"Count, you're under arrest!" the young officer crashed into the room gun in hand. His breath was quick, evidence of the distance he must have run to get to the shop. What a rush these Americans always are in.
"Really now?" Count D raised an exquisitely thin eyebrow to counter the glare that marred Léon's beautiful face.
He never went a day without at least one attempt at an arrest. But no matter how many times he tried, Officer Orcott could never pin the crimes on Count D.
It grew rather tiring.
"Don't you have anything more pressing to do than pestering a simple civilian?"
"Simple my ass! You should've been in the slammer years ago," Léon pouted like a child.
The Count had to hold in a laugh. For as long as the chase had gone on, Léon hadn't grown a bit.
Proving his point further, the officer plopped down on the silk couch with a humph and folded his D sat beside him, a quiet and soothing presence.
"You have no evidence," the Count replied, pouring fresh tea with the utmost grace. His fingers were long and slender. Léon wondered what it would be like to hold those beautiful hands in his own, touch that smooth skin that beckoned to him.
Bright red roses filled his cheeks. What was he thinking?
"Not yet, but I will," he promised.
The officer was extremely determined to see the Count behind bars. How many people had Count D hurt with his so-called pet shop? Léon couldn't help it. His very blood cried for justice.
"You never will," the Count's fingers brushed his own as he passed the tea, sending a lightning shock through the officer's body.
Léon jumped.
"Officer Orcott?" the Count's dark and light eyes grew strangely wide. He set the cup down silently.
What was wrong with him? This was the Count! He didn't get surprised. He didn't cause Léon to jump or blush. None of this made sense!
"I, I don't know what's wrong with me," Léon stuttered, unsuccessful at calming his frazzled nerves.
"Please, allow me," Count D pressed his forehead against the officers', eyelashes so long that they just barely brushed his skin. "No fever."
Léon stared at him.
"What? It's a common way to check for temperature."
He couldn't believe it. This may have been Chinatown, but this was not really Asia.
"You're kidding me, right?" he glared at the Count.
"Perhaps," the dark-haired beauty smirked.
Leaning against his chest, the Count whispered in his ear, "Or perhaps I put a curse on you. Maybe you will be my next crime."
Orcotts' reaction was like a whip, dangerous and fast. Even with his enhanced senses, Count D had no way of seeing it coming.
"I am NOT your crime!" Léon growled, holding tightly onto the Count's slim wrists.
"I'm not your curse. I'M NOT YOUR ANYTHING!" with each word his voice grew higher, louder, angrier. He'd finally snapped. After all this time chasing the Chinese myth that was Count D he finally had him in his hands and could do nothing.
Rage and despair coursed through his body causing his hands to tighten, his body to press against the man whom he held beneath. The Count had nowhere to go; pinned against the couch by Officer Orcott, he grew very quiet.
"What? Not going to say anything? No whippy comeback?" Léon was breaking down.
His hands began to shake.
"Léon," Count D looked up into his eyes.
Was this for real? Was the Count actually crying?
"Léon, you're not a game to me!" the words burst from his chest painfully. He couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around Léon's neck and burying his face in his chest. Léon's quivering hands couldn't keep him from clinging to the one thing that he trusted in this moment.
Shocked senseless, all the anger drained out of the officer. He stared at the Count, immensely confused.
"Please, don't make me say it!" Count D cried, slim body shaking.
Unsure of what to do, Léon awkwardly patted the Count's back.
Should he hug D? Would that be alright?
"God damnit Orcott! Why do you do this to me?! Why are you so damn clueless you fool!"
That did it, Léon didn't care if the Count hated him for it. Count D needed to be comforted and since it was his fault, he'd be the one to do it.
Holding him gently but firmly, Léon lifted Count D onto his lap sneaking a peek at the face that was mysteriously tear-streaked.
"Tell me what I did. Well, besides assault you just now."
The Count pushed on his chest, leaning back to gaze into his eyes with that strange expression that usually meant trouble.
"You're going to have to figure it out yourself," poison spat from his beautiful lips.
Grabbing Léon by the collar, he pressed those lips against the officers', prying them open violently to fill with his tender tongue.
Officer Orcott's heart pounded: oh shit oh shit oh shit, but even before the thought could register the kiss his body responded for him.
His lips opened up to the Count, his hands drawing the beautiful man against him.
Pulling back with a gasp, Count D glared at him, "Do you get it now?"
Léon grinned from ear to ear, "Nope, I think you might need to do that again."
"Damn greedy Americans," the Count cursed as he kissed Officer Orcott again and again.
Léon couldn't help laughing, "I love you too, Count."
