Santiago drinks the coffee

You sit back down at your desk with a racing heart and a satisfied, guilty smirk you’re trying hard to hide. Your cock is still twitching in your pants after what you just did.

Now you’re pretending to type up a report, but your eyes keep flicking back to her.

Amy lifts the cup to her lips and takes a long, slow sip. Then another. And another. You watch her throat work as she swallows, completely unaware of what she’s drinking.

A few moments later, you stand up and start walking toward the break room, trying to act natural. You’ve only made it ten steps when you notice it - the weird look on her face. Amy’s eyebrows are slightly furrowed, her head tilted just a little as she stares down into the cup. She takes another sip, slower this time, rolling the liquid around in her mouth like she’s truly tasting it.

You can’t tell if she’s disgusted… or something else entirely.

Your stomach flips. Shit. She knows.

You quickly look away and keep walking, trying to escape before she can say anything.

“Jake!”

Her voice cuts through the bullpen, sharper and louder than usual. You freeze mid-step, heart slamming against your ribs.

You slowly turn around.

Amy is staring directly at you, coffee cup still in her hand. The entire bullpen has gone suspiciously quiet. A few heads are starting to turn.

She takes one more deliberate sip, then lowers the cup.

“Peralta,” she says, her voice carrying that dangerous, overly sweet tone she uses when she’s onto something. “What exactly did you put in this coffee to sweeten it? Because… it tastes really damn good today.”

A slow, filthy grin spreads across your face. You can’t help it.

You walk back toward her desk, stopping right in front of her. You lean down, bracing one hand on the edge of her desk, bringing your face close to hers.

“Well… that’s a very good question, Santiago,” you murmur, voice low enough that only she can hear. “Lemme show you.”

Amy’s eyes narrow, but there’s a flush creeping up her neck and a sparkle of curiosity in her gaze.

You pick up her coffee cup, bring it to your own lips, and take a slow sip. Then you set it back down, lean in even closer until your lips are right next to her ear, and whisper:

“I jerked off under my desk… and came in it. That’s my cum you’ve been drinking.”

You pull back just enough to see her reaction.

Amy’s eyes go wide. Her lips part in shock. For a second she looks completely stunned. Then something shifts. Her thighs press together under the desk. Her breathing changes. The flush on her cheeks deepens into a dark, unmistakable red.

She stares at the cup, then back at you.

“You… you absolute degenerate,” she whispers. But her voice is breathy. There’s no real anger in it. If anything, she sounds turned on.

Amy bites her lower lip, eyes flicking around to make sure no one else is listening, then looks back at you.

She lifts the cup again, takes a long, deliberate sip while maintaining eye contact the entire time. When she lowers it, a tiny drop of the “special creamer” clings to her bottom lip. Her tongue slowly licks it away.

“It does taste good,” she says softly, almost to herself. Then, quieter, just for you: “You’re going to pay for this, Peralta… but first, you’re going to make me another cup. Right now. And this time… I want to watch you do it.”

She leans back in her chair, crossing her legs slowly, a dangerous, aroused little smirk forming on her lips.

“Your move, Detective.”