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Another Day on the Job. (AutumnDreaming/Rekoj)

He had just dared to let his tongue escape past his lips to play with hers when she pulled her hands away from his face and dug her nails into his back. He did everything he could to stop from whining when she pulled her lips away from his, and closed his eyes as her fingernails dug into his flesh. He winced and bit his lip when she raked her nails down the skin of his back, and despite his best efforts a whisper of a groan escaped from deep within him. When she bit into his shoulder he sunk his teeth further into his bottom lip and gasped in a breath. When her hips arched upwards against his, he pressed his down further, the thin layers of fabric starting to feel so in the way.

With her teeth still in his shoulder, he opened his eyes and noticed her ear right in front of him. His teeth quickly sunk into her earlobe, nibbling and biting upon the soft cartilage. He slowly let his hands trail away from her collarbone, allowing them to wander over her skin. The fingers of his left hand taunting her skin as they softly trickled down her body all of the way from her chest down her stomach. The fingers continued their soft taunting all of the way down to her thigh, where he replaced his fingers with his palm and began to stroke at the soft skin of her inner thigh. His free right hand, meanwhile, had taken to starting to idly play with the straps of her bra.
 
Her teeth relented in their assault, her tongue snaking out to caress the wound in long, slow strokes. She could hear the faintest trace of a groan, a sign that she was winning in this competition- if it could be called that. His breath whispered into her ear canal, hot and humid, while her earlobe was drawn into his mouth. Head canted toward his face, mouth pulling completely away from his shoulder. Hands flattened against him, the left one lifting to slap roughly to the skin as her palm trailed its way to his lower back. The right hand cupped itself to the back of his head, fingers weaving and twisting in his locks of hair to tug slightly.

The pads of his fingertips tickled her skin as they explored the map of her body, roaming over her curves while they wandered across the peaks of her chest to the plateau of her abdomen and landing in the gentle valley of her inner thigh. While his other hand was keen on sliding under the satin of her strap, Dianna noted how quiet it was in the room. With the exception of their breathing and the occasional hint of a moan, it was almost completely silent. It drew her attention away from the moment, setting her mind to focus on matters of importance. "Mmm, you better stop, Rookie." She whispered, her tone low and sultry. "You're wounded. I think it's best we don't be doing this." She warned him, hips wriggling as she tried to slide out from under his body. "Your blood pressure gets too high and that suture is going to pop right open."
 
A few idle sweat drops were starting to appear upon his back, as well as his forehead, as he was getting into the moment. His hand had just finished getting the strap upon her back undone- when he heard what she said. His hands completely abandoned her top and her thigh, and went right back to her shoulders. Within a second of her finishing her sentence, he had her pinned again. He began to breathe heavily as his eyes bored into hers. His expression was a glare as he panted and shook his head. He leaned down and stole another kiss from her lips before he went on to explain, "I've been wrestling and scrapping with you for what feels like the past few hours. My face has been smacked, the side of my head bashed against a cabinet, I've been flipped and dropped over and over again... and my wound has been just fine. Dianna, you're not going anywhere, if the wound rips and starts bleeding everywhere we'll deal with it then. In the meantime, don't think I'm going to let you squirm away again."

With those words, he reaffirmed his statement by wrapping his hands around her back and starting to peel her bra away from her skin. His chest was now being used to pin her down, and anytime she tried to wriggle her hips to get away, his wriggled to stay on top. He wasn't going to let her get away now, he'd fought with her, he'd earned enough bruises and marks to get this. He returned his lips to hers and dared to lick her lips, taunting her mouth with his slick tongue, asking, begging if her tongue could come out to play.
 
Dianna growled at the manner in which he thought he could control and restrain her by pinning her back to the floor. Sparks of fire and life radiated in the pale hues of her eyes, mischief emanating from the very depths of the orbs. Though he claimed differently, he really knew nothing about her with the exception of a glimpse into her record of thievery. If he had, he would have known she wasn't the type to roll over and die or give up easily. She would fight him tooth and nail just because the strength in her personality desired it. Dianna was anything but meek, falling into the stereotype of the color of her vivacious hair. His glare was returned to him, the woman finding no intimidation in it.

It was true, she had been rough with him- more so than she should have considering the state of his body. But, that was no attestation to the careless manner in which she would treat him should they continue to progress on this same course. Even know, her hips were undulating and arching, her upper body fighting back against his. She refused to be still, to let him have any source of control or power over the situation. "I've been easy on you, Rookie. You know, for a cop, you're extremely whiny. Grow a pair." She winked at him cruelly, snapping her teeth at him three times as a sort of warning. Insulting him was personal, though it came with the territory as well. "By the way, you better not even think about getting blood on me or anything in this kitchen."

