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Temporary Pleasure

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Their dalliance takes Shaw by surprise, not because it's happening, but because it's happening now. In hindsight, she should've expected it. They've been building up to this, she and Root. The insufferable smirking, the smug jabs at her shooting technique, the suggestive glances when she knows Shaw's looking... yeah, Root's got a weird idea of what foreplay is, but Shaw's learnt to just go with it. Life's easier that way, and not that Shaw will ever admit it, but she's come to like it a little bit.

Just a little.

They're at Shaw's apartment, Root having simply followed her home after they left the safe house. They'd walked out together, and Shaw had thought Root would simply say a few annoying things in farewell and then leave, but Root's like a puppy just loose from the pound, practically skipping alongside Shaw.

“Will you stop?”

Root pauses only briefly, then quickens her step to catch up when Shaw continues striding down the footpath. “Stop what?” she asks innocently.

Shaw grinds her teeth and glances back at where Root's back to skipping. “Walking like that.”

Root laughs quietly and then does a one-eighty so she's walking backwards, facing Shaw. “Come on, Shaw. Don't tell me you're not excited.” She waggles her eyebrows when Shaw doesn't bite. “Aren't you going to ask me what about?”

Shaw huffs. “Okay,” she says slowly, hunching her shoulders and giving Root an indulgent look. “Excited about what?”

“Why, what's going to happen next, of course,” Root declares. She's got a happy, almost dopey smile on her lips as they walk up to Shaw's apartment.

Shaw immediately reaches for the gun tucked into the small of her back, but Root catches her hand. “Not that kind of excitement, silly,” she laughs.

Shaw shakes her head and digs into her pockets for her keys. The area's clear and nothing's out of place, and Root's not talking about anything involving guns, so Shaw puts it down to some random Machine chatter. She turns the key and unlocks her front door, but doesn't open it just yet. Root's still hovering by her shoulder, waiting expectantly, but Shaw's hesitant – last time Root was in her apartment it involved her getting tasered and kidnapped from her own bed, then zip-tied to a steering wheel. She grimaces and turns slightly, checking Root's posture and positioning.

Nothing untoward.

But still.

“Aren't you going to ask me if I want to come in?”

“Why?” Shaw returns. “Not like you wouldn't invite yourself in anyway.”

“I wouldn't,” Root insists. “It's not polite to do that on a date.”

Shaw freezes with her hand on the doorknob. “What did you just say?”

There's a silence as the penny drops. Then, Root says, as if Shaw's an idiot who hasn't been keeping up this whole time, and clearly she hasn't, because shooting Russians is just one of her favourite pastimes, not a date activity: “It's not polite to barge in when it's a date, Sameen. Even I know that. But I also know you're not the dating type, so I haven't said anything until now.”

Root pauses. “So, are we going to do this thing or what?”

Well, when she puts it that way.

The second they're through the door, Root's on her.

It's not her first time at the girl-on-girl rodeo, but Shaw's head doesn't seem to work right when Root's around, so it takes her a while to react. By then, Root's already shut and locked the door and got a hand on Shaw's wrist, catching her before she can go any further into her apartment.

Shaw's still got her faculties, sure. And she still has her reflexes, her skill, all the muscle memory that comes with being a technical genius and years of refining the best way to shoot a body so it drops in the fastest, most efficient manner possible.

But Root turns her around and gently guides Shaw so that her back's against the door, and the volume dial on her feelings turns incrementally higher. There's a static behind her eyes, pins and needles of sound thrumming through her ears, filling up her blood and clouding her senses. She clenches and unclenches her fists and wants to punch the smirk off Root's face, the smirk that's turning into a full-blown smile as Root watches her.

"Ooh, you're so tense." Root tilts her head as she slides her hands down Shaw's arms. She takes both of Shaw's wrists in a gentle grip and pins them to Shaw's side, stepping right into Shaw's personal space. "You really need to relax," she says, and completely undoes any chance of that happening when she presses herself against Shaw's body.

