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Come to think of it, Commander Shepard thought, checking the alarm clock for DNA had probably not been the cleverest idea to pass through her head.
It was a little late for regrets now, and the stupid thing had at least turned itself off while she was still looking for the snooze button. Kasumi had cloaked and disappeared the moment it went off, and the room was silent now, almost painfully so as they waited, ears straining to pick up any noise from outside.
There wasn't a sound. She breathed out and began to reach for the pillow - maybe that had some skin flakes. She couldn't wait to be out of here -
Without warning, the door slid open, and she froze, one hand still reaching down for the pillow, the other slowly creeping down the back of her thigh, reaching for the gun concealed under her dress.
Just outside, with a small, compact handgun raised, stood Donovan Hock. Not alone - she could see shadows to the sides, at least two guards with him. A faint shimmer surrounded him, indicating a shield of some sort.
"What are you doing here?"
The accent was all wrong, but he reminded her of Ambassador Udina, somehow. Scowling, but not entirely ready to shoot her yet - just something in his attitude, his smug sense of superiority.
She drew a deep breath. There were several ways she could react to the question. Shooting him was one. She could most likely get her gun out and point it at his head before he could pull the trigger - simple logic; the rather extensive dossier she'd been given said nothing about him being a highly trained cybernetic death machine, whereas she was pretty much that. But while they both had handguns, he had a force field and she had a skimpy black dress. Even disregarding the guards, she was at a serious disadvantage.
Still, she was wearing a skimpy black dress. That, and matching shoes designed by some sadistic bastard who hated women's ankles. And Hock had been utterly unashamed about eyeing her up and down when they met.
She had better weapons at her disposal.
"Why," she said, and fluttered her eyelashes in the most vapid manner she could muster, "I was waiting, of course."
Hock glared. "Waiting. Waiting for what?"
She moved closer, raising one knee and leaning against the bed, allowing the short, black dress to ride higher up her thigh. Tried not to shiver - that Udina association wasn't going to make this easier. Forced a smile and purred as seductively as she was able: "Waiting for you, of course."
Donovan Hock wasn't a complete moron - and even if he had been, he would have had to try really hard in order not to get it. He couldn't hide a smirk, but he was not entirely convinced and remained standing in the door, gun raised. "How did you get in here?"
"I am very good at what I do, Mr. Hock. Your guard was eating out of the palm of my hand." To illustrate her point, she held out her hand, palm up, and slowly curled her fingers in, beckoning. Hock watched, still mildly disapproving.
"Why," he continued, "did you not simply approach me?"
It was a good question. Normal people didn't sneak into others' bedchambers and set off alarm clocks. That was the realm of stalkers and weirdoes. But then again, she would be very surprised if there was a single 'normal' person present in this building. She shrugged. "People can be so possessive. Better not to be seen playing favourites, and sidestep the issue. Besides..." She let her hand fall and settle on her bare thigh. "...it's exciting."
She bent forward, leaning on the bed, allowing Hock an unrivalled view down the front of her dress. The bloody thing had bothered her all night - there shouldn't be a draught between her tits - but she might as well make it work to her advantage.
"Now, Mr. Hock. Why don't we spice this party up a bit? I'm sure your guests will survive for an hour without your charming presence."
Hock smirked and holstered his gun. He nodded to the side, and stepped in.
Yay, she thought, without much enthusiasm. Go me.
It was better than getting shot at. Probably. Hock wasn't too bad-looking, if you liked the over-the-top secret agent film villain type, but he was also scum, and the idea of touching him - being touched by him - was repugnant. She could put a bullet in his head when the shield went down and make a run for it, but if the guards outside set off alarms rather than just investigate the noise, she'd be up against the entire security force. She had a sneaking suspicion that that might be more than she could handle, at least without weapons and armour.
No, she'd finish what she'd started. She had waded through disintegrating thorian creepers and survived; she'd live through this, too.
"Look straight, Ms. Gunn." A faint whisper by her ear. She blinked, but resisted the urge to turn, and felt a small, square, flexible package pressed into her hand.
Great.
While she considered her options, Hock had shrugged out of his shirt and jacket and folded them neatly. Now, he walked slowly around the bed, each step bringing him closer. She forced her expression to remain neutral as she reached for the heavy metal clasp that kept the little black dress closed.
Then Hock was next to her, holding her wrist. "Allow me, Ms. Gunn," he said, and pushed her arm down.
It may be just as well. It had been troublesome enough to put that thing on; she may well bungle taking it off, if she had to do it in front of an audience.
Hock was half again her age, and he was used to this. She could feel it from the very beginning. Confident and strong, though his hands were too soft for her tastes - not a soldier's hands.
