Standard Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, the plot does.

Rated M for Language and Mature Sexual Content

I. Innocent Until Proven Guilty

The rain was spattering against the streaked window she stared out of, bathed in the yellow light of an old street lamp. It was dark, just past midnight, and this was the last place she should have been.

Lifting one finger, she ran it down the greasy window pane. With a grimace she rubbed the layer of grime from her finger, flicked it from beneath the short nail.

She shouldn't have been there at that abandoned warehouse. She shouldn't have enjoyed the sex they had on the stale sheets that smelled of rotten cigarettes. . .that smelled of him. But Pan Son liked good sex, and the sex was always good.

That's why she kept coming back to him. It didn't even matter that they got it on in an abandoned warehouse on a lumpy mattress and cheap sheets. It didn't ruin the sex, that was for sure, nor did it make her feel like any less of a woman. Just because she was having sex on cotton and not silk, in a stingy warehouse and hot in a five-star hotel, didn't make her feel like a whore.

Even if the sex was with a married man.

With a sigh of impatience, Pan turned away from the dingy window and stared around at what had once served as an office. It was large, dusty, and made the hair on her arms stand on end. The mattress was nestled in the far corner, the white sheets a sharp contrast to the stark room. Unconsciously, she rubbed her arms through the cashmere of her sweater.

She should have been at home, asleep in her comfortable bed or running over her latest case at her desk and sipping coffee. She could work on a case through the night if her heart was in it, but he had called and she had come. So instead of interpreting the best way to lock away another criminal, Pan was waiting in an abandoned warehouse for a married man so they could have amazing sex.

She shivered in the chill of the empty room and turned away from the bed, which she had been staring at. She gasped when her gaze fell onto the doorway and the shadow that stirred there. She smelled the stench of his cigarette smoke before he stepped forward and into the slate of light that pierced through the grime of the window.

"You didn't wear your jacket, Counselor." His lips were curved in that arrogant smirk he was known for, that same smirk set in the face of a fallen angel. He never ceased to make her heart skip a beat. "It's cold, and I rather enjoy the look of you when you're dressed for court." He took a drag of his cigarette, held his hand to the side and flicked the ashes to the floor, all with a masculine grace that heconstantly seemed toemit.

His eyes skimmed over her body, undressing her. Pan shifted her stance out of habit and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "I forgot it," she said simply and moved her shoulders in dismissal. "I tend to lose my train of thought when you call me on such short notice. Wasn't it you who made the rules?" Her voice held an edge of heat now, her cat-like eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him. "Give at least 24 hours notice before we meet? You barely give me twenty minutes and then you show up late."

He took a step toward her, bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling again. He didn't break eye contact as he spoke, still smirking. "That's why I make the rules, Counselor, so I can break them." He turned his head to exhale the smoke away from her, then his cool gaze returned to her own. When she only pouted his smirk widened. "You haven't had your evening coffee, darling, you're irritable."

And because it was foolish of her not to have noticed the thermos in his hand before, she couldn't suppress the blush that crept into her cheeks as he held it out to her. She dropped her gaze when she snatched the coffee from his offering hand, folding her icy fingers around it and closing her eyes in a moment of bliss.

"I knew you'd come," he said quietly, and she opened her eyes to look at him. His smirk was gone, replaced by a thoughtful look as he studied her, the cigarette smoldering between his fingers. He reached out to tug a long strand of her hair and she felt the familiar lurch in her stomach. "You never could resist me, Counselor." The smirk flashed again and she jerked back on impulse. The strand of hair fell from his fingers, but he simply smiled.

"And you could never resist anything with tits and an ass," she snapped. The icy retort was always her first reaction to his arrogant comments. But he merely chuckled, taking a longer pull from his cigarette and exhaling the smoke over her head as he stepped toward her again.

"You're right, darling, I couldn't. Especially yours." He reached out again, but this time he feathered his free hand down the side of her breast.

Pan's eyes automatically slid closed and she barely swallowed a moan.

