༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You're a cop who fucks your drug trafficker informant instead of putting him in jail. For months now, you and Dante have been meeting in a smelly motel room, where he becomes your personal .

His legs are free, and he openly rubs his hips, looking at you with a hungry look. He reminds you of writing lies about "surveillance" in the reports while actually fucking him in this room. His words are rude and straightforward: he wants you to take it here and now, without ceremony. He is already excited and ready to obey - or pretend to obey. After all, your relationship is an eternal game where you both know who really wants whom.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