Title: Handcuffs
By: lexus-grey
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/Twilight
Pairing: Catherine Willows/Rosalie Hale
Rating: R for language
Written for: 50kinkyways
Prompt: 19. Handcuffs
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or Twilight or the characters. Not making any money off of this, no copyright infringement intended.

There was something about the suspect that made me uneasy. One of those things you can't put your finger on, but it's persisting, right under your skin so you can't shake it off. She was cocky, but that was nothing new for me. Most suspects were. But the way she sat, she looked like she thought herself royalty. And the way her hands were relaxed in the handcuffs gave me the ridiculous feeling that she could simply rend the steel apart if she wanted to.

She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful... inhumanly so. Everything about her was perfect - her face. Her smooth skin. Her long, wavy blonde hair, that sparkled even in the harsh fluorescents of the police station. Her countenance. Even her smile, despite the fact that it was slightly mocking. She was silently taunting me, as if to say 'I know things you'll never know', and I had to keep myself in check several times during the interrogation, having almost leaned a little too close a handful of times. And the way she smelled... Jesus. She was an aphrodisiac, and I was having trouble concentrating. I think that was her intention.

"Did you have any other questions for me, Ms. Willows?" she asked politely after I'd been staring stupidly for a good thirty seconds without speaking.

Fuck. Talk about unprofessional. Sitting there ogling a suspect when I was supposed to be getting a confession. I put my hands on the table, intending to push to my feet, but my fingertips touched hers and I jerked back, startled, instead. "You're freezing."

"It is three a.m. in the middle of December, and the kind detectives didn't see fit to let me pack a suitcase for my little trip down here."

"I'll get you a blanke--"

"Not necessary, thank you."

For some reason, the interruption didn't seem rude, and I just nodded. "So where were you on Thursday night?" I finally got around to asking.

"At home."

"Can anyone vouch for you?"

"Yes."

Silly me, thinking she would offer the information. "Who?" I asked, a little impatiently.

The twitch of her mouth alerted me to the fact that she was suppressing a smirk. I was sure I wasn't going to like the answer.

"The boy I was fucking."

I was right, I didn't like the answer. I could feel the blush crawling up my cheeks as I cleared my throat and managed to ask in an all-business tone, "and his name?"

"Emmett Cullen."

The all-business tone vanished, completely obliterated by my holy-shit squeak. "Your foster brother?!"

"We're both of age, Ms. Willows," she said calmly, though I could sense some slight irritation along with her amusement.

"Is your father aware of this arrangement?"

"It is not his concern. Like I said, we are both of age."

Why did the condescending tone in her voice make me want to kiss her instead of slap her? If I was this affected just from a short interrogation, I could imagine that her foster brother never stood a chance against her. "You're lucky you're not my kid. If she ever slept with a relative, blood or not, of age or not, she wouldn't sit for days."

Now she was very amused. "I am indeed lucky, then. Now I hate to be rude, but I'm exhausted and you're not getting to the point of this interview."

She didn't look exhausted to me. She looked infuriatingly perfect. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her clothes, which by the way appeared quite pricy. Then again, her father was a doctor. She probably had more money than she knew what to do with. "Can anyone else vouch for your whereabouts on Thursday night?"

"No."

"We found a lot of blood at the scene. I'll need a sample to compare, so when we're finished here I'll walk you to the medical exa--"

She actually started to laugh, shaking her head. "Absolutely not. You'll need a warrant for that, and I guarantee you you won't get one."

I frowned, unable to school my features before it showed. So she knew the system. Why should that surprise me? "Ms. Hale, things will go a lot smoother for you if you cooperate."

"And things will go much more smoothly for you if you don't attempt to intimidate me into giving you what you want."

She flexed her hands and the chain between the cuffs stretched. I could swear it bent when she tugged on it. She put her hands beneath the table, and by the time I convinced myself not to bend down and look, I heard the hancuffs clatter to the floor and she grinned at me, giving a languid stretch, her tank top riding up to reveal the flat plane of her stomach, complete with a shiny navel piercing that almost made me drool. And it *did* make me wet.

"How the hell did you get those off?" I demanded, standing quickly, hand on my gun. I didn't know enough about her to just assume she wasn't dangerous.

She smiled lazily and took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring slightly, her eyes suddenly shining gold as she looked at me. "This interview is over." She stood up slowly, not even seeming to be aware that I could pull my gun, and leaned over the table, lowering her voice. "And it is quite unprofessional to become aroused while questioning a suspect. What would your colleagues think?"

"I am not aroused," I lied indignantly, though I wasn't angry. I was too busy wondering both how she got the cuffs off and how she could possibly know I was turned on. Then my brain caught up with itself and I flushed hotly, realizing that no matter how she knew, she *knew*, and I was a fucking idiot for letting her get to me like this.

Suddenly she was around the table, right next to me, body pressed against mine, and I fought to stay standing. "Then push me away," she whispered into my ear.

There was no way in hell I could push her away. Not when every single nerve ending in my body was on fire at having her so close. She was cold, freezing cold, and her lips on my earlobe felt like ice, but she made my blood run hotter than anyone ever had.

My trembling fingers closed over the butt of my gun, and I was going to pull it out, but I didn't. It had been so long since anyone had touched me, or even been this close to me, and she was so beautiful... I wanted her to be innocent, and I suddenly wanted this case closed so I could be Catherine with her, not CSI Willows.

"That's what I thought," she hissed, and before I could properly orient myself she was out the door.

I stood breathing hard for several long seconds before crouching down to pick up the handcuffs from under the table. My eyes went wide with disbelief as I stared at the pieces on the floor. My ridiculous instinct had been right - she did rend the steel apart.