Ed Sheeran [SMUT]

Red; Pt 2

Ed could feel his heart picking up in his chest, watching you disappear out the door with the costume and its pieces bundled in your arms.  He paced the floor then, trying to think up a good scenario before you returned, his belly swarming with anxiousness and excitement at the thought of you returning.

As you expected, the uniform was a size or so too big, but you still put it on, smiling when you decided to not wearanything beneath it.  You kept the top two buttons open, revealing a bit of cleavage and you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself in the mirror, clad in a police uniform, the handcuffs and baton nestled in their holsters, the belt pulled snug to keep the slacks from sagging.  

The gold badge was pinned to the left side of the shirt and as you left the bathroom, you wondered what Ed was planning back in the bedroom, and what you were going to do once you caught him.  

Butterflies swarmed your stomach as you edged your way down the hall, seeing the door closed and hearing silence behind it.  Without another thought you sent three firm taps against the wood.

“Give me all your money!” you heard Ed shout, “put it in the bag!”

You couldn’t help the smile and small laugh, knowing he was already having fun playing a twisted version of ‘cops and robbers’ as if he were a kid.

“Come out with your hands up,” you warned, raising your voice enough for him to hear behind the closed door.

After a few solid seconds of silence, you threw open the door, your hand aimed toward him with your thumb and index finger contorted into the shape of a gun, “drop your weapon! Get on the ground!” You shouted, loud enough to startle him in the same instance the door flung open.

He froze where he stood from across the room, tossing his imaginary gun to the ground.  His tattoos almost glowed in the fading light when he raised his arms up beside his head, and you fought to keep a straight face, even when you saw a smirk painted over Ed’s mouth.

“I said on the ground!” you shouted again, a little spark within you playing up on the scenario.

As you closed in on him his eyes wandered from your hand to the rest of you, licking his lips when he caught view of your half buttoned top while he worked his way toward the ground with his arms still raised.

"Get on your stomach and put your hands on your head," you demanded once he was kneeling.  He followed your order, pressing his palms against the carpet before lowering himself down and folding his hands across the back of his hair.

"Do you have any other weapons?"

“Why don’t you come check for yourself?” he teased, a hint of arrogance in his tone.

With a few steps closer you pulled the cuffs from the holster, keeping your imaginary gun aimed while you crept over to him.  You slapped the plastic cuffs against his wrist, and he helped you bend his arms behind his back, the two of you laughing a little under your breath when he winced after you couldn’t twist them the right way.

“Sorry,” you said, and he shook his head against the floor, trying his hardest to stifle the laugh, “now get on your feet,” you demanded, switching your tone from lighthearted to stern, finding your way back into character.

He struggled to stand even when you helped pull him up, given his hands were cuffed behind his back like an actual prisoner.  After two or three failed attempts and your much needed help, he pushed up and you pulled him by an arm, roughly forcing him toward the wall beside the door.

“Face the wall and spread your legs,” you continued, shoving him a bit before nudging his feet apart with yours.

“What? No rights?” Ed teased, struggling to keep up with your feet kicking his apart.