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Sly Cooper has finally been caught. He's alone, he's handcuffed, and he's surrounded by freezing ocean water, one of the few things on earth that can actually stop him.

So why is he smirking at her like he's the one in control?

Carmelita huffs, brushing a strand of hair out of her face - getting him into those cuffs was a struggle, and she feels a little out of breath. She can't show it, though. Not if he's going to look at her like that.

She meets him, head-on, with a glare. Business as usual, except for the fact they're both swaying. "What's so funny, Ringtail? You lost."

His chuckle, though quiet, easily carries over the sound of the engine. He smiles at her from across the cabin. "I'm just enjoying the ride, Inspector. We're quite a ways from shore, right?"

"Hardly. That island you were skulking around technically falls within city limits. This boat will dock in less than an hour," she says, slowly, enunciating it as a threat.

"Ah, but that's still an hour of your inimitable company I can enjoy."

Of course. He doesn't have an escape plan (as far as she knows, she warns herself) - he's just amusing himself with his usual 'flirtatious gentleman thief' thing. She rolls her eyes.

"What? Don't tell me you haven't noticed how romantic this all is. Sailing under the stars... no-one around except you, me, and this boat's fancy autopilot system... just sharing a beautiful night together on the waves. Don't you agree?"

It amazes her how one-track his mind is. Nothing about the cold white interior of this Interpol vehicle had struck her as 'romantic', nor did fulfilling her duty of arresting a criminal who has slipped out of her grasp dozens of times before. Carmelita is on edge, and makes it known by sharpening her glare.

"...That's a 'no'?"

"Just be quiet. I don't want to hear anything out of you, understand?"

The silence lasts a grand total of thirteen seconds. The boat chugs through the water, and Sly settles those intelligent hazel eyes on her. She's about to snap at him to stop mentally undressing her when he speaks.

"When's the last time you've gotten off, Carmelita?"

The question is so calm and direct it takes her a second to be outraged.

The worst part - and she assures herself it must be a fluke, it's not like he can really tell - is that it's been a long, long time. Too many late nights, too much travel. Too much stress from her job of catching annoying thieves. Normally, she would at least have a few moment to herself in her hotel bed. Lately, she hasn't even had that. To say nothing of actually having another body in there with her.

Carmelita tries to find the right kind of glare; one sharp enough to shut him up, but not so affronted that it's an admission he's onto something. "For the last time, be quiet! I don't have to listen to this vulgarity. Either stop talking, or I'll transcribe this entire 'conversation' into my official report."

Finally, some leverage. Sly Cooper likes to playact he's a 'gentleman', and the threat to his reputation is one that, at last, he takes seriously. "Right, right! Sure. Sorry. I probably should've been more... subtle."

"You should have just been silent," she says, and hopes that will be the closing line. Sounds pretty good to her, really.

Tragically, he ignores it. He meets her gaze, his voice a touch softer. "I wasn't trying to mock you or anything. That wasn't my intention at all."

"Then why were you talking at all?" Diminishing returns. It's not working. She'll have to come up with a new tactic.

"Isn't it obvious?" he says, answering her rhetorical question. "I'm right here, and we've got some time alone. I wanted - I still want - to help."

She rolls her eyes.

"C'mon, Carmelita." By now, his voice is just a purr. As if that has any effect on her... "You caught me, fair and square. Chased me down and everything. It was some very impressive work, and you deserve," he says, with emphasis on these last words, "a reward."

"The reward will be seeing you behind bars," she replies, her tone brittle ice.

He blinks, lazily, before continuing. "I just noticed that you were a little... forceful tonight. Almost like you were frustrated about something, you know?"

"Dealing with you is always frustrating, Cooper."

"I'll bet it is," he says, with a knowing smile. "More often than not, you can't close the distance. All that chasing, getting your heart pumping, and the energy just goes nowhere."

"I caught you just fine tonight," she growls. Why won't he just stop talking...?

