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Sunlight drenches the town in swathes of blazing light, it cuts through the layer of clouds, adding to the smothering heat that sizzles in the air and strokes afterimages to life in the near distance. It’s a cloying type of heat—the type that seeps into the old white stone buildings, the type that brushes against the modern steel and glass towers until the windows fog up with thick, muggy condensation.
Rumi hums as she wipes the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand before flicking it away idly. She doesn’t care about the heat. Rain or shine, she’s built to adapt. The weather is a mere attribute that she’ll use to her own advantage.
Callused fingers curl around a pair of binoculars, the act of lifting it upward appearing more like a reflex than a conscious thought. They’re beat up with age, a cherished item that is obvious with the scuff marks scattered on the surface. Rumi scans the horizon, slowing when her sight is drawn to a ranch loitering on the outskirts of town. Black and white spots graze the fields of green, cattle slowly meandering across with not a care in the world.
For a moment, all is calm.
Then a man steps out from the ranch house, adorned in plain blue jeans and a dark grey flannel to avoid the touch of the sun. Rumi pauses, her finger scrolling on the middle wheel to zoom in on the optics. The corner of her lips curl into a smirk as she murmurs, “Target spotted.”
“Is that him?” A voice chimes in behind Rumi, low and soft like a gentle breeze caressing Rumi’s cheek.
She drops the binoculars, letting it gently rest against her chest as it hangs from the strap around Rumi’s neck. With a curling smile, Rumi nods at Zoey, her newest apprentice.
The Agency gives her newbies to train every once in a while and this one… well, she’s taken a liking to this rookie that they all but shoved into her lap.
Pristine records and high remarks from the Agency’s instructors. That isn’t anything to take lightly from a dozen of the world’s highly trained killers. Rumi had been intrigued when she saw Zoey’s impressive record and the bubbly headshot photo side by side. The dichotomy had lured Rumi in like a moth to a flame.
Oh, well—don’t judge a book by its cover is what they say after all.
“Ready?” Rumi asks once, just once—she doesn’t like to repeat herself when they’re out in the field. She sidesteps away and allows Zoey to draw closer to the edge of the bell tower’s balustrade, hovering near the old stone but remaining out of the sunlight’s reach.
A thick silver case lies open on a makeshift table, the case cracked open before Zoey’s deft hands begin to assemble a rifle with clean and efficient precision. No movement wasted. The click and clack of a sniper rifle being put together is the only sound accompanying the hiss of the arid wind.
Rumi observes her charge with attentive eyes. There is some sort of magnetic intrigue that lures her back to Zoey time and time again. She takes a moment to admire the rookie, her eyes dragging up and down a lithe figure. Toned muscles hide themselves beneath Zoey’s simple cargo pants and short sleeve tee, and the body armor strapped to Zoey’s chest does an excellent job of obscuring Zoey’s frame as well. With her average height and build, Zoey is the perfect sleeper agent, the perfect civilian disguise ready to blend in with a moment’s notice.
“Ready.” Zoey replies gently, her voice nothing more than a note of calm.
Rumi’s attention turns back to their target, the man strolling around on his ranch, and then she nods, giving Zoey the permission to engage.
It’s here and now where the tension thickens.
Rumi’s hand reaches out, silent as she trails the pad of her fingertips around the curve of Zoey’s hip, a slow caress along the fabric of her shirt. Zoey stiffens for a second before relaxing into Rumi’s hand, a soft huff of amusement escaping her lips as they curve into a smile.
“Really? Now, Rumi?”
“Shhh. Concentrate on the target, Zo.” Rumi rumbles with a playfulness thick in her voice as she lets her hand wander, letting herself slip under the hem of Zoey’s shirt so she can caress the jut of Zoey’s hip bone. The smile on Rumi’s lips widens when she feels a shudder rock through Zoey’s body, grinning as she strokes along soft skin and the hard line of Zoey’s hip bone. A stride forward is taken so Rumi can press herself flush to Zoey’s back. “Don’t let me distract you now. I’ve taught you better.”
This isn’t their first time engaging beyond blurry lines between colleagues.
And something tells Rumi it won’t be their last time either.
A soft gulp comes from Zoey as she brings her eye down to the scope of her rifle, controlling her breaths as she aims her sights on the target. Her heartbeat quickens, thumping loudly against her chest as she feels Rumi’s body molding against her own, flushed together intimately despite the clunkiness of her body armor. She doesn’t know when this attraction sprang to life between them, doesn’t know when the chemistry turned thick with tension, doesn’t know where the spark came from whenever they brushed each other’s hands in passing.
All she knows is that her body and her mind revolves around Rumi just as much as Rumi does around her.
A mutual indulgence.
