ultraviolet9a | Cuffs (or how Sam taught Dean that payback's a bitch)

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>> Cuffs (or how Sam taught Dean that payback’s a bitch)

TITLE: Cuffs (or how Sam taught Dean that payback’s a bitch)

AUTHOR:

ultraviolet9a
SPOILER: Not really. Very, very, very mild for Hollywood Babylon perhaps.

GENRE: Genhet. Oh fine. Het, I guess. (Kinda. Dammit, it’s a hybrid, okay?)

CHARACTERS: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, OC (and Dean/OC. Kinda.)

SUMMARY: Revenge is a dish best served by the law.

RATING: PG-16, more cuz of description than language.
FEEDBACK: Dude…duh.
DISCLAIMER: If I owned them I’d use them as bedwarmers. Cuz I have got really cold feet. *nods*

NOTE: For

found_fic_spnchallenge 3 “Cops suck.” Also, kind of covers the Crash& Burn challenge at

spn_het_love. Whoa. Am multi-tasking.

There is one thing that Dean likes almost as much as nurses, and that’s police women. He likes the way the uniform clings on them without…clinging, likes the way they wear their authority like a cloak, gets turned on by their no-bullshit kind of way. Brief flashes of Police Academy movies in his mind he tucks neatly away, cuz, dude. Seriously. Bad timing.

So, right. Where was he? Ah yes. Authority. Power. No-bullshit.

He guesses the no-bullshit was one of the reasons he was attracted to Cassie, but he won’t really go there either, no. Not when he’s got this busty, sweet like honey and wicked as sin brunette rubbing herself on him. And did he mention? She’s a cop. Well. Not a real cop, obviously. Cuz this is Hollywood land and this is a costume party. But the uniform? Just right. And her coiled hair? Oh god. Even more right, and besides, he and Sam got the info they were looking for, so work’s done, time to play.

She likes to play too. She’s got nimble fingers and a quick tongue that darts in and out of his mouth and Dean finds himself pushed back into the toilet cubicle and the door shut behind him. It’s quite a comfortable cubicle too. Enough space for the sort of manoeuvres he likes.

“Is this the part where you’re gonna read me my rights?” he mouths in her ear.

“You have the right to remain silent,” she replies fingers shoving in his mouth. “And that’s about it.”

Dean gets turned on by this, so turned on that he doesn’t care if he sounds like a cheesy porn star when he tells her if she’d like to body search him.

“All in good time, boy.” She tugs at his hair, pulling his head back, revealing neck she covers with quick bites. “All in good time.”

“You know what they say?” The buttons of her shirt are now undone and her breasts are pushing against the black bra.

“What do they say?”

“That cops suck.” There’s enough leer in that one phrase to grease a whole continent, as he twitches his eyebrows and guides her hand to his crotch.

She pulls back for a moment, a flicker of a wicked smile on her lips.

“Well. Not true.” She winks. “Some of us swallow too. Now strip, boy.”

And that really gets him so fucking hard that all blood flows away from his brain to the netherlands. Obviously. Because there is no other way of possibly explaining how he reacts to what happens next.

He obeys for one thing.

****

So Dean’s trousers are down to his ankles, but that is not good enough for her, oh no.

“I said, strip,” she says and her face is stern.

“Ah, sweetheart, we can…”

Her palm on his mouth, her breasts on him, her hips gyrating up and down his groin. She slides back against the wall, fingers undoing her own, heavy belt, zipping down. There’s the barest suspicion of black lace in his sight.

“You got to obey an officer,” she purrs fingers sliding inside that lace. “Your clothes have got to go. For full. Bodysearch.”

And really, he thinks in retrospect, can you blame him? Can anyone blame him? Cuz, she’s hot. Stove hot.

So the clothes are a go, left hanging over the cubicle side and all he wears now are his boxers, his boots and a raging hard on. She smiles then, and her trousers slip one notch down.

Groan as the black lace becomes more prominent. Dean pulls her to him, mouth exploring her rich cleavage, fingers sliding her trousers further down, but then her hands are on his wrists.

“Baby?”

“Mustn’t resist an officer of the law,” she purrs, and somehow like that, he is pinned against the wall, almost tripping over the actual toilet and he hears the click-click as his hands are tied on the two water pipes running behind him.

She’s a kinky one, she is. And she’s here to protect and serve and ah, the last bit has him groan again and moving forward, when he realises that he can’t. Cuz, you know. Cuffs. Hands. Could totally free himself though. Not like those are real cuffs anyway.

