crime and punishment | dreamnotfound smutshot

crime and punishment

There's something about the way metal digs into the soft, pliant flesh of Dream's wrists that just sends his heart racing so fast he can feel the melodic beat throbbing against the cuffs and the cadence humming strongly in his ears. When his tongue juts out to swipe against his chapped bottom lip, he can taste the slightest taste of metallic goodness.

It all feels like it's moving in slow motion; his lower back pressing harshly against the cold metal of the hood of the police car, red and blue lights pulsing to give the face across from him a colorful glow.

Even through the bulky uniform of black polyester, various weapons and tools, and a shiny bright badge showcased on the breastbone of the officer, Dream has to fight every nerve in his body that tries to gravitate towards him.

Officer G. Davidson , the tag embroidered on his chest reads.

"Sir?" He watches the simple syllable form on peach tinted lips that his blown eyes have been tracing since they appeared in his life just moments ago. "I'm going to have to take you downtown now."

Dream's lips curl into a delicious smirk as he tilts his head back, laughing into the bitter night air. There's a slight twinge of the muscle running up the side of his neck as he swallows thick and heavy. It tastes like danger.

"Take me? But, Officer—" he flashes a smug, toothy grin. "We've just met. At least buy me dinner first, I'm not some cheap street whore."

How did he find himself here? Arms locked behind his back with a felony about to be placed on his record.

Well, it all started that afternoon when he woke up.

Dream stretched the burning sleep from his muscles as the bright sun filtered against his face from the window. His limbs filled the bed, vaguely noting the newly empty space beside him.

It wasn't unusual to find a cold crumbled blanket in the spot where his girlfriend once slept. While his drowsy fingers scratched to grab the striped sheets, he mentally reminded himself that it's because Maya worked a lot. Constant phone calls she had to field, getting called in to fix some sort of emergency after hours—all causing her to slip away at random times of the day.

It wasn't unusual, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

He dragged his lazy legs out from the warmth of his covers, pressing his feet into the cold wood floor. The jolt of sudden bitterness dragged the remaining sleep from his blood, leaving him nearly fully awake as he reached out for his phone to check for any messages from Maya. She usually left him some sort of reassurance of where she ran off to.

As he clicked his phone on and was met with a single notification—a text from his mom—he quickly realized that that wasn't the case this time around. Dream's lips twitched down into a slight frown as he set the phone back down. There had to be a reason why she didn't text him this time.

He pushed himself off the mattress, shuffling towards his dresser to grab the keychain resting in a small decorative bowl his girlfriend had bought him two birthdays ago. A steady breath blew out of his chest as he pocketed the small metal keys, slipping into the pair of sneakers by the door of his bedroom.

If she wasn't going to text him, he'd just have to go over there to make sure she made it home okay.

Maya's house was just a few blocks away, luckily for Dream, so the commute wasn't too terrible. The whole time, he kept the radio as loud as he could put it without his ears physically hurting, trying to drain out any unwanted thoughts of why his girlfriend would leave while he was sleeping to go back to her house without telling him.