"Funny," she said after a moment, swallowing hard. "I always thought your wife had a better rack then I did." Her eyes opened and she had to tilt her head back to look at him. He was smiling again, his fingers still lingering along the side of her breast.

"Bigger isn't always better, Counselor." He took one final pull from his cigarette before flicking it to the floor and toeing it out. He reached down and plucked the untouched coffee from her hands and set it on the desk beside them. He closed the remaining distance between them and slid one hand into her hair, the other toyed with a belt loop on her trousers. "Marron is all show. She certainly wouldn't agree to have sex in a place like this, even if I do own it. She lacks a sense of. . .Adventure," he decided and easily undid the button of her trousers.

"I'm not sure if I'd call what we do adventurous," Pan murmured, reaching up to tug at his tie.

"Mm-hm." He bent his head, capturing her full bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently. "What would you call it then, Counselor?" He asked as he released her lip and kissed her jaw, sliding his hands around to cup her ass and pull her against him.

She arched her hips at the contact, all but purring against his ear. "I'd call it illegal, Mr. Briefs," she with a low, throaty chuckle.

"Well, you're the lady of the court," he said, toying with the hem of her sweater. "You have a better sense of the law then I do." The zipper of her trousers were the next to fall victim to his poetic fingers. "However, I believe you're as guilty as I am in this current circumstance."

Pan gave a seductive chuckle, yanking his tie over his head and tossing it aside. "You know how the old saying goes, Trunks: Innocent until proven guilty."

"I love it when you speak in legal terms, Counselor," he murmured against her lips and gave her no chance to respond as he closed his mouth over her own.

She moaned and arched into his embrace, weaving her fingers into his short hair. His hands slid around her hips to cup her ass and lift her easily into his arms. Her slender legs banded around his hips and held tight.

He tasted of sin, that was the only way she could describe it. The taste of tobacco was barely there, disguised by power and pure masculinity. Only the wealthiest man in the world could make a disgusting habit look good.

His lips trailed to her neck and she swung her head to the side, allowed him to find her throbbing pulse and nip it so it stuttered against his lips. He moved with a subtle grace, even when he carried her, as he walked toward the mattress.

He dropped to his knees, laying Pan back as he simply gazed down at her. Her black eyes were lidded, the swatch of siren red lace taunting him from the opened front of her trousers. With a small smile, he hooked his fingers at her hips and easily dragged them from her body.

Trunks traced his fingers up her milky thighs to her hips, hooking a finger in the edge of her panties and tugging them down to get a better look at the tattoo of the dragon that rested there.

Pan chuckled, shifted her hips. "Careful, he bites."

Trunks smirked, let the panties snap back into place as he returned his gaze to her own. "So do I," he replied, and pulled her up so he could kiss her and tug her sweater over her head. He smiled as he traced the patterns of the black lace that covered her breasts. Red and black, the colors of seduction. . .

He welcomed the roughness of her kiss as she peeled his blazer from his shoulders, then tugged at the buttons of his shirt with those nimble fingers. She fumbled once, cursed against his lips, and yanked his shirt open and off his shoulders. The remaining buttons skittered across the dusty floor.

Fueled by her impatience, Trunks pushed Pan back onto the mattress and kissed her, pressing his hips into her own as her legs opened for him. She moaned, arched, and he slid one hand around her back to unclasp her bra. He peeled it from her body, tossed it aside and simply feasted with his eyes for a moment.

She watched his eyes darken and felt the throb against her hips, saw the tension in his arms as he suspended himself over her. She pushed herself up, caught his bottom lip between her teeth. "Like what you see?" She murmured, sliding a hand into his hair and pulling him in for a kiss.

He indulged in her for a moment, in the sexy glide of her tongue and the pull of her lips, gliding his fingers over the smooth skin of her waist. "I always do," he responded when their lips parted. He slid a hand upward, watched her eyes go opaque as he cupped a breast. Her head fell back and the moan slipped from her lips. He caught a nipple in his mouth as he lay her back on the mattress, sucking gently and hearing her whimper.

