Stormy Nights

A little fun in the backseat of a police car.

x.x.x

Thick, heavy sheets of water cascaded down onto the foggy town of Forks, as though intent on washing it right into the sea. It seemed to drive the inhabitants indoors, leaving the streets deserted and damp and darker than usual. The shiny police car cruised through the town like a shark in deep waters, solitary and dangerous, although its two passengers were lost in the midst of mutual, roaring laughter.

It took Edward a while at the station before he was permitted to patrol on his own. Despite his growing belief he'd be stuck behind a desk for his entire career, he managed to move far enough up the ranks to get behind a wheel. He was assigned the worst possible shifts, of course, and always wound up out on the weekends. Luckily, Bella found that she didn't mind her dates being conducted in the confines of a police car. It was occasionally cramped and not always cozy. But watching Edward assertively drive around the streets of Forks, stopping every now and then to check out domestic disturbances and complaints of loud music, was far more entertaining than a movie.

The night shift had been a slow one, leaving plenty of time to just talk and play silly games. It was Bella's idea to pull over for awhile, but it hadn't taken much wheedling. In fact, Edward only bemoaned once about the tenuous nature of the string on which his job dangled on. The words had barely left his lips before he quickly followed her into the backseat, where he found she had a rather premeditated idea of how she wanted to spend the rest of the evening.

"You know, I think," he said, around the scattered kisses, "there is some kind of weird Oedipal problem with you being so turned on by a cop uniform." He pursed his lips when her mouth wandered back to his.

She grinned against his neck as her mouth moved lower. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Is this part of some naughty fantasy or something?"

"Just be glad I don't want to be a detective — I could be wearing a trench coat and a fedora."

"I could approve of that," he grinned, speaking more to the car door than to her. "You'd look good in anything, Bella."

She glanced up at him and caught his eye, and couldn't help smiling. "Why do I feel like I'm the one taking advantage of you, Edward?"

"Well." He dragged out the word. "You do have me handcuffed to a metal bar." He wiggled his fingers, as if to illustrate this.

"Good point." She turned back to the focus of her attention, fingers playing across the zipper of his trousers. "I can't help it, though." She pressed her hand down, hard, sending one of his eyebrows up. "What's the point of having all this equipment if you don't use it?"

"Bella." He shook his head, but a grin spread across his face. "You are going to be the death of me."

"Let's hope not. And as to your question, let's just chalk it up to being raised around dashing young men in uniforms. I'll have you know that some of my earliest sexual fantasies were about being frisked by an officer."

"See," he responded, taking a sharp breath at the involuntary jerk of his hips when she slid his zipper down, "that's just kinda odd, Bella."

"Does anything about me strike you as normal?" She slipped her hand into his trousers, her cool fingers wrapping around his cock.

His mouth fell open at that, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a few beats before blinking them open. He didn't seem quite capable of looking down at her, his voice was strained. "No. No, absolutely nothing."

"Good," she answered, pulling it out of his trousers and into view. "There's no fun in being normal."

He started to respond and she could feel the rumble in his chest under her hand. This was cut off abruptly, however, when her mouth slipped around the head of his cock. Bella moved her tongue in long, savory strokes, fingers loosely coiled at the base. She sucked the tip until he made a choked sound, and then slid her lips down a few more inches. Edward sank his teeth into his lower lip, the warmth of her mouth and the sleekness of her spit causing his wrists to strain at the metal that pinned them above his head.

He could only hazard a brief glance down at her, but he was rather certain that the image of her lightly curled hair falling across her face as she sucked him off would haunt his dreams for years. There was something altogether too obscene about this — being sucked off on the job by the boss's daughter. His uniform was starched stiff and overly warm, sticking to his skin in places. The handcuffs dug harshly into his wrists and the salt of sweat only made them sting more, a strange contrast to the numbness that tingled in his fingertips. His hands kept twitching to break free, as the gel had melted right out of his hair and caused his bangs to fall limply and ticklishly across his forehead.