Feeling his hand slither behind her back to finish unclasping and removing the garment restricting her supple mounds, she pressed her torso up to his, trapping the fabric between their bodies. Heat was being exchanged between them, her body starting to glisten from the sheen of perspiration lingering there. She was playing coy, trying to seem like she wanted to get free when her body was wanting this as much as he did. His lips returned to hers, the woman refusing to kiss back. Finally, she gave in, parting her jaws and inviting his tongue to come inside.
 
He never believed she would stop fighting, he'd already figured that out about her, she wasn't going to stop biting and scratching until he gave in. But he was no pushover, she kept calling him a rookie, she kept telling him to toughen up, but he hadn't backed down yet. The slap had hurt, the smashing of his head against a cabinet had hurt, the awkward twisting had really hurt him- but he was still fighting. He wasn't going to give in until she did, it was the meeting of an unstoppable force and an immovable object.

It was like a chess game, the pieces always being moved, the small battles all part of a bigger war, and he knew that she had just made a good move. Her chest pressing up against his put him in a difficult position, as she knew just how badly he wanted that piece of fabric gone. But was he willing to risk releasing her from his tight hold to get it off? Was he willing to trust that she wouldn't squirm away? The answer was no, he'd worked too hard for this, and he decided to improvise. His lips moved away from hers, as they met the skin of her cheek. He continued his kisses down from her cheek down her jawline, and then further down her neck. He sunk his teeth into the crook of her neck, roughly, but only for a moment before he continued to kiss downwards.

His hands had to adjust to try and keep her restrained, as he kept his right hand around her back to hold her against him. His left hand however, was free, and he brought it to her thigh again. However, it didn't remain upon her inner thigh for long, it daringly moved against the crotch of her panties and he began to rub his palm up and down against the soft fabric. His right hand clenched her back tightly, while his lips moved further down over the soft skin of her chest. He kissed from her collarbone down her skin until he met the fabric of her bra. He then nipped the fabric with his teeth and began to pull it away from her skin, knowing fully well that it gave her an opening to escape from his grasp.
 
It was a shame he had been injured, truly. Because of it, Dianna was holding herself back, restraining herself from unleashing every ounce of agony he was causing her right back to him. She had to be careful not to further injure him, though she supposed she shouldn't have cared. Still, it wasn't quite as much fun when being cautious came into play. She knew his aggressions were limited because of his inability to function wholly, thus she could only return the guarded intentions. She wanted to continue to kick, punch, and throw him off of her, but she was in enough hot water as it was; she certainly didn't need to throw involuntary manslaughter or murder in some degree into the mix.

It was only because of that did she start to relent and give in. She was a feisty woman, that much was evident from every execution she had displayed. She felt his lips tear away from hers, traveling down to the fragile flesh of her neck. As soon as his teeth tugged at the flesh, her body betrayed her by moaning out of delight. His hands were constantly moving, earning him the right to keep her pinned so closely to him. There was nowhere for her to go, nothing for her to do except to enjoy the pleasure he was starting to show her. Her own hands began to relax in their places on his body, moving in long, soothing strokes across his skin and through his hair.

The heat of her core was evident as his hand perused the thin strip of fabric covering her lower body. He pulled back to nip at her bra, giving her just enough space to retreat if she desired. As much as she wanted to stay, she had other plans. Unwrapping herself from him, she slid out from under him and pulled herself to her feet. Her bra was barely hanging on, almost completely uncovering her breasts, the tops of them revealed. Bending, she scooped up her dress and walked straight out of the kitchen to the bedroom she used. In the dark, no decorations could be seen- only the bed was felt when legs crashed into it. Knowing he would follow her, she lowered herself down on it.
 
He was surprised, he had given her the opening, and she hadn't thrown him off of her- she hadn't kicked and fought, but instead squirmed away. Maybe she'd had enough violence, and was ready for some fun. Maybe she was showing him the tiniest touch of mercy, giving his injured and battered body a break. Or maybe they were both just slowly running out of energy, it was still somewhere between being ridiculously late- or ridiculously early. Either way, she only squirmed away from him. Just before he'd managed to get her bra off, as he painfully watched her stand up and walk away in the darkness.

However, that was just it, it was only a walk- and there was something in the way her hips swayed when she walked that he knew he had to follow. The adrenaline had stopped pounding through his veins, and the pain was starting to sink in. But he found the pure will from somewhere deep within inside of him to push himself up off of the ground. Straining, he made his way up to his feet and he started his difficult walk after her in the darkness. Almost tripping over a few things, he closed the door behind him as he made it to the bedroom.

