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The sound of footsteps and a loud creak shifts Navia's attention away from her thoughts. She swishes the glass cup in her hand from side to side, promptly drinking up the remaining drops of wine. Standing up, she places the cup atop one of the tables, making a beeline towards the door.
“Back so soon?” Navia asks despite already knowing full well the answer.
“Went as smoothly as ever,” Clorinde sweeps away her bangs from her face, letting Navia get a proper view of her, slightly wishing she was the one brushing it away from her eyes. God she knows exactly what she's doing. She is hypnotizing. She's more than just a beautiful weapon, she is a weapon polished to be hers, a weapon born to kill.
“Way too easy and painless, just a bunch of troublesome cowards.” Clorinde says, brushing off the remaining filth off her face. Stepping closer, Navia tuts, tilting her head. “Well I'm sure that dealing with them now will make them get off my back for once– having to handle some flimsy attempt at sabotage must've been irritating enough.”
“I wouldn't call a bunch of flocking chickens bothersome, more like some ridiculous sight– easily taken care of. You can work at ease now.” She finishes a little too quickly, rushing to spill out her words in an attempt to cut herself off.
She watches Clorinde's eyes move over to view the half full bottle of wine and takes a full look at Navia, her eyes lingering a moment at the top of her corset. She is flushed red from her face to her neck. Navia thinks it isn't only the alcohol’s fault that she feels like she's burning from the inside out.
“Getting drunk late again?”
Navia ponders, walking behind Clorinde, letting her arms rest around her midriff. “Maybe, so what if I am?”
Clorinde’s gloved hands clasp onto hers, still white and pristine. She thinks about her skillful fingers wielding her gun, consistently doing an effortless job, she is elegant but quick to the point and that's something Navia has always admired. She knows exactly how much Clorinde holds her in such high regard, as if she was a prized possession, an honor to shed blood for. It's poetic, romantic even, that they were born to kill.
Clorinde stops caressing her fingers, pausing to move Navia face to face, taking in the sight in front of her. “You're such a lightweight, three glasses in and you're already this flushed.” Clorinde simply remarked, in a rather judgmental tone.
“Acting like you are any better holding your liquor.” Navia teases, recalling a time when Clorinde got too drunk, “You get all clingy and sappy. Glued to me like a little puppy following its owner.”
Hiding the embarrassment, Clorinde pinches Navia's reddened cheeks to stop her from continuing, “But I personally find the taste repulsive.” A rather weak attempt at defending herself.
“Do you find me repulsive?” Navia's arms drape around the assassin’s shoulder. She hears Clorinde’s breath hitch, her hands move, stopping at her waist. This close, she can feel Clorinde’s breath ghost right over her own lips. “I could never.”
Navia brings their lips together, her eyes drifting shut, finally closing their distance. It sparks a deeper desire in both of them, both of them chasing it, neither of them letting go. Lost in lust, Navia distantly hears a thud, her back hitting the wall, gazing at how Clorinde holds her tightly, her firm arms keeping her pinned against its hard surface.
Clorinde swipes her tongue against her bottom lip, demanding the taste she was promised, and she lets her. Their tongues sliding against each other, sharing the rich sweetness flavor of wine.
“Cherry wine.” Clorinde mutters, voice quiet and rasp against her lips.
“My favorite.” Navia pants breathless, licking her red tinted lips, stained crimson by the wine.
Backing away, Clorinde takes off her gloves, letting Navia wander her eyes along her scarred and calloused hands. She thinks about them inside of her, long and skilled fingers hitting every right spot.
Navia places her hands down to Clorinde’s waist, her fingers coming to sudden contact with the cold metal. The same spot where she knows Clorinde always keeps her gun placed.
“Didn't even bother to put it away before coming here?” Navia taunts, enthralled by the idea of being her first and only priority.
Clorinde looks away, cheeks tinting redder.
“It's late,” Her eyes fell back to Navia, “I wanted to drop off first.”, failing to hide the clear embarrassment in her voice.
“So eager to see me— If i didn't know you, I would've thought you showing up here armed late at night was a sort of lame assassination attempt.” Navia simply states, an amused glint in her eye, taking the chance to tease Clorinde about her rather odd decision.
“And if it was?” Her deep violet eyes stare right back at her. An intense ache pools into her own gut, leaving a consuming sense of emptiness, a need to be filled.
Navia playfully raises her hands.
“Be a good girl and shoot me then.”
Clorinde glances at her, clearly caught off guard.
“Joking.” Dropping her hands back to her sides. “Although, as a headline, “ Loyal employee of the Spina shoots in cold blood their leader” would be enough to feed the public for weeks.”
Scoffing, seemingly unamused, Clorinde's hands move towards the pistol, lifting it to leave aside when she's forcefully stopped by Navia's gloved hand grasping her wrist harshly.
“Don't.” Navia interjects.
She tantalizingly moves her hands from Clorinde's wrist to the edge of the gun. The perceptive look in Clorinde's eye tells her she understands what she wants. After all, they've memorized each other's body language for years, being able to decipher what the other one wants without having to speak a single word.
Even now, Clorinde still glances at her, directing an uncertain look. “Are you sure–”
“How thoughtful. But we both know I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't.” She traces Clorinde's finger where they rest on the handle.
“Just make sure it isn't loaded.” Navia knows it isn't. But she makes sure to doubt her knowing she'll get an immediate answer from Clorinde.
“It's not.” Clorinde responds a little too early, a little too eager. That's how Navia knows she wants this too. Hell probably even thought of it before, just like she herself has. “Good.”
