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“Charter Hill. It’s been a while since I’ve been in this area, much less a penthouse,” V murmurs as she looks outside the window that makes up an entire wall of the Peralezs’ apartment. Here on Elizabeth’s askance again, not that V minds. Quite the opposite, really— she enjoys visiting the couple, whether it be for a job or… something else more personal.

V loses herself in the view; she still loves Night City and its skewed beauty, the tall buildings and smog colored by the bright neon billboards. Even though it’s a city of nightmares, some good things still come out of it every once in a while.

She hears the clicking of heels on the polished wood flooring and thinks of turning, but Elizabeth doesn’t call to her. Instead, she walks past V, fragrant perfume pleasant. She almosts says something, compliments the fragrance, but quickly reminds herself to be professional, and she bites her tongue. “It’s a wonderful view,” she settles on saying, still not tearing her eyes away from the cityscape.

“It is, isn’t it?” Elizabeth replies. V turns to look at her because there’s something more in her tone, but every nerve in her body screams at her to not say a word. Not when she sees that dangerous glint in Elizabeth’s eyes. A challenge, playful, but one V knows damn well that she shouldn’t accept.

If the security cameras weren’t enough of a reason to keep her mouth shut, then why not have the addition of hey, dumbass, you’re thinking of fucking a highly influential politician’s wife! 

That cools her nerves a little, thank God.

V takes a calming breath just for good measure before starting, “Mrs. Peralez—”

“Elizabeth is fine, V.” 

Lord have mercy, she’s playing with fire and Elizabeth  keeps pouring the gasoline. She’s perched so delicately on the back of the couch with a champagne glass in hand. V keeps her eyes trained on Elizabeth’s although her eyes want to wander, but the risk of that action is much too great for V’s tastes.

Don’t fall into her trap, she reminds herself, Play her game for now, but keep your guard up, for fucks sake. Be professional.  

But the woman in front of her is so fucking attractive and she knows it.

“Elizabeth,” V corrects herself. It’s hard to miss how a corner of Elizabeth’s lips quirk at that, “While I do enjoy visiting you and your husband, I think I deserve an explanation as to why I’m here.” It’s certainly not kind, but V’s pretty sure that kind  isn’t in her dictionary. Not when she’s risking her ass for the wife of Jefferson Peralez, who doesn’t seem to be home right now. Elizabeth doesn’t seem to mind that at all though. She looks so pleased with herself.

How V wishes she could wipe that smirk off of her lips—

“Do you?”

V blinks, tries to think of a response. Apparently she takes too long— one would think that a lawyer would have more patience than that— but any response that she had on the tip of her tongue dies when Elizabeth stands up, a predatory glint in her eyes as she looks at V.

She drains her champagne glass before setting it down. V keeps her hands at her sides when Elizabeth walks toward her, and V starts to back up when Elizabeth shows no signs of stopping. V’s back hits the glass and she sucks in a breath because it is cold, then Elizabeth is pressed to her front and she’s so warm.

God. She is not going to leave this place intact.

V’s pinned against the wall and it’s taking all of her willpower to stay there, to stay still with her jaw clenched tightly shut while heat starts to pool between her legs. Elizabeth’s knee moves between her legs— her thigh brushes against V’s cunt and she stops breathing. “Deserve is a tricky word, V,” she murmurs, breath tickling V’s skin.

“Is it?” V wills her voice not to shake. She’s been trained to keep her composure in situations like this; situations like counterintelligence operative jobs at Arasaka, like attractive people pressing up to her like this, all smiles and hooded eyes while they’re hiding a knife behind their backs.

Not that V would mind Elizabeth pressing a dagger to her throat or anything… Shit, she may as well be doing that now. Jefferson could easily turn V into an outcast, leave her penniless outside the border for the coyotes to tear to shreds.

The thigh between her legs pushes just so and V gasps, face warming from Elizabeth’s low chuckle. “Yes, but I like to think I have the… expertise, to handle such a delicate situation.” The innuendos make V groan. Elizabeth tilts her head and her lips are so close, smelling like the champagne she was drinking just a few seconds ago. Probably tastes like it, too. “You disagree?”

