"Looks like this little ducky went over the hill and far away."
Reynolds glanced to the side and saw MacTavish smirking, forcing himself to stand up straight.
"Told you not to call me that," she slurred back.
He leaned against the wall and lit up a cigar, its ambers glinting in the night. He side-eyed the vodka in her hand and chuckled.
"So that's where the vodka went..."
She took a gulp and handed it to him. He gladly took it from her and took a generous gulp.
"Not that you deserve that."
He chortled and took a long drag from his cigar. "I know."
She pursed her lips, trying her utmost not to tell him to fuck off. "Did not know you smoked cigars."
"Do you wanna try it out?"
She stumbled towards him and rested against him. She held him by his shoulder to stabilise herself as much as possible. He held the cigar for her as she took a deep breath.
"That is really smooth."
They continued passing the vodka and the cigar between them and he could feel her melt into him with each drag and gulp. His eyes flicked to his side and observed her. Her eyes were blinking slowly, cheeks slightly flushed and licking her dry lips.
"I've been a bit harsh with you," he admitted. "But don't take it personal. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I had to carry you back in a body bag."
With the alcohol taking control, she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes fluttering forcing to keep them open.
"I know," she said softly.
Her hand rested on his chest as she moved closer to him. Without a second thought, he rested his arm on her lower back. Her black eyes seemed to stare deep into his soul.
She placed the empty bottle near her feet, holding on for dear life not to faceplant the ground and MacTavish flicked the cigar in the ashtray. They stood there in silence for some time as he tried to ignore with all he could muster her body shifting against his side. Trying to gulp the lump stuck in his throat, his mind started to wander.
"Are you ok?" she whispered in his ear as she shifted her arm around his neck.
"Mhmm," he managed to utter.
Her lips brushed against his neck, and he could feel her hot breath on his skin. Her breasts pressing against his side as he cursed inwardly, his heart beating hard against his ribs holding her even tighter to him.
Fuck this, he thought.
He slid his hand around her neck and pressed his lips against hers. She offered no resistance, instantly melting into the kiss. Her arms slinging around his back, forcing him closer to her body. She planted kisses from his jaw to his neck, inhaling his woodsy scent that drove her even crazier.
His fingers coursed through her hair where he gently grabbed it, forcing her to expose her neck. He sank his teeth into her skin with just enough pressure to make her shiver. A moan escaped her lips, making him want even more.
He made his way down to her chest but much to his dismay, her t-shirt was in the way. They were lucky that they were not in their rooms, or he would already have torn every bit of clothing off her. Instead, his hands settled on her hips pulling her into him.
She could feel him hard against her groin instinctively grinded against him forcing him to release a low growl. Her head was swimming, but it wasn't the alcohol's fault. Drunk on his scent and touch, her hands explored his body, slipping under his t-shirt, all inhibitions thrown out the window.
His fingers played with her waistband, gliding against her skin until he reached her intimate parts. His other hand slipping under her bra, cupping her breast.
Logic screamed at her to step back from the man who merely twelve hours earlier had compared her to a dog. But beneath, something far more dangerous stirred. An attraction edged with something raw that was impossible to ignore.
Her hands glided across his taut stomach, nails pressing into his skin while his fingers taunted and explored her in return.
"Someone's a naughty ducky."
Oh God, that voice. It dropped to a low and dangerous tone as if it was laced with venom ready to mar her system with it. And she was letting him, willingly.
She felt his fingers slip in, a whimper escaping her lips, her eyes widening at the sudden intrusion. She gulped, feeling the saliva scratching her dry throat.
"Watch it, John boy."
"Just so you know, threatening me makes me harder, love."
Her palm travelled over his groin as she grabbed it and he moaned. He was not wrong. The man was rock hard underneath her hand.
She exhaled, her tongue travelling over his neck flicking up his ear lobe. His fingers twisting hard on her nipple sending shocks down to her core. She felt it building up and she was certain that she wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer.
His fingers moved faster, stretching her further. His palm has been hitting her clit every time sending electric jolts through her core.
"Oh God..." she moaned.
