Interrogate Me, Prince

One Shot

“Why are you here again?”

Oh man, I want to tell this sexy man of an interrogator that I'm here to admire that thick ass and his gorgeous face. But I'm actually here for kicking some important asshole so…

I pull my chair and take a seat, smiling and staring into his black eyes. They're so beautiful they take away my sleep most of the time. Arlo rolls his eyes. “I asked you a question, Mars!”

“Daddy for you---”

He squints his eyes at me, and holy fuck I think I have a masochist side. Like, whatever this detective does on a perfectly discreet and silent room is making me spin around how much I could spank that ass and how it would echo back… Or how easy I could persuade him into going out with me or something, I’ve been trying for the last thirty times I’ve been back and forth in this damn room closed up with this aggressive cop that turns me on so good.

He passes a hand through his black, straight hair and pulls it for a second. Glaring at me he frowns when I reach for his wrist across the table. He eyes me up and down, and I swim down his muscled arms to a thin waist that has abs under a tensed long-sleeve to his legs. Curves for thighs and heaven for an ass.

“You do know I can arrest you this second for laying your hands on me, right? Your record will help for at least three months in prison.”

I lick my lips and sit down again without looking away from the small patch of skin the buttons of his shirt reveal. They're so tensed to the thickness of his body I can feel my dick burning. “Don't pull on your hair, Arlo.” I grab my hair and tug the hair tie from my wrist. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“You care about me hurting myself? Why don't you care about you hurting your goddamn self first!?” My ears buzz for a second.

I grab my hair and pull on two strands of it to secure the hair tie tight. I fold my arms over the table. His brows are nearly touching, and his eyes are black fire that mirror while his chest trembles: I see myself in them. Staring back, casually and normally like I would do if he hadn't admit that he worries about me. Well, not like someone normal would do but he did.

There's the blood in my veins rushing to my hips. The pulsing of my heartbeat on my throat and the self control delivered on my fingertips to not grab this table and throw it aside to tackle him down and rip those pants.

“Danny.”

One of his brows unfolds, “What?”

“Your partner. Danny.” I repeat.

He frowns again.

“For real, Arlo?” I can't fucking breathe remembering that asshole. I can't fucking---I can't fucking stay on my ass when Arlo doesn't see what an asshole his ‘friend’ is. “I found him sick drunk---”

“He doesn't drink---”

I snap around and bang my palms on the table with my ears buzzing again to the echo. “He doesn't play his other face with you either!”

Arlo backs up with the noise. His hand goes to his left hip, although his gun and handcuffs are at the other. I can't fucking stand myself when I see his bottom lip quivering and his tired eyes having tears in them. I lower my head and sigh, getting the air past my throat where it had clogged.

I raise my head, looking at the ceiling. “He was at a bar without his uniform, talking messed up shit about someone. ‘He can't get a Mars guy after thirty try’s! What a loosened cop he is! Don't know why I got myself paired up with such a bitch’ is what got me and I punched the hell out of him...”