The light of the full-moon was the only thing illuminating her beautiful body upon the bed. And did she ever look good, laying there, and the smallest hint of a smile appeared upon his lips. He dropped down on the bed beside her, his hand quickly going up to her bra to finish what he started. It took the slightest effort to finally remove the fabric from her body, as he buried his lips into her neck and started to kiss the soft skin once again. Her bra was dropped upon the floor beside the bed and his now free hand ran up the inside of her leg all of the way up to the final piece of clothing upon her body. He very slowly started to peel down her underwear, his lips burying into the crook of her neck with soft kisses.
 
Dianna could see his figure block out the light from the living room, the shadow closing the door and moving toward her. As he sank down beside her, she was much more compliant as he arms were held straight out, allowing him to remove the garment from her chest. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the supple flesh beneath her chin as his hands wasted no time in trying to remove the last bit of fabric from her body. She resisted, however, pushing her rear into the mattress so the thin wisps of lace were trapped between herself and the linens. Though he couldn't see it, she was smirking, toying with him. At last, she raised up her hips and lifted her legs, allowing him to strip her completely bare of her clothing.

She wouldn't give him the chance to be exploratory, however, as her hands roughly slapped to his waistline and forcefully tugged down his own boxers. It was up to him to finish, though, as she couldn't reach. Lifting her hands free from his waist, she moved them to his chest as her palms began to push back on him while she slowly sat up. Once she was completely upright, she molded her torso to his, using her strength to arch him backward toward the soft pile of linens. She didn't want to be trapped under him any longer, choosing to shift the control around so that the power was hers.

As she urged him to lie back, her hands began to caress the ripples of his chest, sliding coolly over his muscles. Lips went to his ear, drawing the lobe into her mouth as she began to suckle gently on it, incorporating small nips to break monotony. "Are you like this with all your targets?" She asked him, still refusing to say his name. Until he earned it otherwise, he was still going to be nothing but a whiny, rookie cop to her.
 
He was relieved when she finally lifted her hips up, allowing him to yank and tug down the final piece of fabric in the way. He pulled it down her legs, over her knees, and down off of her body entirely. He threw it down to the floor, and was about to start to try and roll over her when he felt her hand upon the waistline of his boxers. They didn't cover much for very long, and he had to pull his hands off of her in order to finish peeling them off of his body. She took advantage of his hands being busy and soon enough she was pressing him down into the soft mattress. He'd let her have the control for now, if that was what she so badly wanted.

Her fingers began tracing their way over his chest, and he couldn't help but put his idle hands to use. His hand went around her back and began to rub up and down her back. His free hand, of course, moved to a less innocent place and ran from the back of her neck all of the way down her spine until it found a hold upon her bottom. He groped a good feel of her behind as he heard her whisper the question into his ear.

He remained silent for only a few seconds, mulling over his response as his hand was traveling from her upper back all over her torso now. His hand was wandering aimlessly, trying to feel as much of her skin as he possibly could, going from her shoulders, over her chest, down her sides, wherever it seemed to please. He smiled as he turned his head and found her ear there in front of him. He nipped upon her soft earlobe as his wandering hand made its way to the back of her neck, holding on tightly as he responded with a smile, "No, I don't treat all of my targets like this... normally I just throw them in a pair of handcuffs and tell them to shut the fuck up."
With that, he held her head in place while he turned his head and his lips caught hers in a kiss, his tongue daring past his lips to run across her lower lip.
 
With him on his back, Dianna seized the moment to throw her leg across his hip and hoist herself up onto his lap- careful not to bother his injury. Her naked groin pressed to his, hips rotating in slow, teasing circles just to entice him further. She rocked back, pressing her weight down on his pelvis. Once nestled atop him, her lips had broken from his ear and both of them began to explore the other with their hands. It almost seemed like a race to the finish, to see which one of them could touch more skin in a certain amount of time. He was winning, though she didn't care. She was eager to commit the curves and contours of his body to her memory, even if she was doing it blindly.

He captured her head, holding it steady as his lips leaned up to lock with hers. Her jaws became lax, her lips parting as her tongue sought entrance to his mouth. Once crossing inside it, the pink muscle explored across his soft palate, spinning around before landing to wrestle roughly with his own. She was laying on his now, her knees taking the brunt of her weight. The twin swells of her chest rubbed against his rigid torso while her hands crept out from beneath them to reach down behind her to his hips. Nails trailed errant patterns into the skin, absently drawing stars and letters.

