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Your feet made no noise as you padded down the hallway, head on a swivel and ears open to listen for any kind of sound.
Years of practice had made you good at this- years of loss and humbling experiences made you cautious.
You knew you had the skills necessary to pull off this one-woman heist, but you weren’t so egotistical as to think you could do it without a hitch.
That being said, things were going good so far. You’d managed to sneak past every guard and security camera, even snatching the keycard for the vault from the main office.
You stopped at the top of the stairs, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves before peeking around the corner.
Two guards. Tough, but not impossible… Though you preferred to avoid conflict if you could. It usually didn’t end well for you.
Your eyes moved upwards, spotting an air vent.
You grinned. It was almost too perfect.
A quick glance around showed that the coast was clear, and you quietly but quickly climbed a filing cabinet, pushing open the vent grate and climbing inside.
After some mental gymnastics with trying to figure out which direction led to the vault, some missed turns, and many many minutes of crawling around the vents, you finally found it.
Midas’ vault.
You swallowed your nerves, swinging open the grate and falling soundlessly to your feet onto the floor.
Oh, it was truly beautiful. A thief’s dream; gold bars stacked on gold bars, caches of gold coins, artifacts- you were practically drooling.
You couldn’t carry it all, of course, but that had never been the plan. You would just take enough to carry and be set for the rest of your life.
You set your bag down, unzipping it.
You heard it before you felt it: the click of a hammer being pulled, the subtle noise of a muzzle being pressed against your skull.
You froze, slowly raising your hands in the universal gesture of surrender.
“On your knees. Slowly.”
You recognized that voice- deep, mocking, cruel…
You did as he instructed, one leg at a time, until you were kneeling on the hard metal floor. You suddenly wished you’d opted to wear knee pads.
You stared at the cache of gold on the far wall, the very fortune you’d come here for mere feet from your fingers. You focused on the hard lines of the walls, counted the rivets in them as your arms were pulled roughly behind your back, one at a time. Your wrists froze together where his fingers had touched, bound by golden restraints.
Your heart sank. If this was who you thought it was…
Your fears were confirmed as the man circled around to your front, steady hand still pointing his gun right at your head.
You swallowed, staring at his shoes, refusing to look at his face.
Midas. Your old boss. The one you’d very recently betrayed in cold blood.
It hadn’t been personal- it never was. It was just business.
Then again, you couldn’t blame him for being mad that you stole most of his agency’s classified documents and stabbed him in the process.
On the bright side, it looked like his eye was healing well.
You should've killed him when you had the chance.
But no, thanks to your merciful nature, you were now stuck with this, forced to face your past mistakes.
Literally.
He crouched in front of you, using the barrel of his pistol to turn your face to look at him. You shivered, and you didn’t know if it was from the cold metal or from the way he was looking at you. Carnivorous was the only word that came to mind.
“Well, well. If it isn’t y/n,” he drawled, his casual tone contrasting starkly to the murder you saw in his eyes.
“You’ve caused me more trouble than I’d like to admit, y/n.” You shuddered at the continuous use of your name, spoken in such a strange, sultry tone.
He pressed the muzzle under your jaw, digging into the muscle.
You just continued to hold his gaze, defiant.
“I could kill you. I should. But that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?” He stood, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief as the gun was away from your face.
You couldn’t see him anymore as he walked around you, but you could hear the click of his footsteps as they grew further away, towards the door.
You could hear a beeping sound, followed by the heavy groan of metal and a loud slam as the door to the vault was shut.
Your mind began to race, faced with what you were sure was your certain doom. In the time that it took him to return to your side, you’d thought of at least a hundred scenarios in which he slowly tortured you before brutally killing you in some way or another.
You were shaking when he kneeled down in front of you again, a cruel smirk on his face. You were a thief, not an agent; you’d never had to experience any kind of torture before, didn’t have any resistance training.
In other words, you were in for a very bad time.
He seized your jaw so fast, you let out an involuntary gasp. He took the split second that your mouth was open to shove the tip of his gun in, the harsh metal pressing down on your tongue.
Your heart raced in time with your mind, trying to catch up with the situation.
He seemed to be in some sort of a daze, watching you as he eased more and more of the barrel in your mouth until you were nearly gagging on it.
“Suck,” he ordered, losing any trace of his former state as his eyes regained their familiar cruelty.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you only now fully grasped what was happening here.
A shameful feeling of arousal pooled in your belly, and you tried desperately to ignore it.
You decided it would be in your best interest to obey, seeing as how one wrong move would send your brains flying out of the back of your skull. Not for any other reason.
Not for any other reason did you slowly start to move, sucking on the metal and pulling back until it was out of your mouth.
