If You Can't Beat 'Em....
by ALC Punk!

"I know."

Nathan Dayspring fought the urge to shift as Domino's cool fingers slid further under his shirt, her palm flattening against the muscles of his back. "So you should--"

A purely evil smile touched her lips, and she flexed her hand again, the nails scoring lightly on his skin. "Should what?"

"Stop?" He tried to sound certain as he suggested it. Tried desperately to want her to stop. But her other hand was now playing with the strap on his thigh, and he hadn't really considered how useful those straps could be.

"I should?" Her tongue flicked out and she waggled it at him. "Are you sure?"

Nate lost the battle, his left hand shot out and he caught her wrist. Only, he wasn't pulling her hand out from under his shirt. Instead he was caressing it, sliding his calloused fingers over it gently. Then he leaned over and kissed her jaw, sliding his mouth along it and leaving a damp trail.

A chuckle came from Domino, and she leaned back from him. "We're on a mission."

"I said that."

"Mmm. Yes." Her hands shifted tactics, and he suddenly discovered that he *really* liked those straps. They were useful, because now she'd tugged him as close as possible, and--Yeah. That was the sound of a zipper.

"Dom--"

She chuckled and slid a hand inside his pants. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"Hey, you're supposed to be keeping watch, remember?"

A groan escaped him as she lightly squeezed him.

"C'mon, Nate," her tone was amused, and she tightened her grip. "How can you keep watch with your eyes closed?"

Cracking one eye open, he looked at her. "I can't?"

"You'd better keep watching, old man." She smirked more and began stroking him lightly through his boxers.

"I am." He gasped, eyes riveted over her shoulder. He scanned the darkness of the woods. "Definitely--whoo--am!"

"Good, good." Leaning into him, she began kissing his neck, then suddenly stopped.

"Wha--" He froze, too, and eyed the darkness while simultaneously hoping it was just their over-active imaginations. It could be really embarassing if he had to endure a firefight with his fly undone.

But whatever had distracted her went away, and she turned back to him. "Hrm. Sit."

"Not a dog, here."

A smirk touched her lips. "I could make you beg, though."

"Sitting. Now."

When he was on the ground (and cursing the sudden dampness. He hated forests) he looked up at her, and waited. A moment later she dropped down on top of him, straddling his lap. Deciding he definitely liked this new position, he started to reach out and touch her. Domino grabbed his hand and shook her head.

"You're supposed to be keeping watch, remember?"

"Uh. Right." Keeping watch. Yep. He could do that. He eyed the slowly darkening forest behind her, and waited.

A hand slid back into his pants.

Taking matters (and fabric) into one hand, Nate carefully discovered where her shirt met her pants and wormed the hand in, gliding upwards until he reached the bottom of her ribs. She felt cool, as if her temperature was slightly normal than your average human's. Or he was simply already over-heated.

"Nate." The voice came over the radio, distracting him. Or almost distracting him. Domino's eyes flickered evilly in the darkening light.

Mentally cursing, he thumbed the receiver with his free hand. "Nate, here. What's up, Bridge?"

"Just checking you're in position." G. W. Bridge replied. He sounded amused under the business-like tone.

"We're--" Nate shifted as Domino's fingers tightened on him. He fought down a yelp, and hoped his voice hadn't risen an octave as he continued, "--in position now."

"Good. Wait for the signal. Bridge out."

"This is definitely the right position," Domino breathed, leaning forward and kissing him.

"Mmph." Was his intelligent reply as her grip on him tightened. Oh, yeah. This was the right position all right.

A few minutes later, she released his lips, and him, and leaned back. "Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"You were supposed to be keeping watch." Her tone was chiding.

He opened one eye, "And you're being deliberately distracting."

"You noticed, then?"

"Oh, yeah."

She smirked and leaned in to kiss him again. "Good. 'Cause, there's a reason I wore these pants."

'These pants', as she had termed them, were leather. Shiny, thin, ass-cupping, leather. Black. With, he had been disturbed to find, a zipper. That went from her waist, down between her legs, and back up to the back of her waist. He had been utterly fascinated by this zipper (for at *least* ten minutes) the first time he'd seen it. And he was suddenly REALLY glad that she'd worn them.

Because that zipper was being unzipped.

For a moment, he considered pointing out that this was a mission, that they were supposed to be keeping watch. And then she pulled him out of his pants.

So, on a scale of one to ten, if they suddenly got attacked, this could be embarrassing.

On the other hand, he was about to be fucked by one hell of a sexy brunette. In black leather pants.

