Z?" Ron inquired when he noticed his partner trudging down the hall, noticeably irritated. He huffed and lit the third cigarette of the afternoon noticing his pack was just about empty. "What? Oh, nothin' just had to get on Landers for bein' a prick. Nothin' too new."

"Jeez, who was it now? Some hot piece of ass that he thinks he's gonna land?" Ron laughed out. "No, it was Patrice and some strange girl with her. Never seen her before in my life," he answered. "Wait? Patrice got smacked by Landers?! Motherfucker where the hell is she now?!" He shot up out of his chair to go defend his woman's honor, only to have Flip stand between him and the door with another cigarette lit and inhaled before he could get his jacket on. 

"Hey, hey, rookie, calm down she's fine. She got arrested for something... not sure what at this point but Landers was leadin' them back into the holding cell and he smacked both of them on the ass. Totally unwarranted." He inhaled the last of his butt and crushed it in his tray on his desk.

"Goddammit, it was that protest I bet!" Ron slammed his desk drawer to get up and go find the girls. "What protest?" Flip questioned. "The one goin' to city hall about the bombings in Vietnam? How'd you not know that ex-soldier?"

"I try not to get involved in that shit. It isn't my place." Flip huffed out a lot less irritated at this point. "Well, I'm gonna go get those girls out real quick. I'll be back." With that Ron got up and headed towards the holding cells.

Flip leaned back in his chair irritated that it made a squeaking sound whenever he did so. His large frame barely kept in the leather seat he was perched in. He ran his hands through his thick ebony feathered locks and rubbed his tired eyes. Letting out a sigh, he looked at the strewn papers across his desk. He wondered if Ron knew the mystery girl with Patrice. He seemed to know exactly who he was talking about without even describing her. God how he kept going over her in his head. Her pretty little face looking back at him when Landers was leading them back to the cells. The pouty plush lips slightly gasped open, her large doe eyes adorned with thick lashes much like a butterfly. He couldn't get her innocent face out of his head, let alone her perfect figure. He didn't have much of a chance to glance at it defending her and Patrice's honor, but from the looks of it, she was curved in all the right places. Now he had to know more.

"Dammit, Ron," he muttered and waited for his partner to return so he could interrogate him about her.

____________________________

After much discussion in the bullpen, Ron choked out Y/N to Flip, giving him very little details about you in the process. Flip decided on his last break of the day about a half an hour before his shift would end, he'd meander down to the records room for some more answers. He knew no one would be there during that time, so he could go through to find just what he needed.

He stared at the clock and realized the time. He strained upwards and made his way towards the records room. He opened the door, closed, locked, and pulled the blinds down.

"Hello?" he called out to make sure he was alone. No answer. 'Thank god' he thought as he opened the desk to get cracking on finding you.

It only took him a few minutes to pull your file, which was quite heavy, as he noticed.

He walked over to the front desk and plopped it down, opening it up to see what he could find out about his mystery woman. The papers were all misdemeanors which he was grateful for. Many of them for protesting, a few for possession of illicit drugs, but nothing violent and malicious. At the back of the file paperclipped to the manila folder, was a photo. He unlatched it from its place and held it to the light.

It was a mugshot, which generally in his line of work, were not at all flattering no matter how much lighting they had at the time. But this photo was different. He stared at it for several minutes, tracing his hands over your precious features. He noticed those gorgeous eyes boring into the camera lens, the lashes that came with the pair, and your lips in a pout, just like you had been earlier this afternoon. Your hair was a mess of beach waves, and your skin glowed in the harsh flash of the camera. The top you had decided to wear that day left nothing to the imagination as your cleavage was ample in the photo. Flip stared and stared, heat building up in his insides. Starting to sweat, he removed his flannel to stand in his undershirt. Upon unbuttoning his checkered shirt, he brushed against his jeans, which had since become tight. He winced at the hardness that was formed in the denim and cursed himself for being turned on by a photo of a strange girl he'd never met.

She was unconventionally someone he shouldn't even consider being with. Not even close to his beliefs, but dammit, she was gorgeous. It had been a while since he'd felt this way about any girl, so he figured, why the hell not? No one was here to scold him for giving in to his instincts. So, he grabbed the picture and walked back to the end of the row. It was cool and dark enough not to be seen but gave enough light so he could see your picture. He situated himself on some old file boxes and pulled his aching cock out of its hiding place.

"Oh fuck," he said as he spat in his hand and gathered his leaking head. He swirled the mixture around the entirety of his member and started pumping. Staring at the photo, thinking of those pretty swollen lips around his huge dick. You on your knees in front of his thick thighs, his hand in your silky waves, forcing you to take him for every inch he's got. He'd look down at your pretty little eyes tearing up from the sheer girth of him in your perfect little mouth. You'd moan and play with his heavy balls. Getting him closer to his release.

"Jesus fucking Christ Y/N," he stuttered shutting his eyes and throwing his head back. He sped up his movements. He thought of you hollowing out your cheeks, trying to suck the life out of his length. You'd beg to be his little cumbucket, to fill your throat with his hot honey.

"Ughhhh fuckkkkk," his dick started to harden and twitch, releasing his sticky cum all over his hand, and covering the bottom of his white undershirt.

"Holy shit," he whispered to himself as he came out of his lusted haze.

The only word he could equate to his feelings was ethereal. He only wished you were present at this moment, marking your scent into his memory, how utterly wrecked you would look upon removal of his cock from your spit and tear-stained face. Those gorgeous lashes tinted with tears, and mascara cascading down your rosy cheeks. Your pink lips glistening with his spend as they curled upwards in the most angelic smile he'd ever imagined. You would lick your lips with that perfect tongue of yours and get off your bruised knees to straddle his lap. Then you'd put your arms around the back of his head and pull yourself into his open mouth to make him taste himself on your breath. You were perfect in his dreams.

As he came off his high, Flip felt a pang of overwhelming guilt shrouding him. He cleaned himself up, swearing at the mess he made on his clothes. He'd definitely have to throw this in the washer when he got home. He put the photo back into the file and walked to return the cream-colored folder in its rightful spot. He turned to start walking out of the office, looking back and shaking his head. 

As he got to his truck he hopped in and lit a cigarette. He sat for a moment and rubbed his eyes in frustration. Damn if he didn't wanna see your face in person, hear your voice, touch your skin, maybe even kiss you if you'd let him. All he wanted was you and he was going to make that happen one way or another.

He started his truck and headed for home in the gorgeous sunset, determined to get his prize.