The hot half-naked not-real cop looks him up and down with a smile, places a smudgy cherry red kiss on his cheek, then buckles up.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks.

“I’m taking your clothes and leaving you here,” she replies and Dean moves his hands and no way those are real cuffs anyway, right?

“Your whole uniform is a fake but you got real cuffs?!”

“Those aren’t mine, baby,” she says as she’s already out the door. “This guy gave them to me.”

“What guy?”

“Tall. Is paying me good money for all this.”

“He did what?!”

“You heard the officer, Dean,” Sam’s voice is in the room and oh yeah, that’s him alright, Dean could recognize this chuckle anywhere. Through the half-open door Dean can see his brother paying Officer Kinky Bitch from hell, her counting the money, then handing Dean's clothes to Sam. Then she’s blowing him a kiss and is going out the door.

“Bitch!” Dean yells rattling his hands, and he doesn’t know if he’s referring to her or his brother. “So I guess she’s not a secretary by day.”

“No. Officer Candy occupies a different job,” Sam grins and leans against the wall. He muses, looking at the ceiling. “Ah Dean. Law can be cruel.”

“You set this whole thing up.”

“Oh yeah. Knew she’d be your type. Knew we’d join this party. Even put up a Toilet Flooded, use the Ladies’s sign outside.”

“You know, if you used half that energy you wasted here on girls? You might be getting laid once in a while.”

“On the other hand, this is pretty fun too,” Sam replies and is that his mobile he’s taking out?

“You son of a bitch, you wouldn’t…”

Click.

“I think this will cheer me up on pensive days,” Sam says.

“Yeah, ok, now that we’ve established you’re a criminal mastermind can you tell me why the fuck you did all this?” He squints. “Is this about me letting you run behind the car for a mile? Or your birthday present?”

Sam tugs his mouth downwards.

“Maybe.”

Dean squints, wills epiphany his way.

“It’s about the shoes, isn’t it?” he slowly says and then lets out an I-can’t-believe-this-shit laugh. “Oh-oh. You did all this. Just cuz I made you throw away one fucking pair of sneakers, didn’t you?”

Sam manages to pout and smile at the same time.

“Well. Kinda.”

“Dude…you know I’m going to bust lose soon.”

“I know. And you’ll end up walking back to the motel naked and oh, wet too, cuz those are waterpipes you’re tied to.”

“What do you want, Sam?”

“Dean? NO MORE STRIPOGRAMMS ON MY BIRTHDAY. That’s what I want. And no more itching powder. And no more of your sticky food fingers on my laptop. And no more running behind the car. And you won’t do a thing once I untie you. Because I really liked those sneakers. Okay? I want your Winchester word on that.”

Dean fumes.

“Dean?”

“Fine.”

There’s the click-click sounds as the cuffs are opened. Soft sounds of clothes being worn. A string of loud obscenities as Dean cusses. Soft chocked chuckles from Sam.

The noise of the party as they walk through, their steps walking back to the car, the doors opening and slamming shut. The engine starting, the sweet sound of the Impala moving. Dean is silent.

“Oh come on, Dean,” Sam says. “You can’t be pissed off forever. I’ll even get you some pie as a gesture of good will!”

Dean doesn’t look at him.

“Where’d you find her?”

“Yellow pages. I called, she came, she was your type.”

“You hired her specifically for all that?” Dean asks. “Cuz of a pair of freaking shoes?”

“Yes. I thought I’d be thorough. And those where comfy shoes, Dean. So. Truce?”

Dean’s head swivels to him.

“Depends. You still got her number?”

-The End.

SIDENOTE: Surely, this must have been done before. But hell, I couldn’t resist it.

Also? If you want to see what happened to Sam’s sneakers, read here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

kimonkey7.livejournal.com

Ah, nothing like the sweet smell of semi-pr0n in the morning. Heee!

Wonderful, once again, and what? You're making a little found_fic 'verse? :) Wheeee! Power on, girly-girl!

This was, uh...pretty hot. At least that beginning part, and I wouldn't have minded...uh, yeah. ;)

Thanks SO much for playing again! And, oh! Wait 'til you see tomorrow's prompt!

*twirls you*

From:

the mirror lj so far? Don't know yet.

Cuffs (or how Sam taught Dean that payback's a bitch)

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