"You did. You finally got your hands on me," he says, and there's that damn emphasis again. "But even then... Are you really gonna tell me that that brief scuffle was enough of an outlet for you? You tackled me, and got on top of me-" - again! - "-and then it was over. It's obvious you're still worked up, and it's hard to buy that handing me off to some local mouth-breather and filling out paperwork is going to be the best ending to your night."

Carmelita draws herself up. She fixes her hair, ensuring it's completely neat, and takes a breath, ignoring how he reflexively glances to her chest. "Sly."

"Carmelita?"

"You're pathetic."

"Ouch."

"Why can't you accept defeat gracefully, for once? I'm not changing my plans, and I'm not listening to another word of this nonsense. You lost. Now stop rambling pointlessly and get over it."

But he just stakes his head. "That's the thing. Nothing I've said has been pointless. You know me, Carmelita: I'm helpful. I'm solution-oriented. I think we can both get what we need."

He leans closer. The boat's cabin suddenly feels quite small.

"Get me out of these cuffs," he says, in that low, low voice, "and I'll take good care of you. You know I will."

The worst thing is that she does. She does know.

She remembers the taste of those lips, the feel of those hands - soft but firm, with talented, dextrous fingers. She and Sly have shared experiences that were anything but professional. Experiences much, much more memorable and powerful than tiredly masturbating in a hotel suite.

Carmelita manages to catch herself before her face betrays her. "That's... absurd!"

Too weak a reply, and they both know it. "Oh? You think it wouldn't be s-"

"It," she says, picking her words one at a time, "shouldn't happen in an Interpol vehicle. That - that should go without saying."

Sly accepts this with a nod."I see what you're getting at. End of the day, this is basically a rental. You'll have to hand this back over to somebody, and you'd prefer that somebody not to find any... evidence. Like stains. Or claw-marks. Or scraps of clothing, or..."

She screws up her face as she fights off a blush. "Stop talking..."

"No, no, you're right. As much as we both want to tear each other's clothes off, we shouldn't. Not here."

He gives her a smile that, in her vulnerable state, feels like a weapon.

"But we don't have to."

That tone is too smooth to be a retreat. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I can help, without leaving a trace. I don't have to explain to you of all people that I'm pretty good at not leaving evidence. I'm a master thief, after all." Even in the cold, clean light of the boat, his eyes still boast a sparkle like starlight. "And I can't think of a better use of my talents..."

By now, Carmelita can't deny the tension - in the air, and in her body. Far from the first time, she curses the effect this man has on her. She should be focused, and professional. She shouldn't want this.

Dear god, she wants this.

She's losing the battle against herself, and he knows it. Carefully, he stands. He stops, immediately, when she tenses. But she doesn't yell, or reach for her pistol. She knows this isn't an escape attempt. That's the whole problem.

Instead, after a moment or two of building tension, he steps forward. Just one step, but it's followed by another, and a third. Carmelita bites her lip, but does nothing else to stop him as he crosses the cabin. Just like that, he's sitting next to her.

"I think we should start slow." That voice is right in her ear, now. "Real, real slow..."

He reaches for her with hands that are still bound. There's another little pause, which Carmelita belatedly realizes is him waiting to see if she'll remove the cuffs. Wisely, he doesn't linger. If she was capable of doing anything except sit there and blush, she'd have the restraint to keep him restrained.

They both know he's still capable of a lot, even with his wrists bound. True to his word, he starts simply. With a calm familiarity, he rests one hand on her thigh.

Anger and release mingle in a sigh. To her annoyance, this small gesture is already making her react.

It shouldn't. She has her jeans and he has his dumb gloves so there's no actual contact. But something - maybe the muted warmth of this hand, maybe the feel of his deceptively strong fingers, maybe just the comfortable intimacy of how it isn't the first time - is connecting. Her heart-rate is picking up, to say nothing of areas his hand is now very close to...

Even now, though, she clings to her pride. Huff and growl and admit to nothing. "Seriously? All that talk, and this is it?"

"Ah." He smiles. "I knew you wanted more."

Damnit. Exact wrong thing to say.

"Don't worry. I promise, more is coming. And it'll keep coming 'til you do~."

Satisfied with his little joke, he leans in and kisses her.

