Papers were spread out across MacTavish's desk. The transcripts from Dr Novak's interrogation marked the papers in front him, intel collected from Cobalt Strategic analyst team dotting the files underneath. Manila-coloured folders will soon haunt him in his sleep.
Expressing an exasperated sigh, he rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch; 2206 hours. He went to take a swig out of his coffee mug, the bitter taste hitting his tongue and nearly spat it out. The coffee turned ice cold. Better that way. Maybe he would manage to get some shuteye despite the copious amounts of caffeine surging through his system.
His leg bouncing restlessly thinking on the prisoner at the gulag Rojas had mentioned weeks before. How long was command taking to give out the bloody order so that they can snatch him out of there? Makarov was planning something bigger and may already have a copy of Novak's missile targeting system. He shuddered at the prospect of a callous terrorist such as Makarov would do if he got to use such a system.
A soft knock sounded on his door, and he groaned. If it was Ozone saying that one of the men was hurt badly during a prank gone bad, he was going to lose it.
"Ozone, if it's you, I don't wanna hear it. Sod off!"
"And if it's not Ozone?"
He jumped from his chair and dashed towards the door. Reynolds stood there with a shy smile.
"Am I bothering you?"
"Not at all. Come in."
She stood in the middle of his room looking like a lost kitten in the middle of the street.
"Working?" she asked, nudging her head towards his desk.
"Always. Especially during these times. Is something the matter?" he asked, concerned.
"No, no. I thought I'd pay you a visit."
"Make yourself comfortable then," he smiled.
Settling back at the desk, he shuffled through the papers trying to make heads or tails of their order. His concentration was stunted instantly as he felt a pair of hands massaging his shoulders. He could not help but smirk. Her intentions to visit him were clearer now and he was not disappointed at all.
"Did you like our session at the ranges, darling? Couldn't wait for more?" he chortled.
"I have to admit, you always manage to have a tight grip over me and don't get me wrong, I absolutely love it," she whispered in his ear. "However, I was thinking that we maybe change things up a little bit."
He turned around to face her and raised his eyebrows with anticipation.
"What do you have in mind, ducky?"
"You're going to follow my orders, or you get nothing in return."
He couldn't help himself but bite his lower lip, curious to what was passing through the corridors of her mind.
He stood up, fully facing her and extending his arms to the side. "Challenge accepted. What would you have me do?"
"Take off your t-shirt... slowly!"
He grabbed the edge and slowly pulled it over his head. This was the first time, that she could analyse him in detail. Each damn muscle was toned and bulging, his abs clearly defined trailing down to his V. Being into training herself, she had to admit that she got slightly distracted. She knew the amount of dedication, hours, and sacrifice required to get that kind of definition. And that impressed her.
"Lie down on the bed," she beckoned.
"Pants?"
"Shut up."
He chuckled and did as he was asked. He went to lie on his bed, his face donning the most egotistical grin possible.
"Let's lay down some ground rules first. There will be no touching from your part; if you need to do something you have to ask permission first."
"Yes ma'am," he replied, slightly mockingly.
"And don't call me ducky."
"Oh, come on! You know you love it."
She slowly removed her sweatshirt and her tracksuit pants and let them pool on the floor. MacTavish's smile dropped, eyeing her hungrily. Her velvet breasts were perked up with a black lace bra and a matching thong seated perfectly against her pale skin, looking as seductive as ever. She straddled his hips and licked her lips, lust heavy in her eyes.
"Did you say, 'no touching'?" he mumbled, a lump forming in his throat.
"Mhmm," she nodded.
Shite...
He knew he was doomed. He wasn't feeling cocky or in control anymore. She was going to have him by the balls, and she knew it.
She reached behind her back, and unclasped her bra, letting it fall on the bed and slipping to the floor. Her supple breasts on full display in front of him, her hands roaming over them. He tried to gulp hard to remove the lump in his throat but to no avail. Her hips grinded against his, blood rushing towards his groin making him feel groggy.