He was *so* much cooler than anyone who could attack them.

"Keeping watch?"

Nope. "Yeah."

"Uh-huh." She paused to finger herself for a moment, her eyes widening in pleasure. Then she simply sat deeper on him, and his cock slid inside her. "Oh.... Yeah." She let out a sigh and dropped her head forward to his shoulder. "Don't move, ok?"

He groaned. "Not. Moving. Right."

A snicker came to his ears, and then *she* was moving. And it almost hurt, not being able to match her movements.

His radio chose that moment to crackle again, and Bridge's voice was crisp and cool. "Moving in, now. Be ready."

"Damn." A snicker came from her, then she sighed. "I'm killing him later. Remind me."

"Yes." His reply was strained and not a little irritated as she removed herself from his lap. Several portions of his anatomy protested the sudden lack of contact, and he firmly told them to take a shower.

A cold shower.

With Domino. Against a wall, and that ledge at the back where she liked to shave her legs was *just* right, and--shit. He was not helping himself.

Luckily for him, they were both professionals. So, for the next two hours, they ran the mission. They shot things, they got shot at, they blew a few things up. And Bridge got out with the data he needed with only *one* friendly fire nick (courtesy of Dom, but she'd *never* admit that. Besides, in ten minutes he was going to find a convenient wall and release the tension).

They all agreed to meet back at the rendezvous and then faded back into the jungle from whence they'd come.

"Y'know," he began.

"Nate, if you don't shut up and fuck me against a tree, I'm going to shoot you myself."

Oh. He closed his mouth, opened it again, thought better of it, and grabbed her. He kissed her, mouth open and slightly drooly, teeth clashed before they adjusted properly, and he was pretty sure that was *not* her favorite rifle digging into his side, but they hadn't found a tree yet.

Not that a tree was explicitly required he decided two hazy minutes later with her hand down his pants and his hands up her shirt. And, hey. No bra? Did she *want* to give Garrisson ideas? But then, it meant that there were hard nipples in his palms without any of that unsnapping business, and, hey, that could be useful. Especially since what her hand was doing inside his pants wasn't making it any easier on his control.

Control. Bah. Screw--ok, so he was fucking control. Working one hand free he fumbled with the zipper on her pants, pulling it down and wiggling a hand inside and playing with the flesh he found there.

Domino bit his lower lip, tugging it, grinding down onto the hand as she inflicted similar--well, punishment was so the wrong word. Because. Oh, wow. The whole stars and explosions, and it was suddenly really imperative to drop to his knees.

That accomplished, he dragged her down with him, slid his fingers into her and half-smirked when she moaned. Then her hand was back, freeing him from his pants (and the whole concept of flies was a wonderful thing). He rolled backwards, ignoring the protest from a few spots as he landed on rocks or tree branches. She came with him, legs straddling his waist, hand gripping and guiding and he slid into her. Her back arched slightly and she drew in a breath.

Reaching up, Nate twined a hand in her hair and tugged her head down, covering her mouth with his own as they both began moving. This was, as some had stated, a dance as old as time. Every time felt new to him, either that, or it was just Dom.

Maybe he was drunk on her, he thought muzzily as she wriggled her hips just right, drawing a strangled groan from his lips.

"Hah." She almost giggled, then echoed his groan with one of her own as they both began moving, shifting and sliding at just *that* angle, and Nate panted out a breath of air as she dug fingernails into his side and changed her own speed.

She was beautiful above him, black hair flying everywhere in errant tangles and strings where the sweat gave some strands the appearance of dreadlocks, the color contrasting against the pale of her skin. And his own skin was a marked contrast, and he *liked* that. Even if the only skin currently showing were his hands dancing along the exposed flesh of her stomach.

Yup, this was sex. Prosaic and earth-bound, under a bright sun and the canopy of a random forest in the middle of nowhere. But it was sex with Domino, so he was kinda glad about that.

And then he was *really* glad, and kind of not all there, because she'd hit her own pinnacle and dragged him with her, her fingernails digging even deeper as she arched back and gave a rather nicely throaty cry. Heh. *He* could make her do that.

Moments later, his muscles relaxing (Dom flopping onto his chest with a kind of contented sigh), he settled deeper onto the forest floor. And winced. "Ow."

"Hrm?"

Pushing, he moved her off of him. "Your glock."

"What about it?"

She liked that gun, he thought. Maybe more than she liked him. "It's trying to realign my spine."

"Oh?" Letting him get off the precious gun, she ran a hand under his shirt. "I'm sure I can find a way to... make it all better."

Cool.

-finis-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!