As their lips meet, Carmelita realizes that this is likely her last chance to reassert control. Until now, she's been passive, which was bad enough. But if she doesn't return him to his seat and keep him there, from this point on, she'll be an active participant in everything that happens next.

She pulls him close and damn near bites him.

Her arms wrap around his body, and he doesn't offer an ounce of struggle. That part of the evening is long past. No, it's exactly as he said. They're alone out here, and there's nothing stopping her from just... from putting her tongue in his mouth and her hand on his ass and-

Carmelita breaks the kiss after a second, partly for breath and partly from embarrassment. Sly chuckles. "Think I felt some fang there... Not that I'm complaining, it's actually-"

"No talking." She underlines this point with further kisses. "Embarrassing enough already... Don't need to hear your commentary..."

Sly grunts, a warm, low noise, signaling assent. He doesn't even point out that she just admitted to being embarrassed. No, he's fully focused on his work now. The thought makes Carmelita shiver.

As they resume their little make-out session, Sly moves his hands. He brings them up, and a finger brushes against her crotch; gently and briefly enough to seem like an accident but she knows it isn't, just as she knows that this subtle approach is going to drive her slowly wild. Those fingertips travel along her exposed stomach and have a similar 'near miss' with her straining chest before they settle, like butterflies, on her hair and ears. With artisanal care, he starts to caress her.

"Mmf... Sly..."

She keeps her full lips pressed to his mouth, her hands gripping needy fistfuls of his clothes and fur. But the way he's touching her in return is too soft, too careful. He eases her into a slower pace. It probably helps that she released a lot of immediate tension with that first kiss. Still, this is deliberate. His gentle ministrations, stroking her hair and rubbing her ears, start to make her body melt.

When she breaks the kiss, she's practically panting. Compared to just shoving something long and hard in her needy pussy, this is so much more... thorough. This kind of attention is relaxing, but it's also quietly building her arousal, and all she has to do is sit back and enjoy that paradox.

Sly trails kisses along her soft cheek and down to her neck. It feels romantic. It feels like he's taking care of her after a long day, and he is. Carmelita's breath hitches, then it deepens.

He's been obediently silent until now. An instruction comes whispered in her ear. "Can you turn around?"

"Mmph...?"

"You'd be more comfortable if I held you from behind..."

A lingering thread of distrust makes her hesitate, but with a soft nuzzle and softer kiss he brushes it aside. Carmelita complies, shuffling around in her seat until she faces away from him. Now she can't see him.

This is the moment, she tells herself. The instant he's been waiting for to leap from the chair and... and... do something. But they're still at sea, and he must still be handcuffed, and more importantly, she can feel the warmth of his body. Her relaxation holds.

He must be making himself comfortable too, because there's a lull. Just as she's about to say something, she feels his hands return. They don't reach for her hair this time, though.

"Oh! Sly..."

Surprise gives way to deeper pleasure as she gets used to it. He's slid under her jacket and taken hold of both her breasts.

Just like before, there's no move to undress her. Her top is still in the way. But that doesn't stop her from gently moaning at the feeling of his fingers. He's slow and experimental, trying different grips and motions. Not for his own pleasure. For hers.

Honestly, just having them be held is nice enough. Carmelita sighs and melts against his chest, almost like she's taking a warm bath. A long sigh escapes her as she lets herself be vulnerable; lets herself be touched.

Still, even now, parts of her mind won't shut up. It's not the sheer debauchery of being fondled by a criminal. She's made peace with that, at least temporarily. Something about the action itself, the way he slipped both hands under her arms, registers to her as wrong.

Then he starts kissing her neck again, soft and slow, and Carmelita can't hold on to the thought - or the quiet moan that escapes her lips.

She can't remember anyone ever being so attentive. Past lovers were clumsy, so awed by her curves they would paw at her chest and ass without consideration for how it felt for her. Initially, Sly was no exception. The first time he saw her naked, that 'gentleman thief' persona had shattered in an instant, replaced by, well, a horny young man barely out of his teens.