Breaking the kiss, she hovered over him. "Mmm, handcuffs would be nice, but you wouldn't tell me to shut the fuck up. Besides, it wouldn't be me in handcuffs." She winked, though she wasn't certain he could see it. "Come on, Rookie, are you just rolling over and giving up? It really is a shame you're hurt, you know. This might actually be fun if you weren't."
 
He could feel her fingers wandering his body, while he decided to give up his hand's exploration of hers. They finished their travels with a final movement, both of his hands moving in unison up her spine, to her shoulders where they rested. He wished he could see her in the darkness, make out more than just the curves of her petite body- but maybe it was best this way. Neither of them could look into each others eyes and find out exactly what the other was thinking. Neither of them could see where their hands were exploring, the darkness bringing down the intensity of their scrap from the kitchen. They couldn't toss, tumble, and wrestle anymore, without the ability to see where their hands were grabbing.

She had called him a rookie yet again, but he didn't care anymore. It was becoming his new name, and he simply shrugged and accepted it for now. It was becoming more and more difficult to be angry with her, with the way her hips were pressing and grinding down against his. He was more than aroused, he was reaching his breaking point with frustration. His eyes were closed now, as his feet pressed against the bed and he pressed his lower body harder up against hers. His hips were so close to hers now he could feel the heat coming from her, and was sure she could feel his hardness.

He nodded in the darkness before realizing she probably couldn't see it, and he leaned up to kiss her lips once again. It was merely a quick peck, and he agreed with her, "It would definitely be more interesting if I wasn't injured... but I'm not sure how much fun I could have with a petty thief."

With those words, the grip on her shoulders intensified as he pulled her chest harder against his and rolled them over. He wasn't going to give up, the more she taunted, the more winds he could find from within himself. Never mind a second wind, he was up to his seventh or eighth, and he knew he was running out. His hard chest was soon pressing down upon the soft mounds of hers, and his lips were going after her soft neck. He was giving her a chance to respond, as he made sure to grind his length against her, feeling the moistness with his very length.
 
It was becoming the perfect mix between roughness and softness, the easy medium where she could still talk big but her actions could show a slightly hindrance toward gentleness. She was still going to execute her frustrations by calling him a Rookie, but in a way that was how she was showing her growing affection. Dianna had a strong personality, and she certainly didn't want to be matched with someone who easily rolled over and died. She needed to fight fire with fire, to know that the person opposite her was as fiery as she. She was a thief, a cunning survivor. If she wanted her men to be weaklings, she'd simply find a more honorable profession.

As he called her a petty thief, she actually laughed. "Petty? My my, are you underestimating me? Have you not seen my record? Grand larceny doesn't even cut it, Rookie. At least give me the proper credit I deserve." And yet, their coupling was the epitome of ironic. A righteous rookie cop and an experienced thief thrown together by a fluke of fate. He intended for her to be behind bars while she was, technically, imprisoning him. Her heart had been as hardened as stone, yet she would let him walk when he was ready to do so. She would run and resist arrest, but she doubted he would expect her to be any other way.

When he flipped them again, she gave a playful growl but didn't fight him as much as one may expect. Instead, she looped her arms across his back to hold him down to her. Head canted, granting his lips access to peruse the soft skin of her neck. Hips arched up to his in a roll, grazing her core against the length of his member. Her fingertips stretched up to the back of his neck, rotating in massaging circles. Though she couldn't see his eyes, hers were focused on where his should be. She wanted to read his expression, but the darkness wouldn't allow it. "Why me?" She asked him, her voice unnaturally soft.
 
His lips continued to search for more of her slick skin, relying on nothing but his sense of touch as he crawled up and down her skin with his mouth. His slick lips continued their exploration of his skin, trying to distract himself from the intense friction going on with their hips. He couldn't allow a groan to escape from his lips, it would let her know she was beating him. The battle was continuing, but instead of it being a battle of who could hit harder- it was becoming a battle of resistance. Who could last longer without giving into, showing the obvious, or accepting the pleasure of the moment.

His lips had reached her collarbone when she started bragging about her record as a thief, and he simply smiled and rolled his eyes. He was kissing down her chest, trying to keep up his distraction, as well as desperate to hold onto the groan that was threatening to escape out of his throat. He kissed her chest now, as his lips were making their way down and across her breasts. His mouth was about to clamp over the sensitive nub atop the soft mound of flesh when they stopped entirely. She had asked, in a voice that was too soft for the moment, why her?