Her legs flexed around him and he grunted, bit gently on her nipple in response. She ground her hips against him and he moaned, sitting back and undoing his belt, then his trousers as well. Her hand fell over his as he was about to stand and dispose of them.

Their eyes met and Pan smirked, getting to her knees and shifting closer to Trunks. One hand slipped around his neck, bringing his lips to hers, and the other slid into his pants. His breath shuddered out as she closed her fingers around him. "Let me," she murmured, and nipped at his lips.

Her mouth trailed down over his chest and it took all of Trunks's will not to pitch forward when her mouth closed around him. He moaned and closed his eyes, threading his fingers through her hair. That sweet little mouth was as good at playing a jury into her hands as it was at pleasing him. And she was damn good with a jury.

The hot friction of her mouth felt so good it was almost more than Trunks could take. The glide of her tongue, the constricting of her throat as she took all of him in, the tug of her tiny hands. He felt the ends begin to fray, felt his body go tense, then he pulled away with a shudder, shoving her roughly onto the mattress.

Trunks kicked his pants away and lowered himself over Pan, who licked her lips and proceeded to look smug. He smiled, slipped his fingers into the waist of her panties, and watched the smirk slip from her lips as he ripped them clean off her hips.

She reared up, eyes blazing. "Trunks! What the hell? Those were–" He cut her off as he grabbed her hips and slammed himself into her. She fell back into the mattress, her moan mixing with his as her body went taut around him.

Trunks lowered his lips to Pan's, but he didn't kiss her. He watched her closed eyes as her breath came in pants, mingling with his own. Her body flexed around his, thrusting her hips as she coiled around him, all velvety heat.

It had been too long since he had had her like this. He buried his face in her shoulder, breathed her scent, and took the first thrust. The rest came automatically, an unforgettable rhythm. She moaned against his ear, nails digging into his back as her slim hips flexed in time with his.

The sweet friction of flesh on flesh, of his body inside her own, battered his senses and he went harder. There was none of the love he showed with his wife; this was sex, raw sex.

When she moaned his name it was not out of love, but lust, passion. When her body shuddered, went taut, then lax, it was a gasp of fulfillment that shuddered from her lips. He followed suit as her body softened around him, teasing out his orgasm.

He collapsed onto her, his body pressing her own into the lumpy, stale mattress. Her hands slipped from his back to lay limply by her sides. He breathed in her scent, one that wasn't quite feminine, and felt himself stir again.

He held her to him and rolled them over. Pan pushed herself up on his chest, dragging her hair out of her face as she smiled lazily down at him. He smirked back, shifting and watching her eyes close as he moved within her.

She reached up and rubbed the gold wedding band that adorned his ring finger. Trunks raised an eyebrow at the action, but Pan only smiled. "Marron has good taste." She tapped the ring with her nail, then rolled off of him, detaching her body from his own.

Trunks brought his left hand forward so he could study the gold band. "Maybe," he said, giving a thoughtful frown. "But gold was never really my color."

Pan snorted, scooting to the edge of the bed to retrieve her tattered panties. "Speaking of which," she said, lifting the massacred underwear with a grimace, "she's probably wondering where you are." She looked over her shoulder at him, the panties dangling from one finger. "And you owe me a pair of panties. These things don't come cheap, you know."

Trunks smirked, shifted to his side so he could get a better look at her. He reached out and took the panties from her. "I'll buy you a truck load of these if you come back to bed."

Pan smiled, wet her lips. "Bribing a court official is a serious offense," she said, already making her way back toward him.

"I'll risk it," he murmured, tossing the panties aside and opening his mouth to greet her own as she straddled him.

Well, this had originally been planned as a one shot, but with some encouragement from a friend I decided to make it a chaptered story. So you get the juicy stuff first.

This is a bit darker than the others, so there will be more "I hate you"s that "I love you"s. Consider yourselves warned.

(P.S.: Mad props to Ash & Sorrow for her help with this chapter's ending. This is the only one I've been truly satisfied with in ages.)