Agent 92212 was not having a good day.
She had been assigned to an area which was firmly in Resistance control, and the more she looked into it, the worse the numbers were. The way these people were linking the portals seemed to somehow attune them further to each other. The resulting resonance was so powerful it was getting hard to filter even with professional equipment.
It had been a few months earlier when the side effects of long-term exposure to strong mind control fields became blatantly apparent. After that, all Enlightened field operatives had been given protective, discreet headgear to avoid further unpleasantness. It made covert operations more challenging but for the regular day-to-day work the personal filters were a blessing.
This was especially true in this neighbourhood, where the mind control fields were not just in single layouts but strangely folded. Agent 92212's sensors were picking up at least triple readings, with disturbing spikes in the resonance. Something had to be done to this anomalous structuring, and fast.
Feeling the pressure of time, she might have not been as careful as the field operative's handbok demanded. In fact, the final extra XMP charge she linked into the remote detonator was well over the limit of what was considered a safe single-time pulse. But damn it, the portals were too well protected to get past the shields with anything less!
She got into position, crouched behind a rock in reflex despite the extensive lack of actual protection it provided against XM pulses, and pressed the remote trigger.
She pressed it again. Still nothing.
She counted to ten slowly, but nothing was released by any stretch of imagination. That is, unless one would count a veritable mushroom cloud of dissatisfaction in the cartoon-like virtual reality above her head. This simply would not do.
Now thoroughly pissed off, she grabbed a high-powered ultra strike launcher and headed to the weakest resonator. She would take SOMETHING down today, so help her god, Shapers, or anything else that happened to be listening.
The ultra-strike blast was a resounding success. The field became immediately unstable, and she victoriously dashed closer to the portal, still impotently wired with her dud charges, to check what could be done to set off a destructive chain reaction or at least weaken the shielding.
As luck and the seventh Murphy's law about skipping steps in security procedure manuals would have it, the moment she touched the portal access interface, the remote-controlled charges finally got their signal. The resulting blast sent her reeling backwards, and the protective headgear's circuit made a definitely unsavoury crackling sound as it got fried.
On her mercifully short path to unconsciousness, she had time for one enlightening thought: "Signal jammers? Of course, that's why it wouldn't work before... someone's been busy-"
Then all she could see was blinding noise of glyphs.
As Resistance agent 1626 arrived to the site to check what had set off the intruder alarms, he was surprised to find an operative sleeping next to the portal. On closer inspection, she was definitely an enemy agent, and when he tried to turn her around to see if she was breathing, she went into some kind of spasming seizure. It thankfully lasted for only a few seconds.
The portal readings were still wild on his scanner, and when he saw the second seizure synchronize with power spikes in the portal, he knew it wasn't any standard bodily malfunction.
Enemy agent or not, the unconscious operative was still another human, so he grabbed her to pull her further away from the portal. He had a definite theory of what was going on, and when he spotted the fried filter circuit near the back of her head, it all made sense. She was resonating with the portal, and wouldn't be able to snap out of it without something to desync her.
Luckily, he had just the thing. He had previously "come across", so to say, a protective device used by agents of the Enlightened faction. This he had used to engineer together a curious gadget that not only acted as a filter to keep the mind control fields from blowing operatives' minds in awkward and messy ways, but also provided a little backdoor for selective non-filtering of influence.
It was still rather experimental and he wasn't keen on experimenting on it himself, but it was a filter, first and foremost, and it would most likely stop this rookie agent from internally collapsing in an XM-powered epileptic seizure far away from home.
He took what precautions were readily available to keep the agent from choking on their tongue while he was away, then drove off to his nearby knickknack stash. Once there, he rummaged through the storage until he found the project box, informatively placed inside a cardboard shell tagged "Mulkoyashi's Ultra-Delish Bunny Pellets".
When he got back to the site, not much had changed. He absently took note of how the portal resonators would need to be fixed to restabilize it, but decided against doing it right now to not leave obvious signs of having recently passed by.
