#zeniko

At first, it couldn't even properly be called an arrangement. It was supposed to be a one time deal, Fujiko allowed Zenigata to do whatever he wanted with her, and she had her arrest warrants thrown out. They'd shared an evening of carnal delight, she'd gotten her papers at the end, and left without looking back.

It was supposed to be one time only, but somehow, they'd done it again six months later, the same deal. Sex and a pardon. And then again.

And again.

Zenigata knew this wasn't right. These were the actions of a corrupt cop. At first, it was purely to scratch an itch that, as a busy inspector constantly on the chase of a master criminal, he didn't have time to scratch. There was an illicit thrill in sleeping with the accomplished Fujiko Mine, and a release of frustration that, if he couldn't catch Lupin, he could still have his woman.

It wasn't about love. It was a business transaction. He got release and pleasure; she got her freedom. No feelings. Nothing personal.

So when had that changed? When had they stopped getting straight to business on these trysts? When had the touches gone from being distant and efficient and become lingering and gentle? When exactly had they stopped separating directly after the post coital glow?

When was the first time he'd woken up and she was still there?

When did he start focusing on capturing her almost to the extent he focused on Lupin?

What was he supposed to do now, that she was with him, and there wasn't a warrant over her head? With no strings attached, she'd come to him.

When had the jealousy started when he saw Lupin drooling over her?

How was it that, for a man who made his living capturing criminals, this conwoman had so totally trapped him?

He drew her closer to him, the bedding covering them to the waist as he watched her sleep against his chest, his large fingers delicately tracing the smooth curve of her hip. She mumbled incoherently in her slumber, her lips brushing against his skin as she shifted and snuggled closer in his embrace.