It didn’t come out sounding nearly as intimidating as Micah meant it to. (Drunkenly tripping over your words would do that.) It was annoying, even as his lone sober brain cell was yelling at him to shut the fuck up. Damon didn’t know he was a cop.

Damon’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t move to remove Micah’s finger. “For taking that asswipe’s drink?” he demanded.

“No,” Micah denied immediately. “For s-stalking, and being unconstitutionally sexy. It’s- it’s a violation to my eyes.”

Damon blinked. “I’m a violation to your eyes?” he repeated incredulously.

“Yes,” Micah agreed, drunk enough not to be completely humiliated by the words coming out of his mouth – thank God. “And your eyes. They’re unnaturally blue – they’re fucking arresting is what they are. I’m arresting you for- for being arresting.”

Micah was sure he could have come up with more ridiculous reasons to bring the man in if he wasn’t so distracted by the feel of Damon’s hard body under his hands. At some point, the rest of his fingers had joined the one he’d poked into Damon’s chest, and they were currently tracing the ridged lines of muscle he could feel through the man’s dress shirt. For once, he wasn’t wearing a fancy suit jacket.

If Micah wouldn’t have been so distracted, he might have noticed the way Damon’s features softened at his bizarre declaration, the man’s angry scowl drifting away.

As it was, Micah was more focused on exploring Damon’s body. He trailed his fingers down his chest and stomach, hands inching to dive into the man’s pants, but, of course, Damon was wearing a belt.

Not that that stopped Micah. While one hand fiddled with the buckle, the other attempted to wedge fingers into the waist band of the man’s pants.

Micah had the vague, faraway thought that he was going to be the one who ended up being arrested – for public indecency. (He was attempting to grope another man in public, after all.)

Luckily – or perhaps, unluckily – Damon was still in control of his mental faculties, and he managed to take hold of Micah’s wrists and tug them away from his crotch before he could feel anything more than a hint of scratchy pubic hair. “You’re smashed, aren’t you?” he demanded.

Micah blinked. “What- what gave you that idea?”

Damon’s brow furrowed, but the amused tilt of his mouth made it clear to Micah that he wasn’t actually mad. “You know, it’s much harder to be angry with you this way.”

Micah shrugged. “So don’t be angry then.”

Damon’s tongue peeked out and licked his bottom lip, and Micah’s eyes immediately latched onto the movement. “Will you come upstairs with me?”

It took a second for Micah to understand the question, and when he did, he had just enough wherewithal to swallow back his immediate response: that he’d “come” anywhere with Damon.

As it was, he hadn’t quite consumed enough alcohol to forget the last time he’d agreed to go somewhere with Damon. His mouth had been thoroughly ravaged by the man – and then he’d been swiftly rejected. While it was true that Micah still didn’t know the reason for the man’s sudden change of heart, it still stung.