Instead, he pulled out the fried module of the protective device around the unconscious agent's head and replaced it with the tampered filter of his own. It could come in handy to have your very own brainwashed enemy agent later on, right? Or re-brainwashed, as it might be.
After a quick reactivation, he deemed fit to withdraw to a location to watch what would happen. Maybe the operative's brain would blow off after all, but then they wouldn't be any worse off. Or much worse off, anyway.
And it was pretty unlikely, after all.
Agent 92212 groaned. The XMP pulse had come off all wrong and knocked her out for a seocnd to boot. The portal was still nowhere near down, and she was sporting a massive headache, probably from hitting her head when getting knocked out.
This was way too embarrassing to even report to headquarters. She'd just get suspended for getting too creative again. Instead, what was called for was a nice long bath and some relaxation.
After a few steps, she decided she felt woozy enough that trying to get back home would be out of the question. She'd lay low in the closest safehouse instead. It could be a concussion, at worst. She should probably have it shown to a doctor.
She was pretty determined to do exactly as the field operative handbook would have it when she got into the safehouse. The scanner was still warning that she was well within the beastly mind-control field, and she turned the alarm off to get some peace and quiet. When she drifted to sleep, she still remembered there was something she was going to do first thing tomorrow.
Her dreams were vivid and full of strange glyphs. Too much work to head out very far today, she decided, when she woke up. She felt pretty okay, just dead tired. What this called for was taking a day off and she'd be good as new.
For science: 8 hits in 13 days for first chapter. (Ingress is a reasonably slow fandom.)
A couple of days later, agent 92212 was on a round to monitor the neighbourhood for suspicious activity when she first caught the guy in black puttering around suspiciously close to one of the portals she was monitoring. Her gut feeling had a particular tingly certainty that this was not just some random clean-up crew, but the Resistance agent behind the sorry state of the neighbourhood.
The instructions for situations like this had been quite clear: do not engage, document, cross-reference with other operatives, stay undetected and whatnot. But many factors here called for a more creative approach. She could definitely give a long list of very important factors to anyone who might ask.
She in fact had the perfect idea of how to disable this operative, and win her lost pride back for the blown sabotage attempt the other day.
So she shadowed him home. It was quite straightforward; he didn't notice a thing. Clutching a length of wire, she waited patiently a few steps away, out of sight to the entrance niche he had walked to, as he retrieved the keys to the front door. When his attention would falter for a moment while turning the key was when she'd close the remaining distance and strike.
Something went wrong with the plan. Instead of an enemy agent throat, her outreached arms met with a rather more unyielding handful of door. The said body of metal and glass was in fact moving so fast towards her that her trajectory was shifted, and she somehow ended up knocking herself against the concrete wall on the side.
Then in a highly unpleasant and unexpected turn of events, she found herself pressed against the afore-bumped wall. The way that her arms would not move gave strong indication that this was not in any way an accident.
Situations like this had the nasty tendency of whizzing by entirely too quickly and intensely to allow for any real planning for next steps. Faced with this counter-attack to the original surprise attack, she strategically counter-countered it with an empathetic "Oof!" as air escaped from her chest upon impact with the wall.
As counter-attacks go, it was not very effective.
"What do you want?" demanded a voice likely belonging to the gripping non-metal but still quite sturdy body behind her.
She left a request to her brain to think fast, and while waiting came up with a hasty "Nothing!"
As it didn't have any beneficial effect either, she continued, "I mean, I'm not trying to mug you!" The pitch of her voice rose close to a squeal. She was certain it was just because of the tight breathing space, what with this strange person pressing against her in a way that was actually quite intimate and particularly confusing given that her previous primary objective was to assault him and not the other way around.
"That doesn't answer the question." Still with that steely grip. Steely grips, while great for many other things, were horribly disruptive for fast creative processes. No composer performs at their best under that kind of pressure! Not even a rooster would sing if it was being demanded to while hugging a concrete wall. No, she was not appreciating the grip at all.
"Could you, ow, give a girl some breathing space?"