Good Lord... The only garment she had left on was the black lace G-string, barely covering anything.
His breath stuttered as her mouth hovered over his. The tip of her tongue tracing his lips as she raked her fingers through his hair. Her tongue settled on his neck, sucking slightly and nipping it. Gentle kisses travelled over his chest, and rock-hard abdominals finally resting on his V. Her fingers teased the waistband, lowering it ever so slightly. A curtain of black hair blocked his view, but he could feel the wetness of her tongue underneath where his boxers should be resting.
The tip of her fingers grabbed his pants and gently pulling it towards his thighs exposing him fully. She came back to his lips, her breasts brushing against his erection, forcing a groan out of him. They locked lips, their tongues massaging each other in the most sensual kiss. She pulled away, leaving him wanting more.
His breath caught hard in his throat, heat flooding through him as he felt her lips wrap around his cock. Her head bobbing up and down, her tongue softly caressing him all around. He bucked his hips unintentionally and her hands pressed him down.
"Stay still, don't move your hips or I stop," she warned him.
He groaned inwardly. This was pure torture. Her tongue skilfully flicking his tip, he was starting to see stars.
"Can I at least hold your hair back?" he whined.
"What's the magic word?"
"Are you bloody... please."
"Granted, Captain."
She threw daggers at him, so he did not dare push her. He would prefer swallowing his pride so that he could see her swallow...
Her hands enveloped him, saliva drooling from her reddened lips. Both her tongue and palms working in a flawless tempo. His breaths shifted into intermittent moans; her hair fisted in one hand and the bedsheets seized in the other. He felt himself throbbing against her tongue, her cheeks hollowed as she took him fully in. His tip hitting her at the back of her throat, every time she swallowed he would feel her constricting around his cock. It took all his strength not to hold her down.
"Christianne..."
His voice strained and hoarse. She raised her eyes, meeting his gaze momentarily. His mouth partly open, his eyes lost in hers, almost intoxicated. That view of her ass in the air gently framed by the thong, made him writhe underneath her as if tormented. His cheeks had a tinge of red, a vein bulging down his forehead.
"Tell me, baby," she breathed.
"I'm close..."
Without warning, she stopped, and he groaned at the sudden absence. Reaching for her pocket in the sweatpants on the floor, the foil packaging reflected in the dim light of the room.
"Full service provided by my little-," he chuckled but stopped abruptly remembering the deal.
He fell silent once more as he observed her fingers grabbing the delicate fabric of her thong, pushing it to the side as she straddled him once more. He let out a raspy exhale as she sank down on him. His eyes covered by his forearm trying to not be carried away by the intense feeling that was building up between his legs. But he failed, he could not look away from that gorgeous body. His eyes hovered over her breasts bouncing simultaneously with her movement.
"Please... let me touch you," he begged, his face contorted with need.
She shook her head, smirking. "Let me touch them for you, baby."
Her hands pressing down on her breasts made him feel feverish. Her lips hovered over his once more, as her hips kept on rocking. Their tips of their tongues flicking until MacTavish closed his eyes seeming to slip in a meditative state.
"Good God," he whimpered.
"Come for me, handsome," she mumbled.
With a choking gasp, his muscles tensed as his body convulsed. He seized the bedsheets, knuckles whitening. Ecstasy washed over him as his hips involuntarily bucked into her.
He came down from his high with a breathy exhale. Jesus... he forgot the last time the climax was so potent that his balls ached.
"Fuck..."
"You're welcome," she winked.
She dressed herself and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him.
"Wait! Where are you going?"
"To my room."
"Please, stay," he implored.
"I'm sorry, John. It's best if I don't."
A smile spread across his face.
"What?" she asked, confused at the sudden reaction.
"I love it when you say my name."
She felt her cheeks flush and hurried to her room, leaving MacTavish lying down on his bed, his life drained out of him.
One day, this woman is going to finish me, and I'll thank her for it.