He stopped his kisses as he contemplated an appropriate answer, as it was something he had not thought of himself. He bit his lip as he thought, for only a few seconds, before taking in a deep inhale and responding, "Because it wasn't my fellow cops that were running for their life with me, because it wasn't a cop that I dove through gunfire to pull to safety. Because it wasn't a cop that was there to be with me when I ended another man's life, and when a bullet tore through me. It wasn't a coworker, a friend or a detective that was there to drag me to safety... it was you."

The moment had grown far too silent, far too... close for either to them to admit was comfortable. There were no more taunts, no more attacks, no more attempts at one-upping each other, instead... it was simply quiet. Just the sounds of both of their breathing in the dark, and he knew the moment was right. Lining himself up, he entered her with a thrust, putting the icing of the cake. It was like putting the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle down, it was far too easy to find where it goes... after all of the work it took to get there, to that final piece. But despite how easy it was, it always, always feels good to put that last piece down.
 
Her question had been a temporary sign of weakness, a moment when Dianna's harsh exterior melted to show just a glimpse of gentleness in her personality. There had never been any room for romance or softness in her life, but sometimes even she craved it. Her hands slid up through his short hair, weaving and tangling in the locks before trailing down to cup his face. She was grateful for the pitch blackness in the room, glad he couldn't see the smile creeping across he features as he gave her his answer. It was one moment, one lapse in time when they weren't fighting for insulting each other. She had needed it, but even that necessity was beginning to pass.

They were both so stubborn; too proud to let the other know how much they were enjoying each other's company. His kisses and nips were so perfectly right, yet it would have been a point added to his score if she had let him know. She thought their antics were silly, but she knew it was the way both of them operated. They couldn't betray themselves any more than they would to each other.

At last, he sealed the unspoken deal between them. His hips sank down, burying his length into the hot center of her body. Her breath exhaled in a whir, the faintest hint of a purr of pleasure attached to it. It was a relief to be joined with him, like finding someone close to her equal. Lifting her legs, she raised them enough to set her heels down across his lower back. Her hands glided from his face to his back, arms looping across his shoulders in a mimic of an embrace.
 
He had heard the hint of a purr to her desperate exhale, and he grinned, but as he did the groan that had been dying to escape from his lungs finally did. He let out the low groan right into her ear, as he lowered as much of his weight down onto her as possible. He was not trying to pin her to the bed now, not trying to restrain her, but trying his best to get every bit of his skin against hers. The moment didn't feel right until he was as close to her as possible, as he started to rock his hips against hers.

He worked his member far inside of her, before pulling back and thrusting again, in a rhythmic motion. The beads of sweat began to slowly drip down his forehead, as his chest heaved with every deep breath he took. With every inhale his chest pressed impossibly closer to hers, as his lips found hers before long. He was kissing her out of desperation now, as his hips continued their pace. It was a quick pace, a pace too quick for his energy-drained body. It wasn't long before a hint of a whine escape into her mouth, and he broke the kiss in order to capture some deep breaths.

He simply couldn't continue on, it was physically impossible for his body to produce the energy required to keep his hips pumping at the pace they were. He rested his forehead upon hers for a few moments, to suck in desperate attempt after desperate attempt to ease the burning in his lungs. He continued to rest his forehead against hers before he very slowly started to roll over. He wanted to tell her it was because of his injury, it was because of the punishment his body had taken, he had every intent of continuing on their struggle, their fight- but he couldn't. A healthy Patrick would never have stopped, but in his state he relinquished to her and finished rolling them over. However, he made sure to keep his arms wrapping her form to hers, praying she wouldn't taunt him over the moment.
 
There was an urgency in their coupling, as if the two of them were simply running out of time. Perhaps they were as they couldn't possibly be more wrong for each other. At any moment, someone could burst through her bedroom doors and rip them both apart either to arrest her or finished what had been started at the museum. Time never stood still for anyone, nor did it skip it's perfect rhythmic beat to give anyone a spare chance. It was the one consistency in the world, and she and her Rookie were racing against the clock.

She was not pushy or demanding with him, nor did she tease or taunt him about his course of actions. She simply lay beneath him and enjoyed the moment for what it was, letting him execute this in his own way. Her hands were stroking his back, her heels resting easily at his hips. Lips welcomed his to hers, parting to invite his tongue into her mouth. With every thrust she could feel the extent of his length and girth burying into her, pressing farther into her silky divide. She reveled in it, continuing to roll her hips up to meet his.