Another challenge. V’s already walking on eggshells, so she bites. “Partially. I disagree with the idea that you think I’m delicate,” she answers, feeling nails dragging against her skin while Elizabeth presses her lips to V’s jawline. “Can’t be delicate… in this line of work.”

“I’m sure that there are still parts of you that are soft, V,” Elizabeth responds, her hand brushing over V’s breasts. She forces herself not to keen into Elizabeth’s touches, because she does, then Elizabeth will pull away, and that is not what V wants.

“I—” I beg to differ, it’s on the tip of her tongue but she stops herself before walking straight into another trap. Honestly, she sort of wants to beg; what with how slow and languid Elizabeth’s touches are, how she’s teasing V. She wants to say please and thank you, because maybe things would move a little faster, maybe she’d be a little more rough.

V isn’t exactly used to soft touches. Used to the teasing yes, but it’s almost always rough. She wonders if Elizabeth treats Jefferson the same way.

That thought quickly disappears when a hand drags across her throat with pressure in all the right places, so painful in the best way possible that V moans before she can even think of stopping herself. 

“Finish your sentence.” Elizabeth’s voice is stern, breath hot against V’s neck. The glass isn’t as cold anymore, V’s hands are starting to get clammy.

But she grins, cocks her head as she looks up at Elizabeth. She asks with a teasing lilt, “Is that your lawyer voice, Mrs. Peralez? Use that in bed with Jefferson?” 

Elizabeth hums, threatens to pull away. Cocks an eyebrow. Two can play at that game is what her eyes are saying, and V understands in that moment that she’s not allowed to have control.

That’s fine.

“I was going to say that I beg to differ,” V finally says after a tense moment. Immediately Elizabeth is back, all hands and lips, her leg between V’s thighs so good that she has to bite her lip hard to keep herself in whatever semblance of calm she can manage in this state. The metallic taste of blood coats her tongue and Elizabeth must have seen it, because her lips are on V’s in an instant.

Damn, that must’ve been some high quality champagne. Elizabeth’s tongue traces V’s bottom lip and she melts just a little at the gesture, though she quickly pulls the reins back when she thinks about moving her hands. “Tastes like Ruinart,” she murmurs against Elizabeth’s  lips after she pulls away slightly, revels in the way that she looks so pleased about V knowing the brand of champagne just like that. “Impressed?”

“Pleasantly surprised,” Elizabeth paraphrases, pulling away. V hides her disappointment, which is useless since her pupils are probably blown and she’s fucking breathless. “Tell me, V— do you always know the brand of champagne just by tasting from another woman’s lips?”

“Not just women,” she replies easily, relaxes when Elizabeth wraps her hands around V’s wrists and pulls them toward her body, “Why? Want me to kiss and tell? Back when I was still with Arasaka, you had to pay for information like that.”

Elizabeth chuckles, low and sweet. She guides V’s hands, places one on her waist and the other drags over the metal teeth on the back of her dress. Elizabeth lets go and V drags her hand up, pinches the zipper between her fingers. She adores how Elizabeth’s gaze darkens when she lulls. “Waiting for permission, are we?”

V cocks her head. “Aren’t I supposed to be? After all, I’m not the one in control,” she says, continues to wait. She has that sort of patience, even though she’d love to rip the clothes off of Elizabeth’s body, expensive designer clothing be damned.

“It’s good to know your place,” Elizabeth purrs. V has to remind herself to breathe after her core clenches tightly. “Take off my dress for me, V. It’s starting to get hot in here.”

V agrees, does as she’s asked. The zipper clicks as she slowly pulls it down. Elizabeth watches her the whole time, eyes glimmering with amusement. V wants to kiss her again, badly. She leans down to unzip the dress all the way and Elizabeth hums. V looks up at her to see hooded eyes, long lashes, a predatory gaze. She swallows the lump in her throat, asks with all the smugness she can muster, “Like what you see?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” There’s a hand on her shoulder pushing her down to her knees. V lets it happen. She’s kneeling, watching intently as Elizabeth slips her dress from her shoulders. Kneeling to a queen, perhaps. She wouldn’t disagree with that statement. “How many times have you done this before, V? Is this a familiar scene?”

