Hey there! Well... Hmmm. I really wanted to write an AU fanfic about Adam and Lawrence, and it took me ages to find an appropriate setting. Finally, though, I decided on Lawrence being a cop and Adam being a criminal. I don't know why, but I always liked to picture Lawrence as the dominant person in the relationship, so... Here we are. Hehe. I'll post updates on this fic as regularly as I can. I really am interested in finishing it. I like to think that this fic will have an interesting plot, which I've somewhat worked out, as well as full-out make-out sessiofns, since they're just as important!

1. A New Day Has Begun

A door was banged open in a police station in New York.

It was the beginning of October, and was thus Autumn and somewhat cool. And the door to an office in a New York police station was banged open.

The man behind the door, Lawrence Gordon - a tall, attractive man in his mid to late thirties with blond hair and a clean-shaven face - startled when his colleague walked into his office. It seemed like he'd never work at this place long enough to get used to the fact that the policemen who worked with him never knocked before they went through a door. Even if the door in question belonged to someone whom they had to show respect to if they wanted to get anywhere in their work.

The man who had banged the door open, Jack Riley, grinned widely, closing the door behind him and holding up a folder in one hand so that Lawrence could see it.

"This, my friend, will make you happy," he said smugly, walking up to his superior's desk.

Lawrence sighed, dropped the pen he'd been holding in his hand, and looked at his coworker.

Jack was the closest thing he had to a friend, and he'd known him since he was eighteen, but he'd still never admit that Lawrence had actually made it further in their carrier than him. That was why he still tried to give him all these useless little cases. He was no where near as high-ranking as his companion, even though they'd both graduated from Police Academy at the same time. The man had darkish black hair and was somewhat immature-looking for his age, and like his friend, he seemed to regard facial hair as trivial and unappealing.

"What is it?"

"You know Faulkner?" Jack said, and in an instant all of his attempts to seem professional melted away, and his eyes shone like that of a child's on Christmas Eve when he dropped the folder on the older man's desk.

"Adam Faulkner?" Lawrence said with a small smile. "Of course I do. Why?"

"We've figured out where he is!" Jack said, pointing to the folder for Lawrence to see. "Or no, not really "figured out," but we have a pretty reliable clue about where he is right now!"

Lawrence chuckled and closed the folder.

"We've had a clue about where he is for the last six months. Why are you getting so giddy over this now?"

"Because now," Jack said, almost whispering, like if he said it too loud, the entire American police core would storm through the door and snatch the folder away from him, "we've gotten the case! Grey says everyone has tried every place Faulkner's been seen in, and now, there's only one left! And we get to check that out!"

Adam Faulkner was one of the many burglars in Lawrence and Jack's district. What made Jack so excited, Lawrence had to guess, was that the criminal probably was unique in the way that no one had caught him in six months, not to mention that he was the most efficient one. Lawrence had never heard of anyone doing so many burglaries in such a short time, despite all his years as a cop. And he should have been ecstatic that he finally had a chance to catch him, but to be honest, nothing seemed more unattractive to him right now.

But he did have to smile a little at Jack's joy over this. Lawrence had seen the desk boy right before he'd graduated from Police Academy, the minute before his wedding, and the first time he'd gotten promoted, but none of those occasions compared to his level of excitement now.

Now, Jack was hopping from one foot to the other, shoving his hands into his pockets then pulling them back out to rake them through his hair and then move them up to bite his nails. He almost seemed insulted that Lawrence wasn't acting in the same way.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and stopped his fidgeting for a brief moment. "Aren't you happy? If we get this guy, you'll probably get another fancy medal. And I might get promoted again and get... an office!"

Lawrence laughed.

Jack really was his constant confirmation that he really had succeeded. They'd been cops for the exact same amount of time, and Lawrence still had a big office with a desk made out of expensive oak, a little cabinet filled to the brim with medals, and a bigger paycheck than most of his coworkers could even dream of. And Jack still had a puny little office, which looked more like a storage room than a place to work, and was usually out in the waiting room of the station, spinning a pen between his fingers, always prepared for Lawrence to come out of his office with his jacket in one hand, nod to him to follow him, and then bring him out on another case. Even though their boss, Vincent Grey, had explicitly forbidden Lawrence to bring Jack to anything that was "over his capacity."