Suddenly, he seemed to shift. Before he even rolled them over, she knew something was wrong. His sweaty forehead was pressed against hers, his lips broke from her mouth to draw in what sounded like ragged breaths. Her arms and legs relaxed, letting him flip them so that she was laying atop him. Sliding herself off his body, breaking their union, she lay on her side next to him. Her hands went to his cheek, cupping them as she pulled her face back. "Shhh, it's okay." She assured him with all sincerity. She knew he was injured, and it was a dangerous thing to press him further into an act that pained him. Face leaned back to him, lips lightly brushing his misty forehead. "Just rest, Patrick. Just rest."
 
He drew in a few desperate breaths and eventually conceded with a nod, as his hands went to his chest and the adrenaline slowly started to fade. He was running out of time, and running more out of breath. His arm remained under her, and he closed his eyes. He exhaled a soft breath and closed his eyes, one of his hands abandoning his chest to go up to her soft hand. He was physically exhausted, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. He felt her soft lips upon his forehead as their connection had been broken- for now.

As he lay on his back upon the soft bed, a thousand different emotions flooded his mind. Confusion at how the hate and the pride that been shown earlier had turned to this, the soft that was shown now. Disappointment in himself, despite the injury and how much energy he'd already expelled in the night. But most of all, a sense of... caring, he wanted the thief beside him close to her. At some point within the last hour or so, he knew there had been a silent agreement between them. Everything and anything that happened within the bedroom was to stay between them- only they truly knew what happened during these late hours.

He groaned lightly at her words, telling him to rest, and he whispered with a smile, "I rolled you on top... so I would be able to... but I didn't want it to stop..." It was not a whine, it was not a plead- it was a statement, with a soft smile. He'd worked so hard to get to that moment, it had taken so long for both of them to get in that bedroom- that he wasn't ready for it to end.
 
She had to smile at his words, though the heavy cloak of shadows in the room would not betray it to him. "Oh, you just were wanting me to have the control and be on top, I see. I thank you for finally submitting to my dominance." But unlike before, there was no harshness in her words. She was playfully chiding him now, holding no stock in what she was saying. After all, she didn't think he would want her to give in so easily and be completely soft with him. That wasn't the Dianna he was coming to know or the hardened criminal he had sought.

Reclining in the arm splayed out beneath her, she drew his hand to her mouth and gently kissed his palm. "There is a time and place for everything. You're injured, and I don't like my men weak." She knew it would be a blow to his ego for her to show him any sympathy or pity so she continued to chastise him verbally, but her caressing actions were the direct opposite of what her mouth was saying. Laying her head on his shoulder, she placed one hand on his chest while the other wove into his hair. She stroked his head lightly, her fingertips massaging his scalp.

"It's over. Everything's alright now." Mouth was resting against his ear, her breath warm as it radiated against him. Go to sleep."
 
He struggled to respond to her, but found he didn't have the will anymore. As ego-bashing and pride-stirring her words were, he could tell there was a distinct lack of venom behind them. He was more entranced by her actions, as he felt her head rest upon his shoulder and her hot breath meet his ear. He found the energy to mumble something that was mostly incoherent, but the word thief was definitely audible. It was the last word he managed to get off, as he drifted off. His short sleep had been nowhere close to enough rest, and now he was completely exhausted from the actions of the evening. He drifted off, the final movement he made before he slept was to throw his other arm around her form to keep the female close to him. He was going to give in and fall asleep- but he was not about to let her leave him there alone.
 
Finally, he was starting to fall back into a slumber. She kissed his cheek one finally time before turning over to get up. Mid-turn, however, his arm coiled around her, trapping her against his body. She knew she was strong enough to break free, but not without disturbing him. Muttering to herself, she sighed and relaxed in his arms. Eyes darted to the black ceiling, counting invisible sheep as they leaped over a white picket fence. Eyelids started to droop, closing over her fair eyes.

It was almost noon when Roxie woke, lazily throwing back the covers and rolling out of the bed onto her feet. She stretched her frame as high as it would go, running her hands through her crop of raven hair. Tugging at her tank top and shorts, she sluggishly wandered from her bedroom out into the living room. Eyes were too clouded to see any disarrangement, her mind set heavily on coffee. As was her routine, she went straight to the pot, not seeing the pile of gray cotton on the floor. Stepping on it, she slid straight into the counter. Losing her balance, she fell, banging her head on the floor. "What the-? Ow!" She cried out, slowly sitting up. Picking up the garment, she studied it before realizing it was Dianna's dress. Standing up, she tucked it under her arm as she went back to check on their guest on her massage table.