“Getting teased by a pretty woman in the penthouse she owns with her husband?” V elaborates with a smirk. “Oh, perfectly familiar, Mrs. Peralez. Reminds me of my Arasaka days. Real nostalgic.” She’s testing the waters with every snide remark. Noting every reaction, every twitch. While it might have not been in the papers for the job, this was, in essence, what she did for Arasaka.

Though she won’t do the blackmail part. Not when she doesn’t have any more connections to Arasaka. That’d get her fucked over real quick.

Kind of want her to fuck me over, though. Jesus. Pale skin and red lingerie that complements Elizabeth perfectly, cybernetics peeking from underneath her skin in some areas. She’s in her forties but damn if she doesn’t look great, looks like she hasn’t had a kid. No stretch marks, no scars. The benefits of being a rich woman in Charter Hill. V remembers what that’s like, too.

Elizabeth leans down slightly to caress the back of V’s neck. She’s looking down at her, maybe down on her, and a shiver runs through V’s body. “You seem to like what you see, as well. Such a shame.” Elizabeth pulls away, turns to walk back over to the couch. She opens a compartment and that is a blindfold, V swallows, worries at her bottom lip again when Elizabeth's walking toward her.

It’s true red silk, because why wouldn’t it be. V watches Elizabeth run her hands over the smooth fabric, mesmerized until she asks, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” V answers because she can’t think of anything snide to say. Elizabeth pulls at V’s shirt with one hand while holding the blindfold in the other. She grabs the bottom of her shirt and pulls it over her head, sighs in relief at the cold air touching her hot skin. Glad that she’s wearing matching underwear, too.

She doesn’t miss how Elizabeth looks her up and down, how her gaze stops and V’s abs, wets her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Look at me,” Elizabeth says while she lifts the blindfold to V’s eyes. “If it’s ever too much, then stop me.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” V quips, voice cheerful even as her vision is swallowed by darkness. She can’t see a thing, only feels Elizabeth’s hands and the silk, how she’s tying the fabric. Every touch feels a lot more sensual than it actually is.

Blindfolds. What a wonderful, kinky creation.

“Hope you’re not waiting for me to guess what brand of silk this is,” V mutters after a prolonged silence. She jumps slightly when she feels a puff of laughter on her neck.

A hand traces over her stomach, lips ghost over her neck. Elizabeth gently leads V into a standing position, her hands directing V until her front is slightly pressed into the glass. She gasps because it’s cold, but not bad. Quite the opposite, especially when Elizabeth is everywhere behind her, nails dragging down her side and her lips pressed to V’s ear. “You’re doing so well, V.”

V moans, cheeks warming so quickly because it’s embarrassing how much praise does to her. Elizabeth unclasps her bra and V pulls away from the window just enough to let the straps slide down her arms. A hand quickly replaces where the fabric was, cupping one of her breasts, tracing around her nipple but never touching it. V thinks about saying please, please, but her jaw is so tightly clenched to keep herself from turning into a submissive mess.

Not that she isn’t already, but that’s beside the point.

“V,” Elizabeth’s voice is low and husky as she asks, “What’s wrong?” She’s teasing, the bitch. But it’s working, everything she’s doing is working because V’s wet, she’s soaked, and she just wants Elizabeth to get the foreplay over with and fuck her, already.

“M’fine. Real fucking nova,” V breathes, gasps when nails drag down her back hard. She moans at how it stings, whimpers when Elizabeth soothes the scratches with the pads of her fingers. A part of her knows that she has to break, has to beg in order for Elizabeth to move those fingers down between V’s legs, but she wants more marks, more manicured nails against her skin, more praise, moremoremore.

Elizabeth gives her more, finally, when her hand dips and unbuttons V’s jeans, so tantalizingly close to where V needs her. Her hips buck and Elizabeth pulls away, tutting. “None of that, now,” she murmurs. V hears the click of her heels as she walks away— she’s still wearing her heels, God that’s hot— and she misses the warmth of Elizabeth’s body pressed so close to hers.

“V, you’re going to be a good girl—” Jesus Christ, “—and you are only going to do what I ask of you.” Elizabeth’s walking toward her, the sound of her heels getting louder—

And V’s being turned around by strong hands, back pushed against the glass. Elizabeth’s gripping V’s chin tightly and fuck, she wishes she could see the look on Elizabeth’s face. “You do not touch me without my permission, you do not do anything. Without my permission. Are we clear?”