She detected a pause of consideration, which was promising; at least it was not a preposterous suggestion.
"I can. If you try to run or anything else funny, though, I'm going to sit on you until I find the answer agreeable, though." The proposal was delivered with a cheerful tone, as if he was not taking the situation as lethally seriously as it should be.
In addition, the thought of the threat that was used here seemed somehow even more wrong than compliance did. In any case, less grip would be an improvement. She nodded, and he loosened his grip. This allowed her to slowly turn around and try to regain some upper hand by evaluating his facial expressions.
They were slightly puzzled, but most notably very distracting in so many ways. Particularly the eyes, and really, to be quite honest, the entire face. This had been a bad idea. She considered for a moment if she should turn to face the wall again before she'd blush or something else awkward. But maybe in the big picture it would be even more awkward to do that. So she did not.
Instead she tried not to stare at his mouth while talking, and ended up looking a bit past him in a kind of faked eye contact with audience that would work perfectly fine if only he was ten meters away.
Which he was most definitely not, and the awareness was really not good for keeping her head sharp. She caught herself measuring the rest of his body with some emphasis on whether he could pull off the threat of stopping her flight by some sort of full-body tackling, and quickly pulled her eyes back up. Not before the wholly traitorous tendrils of the words "full-body tackle" had reached completely wrong locations in her imagination, though.
There was the blush, she could feel it coming. It was not making the creative work any easier to have blood rushing to her head. It should most definitely be divided more evenly in her body, not all queue up to her cheeks.
And there he was, still waiting for an answer, now maybe slightly frowning as well. She couldn't think of anything half credible. Verbalizing was threatening to fail her altogether. But she had seen worse. Probably. That one time on training camp had almost been as stressful as this moment.
He was making a small inhalation that indicated that within half a second if she did nothing, he would say more distracting things. She had to stop that from happening!
The best way to shut her interrogator up was to cover his mouth with something. But her arms were still too far away, so she just used her head. Face. Lips, mostly, as they would cause less of a nose bleed, and it was not entirely sure that causing a nose bleed, although briefly rewarding, would really improve her situation at all.
And kissing the man seemed somehow like a sensible strategy. After all, it also grounded the ungodly distraction his whole existence was causing her thinking circuits. And when her hands wandered up to the back of his head and shoulder, she realized that the operation had caught him so much by surprise that she really did have an upper hand now.
She promised herself she would take advantage of it to get away scott free in just a moment.
...After half a minute had passed, she had to admit to herself that kissing the man did not really make him any less distracting; it only changed the nature of the distraction. But it definitely felt better.
But a clever plan had just enough time to form at this point: she would disable this agent by seducing him. Yeah, the cost to the opposing side from him using up all his time chasing after girls would be well worth the time investment needed of her. It was brilliant. It was her way out, AND it would provide the means to bring down these horrible anomalous mind control fields when he was not available to maintain their defences.
Once he started to show the first signs of preferring more explanation to more tongue, she accommodatingly withdrew and started on her intricate cover story.
"This!" She waved her hands in an arc demonstratively.
He stared at her, somewhat nonplussed. "What?"
"This is what I wanted! Sorry to sneak up on you, I thought it would be a fun surprise. I realize now what it must have looked like, I'm sorry." She spoke quickly and without inhaling between sentences, to keep him off-balance.
It seemed to work. There was that distinctive pause of not immediately dismissing again, in any case.
He peered at her questioningly. "...Have we met?"
She blushed again, but this time it was fine as it was all a part of the cover. "Not really, I've been following you." (Which was, strictly speaking, true for the last half an hour.) She raked her mind for a good follow-up, but beyond "I saw you on the street and have a tendency to randomly fixate on people I see on the street" she did not really find a good way to verbalize the plotline in a way that would not rouse suspicion for the longer-term seduction plan.
"Really? I feel all reassured now." He might not have been entirely sincere. But he was smiling a bit. Smiling was a good sign, much better than professional disabling grips. She decided to play the innocent female card.
