The only crime Blondie was ever guilty of committing was being too damn cute, but he always seemed to be getting into trouble. Not surprisingly, the most unlucky guy on the planet had managed to find himself at the wrong place at the wrong time, which got him into the slammer. With the acquaintance of a seemingly friendly guard, it appeared that his luck might change. This guard, with his devilish good looks and surplus of charm was the kind of man you trusted against your better judgment - so, when he said, "I know you didn't do it" of course Blondie got excited. That was how the relationship began.

"Y-You gotta help me out!" Something like that was said nearly everyday. Blondie didn't care how Mr. SexyPoliceMan knew he was innocent, he just needed help and the dark haired man was the only one that ever listened. The answer was always the same.

"Yeaaaaah... I'm workin' on it," He'd say with the most reluctant, procrastinating tone possible. Then, depending on how miserable Blondie looked, Mr. SexyPoliceMan might wander off with a grin or he might give him a pat on his head and a few comforting words.

The cell was dark at night and scary as all Hell. Blondie missed everything, even horrible rush hour traffic, TV commercials, and studying. To give him some relief and remind him of the 'outside world,' his new friend would come back with gifts from time to time, but they got stranger and stranger as time passed.

"What the ****?! Women's shampoo!? Are you serious?"

"Of course, Kitten. Why wouldn't I be? You're starting to smell."

"But, women's?!"

There were certainly worse things in the world than smelling of 'coco mango,' but Blondie was rightfully skeptical. More than just the shampoo was messed up in his opinion. He started to realize nobody ever got more than 5 feet close to him. One day, he tested it out. He took one step to the right and everyone took two steps away from him. Then, he realized, he was the only inmate without a cell mate. 'But, certainly, I must be paranoid.' He thought something along those lines on far too many occasions. Maybe Blondie was too lonely, or maybe Mr. PoliceMan was just too clever, but somehow, they managed to get more intimate and more touchy-feely as time passed. First, there were the pats on the head, which happened to feel good after a rough day of confinement. The pats turned into stroking of hair, which was legitimate, considering how beautiful Blondie's hair was. When it got to unnecessary handcuffing and biting there was clearly something special about this relationship.

"Where'd you get that nail file from?" The tall, dark, familiar figure leaned against Blondie's cell.

"I stole it. I'm breaking out." With a nail file? Unlikely! In a heartbeat, there was a struggle and a confiscated nail file. With lips and hands already on him, Blondie only had the tenacity to blush as he heard whispered distinctly into his ear, "That's not what you said last night."



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Dedicated to ~waterbender-chan

....for which I am very, very sorry. xD

Just so you know! I don't promote rape of any kind! Take a careful look at this pic. Hickies do not appear by themselves~!