Navia guides Clorinde’s hand and tilts the edge of the gun to her face. The metal was cool against her skin, the lingering scent of gunpowder filling her nose. Having Clorinde's gun this close is a unique thrill she can't put into words. It's exciting yet dangerous, two things that are present in her everyday job since the day she started, but in this situation it's something new, something new yet exhilarating.
Clorinde traces the gun around her jawline cautiously, almost as if she was made of glass. A pretty porcelain doll, at the opposite side of her gun, her soft pale skin contrasting the dark hard metal. Clorinde doesn't stop leaving light touches until the tip of her gun is up in front of her lips.
Navia parts her lips allowing the tip of her tongue to lick the end of the gun, tasting the remaining powder and metal. Tentatively sucking at it, the flavor of metal becomes much stronger, contrasting the previous sweet taste of wine. She treats it similarly to a strap-on as she would during past occasions like these.
If it were anyone else, Navia might've reeled away at the thought of someone with a gun so close to her, but having Clorinde, her Clorinde that would kill for her, her and only her, complying one of her deepest desires, was absolutely intoxicating .
Clorinde pushes the gun further in, stopping until reaching the back of her throat. Navia makes a small sound, slightly gagging at the unusual but yet pleasurable feeling. The stare Clorinde gives her is hypnotic, pulling her deep in a trance of want, making her crave for more.
A moment passes, and Clorinde draws away the gun from her mouth, a string of saliva connects her lips to the tip of the revolver. This close she could feel both of their hearts beating fast, a rhythmic pulse, both of them filled with desire. Navia looks like a sweet mess, smeared lipstick and drool dribbling down her chin, pooling at the bottom of her dress. She gives the edge of the gun a light kiss before Clorinde pulls away completely.
Clorinde traces down agonizingly slow the tip of the gun down her body, stopping right at her inner thigh, so close to where she aches most. She peels her panties down, the silky fabric completely wet from previous foreplay.
Clorinde strokes the edge of the gun against her outer lips, so near where she needs but not quite. She is instead left with a deep throbbing in her gut, being denied of her desires.
Lifting her hips, Navia grinds herself against the barrel of the gun, “Just fuck me already.” She whines impatiently, the minor friction hits her clit, so close to gaining what she wants. “Surely an obedient puppy like you can follow easy instructions, right?”
Her glossy eyes give a pleading, almost demanding look towards Clorinde. Navia rarely is the one on the receiving end, preferring to have the privilege of being the only one to coax such reactions from Clorinde, but this new side brings a certain excitement to Navia.
Clorinde, never being the type to refute her, complies, pushing the gun inside of her entirely. A pleased moan spills past her lips. Already lubricated enough, the stretch doesn't hurt her, it's a sharp but pleasant pain. It brings a certain rush that pools deep in her stomach, a rising arousal that threatens to stir up from within her.
Her warm insides envelope the cold ridges of the gun, rapidly soothing any discomfort, replacing it with a warming sensation. Clorinde leaves her a moment to adjust to the feeling before moving to fuck her altogether.
Navia mewls from the sudden action, feeling how Clorinde moves back and forth, a bit carefully and shy as she keeps her in place with her other hand. Navia wants her to let go . To stop treating her as if she was about to shatter, and instead fully give in.
“You can go faster.” She breathes out, “I'm not going to break .” Clorinde registers this quickly, almost as if she was waiting for permission. “I know you won't.”
“Then what are you–”
Navia doesn't get to finish before she is cut off, a surprised gasp spilling from her mouth. Clorinde draws back the gun, before suddenly shoving it back inside in its entirety. She speeds up, making sure the tip is all the way in til it bumps with her hands on the handle. In and out. Her pace is harsh and unforgiving, making sure she feels every part of the rough, cold texture of its surface inside her dripping heat.
She finds relief in the pace and stimulation– but it isn't enough. She grinds her hips, matching Clorinde's tempo as she rides the edge of the gun. Navia moans, writhing in Clorinde's grasp at the unrelenting pace, stimulating herself as she moves with her.
Navia feels a heavy pressure build up in her gut, desperately chasing that sweet release. Clorinde starts rubbing in circles her clit while keeping the pushing in and out rhythm of her gun. Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes as a strangled moan rips from her throat. She is so so close, right on the edge of relief, little sobs pouring past her lips.
Clorinde presses her lips back to Navia's, drinking up every sound, as she whines softly at the stimulating sensations. Clorinde trails her lips down her jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses until reaching the slope of her neck. She sucks hard, making sure to leave marks, an expression of her love, engraved right on her skin.
Breathing heatedly against her, Clorinde maneuvers the gun to a certain angle, hitting the right spot making her scream.
Navia comes loudly, cheeks flushed as slick drips to Clorinde's hand. She watches her pull the gun out, the entire surface coated wet. Putting the gun aside, Clorinde brings her drenched fingers to her mouth, licking up every remaining trace.
All of a sudden, she gets down on her knees, hands grasping Navia's soft thighs. Navia's chest heaves, still in a daze as she comes down from her high. Her mind still addled, she doesn't register Clorinde's new position until she starts lapping at the remaining wetness between her thighs, her tongue warm against her skin. She squirms under her, still sensitive at the twinge of overstimulation.
Navia tugs on her hair, a sign that she's satisfied. Clorinde listens, standing up face to face with her love. She guides Navia to the bed, her legs finally giving out.
Still out of breath, Navia giggles, “I think we should do this again soon.”
Clorinde just scoffs, brushing her damp blonde curls away from her face. “Well, I think you should go to sleep before you feel the aching pressure of your hangover instead.”
Clorinde presses a kiss to her lips pushing them back onto bed as Navia kisses her back lovingly, tangling them together in a soft embrace.