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Another For The Highlight Reel

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“Oh fuck, Hana!”

Lena collapsed back against the bed, panting for breath as pleasure throbbed through her body, settling into a heavy ache once her heartbeat stopped pounding in her throat, chest, and the slick heat between quivering thighs. The vibrator pressed there was turned off with a solid click, but the buzzing echoed in Lena’s head for a moment longer while her heels scuffed over the sheets, reveling in the soft friction on bare, sensitive skin.

“Felt good, huh?” A wet, chemical scent filled the air as Hana popped the cap off her marker for the fifth time that night, drawing a diagonal line across the four tally marks on Lena’s hip. “Let me know when you’re good for round six.”

Lena let out a groan, the sound slightly hoarse from hours of constant gasps and whimpers, not to mention a cry muffled into one of the pillows that had left her throat feeling raw for that orgasm and the next. She already felt stretched thin and warm as saltwater taffy, every breath ragged on the exhale from exertion.

“Not sure if I’m up for that, love.” She mumbled, a muscle in her calf jumping when Hana’s fingers skirted over it.

A quirk of lips told her otherwise as those fingers walked up one leg, the razor’s edge of her hip, and teased along the metallic rim of the chronal accelerator. “Is that your safeword, babe?”

“N-no.” Lena protested immediately, pride swelling in her chest with a whole new kind of heat.

“Then dial it back so I can rev you up again.” Hana’s voice was light, even playful, but the order was unmistakable. “Don’t want to disappoint our audience, do you?”

Brown eyes flickered to the lens of the camera floating beside the bed, a projected screen above it displaying everything that was being recorded. Lena fought a blush at the sight of herself in such a state, bite marks dappling her shoulders and breasts, the light of the accelerator bright enough to illuminate the sheen along both thighs, a mix that was more arousal than sweat. She went to wipe the mess of her bangs back from her brow, only to hear Hana click her tongue.

“Be careful or you’re going to mess up my autograph.” A hand caught Lena’s chin, turning her face back towards the camera. “Then you’d be in trouble.”

Lena’s skin warmed under Hana’s touch, but the writing was still there on her cheek – property of, with a little heart underneath the words – and hadn’t so much as smudged. She kept her eyes open for the sake of the recording, lips parting as Hana’s thumb swept over the line of her mouth, and felt a little thrill at the smile she got for bending with ease.

It was all part of the game, pretending there were tens of thousands of viewers watching this being streamed live, but the recording was real, and Lena couldn’t help becoming dripping wet from the adrenaline of performing on camera, the kind of rush she usually only got from bouncing between rooftops with her pistols blazing. Hana loved giving running commentary, of course – the play-by-play (or blow-by-blow, if Lena was feeling cheeky) – and would sometimes replay certain recordings to get them both going.

A light slap on the cheek snapped Lena’s attention to the here and now, the curious tilt of Hana’s head that warned she was close to coming up with a new and entertaining solution if Lena didn’t focus. “Yeah? Oh, bloody hell, right.”

She didn’t have to jump back much, the accelerator’s glow casting a blue tint on Hana’s face as she felt her breath return, shreds of stamina flooding into her limbs again. Enough for one more go, if Hana didn’t work it all out of her in the warm-up.

It took a second to register the grip on her jaw relaxing, because the next place those hands went were her breasts, nails scraping over the straps binding her harness together on the way down. Hana was deceptively strong, her touch hard enough to bruise, and even a tender flick over sore nipples made Lena bite back a yelp. The pain left her feeling dizzy, melting into the languor that was still singing under her skin, but of course Hana didn’t stop there, fingers fanning down her ribs, groping at the narrow column of muscle in Lena’s stomach before tracing a line from hipbone to hipbone.

Hana’s thumbs rolled in the divots there, pressing in until Lena’s body jerked at the pressure, and an insistent knee wedged her legs apart. She was slow to comply, but there wasn’t any sort of punishment, just an eager hum that made Lena shiver from head to toe.