Shaw swallows. Underneath her jacket Root is wearing a thin white shirt and tight pants and, all right, Shaw's been checking her out all evening. It feels... really nice. She can feel how hot Root is, all down her body from her chest to her thighs. Root's breath is warm against her jaw and she's so close now that Shaw can feel that stupid smirk against her skin.

Shaw lets out a controlled breath. She just needs some space to regroup. Take control of the situation. Without guns. Ugh.

She tilts her head back and it hits the door, and it's a pretty useless move because all it's done is filled her vision with Root's blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

“I've wanted to do this for a while now,” Root says, letting go of Shaw's wrists, and moves her grip to Shaw's thighs. She presses against Shaw again as she reaches around to the back of Shaw's left thigh, unbuckling the holster there, and Shaw bites back a groan as Root rolls her hips just so. “But I didn't think you'd be so shy,” she continues, letting the gun fall to the floor with a thud.

“I'm not shy,” Shaw snaps back. Just to prove her point, she wills her hands to work and clamps them onto Root's waist. She rubs her thumbs along Root's hip bones and prepares to push herself off the door.

“Well then,” Root replies with a sly grin, “Come and get me.”

She slithers out of Shaw's grip and walks away towards the bed, stripping out of her top and unzipping her jeans as she goes. She stops just short of taking them off, and turns back to Shaw. “Unwrap me?”

Shaw rolls her eyes. “You're ruining the mood.”

“Tell me what you like, then,” Root says, arranging herself on the bed, still half-undressed. The static grows louder, and Shaw grits her teeth.

“I don't play games,” she warns, standing at the foot of the bed.

“That's a shame,” Root pouts. “You're so good at it, Sameen.”

Shaw doesn't dignify that with an answer, instead kicking off her shoes and taking her socks off. She briefly considers leaving them on just to fuck with Root a little bit, because she knows Root has some sort of weird foot/sock aversion. It's something she's noticed when they've worked undercover a couple of times; Root always handles her footwear with care, always accompanied by the tiniest look of disgust. Shaw's noticed it because she's been trained to be observant, and so she observes things, not because she's in any way been paying attention to the little things Root does when she thinks nobody's looking.

She untucks her shirt and starts on her jeans, but Root's up on her knees on the bed and stays Shaw's hands. “Let me,” Root says with a smile. She unbuttons Shaw's fly slowly, a smile playing at her lips as she toys with each button. “What shall we do next?” she murmurs, and Shaw swears if Root's talking to the Machine right now--

Root slips a hand inside Shaw's pants and tugs Shaw forward until she hits the bed. Shaw bites the inside of her cheek and exhales sharply. Turnabout is fair play, so she unclips Root's bra and grasps her breast, roughly flicking her thumb over Root's nipple until it hardens, gratified by the way Root gasps and leans into her touch.

She shoves Root back, maybe a little harder than necessary, until Root's on the bed on her back, hair splayed out against the pillow and body pliant as she watches Shaw strip off her remaining clothes before ridding Root of her pants and underwear, too.

She swallows as she hovers over Root, hands bracing herself up on either side of Root's body. Root hums in pleasure and stares up at Shaw with a dreamy smile on her face, her eyes bright and her expression soft. It's almost tender, the way she's watching Shaw now, and the tight knot that's been in the centre of Shaw's chest since they walked through the door loosens a little bit.

Root reaches up and loops her arms around Shaw's neck, stroking her nape. “I'm going to kiss you now,” Root says, but she hangs back with that tender look until Shaw tilts her head and kisses it away herself.

Shaw hates how she melts into Root's mouth, how easy it is for Root to arch upwards and leverage their bodies so that she's on top, not breaking the kiss. Root reaches down and presses two fingers against Shaw, murmuring appreciatively at the wetness she finds there.

“Ooh, I love how you feel,” Root purrs, slipping her fingers inside, hard. Shaw bites her lip as Root draws her to the edge with long, languid strokes, and Shaw's pretty sure Root's trying to torture her with how slowly she's going.

Still, it's over too quickly as her orgasm rushes through her body, and Shaw cants her hips chasing the tail end of it as Root smiles down at her.