Jack looked up when he heard his friend laugh. On his face was an almost childish look of disappointment, and Lawrence had to clear his throat and quiet down.

"Sorry," he said with a small smile. "Of course you'll get an office."

Jack's puppy face cracked in a big smile, and he bent down to open the folder again. It was almost amusing how much he wanted Lawrence's approval.

"He's in that alley," Jack said, pointing to the address in the report. "Behind Macy's. At least, that's where we think he is."

Lawrence nodded and smiled tiredly at his colleague.

"Okay. I guess I'll be the one to go there and catch him. And you can sit by your desk when I hand him over, so that it'll look like you've done some work, too?"

Jack's smile turned into a smirk, with a faint shadow of shame behind it.

"You read my mind. And when - if - you get back with Faulkner, you're gonna have to hold yourself down for an hour or so if you want to break him. Anderson is dealing with a rape right now. It could take a while."

Lawrence nodded.

"But you'll book the interrogation room for me?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

Lawrence got up and walked towards the door. He snatched his jacket from a drawer on the way out.

He had no clue at all that he was leaving his old life in the room behind him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lawrence drove through the crowded streets of the city that he'd come to know so well. A rational person in his position would have brought backup, or at least would have been a bit nervous. But Lawrence was beyond all that. For some reason, though he secretly didn't know how, the detective had become a professional; he was prompt, formal, and, above all else, ruthless. He also had a certain disdain for all criminals that helped him immensely when confronting them.

A lot of the people he'd arrested had actually crumpled the moment they'd seen him, gun in hand and face expressionless, because they'd known him so well by reputation. And even though Adam was supposed to be a professional, Lawrence doubted that he'd cause him any trouble. He'd seen pictures of him. Not very good pictures, since the guy never usually stayed in one place for too long and thus getting a good shot of him could be difficult, but he'd seen enough to be confident that he'd know him by sight once he'd found him.

Lawrence was careful to park his car at least three blocks away from Macy's, which was a "legal" secondhand store that some of the lower-ranking members of his occupation had investigated several times. As he walked through the crowded, afternoon streets of New York, inconspicuous because of his semi-normal-looking uniform, further covered by his jacket, Lawrence found his heart beginning to beat faster, as it always did in situations such as these. Somehow, the idea of locking someone up got his blood pumping, and more so than his wife did, too.

It wasn't like fear turned him on or anything. He just enjoyed taking away such people's freedom. That was what someone in his position was meant to feel, wasn't it?

When he finally reached Macy's street, Lawrence began to move more carefully - not too fast, but not too suspiciously, either. When he was a few inches away from the store itself, he again changed tactics, easily climbing the fence that shut the back of the place off from the rest of the world, then carefully made his way down it, taking out his handgun from its holster hidden under his jacket as he did so.

Slowly, tentatively, his weapon held out in front of him, Lawrence began to make his way down the narrow alleyway. Even though he'd never been there before, the detective knew that the place branched off into a rough, uncompleted square-like-shape. That was, an "L" with a right side. He was on that side now, since that was where the fence he'd taken had begun from, and he knew that the left side of the "L" had a small gate which led out into another alley, and eventually out into the streets again. In short, it was a mildly confusing maze, not overly confounding, but more than a little annoying.

When Lawrence had reached the end of his path and come to a corner that would lead him into the middle of the "L," he stopped. If Adam was anywhere, he would most-likely be there, since that would be the most shut off area available. Carefully, the man eased a fraction of his head around the corner, attempting to get a glimpse of what awaited him.

And, sure enough, there he was. Adam Faulkner.

There was no mistaking him. Even though he had his back to the detective, luckily, his skinny and "fragile" posture was unmistakable. He was leaning slightly against the brick wall of the store, seemingly scraping something away with his fingers. Whether he was attempting to clean his hideout a little or carve a picture because he was bored, the older man didn't know nor care. He didn't wait any longer.

