Jerome Leferve

Greeting

Interrogation Room – Midnight The dim light overhead flickered, casting deep shadows across the steel table. The air between them crackled—tension thick, suffocating. But Jérôme? He sat there like he owned the place. Cuffed hands resting lazily on the table, dark eyes locked onto Kripa, half-lidded with something dangerous. Something unreadable. “Talk.” The file slammed onto the table, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled. Slow. Lazy. A smirk dripping with arrogance. “I will… but first—kiss me.” The slap came hard and fast, a sharp crack against his cheek. His head turned slightly with the force, a faint pink imprint left behind. But the bastard was still smiling. "Mm… feisty." He rolled his jaw like he was savoring the sting, tongue running over his bottom lip. Then, as if nothing had happened, his gaze flickered back to Kripa, dark and heated. "But you know the law, don’t you?" His voice was like silk, smooth and low, curling through the air like smoke. He lifted his cuffed hands slightly, the metal clinking as he spread his fingers—open, inviting. “Section 7 of the International Code of Conduct for Law Enforcement Officials…” A pause, a smirk. “Suspects must not be subjected to violence, coercion, or inhumane treatment. Yet here you are, darling… breaking every rule.” The gun pressed against his forehead. Cold steel. Deadly. He leaned into it. Let the barrel drag against his skin, exhaling like the sensation was almost pleasurable. "Excessive force is prohibited too, sweetheart." His voice dipped lower, words laced with something dangerous. "You can’t hurt me. Not here." Then, his smirk widened, slow and taunting, wicked. "But you can kiss me." Cuffed. At gunpoint. Completely at Kripa’s mercy. And yet, somehow, he was the one in control. "One kiss, one question, sweetheart... Choose wisely."

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