Not tonight. Tonight, he's true to his word, and focusing entirely on her. He's settled on a repetitive motion, massaging the sides of her tits and gently squeezing them both. All the while, he kisses her, smells her hair, dotes on her. Totally committed.

Carmelita isn't sure how much of this she can take. She may seem relaxed, with her arms limp and her eyes drifting shut, but the pleasure inside her is becoming volcanic. It would have been far faster if he had fingered her or something, but no. He's really dragging this out, building to a climax that could prove absolutely explosive. Her hips buck at the thought.

His voice is back in her ear. "Something the matter, Inspector...?"

"Hahh... Ringtail...!"

"That's right." He kisses her ear. "Your Ringtail is right here..." Her cheek. "And he knows..." Her neck... "...just what to do..."

Carmelita's moans pitch up as, through the fabric of her top, he finds her nipples.

It isn't difficult. Not for his skilled hands, at least. After everything Sly's done to her, her body is fully aroused. Even though the fabric isn't that thin, there are now two peaks of pleasure poking through. He goes straight for them, taking each between thumb and forefinger and pinching gently.

Carmelita isn't limp any more. Her legs tense and her arms return to life, reaching back to grab hold of his thighs. A low noise escapes her. Almost a growl. "Sly..."

"I know, I hear you." Soothing, but not patronizing. How is he so good at this? And more importantly, why can't Carmelita keep him under indefinite house arrest, at her house? Keep him off the streets by locking him in her bedroom. Put his talents to good use...

Her fevered daydreaming is interrupted by fresh movement. He keeps one hand on her chest, massaging and caressing and groping her through her top. But the other begins to drift, moving lower down along her tensing body.

First, his fingertips brush against her exposed stomach. The action is fleeting, but it sticks with her. The idea of lying back and letting this criminal rub her belly is as embarrassing as it is appealing.

Although the contact was no doubt intentional, Sly isn't aiming for her stomach. He traces a path down, past her bellybutton, then lower still, through the fur and tight muscle of her abdomen. She knows exactly where he's going, just as she knows that the way he's slowing down the closer he gets is purposeful. It has the intended effect, drawing out her anticipation until she's practically begging for it.

Until finally, finally, she feels Sly Cooper's hand cupping her crotch.

Carmelita can't hold herself back any more. Her tired body shudders and she lets out a loud, low moan. For god's sake, he's barely touching her. She wouldn't wear these jeans on the job if they weren't so thick and sturdy. And yet, the subtle pressure from his fingers is enough to make her eyes and heart and pussy all flutter.

"Oh god...!" She can't remember ever hearing her own voice sound so needy. "I can't take this any more!"

"Want me to stop?" murmurs Sly, his own tone smooth and calm and ironic but with a genuine undercurrent.

"No! I want-" Her breath hitches for a moment. Now he's rubbing steadily. "I want you to strip me! And fuck me! P-please, Sly, however you want it - just make me cum!"

"However I want it, huh...?"

"Yes!"

"Mmnh, tempting... I'm sure seeing you naked and on your knees would be unforgettable..."

Her only reply is a wordless cry of need. Such a demeaning image should revile her, but it doesn't. Is the rhythmic motion of his hand that captivating? Or is the thought palatable because it would only be seen by...?

Sly sighs, warm breath against her cheek. "But instead, I have the similarly rare pleasure of being the grown-up in the room. We made an arrangement, remember? No evidence?"

Carmelita whines. That has to be a new low; a pathetic, instinctive admission of just how far the proud Interpol inspector has fallen. None of that matters right now! All she cares about his feeling him!

"But," he purrs, taking his time, "I can see you need my help even more than I thought. So I'm gonna bend my own rules a little... You've more than earned it, Carmelita..."

He ends this thought with another kiss to her neck. Then, the hand which until now has been dutifully attending to her chest moves down to her crotch as well. With calm ease, he begins to undo her jeans...

Carmelita can only watch, biting her lip and feeling her arousal hit a fever pitch. Sly's hips are tucked right against her ass, so she has a (literally) firm indication that he's almost as excited as she is. But he still moves with that unshakable slow pace. A more lucid part of her appreciates his efforts, and how he avoided the chance to humiliate her further, even if meant turning down something he clearly wants. Maybe he isn't so bad.