"So are you going to invite me in or do I have to beg for intimate things here where the neighbours might hear?"
It may not have come out entirely as logically as it sounded in her head when she almost went through the line beforehand. But he seemed to be willing to take it amicably enough.
"Invite you in? Sure, why not. Come on in, miss..."
"You can call me Eve." As she passed through the door he was holding open, she added over her shoulder, "or really, you can call me anything you want."
"Duly noted," he chuckled and let the door close behind them.
Science notes: 19 hits 25.7. at posting of this chapter.
As they got in, agent 1626 had a minor nagging concern that it might be somewhat unethical to take advantage of another individual so clearly under brainwash influence. But she seemed harmless, and he was really curious to find out how well the device had worked. So he figured it would be quite acceptable to play along up to ...some line that would have to be defined a bit later.
Once she was inside the apartment, he excused himself to the kitchen to acquire some liquid offerings. "Coffee, tea?" he prompted, and got a slightly surprised "Tea, please!" from the general direction of the other room. The apartment was not his primary base, so it did not have anything too dangerous available to stumble into. When he had spotted he had a tail, he had deliberately and innocuously wandered off to one of the secondary safehouses.
Some monitoring was valuable to have, however, to ward off any nasty surprises. So when the water boiling delay allowed him an excuse to take the cups over, he did. Casual information was exchanged on tea flavour preferences and eventually they settled down on soft seats around a small table, filled tea cups steaming.
Now it was time to do some digging, but not too obviously. She should preferably not suspect anything. Luckily, being assaulted at one's doorstep tends to provide an upper hand in the following small talk.
"So." He decided to keep it simple.
"So." She was clearly game.
He maintained silence for a moment to see if this would already be enough to let her fill in the question to herself.
It was; after a few seconds of squirming she started with what seemed like exactly what people who have been hypnotized on shows might use as the explanation to themselves. "I just saw you on the street, and it was like there was this electricity between us, and I was so baffled I simply had to follow you home."
He pondered for a moment if indulging the ludicrous explanation would be the easiest way to get forward. "I see. I don't think I've been setting off sparks quite strong enough to pull strangers off the street after me before." He sipped from his cup while watching for a reaction.
She had the sense to blush a bit at this. "Yeah, it hasn't happened to me either. But you know, it just felt like fate or providence or destiny of some sort. I decided that the least I can do is see what comes out of it."
"So you, uh, were following this providence down by the door?" Another innocent sip to hide the smile that was threatening to crack his open-minded poker face.
At this, she faltered so faintly it was barely visible. She was getting relaxed, which was good. "Yeah, well, that was also kind of intense, I didn't expect to quite end up being held put so firmly. Heat of the moment, you know!" She was pouring this all out as if it made perfect sense in any reality. It was really fascinating to observe what mind control does to people.
"So what are you up to now that you got into my apartment? I do hope you're not here to axe-murder and can me into jars, it would really ruin my plans for the weekend." A little bit of humour there to distract her from the interrogation, delivered with a dazzling smile. It should work great.
She smiled back as if in on the whole plot. "I want to get to know you better, of course, and maybe continue what was interrupted at the door..." this was followed with a rather pointedly lewd fiddling with the neckline of her shirt.
This was hazardously slipping into brainwash misuse. He needed to buy more time to understand the effects, but not make her snap out of it altogether, which could have unpleasant consequences. He started to wonder if even drawing her into the apartment had been a thoroughly bad idea.
He decided to play ignorant to not cause outright rejection as such. "Right. I would love to know a bit more about you too. What do you do when you are not being led around to strange apartments by providence?"
She giggled. "I have a boring technical job." I try to sabotage portals under your control in the area, he filled in to himself. Judging by the state he'd found her in last time, it was not as boring as the response implied.
But why not play along, give her more rope to wander around with and maybe trip on in later questions. "So I guess this provides some extra excitement in your life?"
She grinned. "It's not THAT boring, I don't run after strangers all the time! This is a definite one-of-a-kind experience for me." This declaration was followed by firm nodding of the head to indicate thorough seriousness.