Rumi’s thigh slots between Zoey’s, and it takes everything within Rumi not to laugh loudly lest she break Zoey’s concentration. The hitch of breath from Zoey makes Rumi smirk, smug with her lover’s reaction. She rubs her knee back and forth at an excruciating glacial pace, ensuring that the flat of her thigh is the perfect surface for Zoey’s cunt to grind against.
Slowly, Rumi lowers herself until she’s able to drape her front over Zoey’s back. She puffs out a warm stream of air at Zoey’s ear, giggling sweetly at the tease. Zoey’s concentration doesn’t break but her ears do flush a lovely shade of red. With a satisfied hum, Rumi keeps on rocking her leg, slowly grinding it against Zoey’s cunt.
“Don’t let him get away now.” Rumi purrs, a sound of pure seduction as she lets her hand slip beneath Zoey’s shirt, dragging her blunt fingernails across the flat plane of Zoey’s stomach. To her credit, Zoey doesn’t even flinch, and that only makes the arousal thrumming in Rumi’s veins sing.
Okay, sure, so she’s got a competence kink. Pair that with her public indecency streak and it’s a cocktail of chaos and lust unfolding right now.
But Zoey is strapped in for the ride with how compliant she is to Rumi’s teasing whims. Which makes their games all that much more exciting.
Rumi bites down on her bottom lip, admiring Zoey’s stone cold gaze even as a bead of sweat begins to form at her temple. She hums and darts her tongue out, making a show out of licking that lone bead of sweat up. A tinkling laugh slips out of Rumi when she clocks the shiver that rolls down Zoey’s spine, mirth blooming within her as Zoey subtly clears her throat.
“I can feel the heat radiating off of you, darling.” Rumi hums, quiet and charming as she observes Zoey. Her hand travels up and down Zoey’s abs leisurely, indulging in teasing strokes, admiring the muscle that flexes there with every breath that Zoey takes in careful, measured paces. Her training is absolute, no flaw to be found, and god, does it get Rumi wet.
Soft lips descend on Zoey’s nape, trailing a warm path that loops around her ear before returning to the crook of her shoulder and neck. “C’mon, Zo. I wanna see you take the shot.”
Rumi whispers it like temptation, says it like unholy sin. It’s immoral the way she goads Zoey into reaping the man’s soul, but Zoey would be lying if it didn’t make her pulse jump and her walls clench around nothing.
What they do is sinful anyway, staining their hands with blood money for a living—but god, if it didn’t feel so good when they did it like this.
Arousal pools in Zoey’s belly, rapidly flowing south as she feels wetness begin to dampen her underwear. Her stance is perfect, rigid in control yet balanced with years of training under her belt. Her eye is still pressed to the scope while her firing arm is locked in place, steady even as the breeze picks up. She pauses to account for wind speed and trajectory, adjusting accordingly so nothing is amiss. Her trigger finger is poised, lying in wait for the most opportune time to squeeze.
Silence coils around them, tension thick as it slithers around their ankles, winding its way up their flushed bodies. Rumi continues to grind her thigh between Zoey’s, teasing out the minutes as Zoey waits and waits for that perfect shot. The pleasure is subtle—lovely zips of electricity traveling up her spine until the pressure at her core increases with how Rumi presses a little harder, practically bending Zoey over the table now.
It’s a compromising position, suggestive and lewd, but Zoey bites down on her lip, muffling a whimper as pleasure smacks into her like a sledgehammer. Her clit throbs and her cunt is needy, already so wet and aching from Rumi’s thigh grinding up into her.
With another loud thump of Zoey’s heart against her chest, she pulls the trigger hard, stoic as the bullet launches itself out of the chamber. A near-silent whistle begins before the shot finds its target, a figure in the distance crumpling quickly after.
“Good girl.” Rumi purrs the moment they register the target’s elimination, her hand quickly delving past Zoey’s waistband like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.
An immediate gasp wrenches its way out of Zoey’s mouth as slender fingers stroke along her pussy, gathering the wetness there before smearing it all over her swollen clit. She mewls and moans, her back arching up into Rumi’s front as pleasure hits her square in the chest. A guttural noise erupts from her mouth just as the bell tolls above, hiding her obscene moan from whoever may be wandering the streets below close enough to hear her.
Pleasure buzzes loudly at the back of Zoey’s skull, making her brain melt with how good it feels to have Rumi’s fingers circling her entrance, teasing and teasing until a loud whine crawls out from Zoey’s teeth. Her hips buck involuntarily, shaking when Rumi finally does push inside.
“God, you’re soaked, baby. All this for me?” Rumi snarls with hunger, with dark satisfaction brimming in her voice and her eyes as she sinks a finger deep inside of Zoey’s cunt. She moans into Zoey’s ear when she feels all that slick heat dripping down into her palm, growling when Zoey’s pussy flutters around her finger.