The pounding in her ears takes several heartbeats to calm, and by that time Root's already straddled her, fast and desperate. Shaw bends her knee and Root bears down on Shaw's thigh, and Shaw takes the opportunity to switch their positions, grasping Root's waist and turning them over with a deft turn of her hips.

Root makes a small oomph and digs her nails into the back of Shaw's shoulders as Shaw presses against her, and it's not long before they're moving to an easy rhythm again, Root's breath warm and quickening in her ear.

Root lets go of Shaw, her hands straying downward. “Ah,” Shaw warns, catching Root's wrists, trapping them above Root's head. In a fit of pique, she stops moving, but leans forward and applies just enough pressure to elicit a whimper from the woman below her.

“I thought you didn't like to play games,” Root smirks breathlessly, knees pressing into Shaw's side as she arches upward.

Shaw shrugs. “I said I don't play games,” she says, licking the shell of Root's ear. The right one, with the scar. Shaw traces the edge of it with her tongue, and Root hums in pleasure. “Never said I don't like it when I do.”

Root laughs in delight, looping her free arm around Shaw's neck. “Oh, Sameen,” she sighs happily, and Shaw rolls her eyes. “I knew you'd be so much fun.”

“Shut up,” Shaw growls, and punctuates her sentiment with a hard thrust of her hips. Root's sharp moan is one of the more rewarding events of this evening.


Shaw wakes up in the middle of the night to a naked Root spooned up against her back, arm around Shaw's waist. It's highly uncomfortable. She's never spent a night sharing a bed like that, nor has she ever intended to, and Root's body heat isn't warm and comforting at all; in fact, it's suffocating and highly oppressive.

She lies on her side in the dark for long moments, thinking about her options. She could move, and wake Root up, which would mean Root would start talking and Shaw's not sure she has the patience to listen to her this early in the morning. Root and talking should be confined to business hours only.

The alternative is to stay where she is and pretend to be asleep, which would really mean not sleeping and she's kinda bone tired now, what from the bullet-dodging and the admittedly really good sex and all that.

Shaw grumbles under her breath and decides to maybe roll off the bed and sleep on the floor.

“I can hear you thinking,” Root mumbles, tightening her grip on Shaw's waist. “Stop it.”

This time, Shaw does grumble out loud and takes the opportunity to extricate herself from Root's grasp. “I'm getting a drink,” she says, and it comes out sounding dumb and fake like the excuse that it is, but she gets out of bed anyway and pads over to the kitchen. She can feel Root watching her as she gets a glass and fills it from the tap, and when she turns back to the bed Root is fully awake.

“Do you make all your girls leave?” Root asks, staring across the room at Shaw.

They're not always women, but Shaw doesn't correct the point. She crosses her arms, watches as Root props herself up on an elbow and rests her chin in her hand. She wonders what the Machine's telling Root right now, calculating the probability of Shaw kicking Root out of her apartment.

“They don't normally come here,” she says, not even really knowing why she's entertaining the question.

A strange look crosses Root's face and Root sits up and pulls her t-shirt on, getting out of the bed and hunting around for her pants. “What are you doing?” Shaw demands.

“Don't want to make you uncomfortable,” Root answers simply, picking her jeans up from the floor next to Shaw's side of the bed. There's an undercurrent of something on the last word which raises Shaw's hackles and she wants to say since when did you care about my comfort, but instead she stalks over to the bed and yanks Root's pants out of her hands.

“Don't be stupid,” she says. “You're not going home alone at this time of night.”

Root bats her eyelids and smiles so sweetly at Shaw as she sits back down that Shaw immediately knows she's been played. She rolls her eyes and gets back into bed, where Root's now lying on her back with her hands folded neatly across her stomach.

“Don't get any ideas,” Shaw orders, giving the blankets a sharp pull. If she's gotta share, she's at least going to have her half of the covers.

“Good night, Sameen,” Root whispers. “I had fun tonight.”

Shaw sighs. If she concentrates hard enough, she won't be able to hear Root's gentle breathing or feel how soft her hair is as it tickles her shoulder.