He scowled, seemingly about to shove it back in your mouth but pausing when he saw your tongue swirling around the metal, dragging on the underside of it before taking it back in your mouth as far as you could.
You moaned around the metal, an entirely involuntary noise that made your eyes fly open, a shameful heat reddening your cheeks.
He grinned, an evil thing that set your nerves on edge, more than they already were.
He withdrew the gun from your mouth with a popping noise, pressing it to your temple. You braced yourself for the shot.
Was that his goal? To embarrass you one final time before he killed you?
It never came.
Instead, you were pulled backwards by the collar, into his lap.
One of his hands settled around your throat, forcing your head back onto his shoulder, exposing your neck to him.
You gasped when his mouth met your skin, teeth leaving marks wherever he moved.
You squirmed in his grip, mainly out of a need for friction than for escape.
He made a noise, deep in his chest that you felt against your back.
“So needy,” he teased, nipping at your ear.
You should’ve been ashamed of the situation, but you weren’t. You wanted this, much as the last rational part of your mind tried to convince you otherwise.
When you worked with him, there had always been a sort of tension there, an unspoken desire shared between heated glances and touches that lingered; but neither of you had acted on it. It seemed he was making up for lost time.
He replaced the end of the gun against your temple for a knife, pulled from his thigh holster.
It too was golden, a large and serrated hunting knife that fit so perfectly in his hands.
You shuddered as he placed the tip of it against your throat, where his hand had been. You made very certain not to move, letting him slowly drag the blade down your neck, over your collar, down your stomach- he stopped at your hips, sinking the blade into your belt, cleanly slicing through the leather.
He used his other hand to pull your pants down, yanking them off your thighs and down to your knees.
The tip of the knife slipped under the waistband of your underwear, a breath hitching in your throat as he teased the flat of the blade along your pelvis.
After a few tense moments, he positioned it on your thigh, slicing upwards.
He repeated the motion on the other side, effectively rendering the cloth useless as it was tossed to the side, exposing your arousal.
You tried to bury your face in his neck, cheeks burning with shame and desire.
He actually laughed , a quiet and ominous sound that went straight to your core.
“Already so wet for me.” He set the knife aside, dipping a finger in your folds as if to prove his point.
You let out a whine, sighing as his fingers rubbed gently against your clit.
You closed your eyes, submitting to his ministrations, letting your body relax against him.
His fingers were replaced by a much colder, much larger object, and your eyes flew open in shock as you came back to your senses. He was teasing you with the muzzle of his gun.
“Shhh… Trust me,” he murmured.
You whimpered, fear mixing with arousal. The rational part of your mind told you to stay still, but you were desperate.
It felt so good, so cool against your swollen arousal.
Your hips bucked of their own accord, seeking more friction.
He let out a groan, not expecting you to reciprocate so readily. You could feel his cock, still restrained in his pants, pressing against your ass and purposefully ground down on it.
He hissed, snatching the gun back against your temple. You whined at the loss of contact, too needy for release to care about the fact that you were being threatened.
“ I’m in control,” he growled, digging the muzzle in harder against your skin.
You nodded, having trouble forming words.
Satisfied with your answer, he withdrew the weapon from your head, setting it back down on the floor.
One of his hands slid under your shirt, the cold metal of his skin causing your back to arch. His other hand returned to your neglected sex, slowly rolling his thumb over your clit while one finger explored deeper, slipping easily into your entrance.
You bit your lip as he added a second finger, moving them in and out experimentally, stretching you out. He twisted his hand, searching for something, curling his fingers in a way that had you whining.
Finally, he started moving again, pumping his digits in and out in a steady but hard rhythm that left you keening, gasping and moaning against his neck, hips bucking and twitching.
You begged him for more, but he didn’t listen, just kept at that agonizing pace.
You could feel release creeping up on you, lurking just on the edges of your body that was quickly becoming undone by his hands.
“Please, please, please-“ you gasped and pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.
Finally, finally, you were so agonizingly close, you could feel your abdomen tighten and your legs begin to quiver in anticipation.
He pulled his fingers out, denying your release for the second time.
You cried out in frustration, tears falling down your cheeks.
“Wh-“ you began to protest, but were quickly shoved down to the floor from his lap, your arms aching as they hit the floor first, taking the brunt of your fall.
Your hands still being tied forced your back into a semi-permanent arch, and you had to strain to move your head up to look at him.
You watched his hands as they quickly undid his belt, and you couldn’t deny the excitement that pooled in your core, anticipation heightening as his hands settled around your waist, pulling you back roughly, forcing your legs open as he took his place between them.
You moaned aloud when he pushed into your entrance, so much thicker than you were expecting.
Any and all reservations vacated your mind as he filled you, burying himself to the hilt. Bliss.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathed out, beginning to move, dragging his cock in and out of you in agonizingly slow motions.