“Y-Yes!” The sniper rifle clatters to the table, Zoey’s hands forfeiting her gun in favor of bracing herself on the flat surface as she whines out a throaty moan, “More, fuck, don’t stop, Rumi!”
One finger turns into two, and Rumi groans when both sink inside of Zoey so easily. She licks her lips and pants, harsh breaths coming to life as she watches the way Zoey’s figure writhes atop the table, squirming in the face of obscene pleasure.
“I won’t, baby. Not until you come all over my fingers.” Rumi grins as she works her hand, pumping two fingers deep inside of Zoey’s cunt, curling them along that front wall until she’s hooked onto that sweet spot that makes Zoey keen like a dirty whore.
And cue—“R-Rumi!”
“That’s it, keeping going.” The angle of her hand and working within the confines of Zoey’s cargo pants makes the position a little difficult but Rumi’s always been stubborn. She huffs and keeps on pumping her fingers, delving them deep inside of Zoey’s soaked cunt, reveling in the obscene cries that spring free from Zoey’s lips. They’re so sweet and debauched, like candy melting on Rumi’s tongue. It spurs her on, being the source of Zoey’s pleasure, igniting the fire licking hotly at her insides.
“Does it get you off, Zoey? Being fucked up here where anyone can hear you cry out like a whore?” Rumi’s mouth runs as she pumps her fingers, letting filth stream freely as she focuses on unraveling Zoey. The need to see Zoey coming undone burrows in her gut, spurs her further into obscenity as fucks her fingers in and out of slick velvety walls, drags them through an ocean of wetness. Rumi groans as she feels how wet Zoey is, leaking all for her, dripping just for Rumi within the four walls of this bell tower.
“N-No—fuck!”
“Mhm, I can feel you squeezing me, Zoey. Don’t lie—not when I’m knuckle deep inside of your sweet pussy.”
“S-Stop—nghhh, fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop!” Zoey whines as her hips buck. She’s burning up on the inside, too riled up, too turned on from the dirty talk that Rumi is entirely too good at. She mewls and whimpers as her ass rocks back, grinding down on Rumi’s front, fucking herself down onto Rumi’s fingers. She wants it just as much, this she can’t deny, not when Rumi is so tantalizing and seductive like this.
The sheer want in Rumi’s voice makes Zoey’s heart skip a beat. Makes her feel so needed. And feeling needed by Rumi of all people—one of the world’s most prolific assassins—is a heavy stroke to Zoey’s ego.
Zoey’s body shudders as her hips roll in half-circles, her back arching with every toe-curling wave of ecstasy that slams into her. She won’t last much longer—not with all the teasing Rumi did earlier, not with the tension humming and coiling around them like a heavy thunderstorm. Her breathing goes ragged, shot to smithereens as Rumi quickly works her up, pushing and pushing her closer to the edge.
“I’m—Rumi, please—gonna, oh, fuuu—”
“Yes, yes, that’s it! Let go, Zoey. I have you.” Rumi leans in and kisses the back of Zoey’s ear, murmuring sweet nothings there as she maintains that pace with her hand, urgency thrumming through their shared connection as Zoey’s slick cunt flutters uncontrollably. It’s only a few more seconds, a few more curling thrusts before Rumi’s fingertips snag along a sweet spot, rubbing slowly and sure and steady over that sensitive patch she’s memorized long by now.
A keening wail escapes Zoey as her back arches into a mouthwatering curve, her neck muscles cording with the obscene moan flexing in the warm, dry air. Rumi closes in, keeps their bodies flushed together with her free arm wrapped tight around Zoey’s midriff, ensuring they remain tangled together as she fucks Zoey through her high. It’s intimate and messy, the perfect definition of them as they indulge in this sinful display of debauchery atop the bell tower.
The slick walls fluttering around Rumi’s flingers make her shiver, makes her throat go dry as she feels Zoey clenching down hard. It’s so hot and so goddamn attractive—feeling exactly how much she’s affecting Zoey, feeling how much Zoey wants her. She swallows thickly, her eyes fluttering shut as her heart thuds against the cage of her ribs. Her arm tightens around Zoey as she nuzzles into the back of Zoey’s neck, soft affection presenting itself on a silver platter atop this bell tower they’ve secluded themselves to.
“Okay?” Rumi murmurs along the warm skin of Zoey’s neck as she pants softly, catching her breath as she drifts down from that intense orgasm. She slumps slightly into Rumi’s embrace, sighing contently as Rumi tightens her hold, making her heart wobble from how safe and secure she feels. Which feels like a funny contradiction given their professions.
And yet.
And yet Zoey feels the safest in Rumi’s arms.
She rests her palms on Rumi’s forearm, squeezing gently as she leans back into her lover’s front. “Perfect.” Zoey mutters as her eyes flutter shut once more, the corner of her lips curving into a pleased smile as the wind picks up, a cool reprieve amidst the hot, dry heat of midday.