#I guess we're in a lee mood today lads

[mutual-monsters]

playing dangerous || lee bodecker

Pairing: Lee Boedecker x afab!gn!reader

TW: Smut, fingering, degradation, pwp (more plot than smut tbh), the smut being way too short, canon-typical violence, age gap (not specified), Lee being a bad cop™, me being back on my bullshit

MINORS DNI !!! 🔞

Summary: Reader tries to worm their way out of being caught on an arson charge by Sheriff Bodecker

Based on THIS Lana Del Rey song (lyrics to the song are bolded and italicized)

Word count: 1,158

A/N: My first non-ask?? Gosh, am I nervous, but @becca-e-barnes was very kind in encouraging me to post this, as well as @mulberrybeat (who is the best beta-reader/bff ever)

“Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer.” You say whilst peering over his shoulders at the heat behind the sheriff before you, the shadows being cast by the fire highlighting the sign of aging of the older man before you.

“And I don’t doubt that darlin’, I really don’t, but seein’ as that you’re the only one that was up here, are you sure you ain't lyin’ to me ‘bout startin’ that fire?” He says, skeptical of the situation. And you, chewing on your lip while maintaining eye contact as if pondering your answer, leave a brief pause in the conversation (not long enough for suspicion to arise, but just long enough for the tension to build).

“No, I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure, Sheriff Bodecker, sir.”

“As long as you’re positive, sugar.” His dismissive tone cuts straight through your doe eyes, noting the clear stench of smoke on your nightdress as you fumble suspiciously with the hem of it.

“The house was already on fire, I swear I’m not a liar.” Tears being to well in your eyes, and threaten to spill over (whether they are real or fake is inconsequential; they do their job).

He softens himself, opening up to the possibility of your victimhood. After all, how can someone look so innocent and do something so vile? He attempts to quell your nerves– “Are you feelin’ alright, darlin’? Is there anythin’ I could do?”

“Well, I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine, thanks for askin'.” You mutter, gazing into his eyes, and he gazes into yours, his dick hardening as you step forward slightly.

“Tell me, do you always work alone so late?” You ask, innocent as ever, in an attempt to change the subject. He bites.

“Yeah, I do, doll. ‘Couse, can’t really help it with us bein’ out here in the stick ‘n all.” He flashes a wide crooked smile, one laced with years of lies, and you wonder how he doesn’t recognize your own.

“That’s must be hard. ‘Specially at night, when- oh!” A gust of wind blows by, nearly knocking you both over, and aggravating your flaming corpse of a home.

“Shit!” He exclaims, “You must be awful cold.”

“I dunno about cold, but, gosh, I’m a little shy standing here in my nightgown.” He glances down at the hem of your nightgown and the way it rides up on your thighs, and his mind, ever so briefly, comes to its senses.

“Darlin’,” He says cautiously, “I know you didn’t set that fire, but the boys down at the station are gonna be awful upset if I don’t at least bring ya in for a bit ‘fore lettin’ ya go.”

“I understand.”

“Just turn on around so I can cuff ya.”

The cuffs snap into place and you begin to wonder if he really is as stupid as he looks.

“Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on? They’re so cold ‘n they hurt real bad.” The plea is small but just enough to nudge his heart (and cock).

“‘M sorry, darlin’. I really am.”

A new plan hatches.

“Let’s get in the back of your cop car, officer. I’m mighty cold just standin’ out here.”

And he just jumps at the idea.

“If it’ll make ya more comfortable darlin’.”

He opens the door and helps you in, and you make sure to flash him your panties on the way. You take a minute to reassess the situation; now alone in his cruiser, helpless and tied up with a man of the law.

“Now that we’re in here, sugar, I thought I’d ask you somethin’.” He says solemnly.

Quickly turning to him, as if to appear innocent and naïve, you respond, “You can ask me anything you want, anything, anything.”

“Did you know your daddy was in that house when you struck that match?”

“Lee, I told you, I didn’t-”

“You don’t have to lie, darlin’. I won’t tell nobody. Jus’ want the honest truth.”

A beat.

“It’s the whole reason I did it, Sheriff.”

He looks down at the floor and sits in silence for a great, long while.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moving to break the tension, you speak again, “Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger…”

Lee thinks of his wife, Florence, at home. He thinks of his wedding ceremony. He thinks of the way he takes his ring off before every shift for this exact reason. He answers.

“No. No, darlin’, I don’t.” He flashes a toothy, yet nervous smile once more.

“Well, that's interesting, have you ever thought of dating a singer?” Her lips curl into a smile as well, though perhaps not for the same reasons as his.

“Well, honey pie, if I wasn't before I certainly am now.” The eye contact remains unbreaking until you gesture with your head to the burning mess behind you.

“It’s kind of exciting, don’t you think?” You say, eyes unblinking.

“The fire?”

“The risk.”

Then suddenly, he’s uncuffing me.

“Let me take those off, darlin’. T’ain’t no use for ‘em anyhow.” He says, and you know you’ve won.

I'm in love, I'm in love, love in a hurricane

I'm in love, I'm in love, love in a hurricane

I've been bad, I've been wrong, playing a dangerous game

I'm in love, I'm in love, love in a hurricane

Hurricane, hurricane

“Is there anywhere I can take you?”

“Why don’t we just stay here?”

Your lips are on his now. You taste his tongue (cigarettes and hard candy) and he tastes yours (red wine and a hint of regret). You allow him dominance, and in turn feign submission, but remain in control.

“Mmh–Lee, I need you to touch me.” You beg. He’s needy. He’s hard. You can feel it. He obliges your request, gently pressing his fingers to the outside of your already wet panties.

“Ahh– please, more!”

Ever so slowly, he slides a finger inside of you and finds your swollen clit with his thumb.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t ya, honey? Sittin’ over there talkin’ a big game, then comin’ apart on my fingers.”

All you can do is nod and whimper as he adds another finger. His thumb presses down a little harder, and the pace of his fingers increases.

“Gonna cum, dollie? Gonna cum for me? Settin’ fires just have the big bad sheriff clean up your damn mess. Tryin’ to fuck your way outta jail, dirty little slut. Well, look at ya now, can’t even fuckin’ talk, cockdrunk off my damn fingers.”

And you’re just losing it.

“You like bein’ talked to like that, darlin’? Bein’ the sheriff’s personal whore?”

And that’s enough to push you straight over the edge.

“What a Goddamn gorgeous mess you made, darlin’.” He says, sucking your juices off of his fingers.

“Lee?” You whimper out.

“Hm? What is it?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”