Finding it empty, Roxie gasped. She could see no trail of blood, but she just knew that Dianna had murdered him and dumped the body somewhere. Holding up the dress, she looked for blood stains, but found nothing. "Oh my god, she took her dress off and buried him in the back yard!" Panicking, she raced into Dianna's room, throwing open the door and turning on the light. Much to her surprise, he was in the bed. . . breathing. Another body moved, red hair fanning out across a white chest. "NO!" Roxie called out, screaming at the top of her lungs. No, Dianna hadn't killed him. Worse, she had climbed into bed with him- naked.

"DIANNA!" She roared, going around to Patrick's side of the bed. "WAKE UP!" She bellowed, slapping her friend's arm. The red-head's eyes fluttered open as Roxie jerked his arms off of her. "Tell me you didn't do what I think you did! I thought you had killed him, why couldn't you just do that instead of maybe tearing up this stitching!" Pressing her hands slightly to his side, she gently peeled back his dressing to view his wound, careful not to wake him even though she had just yelled in his presence.
 
Patrick had awoken with the shout, with only a slight jump, as his eyes lazily cracked open. Despite the hours of sleep, he was still tired, and he felt a hand going after the dressing that covered his wound. He tried to raise some sort of plea to allow himself to go back to sleep, but it came out as an incoherent mumble. His lazy eyes continued to crack open, his pupils contracting to adjust to the seemingly painful brightness.

It was so odd to be able to see again, he'd grown used to and almost fond of the darkness. However, he soon saw the advantage of the light as his eyes opened to finally see the petite redhead beside him. She looked as exhausted as he still felt, the sleep had obviously not been enough to refuel either of their tanks. His bright green eyes took one quick peek at her exposed chest before looking up to the tattooed lady above him.

He'd felt his hands ripped away from her form, and he quickly returned one of them at least around her shoulder. He didn't feel like moving, and her warm body felt nice beside his- he needed something to keep him warm. That was his excuse to keeping Dianna by him, and he was sticking to it. He blinked a few times in the harsh light and watched Roxie work with mere curiosity. He watched as if she was working upon somebody else, before closing his eyes and leaning back upon Dianna's pillow once again, wishing to return to the first peaceful sleep he'd experienced in months.
 
Roxie paid no heed to a stirring detective, her eyes focused on his side while her mouth continue to rant to her friend. "Dianna, you could have ripped all this open and he would have leaked blood all over my house. What were you thinking hopping into bed with him?" She asked, taking a hold of the gauze and tearing it off his body in a rough manner. "Do you not realize he was there to ARREST you? If he hadn't been shot and the world falling to hell, you'd be sitting in a jail cell right now. I cannot believe you! You never fraternize with the enemy, never!"

She walked out of the room with the dressing in her hand, still muttering as she went. Dianna had noticed his shift, but she had to peel herself away. "Let me up." She told him, scrambling out of the bed. Dragging the covers with her, she wrapped herself in silk and started to sneak toward the door when Roxie returned with her medical kit. "Put some clothes on, Di! And YOU!" She pointed at the injured man, going back to his side. "What were YOU thinking? What you did was even worse. Do you know how much blood was pouring out of you when she brought you here? We saved you and you nearly kill yourself again by hopping in the sack with the woman you're supposed to arrest? You're supposed to be righteous!" Growling, she slapped his face once before doing it again. "Hold still, damnit!" She warned him, pouring some salve onto his wound and then dressing it. "I can't believe. . . of all the ungrateful. . . "

Dianna inched toward the door, unsure of where she was going. "Where are you going?" Roxie barked before pointing at the girl's closet. Obediently, Dianna made her way to the closet and disappearing inside. When she stepped out a few minutes later she was in jeans and a black tee that barely covered her midriff. "Roxie, it's not quite what you think. We fought, mostly. Then he just. . . but everything stopped because, well, he's injured."

"I don't want to hear it!" The dark-haired girl said before storming out of the room. "Really, Di." She paused, turning around to face them. "I love you, you know? You're like a sister and I don't want to see you hurt. Kill him, sure, but just don't fuck him anymore." She grinned before leaving the room once and for all.
 
He winced when she quickly ripped at his gauze, peeling it away. He'd wanted to jump in and defend their actions when she was yelling at Dianna, struggling to find something to cover his modesty in the unfamiliar light when she pulled the covers. He settled for the sheets, which had been disheveled from the bed with their actions last night. He pulled them over his lower body, deciding to let Roxie rant at Dianna, it would be useless to interject with what would be a moot point.