Bella kept her eyes shut, and there was a faint tinge of red to her cheeks that belied her aggressiveness. She shifted a little and he could see the head of his cock press against the interior of her cheek, her tongue angling to reach the area she couldn't quite get in her mouth. She must have been uncomfortable; he certainly was, with one long leg stretched over into the foot room of the next seat and the other pressing painfully into the black plastic door. The front seats of police cars were fairly luxurious, but the back wasn't much more than a portable cell. Nothing about her pose suggested discomfort, though, and he thought vaguely, in the back part of his mind that could still process such things, that the next time they got around to question games he should ask if she had ever done something like this before.

She pulled back a little and smiled up at him, tilting her head to one side. There was a rush of cold as his wet skin came in contact with the air, and once again his hands strained at their bindings. He breathed in sharply through his teeth as her fingers began to glide up and down his length, smooth and easy. "Yeah," she said softly, "you like that, don't you?"

He wasn't sure if that was rhetorical or not, but he was starting to nod when she leaned back in, pursing her lips into a kiss and brushing them across the tip of his cock. She smeared his pre-cum against her mouth, sticky and thick against her unusually pouty lips. They must have been swollen, he realized, as his glazed eyes watched her part them to lap up the mess. Her tongue was rough like a kitten's, each taste bud sand-paper against his feverish skin. The thought chased through his head that he might actually die like that, handcuffed to a car interior with his girl giving him head.

She met his gaze as she slid her mouth back down him, her cheeks going concave on the upward stroke. He knew she'd sensed he was close to cuming; she seemed more amused, now, and more determined. She crossed her arms against his hips, both holding him down and bracing herself to get more leverage. Edward gnashed his teeth into his tender lip again as her mouth moved so wetly against him. He could feel her moaning and murmuring even as she swallowed down his cock, her lips humming around him, and a white noise sensation that was just too much to bear. He was about to cum, he wouldn't last any longer, and then her teeth touched him, just lightly, and it was all over.

He groaned her name into the darkness of the car, hips arching upwards off the seat, easily breaking the hold of her arms. She made a little noise as he forced his cock farther into her mouth, slurping around it with a tenacity that made up for its lack of artistry. He managed to get out "I'm-" and she pulled back just enough so that when he came, it was hot and hard against her lips and running down her chin. He mouthed her name once more, but her eyes were instinctively squeezed shut to the splatters. He was vainly trying to catch his breath when she finally opened them and, after a pause, slid her lithe pink tongue out to wipe her lips clean.

He shivered then, and Bella slid up into his lap, ducked between his arms, and pressed her mouth firmly but delicately over his. She reached one hand up to where his hands were hanging tightly on either side of the metal bar, and interlaced her fingers with his. Edward could taste the sweetness of her lip-gloss in the kiss, and the salty tang of his own cum. She swallowed the last of his shaky gasps, breathing for both of them as she pressed him into the back of the seat.

"Well, Miss Swan," he said, fainter than usual, "I think you could interrogate a man into confessing anything."

"The Police Department really needs to start employing my tactics," she agreed, slipping two fingers into the pocket of her jeans and pulling out the slim handcuff key. "Maybe I'll start giving workshops."

He grinned up at her as she released his wrists, and shook them both a few times, trying to get the full feeling back. "I'm pretty sure those tactics of yours are illegal in this country, but you might want to consider a war-torn area of Africa."

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied, waggling her eyebrows. She settled into his lap, a knee on either side of his hips. "I don't relish the thought of teaching any other officer how to do that, anyway."

Edward groaned, bringing his hands to her waist, his wrists were chaffed red and raw, but he didn't say anything. "Those are mental images I could have done without."

"I live to make your office meetings perpetually uncomfortable," she chirped, sliding a hand up to brush his hair off his moist forehead. Her fingers were strangely chilly, which felt both shocking and nice.

He looked up at her for another moment. "You're really wet, aren't you?"

"Aching for it, Officer Cullen."

They grinned at each other for a moment before she kissed him again, gently this time, and the staccato beat of the rain seemed to pick up, louder than before. Perhaps he wasn't being the most diligent police officer, but there wasn't much cause for concern, crime in Forks never happened on dark and stormy nights.