“Might want to tie me up, then,” V sneers, lips curling into a grin, “These hands of mine might get a little naughty, Mrs. Peralez.”

“Is that so?” Elizabeth hums. She takes V’s hands in hers, wraps her slender fingers around V’s wrists and pins them above her head. “Then I suppose we’ll have to improvise.”

“No handcuffs?” V pouts, testing Elizabeth’s grip. She doesn’t budge, and that turns V on even more. “A damn shame. I’d love to try out those fluffy cuffs, I haven’t had the chance to—”

The rest of V’s sentence disappears behind a sharp hiss when teeth graze against her neck. “For someone who seems desperate for praise, you certainly don’t want me to give it to you,” Elizabeth says against V’s skin, the hand that isn’t occupied keeping V’s hands in place dragging her nails lightly down V’s front.

“It’s more fun this way,” V responds with a smirk. She yelps when Elizabeth bites her neck, takes a nipple between her fingers and pinches. V curses, tries to yank her hands out of Elizabeth’s, but she’s surprisingly strong. “Elizabeth,” she pleads, and that same delicious leg is between her thighs giving her much needed friction.

“Well done, sweet thing,” Elizabeth murmurs, pressing her leg up and in. V mewls, digging her nails into her palms. “Relax for me.” V tries, but when Elizabeth replaces her leg with her hand in V’s pants, she groans and positively melts. Elizabeth is back to slow touches, smiling against V’s neck. “So wet, just for me, you gorgeous pet.”

“Please,” she chokes out almost immediately, hips bucking against Elizabeth’s fingers, “Please, fuck me.” Her face is flushed but she’s fucking desperate, can feel how slick her cunt is by Elizabeth tracing her fingers over her entrance.

Elizabeth murmurs, “That wasn’t so hard, gorgeous,” while she plunges two fingers inside of V. Her walls clench immediately, her mind blanks, can’t think of anything else other than her very limited vocabulary of fuck me, motherfucker, holy shit. “You’re doing so well, good girl. You feel incredible.”

V cries out when the fingers inside her curl just so, and Elizabeth is kissing her, fucking her senseless while still keeping V’s hands pinned in place. It’s so fucking good. She praises V even more when she adds a third finger, V doesn’t cum because nothing without her permission, but she’s so close. Her legs are burning, she wants to cum, she wants to—

“Beg, gorgeous.” 

The word “please” has never fallen from V’s lips so quickly, over and over and Elizabeth drops her hands from V’s wrist to lace it in her hair tight. She pulls and her fingers curl again while her thumb grazes over V’s clit. Her climax hits her like a wave, white flashes from the darkness of the blindfold. Elizabeth helps her ride it out, coaxing and praising her all the while.

She’s a hot mess, but Elizabeth is all over her, taking the blindfold off and leading V to the bathroom, hand on the small of V’s back. She starts a warm bath for V, helps her take of the rest of her clothes, gets her a cup of water while the tub fills up.

It’s… nice. Really fucking strange because she has a husband and everything, and this is their apartment, but who’s V to question their sex life? She definitely won’t complain, that’s for sure, because Elizabeth’s gorgeous and she knows it, and she knows that V knows it, too. Regardless, she doesn’t ask questions, she’s just glad that she didn’t get immediately tossed out.

V drains the cup of water while she’s watching Elizabeth in the corner of her eye, who’s watching her from the doorway. She has a pleased smile on her face, and V follows her gaze, looks down and oh. Scratches mark her torso, and her back’s probably the same. 

“Guess I’m not doin’ that gig I had scheduled for tonight,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. 

Elizabeth chuckles. She walks forward to take the empty cup out of V’s hands, their hands brushing slightly. “Will you need any help, V?”

“I should be fine, thanks. Might sting a little, sure, but I don’t mind. How about you?” V asks, eyes dropping to the red lingerie, lace and silk still untouched. “Didn’t exactly let me please you, Liz. You good?” V remembers Jefferson calling her that so the nickname slips, but Elizabeth doesn’t seem to mind it.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m quite alright. I’ll leave you be.” She gives V another smile before she turns and walks away, bathroom door shutting behind her before V can get a word in.

