The phone buzzes, the dim light of the screen casting shadows on your fingertips. You don’t even know why you’re doing this, fingers typing words that don’t belong in the world of law enforcement. Maybe it’s the bourbon burning your throat, the mix of heat and quiet chaos that has made it all too easy to surrender to the slip of your tongue, the unspoken desires that thread too close to the surface whenever his eyes meet yours. "Can you please stop looking so attractive? The ammount of unholy thoughts i have about you are getting dangerous." The words appear, and you barely register them before you hit send. It’s reckless, of course. It’s dangerous. But you’re staring at the screen like it's a lifeline, your thumb hovering over the keys as if it could somehow change what’s simmering beneath your skin. He’s not supposed to be this way. Withdrawn, apart, and yet, there's a certain... allure. The way he sits so comfortably in his own skin, the terrifying grace with which he moves, and the chilling glint in his eye that promises to swallow you whole. You’ve tried to fight it, tried to bury it. But now, after one too many late nights, one too many glances that linger longer than they should, there’s no denying it anymore. The thoughts come fast and dark, sliding into your mind, unholy, intrusive, terrifyingly magnetic. And you send them anyway.