But another, sharper part of her takes this opportunity to flag her down, warning her that there's something very wrong about his hands. Those soft, strong, agile hands, opening her zipper and then shedding each other of his gloves...

He exposes her black underwear, then runs the tips of his middle fingers along either edge, where cloth meets thick orange fur. Down, and up, and down again... Her heart is pounding, her chest is heaving, and her brain finally works through the fog of lust.

"Sly Cooper! When did you take off your handcu-?!"

With the ruthless speed of a striking viper, Sly slips a hand into her panties and straight onto her clit.

Carmelita cums.

The first spike of pleasure is so sudden and vigorous it knocks the words right out of her. She meets her orgasm with a loud, unconstrained noise, almost a roar. Her body didn't get a chance to tense with anger. Now it's tense from other, stronger stimulus.

He doesn't give her the chance to recover. His fingers sink deeper into her wet, twitching pussy, while his palm maintains a gentle focus on her clitoris. "Sshh... Just lie back and enjoy it, gorgeous..."

Oh,_ now_ he sounds patronising! But Carmelita is too overwhelmed to voice that, her reply instead another wordless mingling of anger and release.

Unfortunately, he's still very good at this. Every motion of his talented, attentive hands - plural, since he's also back to playing with her chest - prolongs and intensifies the experience. This is the hardest Carmelita has climaxed all year, and she can't bring herself to waste it. With a shuddering sigh, she rides out the next wave of ecstasy that washes through her.

Sly keeps his pace, fingering her and caressing her and murmuring in her ear about how beautiful she looks. There's no denying how effective it all is. Carmelita's hips buck against him, and her breath is soon coming in uneven pants.

Even after all the buildup, though, it has to come to an end. She cums against his hand with decreasing intensity, until both of them are still. An enjoyable tiredness settles on Carmelita, her entire body tingling in the afterglow.

An annoying voice in her head is barking at her to snap to attention. But her arms and legs just want to stay limp. She doesn't get far mediating this disagreement before Sly leans forward, craning over her shoulder to meet her in a kiss.

The warmth of his lips earns a quiet huff. They're still at sea, so there's no harm taking the time she needs to recover properly... and savour this kiss as she does.

Carmelita lies limply against Sly's chest. She can tell he's moving, even as he softly makes out with her, but she lets her eyes drift shut.

Her ears, however, soon report a worrying click.

She breaks the kiss just in time to see him use those handcuffs on her, looping them so her wrists are bound to the handle at the top of the chair. The annoying voice was, as ever, onto something.

"Sorry, Inspector!" Now he's dutifully fastening her jeans back up. "But I was true to my word - made sure to put my gloves back on before I touched anything. You're in the clear! Make up whatever story you want. Not the first time I've slipped away, after all!"

He gives her a warm, affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"This was so much fun. If you need me again, just ask..."

Before she can reply, he bolts from the cabin.

A few moments pass in silence. Carmelita adjusts herself on the seat. She has to twist a bit, with her arms caught in this awkward position, but she gets as comfortable as she can. Then she waits.

Less than three minutes later, she watches Sly sheepishly re-enter.

"When I said we'd dock in 'less than an hour'," she tells him, calmly, "I meant 55 minutes."

"Right..."

"It's still going to be a while."

He nods.

Carmelita lets him stew for a couple seconds. He may have won this round, but it's still satisfying to watch one of his daring escapes so badly lose momentum.

Finally, she offers him a little smile. "What would you like to do now?"

"Oh. Um..."

"I was practically sitting in your lap, you know. I know you... have your own problems, now."

She watches his expression shift. "R-really?"

"Such a good boy," she purrs. "Why don't you come over here and let me return the favour~?"

He stares, breathless. Then, he carefully edges closer.

Carmelita lets her smile turn wicked. Fangs out. "That's it, Cooper... Come over here and put your dick in my mouth. What's the worst that can happen?"

Sly stops, just out of her reach. For a few moments, the air is thick.

Then he undoes his belt, and the cycle starts over.