Silently bracing himself, Lawrence jumped out from behind his corner, fingers poised on the trigger of his handgun. He saw the perpetrator startle as he at last realized that someone else was there. He turned, quickly and abruptly, without any caution at all, which made Lawrence wonder at his apparent skill. Adam's mouth opened slightly in surprise, and his already-pale-face grew even paler when he saw what was pointed at him. Clearly, he had not been expecting this.

Grimly, Lawrence tightened his grip on his weapon, noticing with anxiety the gun on the criminal's own waist. Adam had not moved at all since turning around, but the detective was still uncertain. He'd been told about this guy's rashness and impulsiveness before, and knew that if he himself was not prepared, he could easily lose the upper hand he'd gained.

Edging forwards slightly, gun aimed directly at the other man's chest, Lawrence said:

"Get your hands up where I can see them, now."

For a moment, it looked like the man was going to refuse. His eyes were defiant, and there was fight in them. But, luckily, it didn't take long for his commonsense to overcome his pride. Slowly, with every sign that Lawrence was his least-favorite person in the world, the young delinquent raised his hands to the level of his shoulders, glaring back at his captor as he did so.

Under normal circumstances, Lawrence would have called for backup and waited for it to arrive before he attempted anything else, but something about Adam... enraged him. Somehow, he wanted to be the one to catch him. Him alone. So, even though he knew it was dangerous, even though he knew that, if he wanted to, the younger man could probably attempt to disarm him, Lawrence moved a few more steps forward and said:

"Good. Now, turn around and get down on your knees, slowly. Any sudden movements and you're dead, got it?"

Lawrence thought that last part might have been overdoing it a bit, but he couldn't allow his enemy to see him scared or uncertain, not that he was. Adam made no reply, except for a scowl that would have killed the older man a million times over if looks had been deadly, but he complied with Lawrence's command, slowly turning so that his back was to him, then kneeling down on the hard ground of the alley pavement. He carefully moved his hands from his shoulders to the back of his head, without having to be told.

Lawrence felt his stomach lurch slightly in apprehension as he slowly began moving forward once again. He moved his gun to a one-handed grip and with his free hand, reached into his jacket and pulled out the pair of handcuffs he had there. Very carefully, he knelt on one knee behind the young man, trying to be as quiet as possible, then swiftly caught his left hand in one of the loops of the cuffs, and, in a lightning-quick movement, dropped his gun and pulled both Adam's hands down behind his back, cuffing the other as he did so.

Lawrence could tell by the delinquent's startled convulse straight after that he had been planning on trying to outsmart him, but that he had been too slow and inexperienced to judge his movements. This made the detective smirk, and increased his arrogance, which had already been quite high, a great deal.

Effortlessly, he pushed Adam onto his stomach, knowing he was no real threat to him now, and began patting him down for weapons. He removed the gun attached to his waist, as well as a sharp knife, hidden up his left sleeve, and a wallet that had been in his jacket, which at a quick glance seemed to hold nothing but money.

Grinning, he pushed the criminal over onto his back so that he could look directly into his face. Adam glared back up at him, his face flushing slightly in embarrassment.

"Not quite quick enough, right Faulkner?" Lawrence said, unable to keep the mocking tone out of his voice. He saw a scowl appear on the young criminal's face, which only made him smile more.

"Fuck you, officer," Adam snapped back, putting as much detest as he could manage into the last word. Lawrence was not offended.

"Come on, now," he said in a sarcastic tone. "It's not going to be pleasant for either of us if we can't be civil to one another, is it?"

"Fuck civil. Fuck you. Like I'd waste my time being nice to you."

Lawrence smiled and moved so that he was leaning right over the other man. He stared into his face, seeing the anger and resentment there. But, he saw a childish look of defeat and embarrassment in the face, as well, which, Lawrence had to admit, was somewhat... cute. Very cute, actually.

"Besides, you started it," Adam continued, his voice stubborn and his eyes set as he stared back up at his captor, presumably unfazed by his closeness. "You were the one who came out here, caught me off guard... I don't do that kind of thing."

Now that Lawrence looked closer, he realized that Adam was quite a bit older than he'd first thought. The ruffled hair and childish demeanor was somewhat deceiving. At a guess, the detective would have placed the man at about twenty two-twenty three. Seventeen years younger than him.

