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It was the perfect spot. Five miles removed from the city centre, where the sprawling high rises and the streets in their shadow could be a distant memory. A place beautiful in its remoteness, from the trees rustling gently in the breeze to the golden glow of the setting sun.
Quiet, peaceful, and private – with not a soul to question why an officer of the law was so engaged with a woman her superiors were hell-bent on bringing to justice.
“Careful there, Ingie,” Catria murmured – chuckling under her breath, and helping her girlfriend settle herself just in front of her on the seat of her parked motorcycle. “She’s steady enough for us right now, but once things get frisky—”
“‘Once,’ mm?” Ingrid replied, smiling black as she slid her hands under Catria’s arms and smoothed them over the leather of her jacket. “I see… So not only have you lured an officer of the law out here, in the middle of nowhere, but you're also planning to use your devilish charms to distract her from her duty…?”
“You caught me, officer. Whatever am I to do now?”
Ingrid hummed, and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she leaned in and nuzzled her lips against Catria’s – not quite a kiss, yet not quite not. Her hands, still under Catria’s jacket, slid down her body, following the lines of her hips until she had a handful of her ass, and the moan she drew from Catria as she squeezed gently was all the encouragement she needed to continue.
“You’ll have to be punished,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry and full of promise. “But I’m willing to be… lenient… if you cooperate. You are going to cooperate, aren’t you?”
“I think…” Catria purred, her lips brushing over Ingrid’s with each word, “I could be convinced.”
“Mm… good girl.”
With that, they finally sank into a kiss – a proper kiss, this time, with palpable hunger. Catria’s hands were at the back of Ingrid’s neck, fingers running through her braided hair and urging her in deeper as their tongues teased; Ingrid, her own hands still cupping Catria’s ass, pulled her close, until their bodies were pressed together, flush against each other.
“God, Ingrid…” Catria moaned, and she broke the kiss, if only to catch her breath. Her hands left Ingrid’s hair, and trailed down her face, her neck, to her shoulders. “Your jacket – it’s in my way…”
“Yours too,” Ingrid breathed.
Catria smiled, and pulled Ingrid’s jacket back and off her arms, leaving her in a tight white shirt strained across her muscles; and Ingrid did the same for her, peeling her leather jacket off and throwing it unceremoniously to the grass. They met in another kiss, and another, and all the while Catria kept working, finding the bottom of Ingrid’s shirt and slipping under the fabric.
Ingrid shuddered at her girlfriend’s touch, then, as Catria’s palms slid up her sides and over the skin of her abs as she pushed her shirt up, inch by tantalizing inch, exposing her body to the open evening air. Catria’s buttoned shirt proved a little more of a challenge, but Ingrid was no less determined, deft and eager fingers making short work of it and letting her shirt fall open.
They were both still wearing bras, but Catria was already responding to the exposure, nipples straining against the lace – and as Ingrid’s hands roamed, she gave a little gasp when a thumb grazed over one.
“Fuck, Ingie,” she managed. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this?”
“For what, Cat?” Ingrid teased, smirking. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“For you,” Catria said. “That job of yours – god, when they’re not sending you after me or the others, they’re working you ragged. Keeping you, from dawn to dusk… God, I miss you. I miss you.”
Not for the first time, Ingrid felt a tinge of something regretful. Something that made her wonder whether her place really was with the ZCPD… or whether the Whitewings, with their purpose and their freedom, their co-dependence and their camaraderie, might yet have had a place for her.
“And that’s why we’re here, Cat,” she said, after a moment, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Catria’s cheek. “Out here, away from all that… Just us.”
“Just us,” Catria repeated, nodding slowly; and a small smile crossed her lips. “S-so… where were we?”
Ingrid returned the smile, and let her hands slide around and under Catria’s open again – before sliding up to the back of her bra.
“Right about here, I think.”
With a soft click, the clasp of her girlfriend’s bra came loose, and Catria’s cheeks flushed a shade redder. And, no longer patient enough to wait for her to return the favour, Ingrid did the same for herself, reaching behind her back and letting her breasts fall free.
“F-fuck…”
Ingrid chuckled softly. She took a moment to enjoy the way Catria looked at her—like she was resisting the urge to touch, to take—before she closed the distance between them once again, and pressed a hand to her chest, pushing her down onto the back of her motorcycle.
Catria, the cool and collected Whitewing who had so often kept her head in the face of danger and the chaos of a chase, gulped nervously as Ingrid loomed over her.
“You look like you want to say something, Cat.”
“I do, but…” Catria’s lips quivered, and her tongue darted out to lick them. “But I’m… not sure I can find the words right now.”
Ingrid chuckled again – and she bent down, until their faces were inches apart.
“Then do me one better,” she whispered. “Show me. Show me just how much you’ve missed me… and how much you want me.”
At that, at last, Catria seemed to find her nerve, and her smile, and her voice – speaking in a low, husky murmur as she pulled Ingrid gently closer still.
“Yes, officer… right away.”