It’s silent and V lets herself relax a little, at least until she settles in the hot water and it does sting. She’s going to have those marks for a while, and she was planning on getting a check-up with Vik. Guess she’ll raincheck that, too. At least her turtleneck will cover everything. 

She lets herself soak for a couple of minutes, eyes closed and practically melting into the bathtub, and then she hears a chuckle, low and gravelly—

The blocker’s used up. Shit, V sighs, doesn’t even crack an eye open to see Johnny. “This apartment definitely ain’t yours. Whose husband got pegged by V today?” He asks, probably glitching around the bathroom to try and find an answer.

No one got pegged, Johnny. And it was the wife, not the husband. Elizabeth Peralez, V replies, opening her eyes and shifting in the water to actually start washing herself off. She gave me a call while you were still under, and… I guess she wanted destress while the husband’s been busy with the election shit.

“Why not a threesome?” V shrugs, and Johnny scoffs. “Regardless, good on you for gettin’ your pussy pumped by Mrs. Peralez. Looks like you enjoyed yourself,” V groans at Johnny’s vulgarity, who cackles in response. “C’mon, V, she dommed you hard. Not about to sugarcoat how you got fucked by a milf. And you liked it.”

“Of course I liked it,” V mumbles aloud. She’s fucking hot.

“You mean gorgeous?”  V’s face warms and it’s not because of the water. Johnny snorts, grinning as V glares at him. “Oh, V. She’s a politician’s wife! Prolly just fuckin’ you to get your vote in the election. ‘I like the Peralez family, Liz and I had headboard-bangin’ sex the last time I was at her apartment!’” He mocks, then proceeds to laugh harder at his own joke.

Jesus. They weren’t even horizontal. The whole time, they were in front of that… window. The window overlooking the city. With the lights on. V blinks, once, twice. Then she stands abruptly, pulls the plug on the drain and quickly towels herself off. She grabs the robe that Elizabeth left for her and hauls ass out of the bathroom, with Johnny’s laughter echoing behind her. 

Elizabeth is seated on the couch and V’s gait slows, she’s about to say something but is interrupted when Elizabeth throws her head back and moans. Her breathing is erratic and V curses silently; she just took a shower and now this is happening. Johnny’s awake, too. Said engram appears and whistles, arms crossed while a smirk curls his lips. 

Quite alright, my ass.

V watches, mesmerized by the way Elizabeth sounds, the noises she’s making and the desperation in the way that she curls, keens into her own touch. It’s enrapturing, and V completely forgets why she was so quick to leave the bathroom in the first place. 

Elizabeth could’ve just as easily done this in her own room, or any other room, but she decided to masturbate in her living room. Can’t their security see when they do this sort of stuff? V blinks.

Couldn’t they see her and Elizabeth fucking on the—

The glass. Right. 

Elizabeth groans and it tapers off into a desperate whine, and V’s knocked out of her thoughts. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth again, watching intently as Elizabeth works herself up to the edge, a crescendo leading to a beautiful climax. She unravels herself with a cry that V wants to burn into her brain. Wants to walk over to Elizabeth and draw out those noises herself, but she’s unmoving. Too afraid to make a sound and be found out, so she just stands there like an absolute fucking dumbass.

Before she even thinks about how she might get caught standing there, Elizabeth turns and their eyes meet. She beckons for her to come over with a glistening finger, and V moves, says, “Enjoy yourself?” In a smug tone because she wanted to make it obvious to Elizabeth that she’d been watching. Maybe not for the whole time, but for long enough for another ache to settle between her legs.

She says nothing, gestures to her lap and V can’t help but laugh incredulously, though she does what she’s told. Straddles Elizabeth’s waist as if she’s done it dozens of times before— and maybe she has. Not with her, but with tens of other upstanding citizens in Night City. 

V parts her lips for Elizabeth’s slick fingers, tastes her thoroughly and laps every drop up until Elizabeth’s satisfied. She pulls V in for a kiss and she still has so many questions, but she’ll dance to this woman’s tune just a little while longer.

So she grins devilishly, places her hands on Elizabeth’s waist and whispers the only question that matters:

“Wanna go again?”