“Come on, open up.” Hana bent down, placing a kiss right above Lena’s belly button. Dark eyes darted upward, locking with hers, and that damn cocky grin would have made Lena soak the sheets of she wasn’t dripping already. Maybe it was a hero thing, a soldier thing, but confidence went miles in bed. “Give me a good view, Lena. Nice and wide.”

Lena moaned another curse even as she obeyed, feeling a pull in her muscles from calf to hip while bringing up her knees again, spreading her legs as far as they could go. The bite marks trailing up the sensitive, soft part of her thighs were now visible to the camera, not to mention slick pink folds and the swell of her clit peeking out from its hood. When Hana’s fingers skirted over it in a barely-there touch, she whined between clenched teeth, the contact almost too much and yet not quite enough.

Except Hana didn’t linger there long, slipping downward to Lena’s entrance and teasing with slow circles. She was so wet that a finger could have slipped inside just from the lack of friction, but Hana was always in perfect control of her hands, down to every twitch and reflex. It meant her fingers worked fucking magic every time they made contact, and Lena thrashed at the teasing until two of them thrust to the knuckle, curving right against a spot that made her see stars.

“Feels like you’re ready for three already.” Hana murmured, teeth grazing over Lena’s unmarked hip. “How about it?”

“Yeah, yeah, please–” She panted back, and the deep stretch when Hana added another finger dragged a sound close to a growl out of Lena’s throat.

Hana’s laugh was musical. “You are such a puppy.”

Before she could make any protest, Lena saw Hana’s other hand descending between her own stomach, slipping under the stretchy band of the neon pink yoga pants the younger woman somehow had managed to keep on this whole time. She didn’t need the visual to hear when Hana started touching herself; the sound was enough, but the compliment that was about to leave Lena’s lips transformed into a blue streak of cursing when Hana’s mouth found her clit. The sudden suction combined with another measured thrust left Lena reeling, heat coiling in the pit of her stomach and making the core of her accelerator shine like a spotlight.

She was still so sensitive, sparks dancing behind her eyes as she squeezed them shut, but that quick, deliberate rhythm was setting her nerves on fire. Lena tumbled towards the edge of release with ragged gasps, hands clawing at the sheets because she didn’t dare grab at Hana’s hair and risk pulling too hard. All it took was a couple more firm flicks of Hana’s tongue to push over, and the world washed out to white for a good minute before waves of bliss stopped pulsing through her, weak aftershocks tightening around Hana’s fingers before they finally slipped out.

Lena looked down between her legs, too hazy to move much more than that. “Did you come too? I’ve got a first class ticket for you to ride my face if you didn’t.”

Hana rolled her eyes, and although the effect wasn’t quite so dire with a pink flush lingering across both cheeks, Lena got her answer when a burst of movement thrust slick fingers into her mouth, and after a moan to welcome the taste, she started to suck and lick them clean. She did the same with Hana’s other hand a moment later, cleaning herself off from knuckles to fingertips, and the exchange was sealed with a warm, sweet kiss.

“Any chances of lucky number seven?” Hana whispered against her mouth.

“Oh my god.” Lena fell back against the bed with a laugh, throwing an arm across her eyes to block out the mix of artificial light still filling the room. “Why do I want to say yes?”

“‘Cause it’s a rush.” Despite the suggestion, Hana uttered a command in Korean that shut the camera off, dismissing the screen. The file on it would be encrypted and locked away for them to rewatch later. “Or like, I don’t know, a pilot thing.”

“A pilot thing.” Lena agreed with a grin. “I like that.”

“We’ll have to be in the shower for like an hour tomorrow.” Hana muttered, turning over on her side. “But for now, I want to be your jetpack.”

“Not sure I can’t fly higher than I already have tonight.” An elbow to the ribs followed the comment and Lena snorted, feeling it tickle as she rolled on her side to let Hana press up against her back. “Don’t let me go to work with this marker on my face.”

A huff of laughter warned the back of her neck. “I’d never. Can you imagine the look on Dr. Ziegler’s face?”

Winston would probably aspirate his peanut butter sandwich laughing, too. “Yeah. Night, Hana.”

“Night, Lena.” Hana pressed one last kiss against bare skin, her arm clutching tight around Lena’s stomach.

They always slept better that way.