He could second that with an equally broad grin. "Likewise."
Did he just imagine it, or was the playful expression on her face showing a hint of shrewdness as well? "You must have women queuing to throw themselves at you."
It was unclear where she was getting at. "Actually, surprisingly few so far; do you think I should start walking on crowded streets more to test this effect?" Throw in more confuzzlement, don't give space to losing initiative. This was such a strange conversation to have with anyone, let alone an enemy agent.
She seemed altogether oblivious to the steering, or was just happy to cruise along. "Nah, you know, you could run into all kinds of weird people that way."
Present company excluded, clearly. But he had resumed some form of control over the direction of the conversation. Now, if only he had a better map at hand of how to pull out the debug data from her head for improving the mind control device...
Maybe it was time to get rid of at least one layer of ruse, here.
He set his by now empty cup aside and moved to collect hers too. "More tea?" She nodded, and when he suggested she could join him in the kitchen, she followed eagerly enough. He had ensured on the last round that no too sharp objects were at hand, and as long as water working its way to boiling point would be the most weaponizeable item in the kitchen, the threat level seemed manageable.
Agent 1626 set the cups down and put more water to boil, then decided to get to it and increase the intensity a few notches.
He stepped closer to the she-agent and surrounded her against the kitchen tabletop by putting his hands on both sides of her for a moment. From there, he had her locked in eye contact and slowly traced his hand up, towards her neck where he knew it would meet with the device that was even now supposed to be protecting her from the mind control field influence in the area.
She seemed to pick up on the steady deliberation in his eyes when his hand wandered upwards, and stiffened appropriately. He switched his hand's trajectory at the last moment and stroked her hair instead. To contrast this potentially very threatening gesture, he maintained a steady, deliberately positive expression on his face, and tried to think playful thoughts despite having such a heavy goal weighing on his concentration.
Her breathing had changed to more shallow, as if she was close to forgetting to inhale. It was potentially due to being surrounded with her back against kitchen furniture, opposite to an enemy agent. Or was it because she was reassessing her evaluation of the situation, particularly about how freely she could mislead him? It felt slightly rewarding, not being underestimated too badly.
She was blushing again, and her body was clearly reacting to the proximity of his body as well. He decided to withdraw the pressure for now to avoid triggering unexpected outbursts.
Was that a little barely audible whimper of disappointment that escaped her when he pulled away?
Agent 92212 was feeling somewhat dizzy. Maybe there had been something strange in the tea. Standing so close to the target agent seemed to make it hard to concentrate on the task at hand.
Now that he had withdrawn slightly, she felt like some reorganization of plans might be in order. He might be an enemy agent, but she was a grown woman capable of thinking for herself. And right now she was confident that all work and no play would make for a very sexually frustrated agent, more prone to make all kinds of mistakes.
She really just meant to grab his shirt and not let him withdraw further, but the hem slid upwards a bit more than intended and revealed a few finger's widths of bare stomach. Her eyes, eager to escape from the mesmerizing eye contact, were glued to the slice of forbidden flesh instead.
A quick move of her pelvis to stand up straight, rather than pressed against the kitchen furniture, got her close enough to 'need' to stop herself from bumping too much into him with her free hand. It promptly slid against the enemy's bare stomach. He tensed at her touch, and she promptly continued to slide her fingers under his shirt and slightly upwards. Mmmm, he was warm like a furnace. Her hand wandered onwards under the shirt to his side, then slightly behind him, and now her overcompensated balance brought the rest of her body firmly against him already.
She felt blood rushing to her face again, but did not care. "Oops." Her wandering hand was measuredly enjoying every centimeter of her combined prey and captor.
When her hand completed its inspection round and started to wander downwards under the waistline, she found herself mutually grabbed and held. He had his hand against the small of her back and another was sliding down the curve of her waist.
She moaned and, refusing to let go of control through the element of surprise, locked on to eye contact again just long enough to cover his mouth with hers to hide any further unintentional gasps and vocalizations.
