OQ - 1: Hot, Steamy kiss Thank youuuuuu
Okay, so this is set somewhere in Bulletproof Love’s future – when our stubborn assassins have actually started sleeping together. So yeah, enjoy :D
“Regina… We have a little
The woman hums in question, not even bothering to look up from the computer as her fingers continue typing over the keyboard.
“The guards are a little closer than expected.”
That grabs her attention. “How close?”
Robin looks down at the security cams on his tablet, grimacing as he replies; “Two minutes away.”
Her fist slams down on the table, sparing a glance at the progress bar depicting how many files had been copied over onto her flashdrive, and growls when there’s still 30 seconds more to go before they’ll all be transferred.
“How could this happen? My job was to grab Intel, yours was to keep watch!”
“I got distracted!”
“With what?” She exclaims, pointing ahead to the scantily clad blonde on the calendar on the wall opposite them, and snapping, “Miss October?”
Robin resists the urge to point out that she knows he’s more of a brunette man, and instead admits; “With you.”
“Well you need to focus less on me, and more on your job,” she declares, as if it’s that simple to ignore the red piece of sin that she’s wearing. The low neckline, the vivacious curves, the laces crossing over her bare back… If he’d have known that escorting her to a black tie event would result in a permanent raise in blood pressure, he would have prepared himself a few days beforehand.
“Easier said than done,” he grumbles, before clearing his throat and asking; “What’s the plan?”
Robin could practically hear her eye roll as she sniped; “You fucked up, you make the plan.”
A look around the room delivers very few options, the first thing that comes to mind is; “We could hide in the cabinet?”
The response is almost immediate; “too risky.”
“We could… escape through the air vents?”
“They have sensors.”
“Oh for god’s sake, I’ll think of something in a minute,” Regina announces, apparently having had enough of Robin’s nonsensical suggestions. She shifts from one foot to the other, watching as the progress bar reaches the end and the ‘safe to remove hardware’ box pops up. “I’m done now, come on.”
Regina grabs his hand and pulls him outside, though to Robin’s surprise she brings them to a halt just outside of the door, with no sign of moving anywhere in the near future.
“Yes, because this is a lot better,” he quips with a sardonic roll of his eyes.
“Oh shut up and trust me.”
Robin waits a few moments until it appears Regina’s plan is to just wait for their deaths. “You do realise that they’ll shoot us the moment they turn the end of the corridor?”
“No they won’t.”
“Regina, they’ll take one look at us and know that we’ve been in Claud’s office.”
“No, they won’t.”
“How?” Robin exclaims, unsure of her confidence in a plan that… Well, a plan that consists of displaying themselves for their firing squad. “What possible reason could we have for entering this corridor, tripping the sensor a foot away from the door, without actually going in?”
Robin shoves his hands in his pockets and huffs out an exasperated, “When?”
She doesn’t say anything, merely waits for the footfalls of the guards to reach her ear before she suddenly turns to Robin, grabs the front edges of his dinner jacket, and pulls him into a kiss.
She stumbles back into the wall, parting her lips and tangling her tongue with his almost immediately. His bow tie falls to the floor, and with a quick tug, several buttons from his pristine, white shirt join it, leaving the top half of his chest exposed to her fingernails.
It’s then that Robin catches up, realising that the sudden make-out session has nothing to do with them and everything to do with creating an excuse for them to be away from the party that the guards to buy.
Of course, that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy himself in the process…
His hand hooks behind her left knee and hikes it around his waist, feeling grateful to the thigh-high slit in her red evening gown that accommodates the movement with little hassle. His other hand threads into her hair, grasping and tilting her head as his mouth consumes hers.
And that’s when the guards arrive.
Robin prepares to withdraw himself from Regina, feign shock and hope to god that their current position gives the impression that they’ve been at this for the eight minutes it had taken for the alarm to have been triggered and security protocol 3 to have been initiated. But Regina refuses to let go, grinding her hips up into his and moaning into his mouth - a little louder than she usually would at this point, but they were putting on a show for the guards, were they not? And from the lack of bullet holes in them both, the excuse seems to have been bought. So much so, that they both hear the guards retreating without even interrupting them, clearly reluctant to break up what appears to be a heated, steamy encounter.
Does that make them stop? Does it fuck.
They soon forget about the whole making-an-excuse-to-not-get-killed thing and get so wrapped up in each other that their surroundings fade away until all that’s left is the floor under their feet and the wall behind Regina. The hand Robin has tucked behind her knee slides up her thigh, searching for the edge of the lace underwear he knows she favours slightly over silk, and is pleasantly surprised when he only encounters warm skin. His growl into her mouth has her smirking and grinding further into him, releasing a pleasured gasp as his lips trail down her jaw and into the join of her neck and shoulder.
“You do realise the guards left several minutes ago?” she asks, closing her eyes as her head tilts to allow his tongue more skin to trail over.
He hums against her clavicle, gently grazing his teeth across to the thin spaghetti strap of her dress.
“Do you have plans on moving somewhere more private any time soon?”
She barely hears his quiet mumble, “No.”
“You started it,” he points out, an eyebrow raised as the corner of his mouth quirks upwards.
“And I intend on finishing it,” Regina counters as she puts a little space between them, smirking as she reaches into his trouser pocket and then brings up her hand in front of them, car keys dangling on her finger. “Feel like getting out of here and making me scream?”
As if she had to ask…