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Rule number one of Enforcer fraternizing: you don’t fuck Inspectors.
Rule number two: you don’t. Fuck. Inspectors.
It’s common sense, really. After all, workplace relationships can be messy and messy has no place in Sybil’s pre-determinate everything utopia, but when you’re an Enforcer with needs and nowhere to go, the only place you can go is down the hallway. Enforcer to enforcer, meeting a need, scratching an itch – that’s all it is. The System turns a blind eye to the discretionary activities of its hunting dogs as long as it doesn’t create trouble and doesn’t affect work performance. And if there’s drama – well, it’s easy enough to transfer an Enforcer out (whether to another PSB branch or facility – only Sybil knows.) Sleeping around is not something anyone bats an eyelid about in these unique circumstances, but this is one unspoken rule – the Inspectors are off limits.
Kougami knows that. Of course he knows that.
He knows that, but he still lets a certain Inspector stand too close at a dark corner of the conference room where the MWPSB is holding one of their drab, sterile end-of-year parties; lets her drape her arms around his neck, does nothing as she tiptoe on her heels to press her lips to his.
Complicit in inaction.
She tastes like a mix of Masaoka’s smuggled booze and something fruity – maybe a cocktail or two – the way she sways suggests she’s feeling the effects of the alcohol, but there’s nothing unintentional about the way she locks her lips to his, and when they break apart, there’s only a determined gaze that pierces him to the core.
He should pull away. But he doesn’t, he can’t – something dizzying and electrifying about her boldness, the little moan she makes when they break apart, the way her body feels soft against his – it riles him some kind of way, and it’s same same but different to the rush he gets when he’s on the verge of cracking a case or chasing down criminals down dark alleys. His own heartbeat thuds in his ears; all he can see is Inspector Tsunemori looking pretty in makeup, skin glowing pink and purple hues as the lights cast upon her, eyes dark with desire - a look he knows well. Just not coming from her.
And yet.
Want to get out of here?
Then they’re in his quarters, he took them there, that’s right – and she followed without hesitation - all of which is objectively a bad idea, but Pops poured generously for him earlier on and he’s feeling the last of his fucks seep out and disappear into the night. As soon as they are alone and away from prying eyes she’s on to him again, pinning him to the wall (that does things to him), pulling his tie down so she can reach him and pry her tongue between his lips, moving with a certainly that’s as though she’s been wanting to do this for a long time. He follows in step easily, instinctively, matching her opened mouthed kisses with similar enthusiasm, drinking up every moan like a parched man in a desert.
It feels, in a terrible sort of cliché, right but so wrong. Kougami isn’t a stranger to the hookup, but this feels different to every other person he’s ever had, maybe because of the ‘forbidden’ nature of it, but if he were to search himself, he’d know it runs deeper than that.
Because under the layers or desire and lust and the very human need for intimacy, there was something wrong about the prospect of sex with Inspector Tsunemori, golden rule notwithstanding. It felt like he was defiling something precious, something he had no right to sully. Her body was to be as untainted as her mind and spirit, and for the first time, he understands why Gino keeps his distance – a paradoxical moment of clarity in their booze induced haze of lust – that hue deterioration could actually be transmitted through excessive and wanton contact.
But god help him, he is only human. His life, after all, is a series of regretful actions one after another, what’s one more indiscretion? Besides, he’s spent the last few years of his life trading his body for some modicum of masked freedom, and he’s used to making himself useful.
‘Kougami-san, I – ‘
‘Do you want this,’ he breathes, because though it’s heavily implied he still has to make sure.
Akane only nods with a choked sound, eyes screaming the words her mouth can’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t say. I want you.
It boosts his nerve, and takes her by the shoulders and reverses their positions so she’s the one pushed against the wall. There’s a light blush dusting her cheeks now but she doesn’t push him away, and the dark desire in her eyes hasn’t changed.
Kougami leans to press a final kiss to her lips, then gets on his knees.
She’s elected for a long blue dress with a high slit that would be perfect for what Kougami is about to do. But first, he starts with planting kisses on her thighs, moving inward and upward, spurred the increasing tenor of her moans, the way she rubs his spiky mane encouragingly.
‘Kougami-san- ’
He nuzzles her crotch, and she’s soaking wet. Encouraging. Two fingers is all it takes to pull her panties aside to allow him to lick a stripe up there, ending with a swirl of the tongue around her sensitive nub.
The resulting gasp is all he needs to know he’s in the right place, and he continues, exploring her sweet folds with his tongue just as he had explored her mouth earlier; lavishing plenty of attention on the spot that makes her keen and whine. Her moans rise to a crescendo and she actually bucks into his face, griping his hair so tight it makes his eyes prickle. He know she’s getting close when her thighs start to crush his jaw while her upper body shifts restlessly, but he doesn’t stop, can’t stop; it’s a mix of real ethanol in his system and a single-minded determination that drives him to work to bringing her up the cliff where a light push will be all it takes to take her apart. His efforts are rewarded when her voice reaches a breaking pitch and he feels her go over the edge with a whole-bodied shudder and broken sobs, but doesn’t stop lapping until she whines and pulls him off.
Kougami wipes his chin on the back of his hand, eyes lifted to the image of a half-lidded Tsunemori, sweat glistening her brow and lips parted as though in the middle of calling his name. She motions him to stand and plants a sloppy kiss on his moistened lips. He doesn’t hold back this time, pulling her in tight, hands cupping her face, raining down kisses – he knows there will be consequences; something more than a slap to the wrist for him, never for the Inspectors – and he doesn’t give a flying fuck. What were they going to do, tighten his leash even more?
She seems to want to reciprocate, making attempts to palm his hardness through his pants – and look, Kougami’s just a man, he’s about ready to kill for some release, but the don’t taint her you sinful monster lurks behind his mind’s eye like a vengeful shadow – it was one thing to give but to receive – but before he can get caught up in complicated feelings and musings about this, Tsunemori quite thankfully starts to drift off. Kougami smiles, so she’s that type. He supposes he should be thankful – it’s one less quandary for him to wrestle with. Maybe it doesn’t count this way.
He carries her to the couch and covers her up with his jacket, planting one last kiss to her temple. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbles, half-asleep. She murmurs something that sounds like thank you Kougami-san, but maybe that’s his mind playing tricks on him. Fuck, he needs a cigarette, then he needs to rub one out. She’s soon asleep, so maybe she did have more to drink than he thought. Fair. She looks so peaceful it makes him ache inside for some inexplicable reason.
Oh well.
Kougami straightens up, then takes care of himself in a long shower.
Sybil doesn’t haul his ass back into a facility, so that’s a win.
Life has a funny way of playing out sometimes, and after many twists and turns over the years they find themselves on opposite ends of the same side. Somewhat equals. Too much of a shared history to ignore.
But the one silver lining in all of this - rule number one of SAD agents fraternizing with statutory enforcers: there are no rules.