He seemed suitably surprised at this. Emboldened, she explored with tongue and further wandering of hands. Meanwhile, her left thigh was reporting that something hard was getting caught between the two squirming bodies.
She was just about to let his mouth go long enough to inhale and ask him to empty his pockets of any phones or equivalent lengthy devices. But then he interrupted her train of thought by completely inappropriately squeezing the curve of her ass while she was trying to formulate a coherent sentence. It promptly went away, and she could not care less what sort of tool she was threatening to squish by a reflexive violent grind against his groin.
Agent 92212 decided to give up on subtlety and pushed her hands down his pants to return the rear-grabbing gesture. If that was the way he wanted to play this, she would not be the chicken. That and some strategic thigh pressure between his legs... now, that should restore the karmic balance.
But it lead to further escalation instead; he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her to sit on the tabletop. Their mouths disconnected, she fixed him with a breathless stare and asked, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking-"
He blinked a few times and seemed to snap out of a trance for a moment. Then he stared at her, flustered, sitting on his tabletop. Even though she was fully clothed, it felt like her body was ready to escape through the confines of fabric at any minute.
When the pause took several seconds, she moved to prepare to pounce back down from the tabletop and take charge again, but he held her in place. She snorted lightly in frustration and struggled against him to see how serious he was, but the man would not budge.
. . . .
He couldn't take it any more. She had to be told, it was going too far. He grabbed her upper arms to get her full attention.
"Look, there's something you should know. This is very flattering and stuff, but it's not really you."
"What do you mean?" She made a puzzled face and squirmed some more, though relented at his serious stare.
"I think you're under mind control field influence, it's affecting your judgement..." She was looking suspicious enough that he let go and gave her more space.
She giggled unexpectedly. "What, do you think I'm a complete noob?" She was frowning now.
He paused for a moment, aware of the noticeable thinking delay. He kicked at some invisible dirt on the floor for distraction. "Well, no... but I happened to see your headgear got damaged a week back; you got knocked out and all."
Her eyes brightened in sudden enlightenment. "Oh THAT! That's sweet of you to worry, but I noticed it was malfunctioning afterwards and I got it changed the day after. It's been fine since. We got instruction manuals for these things, you know."
Now it was his turn to stare blankly. "...Wait, you mean... you're normally like this?"
She giggled and smiled a dazzling smile showing her teeth. "Not really! I told you, love at first sight, and it does strange things to people!"
Okay then. The brainwash effect was not THAT subtle, so it was unlikely it would cause genuine coverup stories to appear out of thin air, which the headgear replacement could otherwise have been... It seemed that the only logical conclusion was that she was normally like this. For whatever stretched values of normal.
This was getting interesting.
Agent 92212 wiggled her legs while sitting on the tabletop edge. "So... with that out of the way..." She pounced down and onto the enemy, still seemingly lost in thought. But he was clearly starting to recover his wits since his face was breaking into a definite grin.
She regained the initiative by squeezing against him and locking into his eyes. "...how about we switch over to some more comfortable and less cramped space?" She emphasized her message by nuzzling the side of his neck and exploring its curve with her tongue and some teeth.
He moaned softly in what was clearly some form of agreement, then proceeded to hoist her over his shoulder. She yelped in surprised protest but barely had time to reorient herself before he had already migrated her to a bedroom that she realized she had not registered before, and flopped her onto the bed.
She moved to rise and demonstrate mock disapproval, but next thing she noticed, he had followed the movement and now sat on her pelvis, which pressed her back down. Another confused blink of an eye later, he had a hold of both of her wrists and held them above her head while staring down at her with a mischievous, even a tad wolfish grin on his face.
Very well then, she was ready to improvise in changed circumstances. She pressed her hip up against him and tested his hold on her wrists. It held, though her movement against him made his eyes gleam with a mix of arousal and amusement.
"Oh dear," she purred, "I seem to be in a bit of a bind, here." She was squirming against him, and felt a flush rise to her cheeks again, possibly from the exertion and warmth shared between the two bodies.