MacTavish groaned as he felt her nip on his lower lip. He devoured her lips, biting down hard as he tasted a metallic taste in his mouth. He felt the tremor in her. His hand seized her jaw, angling her face toward his, refusing to let her look away.
"Look at me, darlin'. I want to see those lovely eyes of yours."
She forced herself to look into his blue eyes which looked almost dark with unmistakable hunger, as she felt the wave washing over her. With her face held in place, she trembled in his arms as she came with huge intensity. She tried her utmost to keep eye contact but failed miserably as her eyes rolled, fluttering shut. Her lips parted as a guttural groan dripped out her lips.
She wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off the bastard's face as he observed her with a smug satisfaction, but she was too spent to do anything.
He grabbed the fingers that were just inside her and held them up. Reynolds felt her neck flush with embarrassment as she observed his fingers slick with her arousal, merely seconds before dipping them into his mouth and sucking on them.
A switch suddenly clicked in her brain. She gently pushed him away and took a few steps back still registering what the hell just happened.
"It's the alcohol," she blabbed.
"Don't blame it on the alcohol. You tasted like you wanted me," he murmured, eyeing her from head to toe.
She bit her lip and looked down. "I better go," she slurred, nearly toppling over.
MacTavish held her by her arm, his lips grazing her ear.
"We can continue this upstairs if you wish," he whispered.
And for a moment, she actually considered it. She pondered the idea of going to his room and let him have his way with her because only God knew how much she needed it. But not with the man who had belittled her and only treated her well when he was in the mood for it. She had too much self-respect to fall for it.
She shook her head, but he laughed in response.
"I know you want to, ducky."
"Stop calling me that."
Reynolds made her way to the barracks, employing maximum effort to walk in a straight line.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Maybe she was right, maybe it was the alcohol that took control; or maybe it was the pull they'd both been fighting from the start.
Head pounding, stomach churning, and massive dehydration hit both Reynolds and Hernandez the next morning. But what bothered Reynolds most, was the incessant ringing of Hernandez's phone. Deep slumber washed over the lieutenant not even registering the ear-piercing ringing. Reynolds grabbed her pillow and threw it at her with all the strength she could muster.
"Pick up the damn phone!" she yelled.
Hernandez groaned and reached for her phone, picking it up with a mumble. When done, she grabbed Reynold's pillow and threw it back at her.
"Matthews called. I need to pack and leave."
She got up clutching her head, trying to ease the hammering in her brain. She started collecting her things and stuffing them into the duffle bag.
"He told you to be prepared. You're gonna be working soon. And Chris," she paused, looking at her, "it's one of those missions."
"Fuck..."
Reynolds groaned and put the pillow over her head. Cobalt Strategic is one of the most chosen PMC for specific tasks because they would send their soldiers others would not dare to. The issue was that these missions had a high-risk percentage of no returning. In layman terms, they were suicide missions.
"Where were you last night by the way?" asked Reynolds. "Last I saw you, you were getting extremely close to Ozone."
"Oh, I got close alright," she smirked. "Madre de Dios, that man knows how to fuck."
Reynolds gasped and got up with a jump, nearly throwing up in the process.
"What did you say?!"
"We fucked."
"Says the woman who always bashes me to obey the rules! Goddamn hypocrite."
She shrugged at her and continued stuffing clothes in her duffle bag. "I mean, it just happened. One moment we were talking, the next..."
"His dick slipped inside of you. It happened out of the blue I'm sure," said Reynolds, rolling her eyes. "What happened to fraternisation?"
"I never mentioned it," Hernandez remarked. "Besides, it's not the first time I have done it on the job."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Was I ever distracted?"
"Well, no, but-"
"We're human with needs, Chris. It is expected that something like this happens."
"Right..."
She threw the duffle bag over her shoulder and stormed off.
"Adios, hermana!"
Reynolds huffed as she was left in complete silence once more; she shuffled on her cot trying to find a more comfortable position. Trying to ignore the dreadful feeling in the pit of the stomach due to the mission, her mind drifted on the previous night. She could still feel his hands wander over her body, giving her goosebumps. The way they got carried away scared her the most, the loss of control they both exhibited left her worried.
She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. No time to think about that. She needed to rest.