"Also, I think you guys must be pretty bored if you're going after someone like me. Or do they just send the rookies like you out to take care of petty criminals?"

His voice was nice, too. It had a sort of... rough, bitter note to it. His American accent was strong, and slightly fast and quick-paced, like its user didn't think much before speaking. His face and body were next to perfect; his body was either the right size or a fraction too skinny, and though he wasn't lanky or weak-looking, he looked somewhat vulnerable and easy-to-control. His face was perfectly fractioned, with a half-sarcastic, half-annoyed kind of air about it. His messy, brownish-black hair was rough and un-brushed, but it suited him. It... really suited him.

"I hope you don't think you're good at your job, just because you caught me. As I said, I'm just a petty criminal; there are far bigger things you guys could be-"

The younger man's defiant rabble was cut abruptly short as his captor roughly pushed his mouth over his, throwing himself completely on top of him and shoving his tongue deep into his mouth. Adam struggled feebly, his options fatally limited without the use of his hands, along with the body of another man weighing him down.

Lawrence continued kissing him, long and hard, running his hands along his prisoner's jacket and shirt as he did so. Finally, after well-over a minute, he pulled away, breathing hard. The other man's breathing was not much better, and he was staring at Lawrence as though he'd just appeared out of the Twilight Zone or something.

"Y-You... What the fuck..." he spluttered, struggling somewhat to escape but getting nowhere.

"Shut up," Lawrence mumbled.

He wanted him.

He didn't know how he wanted him, or why in God's name he wanted him, but he did.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt the very strong urge to feel someone, feel someone naked and writhing beneath him, and it wasn't his wife - the wife that he'd been married to for over ten years - that he wanted. It was a man, a fucking convicted criminal, but...

He snapped out of his musings, looking at Adam beneath him. He was frowning, his face was flushed, and he was doing his best to hide his ragged, heavy breathing, but by God, he was attractive.

Adam smirked when he saw Lawrence's gaze, embarrassingly jumping from his eyes to his lips.

"Well, well, well," he chuckled, making another attempt to struggle against the handcuffs. "I guess I'm dealing with one of those cops who doesn't fuck his secretary, like the rest of the department, but sneaks off into dark alleys like these and forces eighteen year-old male whores to suck his cock. This could get crazy..."

"Shut up," Lawrence repeated firmly. "I could blow your fucking head off right now, without even breaking a law, so I suggest you do what I tell you to do."

"Oh, no," Adam said, with sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Stop it, you're scaring me."

"I'd better," Lawrence muttered, and kissed him again, aggressively, his tongue roaming the other's mouth, and it didn't make sense, not one bit, but he didn't care.

"For fuck's sake..." Adam hissed into the kiss and started struggling again. If it was against him or the handcuffs, Lawrence didn't know, and it was still just another thing he didn't give a crap about. He was getting more and more turned on by the second, and the fact that the younger man's lean, slender body was tensing and writhing beneath him, trying to break free, was just adding to it.

Lawrence's one hand snuck into Adam's jacket, feeling the thin fabric of his shirt, and suddenly felt a longing to feel his soft skin against his fingertips... Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him?

With some kind of sick satisfaction, Lawrence heard the younger man give a low moan, though it was mostly muffled by his own mouth. Encouraged, Lawrence continued feeling Adam's skin through the thin fabric of the t-shirt. His victim was still struggling in an attempt to free himself, but his resistance had lessened slightly.

Hungrily, Lawrence bit down on the delinquent's lower lip, silently but aggressively coaxing him to kiss him back. He wouldn't. Frustrated, Lawrence pulled away for a second time, glaring down at the other man, who glared defiantly right back up at him.

"You're not making this easy, Faulkner," Lawrence said quietly, gently rubbing his fingers against the outside of Adam's shirt. He saw the criminal's face strain and felt his body convulse slightly as the other man's hand brushed against his right nipple.

Lawrence began lowering his free hand slowly down his companion's stomach and, at the same time, slid his occupied hand down and under Adam's shirt, touching his skin directly. The young man trembled again from the direct contact, and with a mixture of pleasure and triumph, Lawrence felt a hard lump beginning to press against his legs, signifying that he'd finally succeeded in arousing his prisoner as much as he had done him.