You wanted to argue that it was him that was just too big, but you couldn’t speak.
He was taking his time, admiring how perfectly you took his cock, blissed out by the feeling of being so full.
He suddenly reached behind him, his pistol in his hands once again.
He pressed it against your forehead, but you welcomed the thrill this time, meeting his gaze with a fearless one of your own.
Your eyes quickly fluttered shut as he quickened his pace, using his free hand to pull one of your legs up, over his shoulder.
You moaned at the new angle, unable to keep your composure any longer.
When the muzzle of the gun pressed against your lips, you knew what to do- you opened your mouth, tongue stuck out as he forced it in, watching with a dark sort of hunger as your tongue again worked the metal.
His hips snapped against yours now, fucking you so quick and deep your head was spinning, moaning around the barrel of the gun in your mouth.
He withdrew it, opting instead to press it against your temple.
You glanced down, immediately mesmerized at the sight of his movements. He had a tattoo that curled from his v-line down his pelvis and then his thighs that disappeared where his pants had pooled around his knees.
He changed his angle upwards, forcing a strangled cry from your throat as he hit your g-spot, seemingly deliberately.
“Oh, fuck-“ you gasped, head falling back.
You were so close now, so so close and he just kept hitting that one spot , it was so good-
He slowed, still hitting it with hard thrusts, but only enough to keep your pleasure at a steady plateau.
Tears pricked at your eyes.
“Please, I’m so…” you slurred, having trouble finding the words.
“You wanna cum?” He rasped, eyes steadily holding yours.
You nodded.
“Beg me for it.” His voice hardened, a cruel resolution to it.
“Please, Midas,” you pleaded.
He sped up marginally, just enough for you to feel it but not enough to do you any good.
“Please let me cum,” you continued, voice sounding as pathetic and wrecked as you looked.
“Please, I want you to fuck me until I cum, please!” You cried, desperation giving you courage you wouldn’t normally have.
He sped up, but you didn’t stop. The words were tumbling out now, a stream of nearly unintelligible pleads and moans.
“Want-want you to fuck me senseless- want to cum on your cock!”
He tossed his gun back to the floor, forcing your other leg around his shoulder until they were pressed as far down as your muscles would allow, letting him fuck you even deeper than before.
His eyes were squeezed shut, purely primal noises leaving him as he finally lost himself in you.
You were screaming, but you could barely hear yourself over the roar of blood in your ears, his grunts, the filthy sound of your bodies colliding-
You came hard, crying out his name over and over, walls squeezing him so hard he could barely move. The white-hot coil of arousal in your belly finally broke.
“Fuck,” he hissed as you squirted on his stomach, staining his shirt.
He pulsed once inside you, the only warning before he came, burying himself as deep inside you as he could.
It should’ve been humiliating, having your enemy fill you up with his cum, but you felt only satisfaction.
He didn’t pull out for a few moments, just collapsed against you as you both struggled to recover.
Evidently, he hadn’t planned to lose control like that.
Finally, after minutes of just lying on the floor, he lifted himself up, turning your body over.
He placed his hands on your wrists, releasing their binding.
Confusion swirled in your mind, but you took the chance to roll over, pulling yourself into a sitting position.
He stood, pulling his pants back up and fastening his belt.
He offered his hand and you took it, standing on unsteady legs.
He cleared his throat, smoothing his hair which had come loose and now fell in thin strands on his forehead.
“I think we can come to a new business agreement,” he started, showing no signs of your activities the minutes prior; he was back to business as usual.
You, on the other hand, bore the evidence on every part of you. Your hair was a mess, your lips swollen, and your neck covered in bruises and bitemarks. You pulled up your pants, discarding the now useless belt.
“What kind of agreement?” You rasped, voice scratchy from all the screaming.
“I’ll let you live if you agree to steal for me again. I could use your talents,” he continued, closing the distance between you.
Your uncertain gaze met his steady one, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. The bastard was already hard again, pressing against your thigh.
“I’d be willing to offer you an extra bonus,” he husked, one hand coming up to hold your face. You could guess what extra bonus he had in mind.
You thought for a moment.
“I want thirty percent profit of all my scores,” you said.
His eyes narrowed.
“Fifteen.”
“Twenty,” you shot back.
He sighed.
“Deal.”
You shook on it, and true to his word, you were allowed to leave unharmed.
Empty-handed and broke and with an absolutely wrecked appearance, but otherwise alive and with all of your appendages still attached.
Truthfully, you were satisfied with your collaboration. Maybe it was time to settle down with a steady gig and stop all of the double-crossing and backstabbing.
Plus, you were looking forward to the next time you’d get your bonus…