But then she turned her attention to him, and when she pointed at him, he looked to both sides almost praying she was angry with the bed. However, it was obvious that Roxie was on the warpath, and he was the target. She came and slapped his already bruised cheek, as she demanded he remain still and he went rigid as a board. He had many valid points to make to defend his case- he had not planned on hopping in the sack with Dianna. And then the redhead went and tried to pin it on him! 'Then he just...' He looked at her and glared daggers into her eyes. Not 'we' just, not she just- no... it was him.

He stopped glaring as Roxie finished tending to his wound, and he watched her leave the room. As soon as the door closed he pointed at the door, looked to Dianna and said, "I have to strongly disagree with her last statement, killing me would be bad- not fucking would be even worse." Looking down at the sheet and the cover he (barely) had and asked, "There's gotta be something I can wear around here- and don't you dare suggest a skirt or something like that."
 
Though they were in the daylight now, Dianna didn't bother to look at his naked body or a mirror to examine any bruises she may have sustained from their night of wrestling. When he spoke, she blinked at him, though she thought she should have been laughing. No sound came from her mouth, however, as she slowly sank down the wall to rest on the floor by the door. "She's right." She said, ignoring his comment about clothing. "You and I are from the opposite side of he tracks. You'll go back to being a cop when all this is over, Rookie." And just like that, the kindness she had shown him while entangled with him in the bed was gone.
Pulling herself to her feet, she shrugged. "You'll have to wander around in your birthday suit until Freddie gets here with some clothes. Don't worry, we won't look." Opening the door, she walked out and closed it behind her.

Roxie was sitting on the couch, remote in hand, shuffling through the channels. "Freddie got the car and left him some clothes." She said, pretending to be angry. Or, maybe, she wasn't pretending. "Cool, don't tell him." She laughed, sitting down beside her friend. Leaning over, she placed her head on Roxie's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rox. I didn't mean to drag you into all this." Roxie sighed, lifting up her hand to run it through her friend's long red hair. "I know, Di, but you can't get attached to a cop. We gotta figure out what we're going to do here and about him. Even if we saved his life and there's a major corruption somewhere, he's still got to do his job. I'm not worried about me, but he could easily haul you in. Don't think that just because he got you in bed he's going to be any nicer. He's a man, Di. Just another dog."
 
Patrick laid there, his back against the soft sheets, staring up at the ceiling for a while. He seemed immobile, but his mind was racing again. He had no distraction of whiskey, no distraction of sleep, or a battle with a thief to keep his mind off of what was important. Now it was trying to figure out what to do, his entire unit was corrupt, his boss had shot him, and he had shot his boss in the head. He'd murdered somebody that night, it was in self defense, but it was his first killing. As the full weight of what that meant started to come down on him, Patrick sat up and quickly put his head in his hands. Sergeant Johnson had a wife, kids, a family that would miss him. He had a full life of experiences, ups, and downs, and it was Patrick who had ended it. As he slowly came to the acceptance of what he had done, his mind went on further to wonder what next?

Where could he go to tell somebody what had happened? Did he even want to? He couldn't simply return to his police station, he'd end up dead. Patrick had no idea how far the corruption went, which meant he had no idea who he could trust. Who could he trust now? Could he trust Dianna and Roxie? Dianna had practically carried him through the night to keep him alive, and Roxie had performed her best attempt at a surgery to patch him up. They both did what they could to keep him alive, but they couldn't have the same trust in him. His eyes scanned the room as he pulled on the boxers that ended up on the floor from the previous night. As he looked, he also found the wallet he'd had with him in his bloody clothes. He looked at the false ID he had, and quickly kept looking through his wallet. Then he found it, the shiny golden badge, something that always gave him solace in times of trouble.

The small object stood for respect, it stood for trust, and it always shone gold. He found himself pondering what it meant to him, as his thumb rolled over the cool metal. The only other cops he'd bothered to know, the only ones he'd truly respected had turned out to be criminals. The people in the other room had both done their part in saving his life, and now they were keeping him as a guest as his wound healed. And they couldn't trust him, couldn't respect him- because of the badge. He found himself grasping onto the badge tighter and tighter as the thoughts continued to race, the closeness him and Dianna had shared- gone now because of the badge. What he lived for, trust and respect, gone because of the badge. He'd identified himself so much with the object, and now he found it stood for everything he hated.

The thoughts raced and raced, and Patrick's anger grew and grew. He stared the object, his eyes burning a hole through it until he couldn't take even holding it anymore. Turning around he wound up and threw the piece of gold away, the smashing could be heard as it hit a small poster on the wall. The glass of the poster cracked and the noises could be heard in the living room as the poster and the badge both dropped to the floor. The anger and adrenaline pumping through his body as he swung the door open and stormed off, unsure of where he was going, but he needed to get away from that room.
 
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