He bent down to breathe in her ear, and trace kisses down her neck. It was very, very distracting, and for a moment she wasn't even thinking of how to get ahead in this game. And that something hard was pressing against her more and more pointedly.
A moment later she felt the pressure around one of her wrists release for a moment, followed by a prolonged 'click'. Still slightly light-headed from the whatever delicious thing he had been doing with his mouth against her throat, she did not react before it repeated for the other wrist as well, and suddenly his hands withdrew from her wrists to wander down her sides.
Yet, she observed absent-mindedly, her arms were still not moving even though his hands were very clearly wandering lower down, and were now working on lifting her shirt to expose her belly.
She was about to make an enquiry to what was going on with him having so many hands when a tongue tickling her belly button took her thoughts elsewhere again.
Agent 1626 paused his ministrations for a moment to observe the delightful sight of a flushed, aroused and slightly baffled Enlightened agent handcuffed to his bed. She was so focused on what he was doing to her other parts, it seemed she was only now starting to realize her helpless state did not end at sexual distraction.
After a quick experimental yank, she fixed a still slightly dazed stare at him and enquired, "Wait, did I just get chained to your bed?"
He shifted further downwards and attached his fingers firmly to her waistband, ready to relieve her of her pants, next. "Yes, my dear, I needed my hands free to do something more fun with them. Would you like me to stop?"
She giggled and helped him by wriggling out of her pants while he pulled them downwards. She assumed a very formal tone and remarked:"No, I figure you may proceed, good sir, with whatever you were up to. I was just making sure!" She tested her restraints a few more times, then opted to grab hold of the chain between them for support as he nonchalantly traced a finger on her inner thigh.
He shook his head in amusement and licked the tips of his teeth.
From waist down, she was stripped to her panties, and her shirt had migrated upwards just below her breasts. Her legs were still pinned under him, slightly parted, providing just enough space for his wandering fingers to ghost against the slick fabric covering her mound. She made hungry, whimpering noises at this unworded suggestion.
He smirked with a satisfied glint in his eyes and dropped his voice to a husky honey. "I fear if we keep this up we'll get these lovely things," he gently yanked the waistband of the panties, "thoroughly wet. Do you have any suggestions on how to solve this, my dear?"
She squirmed and mewled as the fabric rubbed against her sensitive parts. Why was this insufferable man asking her such complicated questions? For a moment she planned grabbing his head from both sides and providing a nonverbal hint on how he could use his mouth more productively, but then remembered her hands were not willing to move that far.
Coming up with words was so complicated! He was tracing a finger idly down the lacy edge, getting closer to parts of her that were definitely moist by now and ready for more than just teasing. She made a frustrated sound and considered whether sign language would be any easier.
Then he slid his finger behind the panties and dipped it into her pussy. She gasped and clamped around it, but all too soon it came out again. He took it to his mouth and sucked it like a particularly fine lollipop, eyes half-closed. She was almost ready to faint at the gesture.
She rattled her restraints and made a consternated face at him, though broke to a grin soon again as not even her poker face was cooperative today. He noticed the shift, though, and looked at her with a puzzled expression.
Then his eyes lit in mock understanding. "Oh, you want some too?" He slid two fingers past the edge of her panties, now, deep inside her. Once they were in up to the knuckles, he jiggled them slightly and triggered another burst of urgent squirming from her. She moved her hips against his fingers hungrily, and for a few pushes he played along, even. Then, again all too soon, the fingers withdrew again.
Then he offered them to her. "Here, try it, it's great!" She rolled her eyes at him amusedly but opened her lips anyway to suck on his fingers and play with them with her tongue. Then she suggestively sucked them, wholly concentrated and with enough pressure for her cheeks to show it. She definitely would refuse to be the only one suffering, here.
He did shift his weight on her legs at that, as if to get to a more comfortable position from a moment of feeling acutely the constraints of his own pants.