Smirking, the detective moved his left hand up Adam's stomach and once again began massaging his nipple, directly this time. The delinquent's erection grew larger and Lawrence, encouraged and feeling in control, moved his head down beside Adam's again and began to nibble playfully at his neck.

He wanted to get another moan out of him; he wanted to hear the bastard crying with pleasure and begging him for release. He wanted to make the dirty thief suffer, to teach him a lesson for being such a slut. But most of all, he wanted to cure this maddening lust that had built itself up in him so suddenly and was now threatening to take control of his entire body until he went insane.

But for that to happen, Lawrence knew, he would have to continue with what he was doing, even though it was wrong, and even though the other man stood for everything he despised.

With disgust, Lawrence heard his own voice, muffled against Adam's neck, murmuring in a tone hoarse with desire and arousal:

"Just do as I say, Faulkner, and it'll be a whole lot less painful, okay?"

He almost moaned aloud with pleasure when he heard the young man give a low whimper of fear, as he finally realized that the situation he was in was no laughing matter. God, his fear turned him on so much. Grunting, the older man pushed his right hand down his lover's pants, gripping hard on the pulsing erection he found there.

Adam gasped and arched his back slightly as warm fingers closed around his throbbing length. With his other hand, the detective was still fingering the already-hardened nipples of the other man, and the next moment, he had pushed his mouth over Adam's again and was practically sucking his tongue out of his mouth, and this time, the criminal was kissing him back, just as passionately.

After a few satisfying seconds, Lawrence broke the kiss and pulled away, smiling at the frustration he saw in the delinquent's eyes.

"Surrender?" he mumbled with a grin as he felt Adam's trembling body push itself against his hand.

"Fuck you," Adam replied, and he probably wanted it to come out as another angry hiss, but instead, it sounded like an anguished cry from his own mental battle between his pride and his lust.

"That's not how nice boys talk," Lawrence murmured, and moved his lips from Adam's mouth to his earlobe, letting his breath brush over the sensitive skin there. "Nice boys say "please.""

"Fuck you," Adam repeated, biting his lip, but he still couldn't suppress a tortured moan. "God..."

Lawrence closed his mouth over his again, letting his one hand put some more pressure on Adam's growing erection, still disgusted with himself for being so turned on by this, for making out with a criminal, but it was all worth it. He hadn't been able to make his wife moan like this for years, and it had been years since he'd tried.

He tried to pretend that his own rapidly-growing erection didn't exist, but that got harder to do by the second. Even though Adam couldn't touch him, everything about him seemed to turn him on even more. His body, his writhing, his moans, his sounds, the soft throbbing of his cock under his tormenter's hand. His... helplessness.

God, I'm a control freak, Lawrence thought, as he felt Adam's quivering breath against his lips.

But it was easier that he didn't think about it. Lawrence tried to stay jaded and insensitive as he gave Adam's penis a slow, teasing stroke, still playing with his erected nipple as he did so, drinking in the man's moans and pressing his wetted lips against his neck. Even though he knew he should stop... Hell, it wasn't like he didn't feel how desperate and lustful his kisses were becoming, but he couldn't do that. He could hold back, though. This was all about teaching Adam a lesson, after all.

But he still couldn't keep the blood from roaring in his ears as he heard the criminal grunt when he gave him another stroke.

"Jesus Christ..." Adam said, his voice rough as he shook his shoulders, as though he were attempting to slip his hands out of the cuffs.

"You're starting to give in, aren't you?" Lawrence said smugly, and smiled into the soft, naked skin of the delinquent's neck.

Adam chuckled, softly and grimly.

"I am," he muttered, and even though Lawrence was filled with a sadistic satisfaction at these words, it was soon washed away by what he said next, with a cruel, mocking note in his voice.

"But I don't seem to be the only one."

What a place to end a chapter... But it was getting a little long. Anyway, it'd be nice if all you lovely ChainShippers could read and review this fic and let me know what you think - areas that need work, suggestions, etc.. All is welcome. Thanks a lot!