"I see, I see, you're saying I should rather worry about my own clothes, then?" She grinned in approval at this proposal, and gently stroked his fingers with her teeth to encourage proceeding to implementation stage. He complied, and pulled his fingers to himself to apply them to his belt buckle, slowly enough to allow her to enjoy the view. Then he unbuttoned and opened his pants and rolled off her just long enough to drop them off to the side of the bed together with his shirt.
When he turned back to her field of vision, the sight of his by now fully developed erection made her pelvic muscles contract. She knew she was staring, and cared not in the least. He seemed to enjoy her gaze and stroked his length a few times suggestively.
He then straddled her again, tracing the tip of his cock against the panties, now the only thing remaining between her being thoroughly and literally fucked.
He was operating something with his hands while applying a steady pressure of the tip against her. She was busy wriggling against it to pay much attention before he remarked, "I notice you've developed a preference for nonverbal communication, but am I interpreting you correctly that you wouldn't horribly mind if I take further advantage of your helpless state?"
She giggled; at least he was sounding like getting into business. She nodded, then thought about it, shook her head, then nodded again, then decided she couldn't decide how on earth to respond to a question with a negation and just pushed against his almost-invading erection to make her point.
He laughed and lifted himself long enough to slide on a condom, then aimed the loaded, clearly dangerous weapon at her target again. "I might not be patient enough to remove the panties at this point, I think we have to accept there is no solution to the previous problem." His mock serious voice made her giggle so hard she almost had tears in her eyes. She poked her tongue out at him, then made a 'come on' gesture with its tip, lacking the free hands to do so with a cocked finger.
His grin implied he would be happy to comply, and she tensed in anticipation as he shifted the thin fabric covering her opening to the side. A moment more of insufferable teasing, with his tip just at her lips, then when she was trying to push against it, he slid in fast and all the way. The sudden sensations left them both gasping for a moment, and he made a throaty, satisfied sound as her warm flesh surrounded him.
After a short pause, he began to move his hips, and then released her legs under his to spread wider and curl around his waist as he dove even deeper inside her. Her eyes rolled back and her focus was fully taken by the hard cock moving deliciously inside her after so much teasing her nerves were aching for the release of orgasm. The buzz in her was growing with every firm push from his hips, sinking into her and releasing another wave of goodness through her body.
Then, as if he had nothing better to do, he popped a finger in his mouth for moisture and the sheer gesture, which she almost missed from being busy having her eyes swim in and out of focus, but not quite. The next thing she knew, he was stroking her clitoris through the slick fabric still mostly but barely covering it, and tugging at it every time he moved inside her.
She arched her back and made small high-pitched sounds to encourage him to go faster, deeper, harder, more, anything but stopping there, in any case. He seemed to be done with teasing as well, luckily, and soon his rhythm got more urgent and forceful. She was cast over the edge when she saw his expression, intensely focused on her, his cock inside her, his fingers playing her clitoris like a fine traditional stringed instrument, and his cuffs around her wrists. He had her nailed down in all possible ways, and the realization released her long-coming orgasm with fireworks filling her head.
Her spasming inner muscles seemed to send a firm signal to his groin as well, because soon after he drove himself in one more time, then tensed and relaxed in a series of barely observable transitions, like a ball rolling down a staircase.
Exhausted and sated, the two lay down for a while to collect their minds. Then he pulled out, discarded the condom in a bin next to the bed, and produced a key. He looked at her with a cocked head while holding it for a while, as if pondering whether to leave her like that, but grinned as her eyes narrowed and moved upwards the bed to release her hands.
She rubbed her wrists for circulation as he dangled the restraints in front of her from one finger. "Handcuffs. Really, now?"
He grinned. "You did try to assault me on the street, my dear, it was a very basic precaution!" As she rolled her eyes, he assumed a face of mock horror and teased, "Or are you saying you weren't enjoying yourself?"
She gave his chest a weak slap, at a loss of words. He might have taken this round, but it had certainly been worth it.
Science notes: 24 hits at posting the last chapters 10.9.2017.