He had no trouble figuring out her dress - the way to release that buckle, or the hidden zippers in the back that would allow the snug waist piece to pass over her hips as the garment fell.
And fall it did, leaving her in her heels, her tiny lacy bra and smooth silk panties, all black.
The dress took the gun with it, hitting the floor with a thud.
Hock knelt, grasping her ankles and raised first her left foot, then the right, pulling the dress out from underneath her, then straightened, held it up for inspection and threw it across the bed, next to the neat pile of his own clothes, without even bothering to comment on the weapon. A warm, dry hand on her right hip, slowly sliding up, thumb tracing her spine. He had long fingers, managed to brush against the outer, lower slope of her breast through the thin black silk before his thumb encountered the clasp on her bra.
It wasn't the kind of clothes she usually wore, not underneath the armour she'd been lugging about almost constantly since Eden Prime. It was expensive and complicated. She had fumbled with the stupid thing when she put it on.
For Hock, it proved but a moment's distraction, and his hand continued up, until his fingers curled around the back of her neck. She forced herself to remain still, to not obey her instincts and break that grasp, to punch the fucker holding her through the nearest window.
Hock made a dark sound, maybe a brief chuckle, before allowing his hand to slide down across her shoulder, taking one narrow bra strap with it.
"Turn around, Ms. Gunn."
She did, managing no to wobble in her unfamiliar shoes. The other shoulder strap had followed the dress partway down her shoulder was beginning to slide off all by itself, but the bra still clung to the upper slopes of her breasts, still giving her, technically, a modicum of modesty.
"Cover yourself, Alison Gunn. Let me guess." He took her wrists and raised her hands, pressing them over her breasts. Then, slowly, he began to massage her arms, up towards her shoulders, then down again working over her back, then her hips, her sides, her stomach; sometimes playing with the waistband of her panties, but never venturing below; he stroked the bare outer curves of her buttocks, drew circles on her thighs. Her skin tingled - to her surprise, she felt a familiar tightening in her nipples, a fuzzy tension further down in her stomach.
"Pink," he said at least, fingers splayed over her hips, thumbs tracing the outlines of her abs. "Your nipples must be pink."
She had no idea how he guessed. She just let her hands, and her bra, fall, fully revealing her breasts.
Hock's hands slid up across her flanks and ribs to cup them, thumbs and forefingers curling to squeeze the little pink nubs.
She was almost relieved when he bent and began to suckle one. It was such a guy thing to do.
One hand remaining on her other breast, he slid the other down over her ribs and stomach, then around her hips, and this time he didn't stop when he reached her panties. The silk offered little protection when he began to squeeze her ass, kneading her firm curves roughly. It -
It didn't feel quite as bad as she had feared.
Then his hands fell away from her, and he straightened up,
"Get on the bed, Ms. Gunn. On your knees, and spread your legs."
She felt a little unsteady as she pulled herself up, posing as she imagined he wanted her. He smirked, clearly enjoying the view, and then his hands were back on her hips. One slid up, one back and around, but this time he didn't stop at her ass. Even as his mouth found an achingly hard nipple and began to suck, she felt a finger sliding down, smoothly across the black silk, and in between her thighs, and she held her breath as he began to explore the outline of her sex through her panties. Bit her lip, eyes narrowing, and tried to keep her hips from moving.
She'd had him pegged as the selfish type, and he was, without a doubt. Nothing he was doing was for her benefit. He just wanted to hear her squeal. And damn him, he may just succeed.
His fingers were dancing lightly over her pantied mound, fluttered teasingly around her clit, making nowhere near enough contact. He just stroked her lips, sometimes pushed a little harder in between them.
She had been worried that she'd be too turned off, not wet enough to take him, but that wouldn't be a problem. It was familiar enough by now - the rising heat of arousal and her inner lips spreading slightly, the slightly cool sensation inside of her. The sensation of becoming wet and ready for more than just fingers, for more than just that light, teasing touch.
Hock couldn't feel what she was feeling, but he could feel her growing warmer, and after a few minutes, he chuckled humourlessly, his fingers making an odd gesture down below. He must have felt her panties beginning to soak through, she figured.
By then, she had long abandoned all pretence of remaining still and silent. She could bite her lips, didn't whimper, but - she had no choice when her breathing began to quicken, nor when the breath seemed to catch in her throat, when her vision flickered for a fraction of a second and what she had thought would be a calm, deep breath became a quick gasp.
Hock seemed to smirk, lips still around her nipple. She glanced down. He was hard - difficult to miss in those tight pants. If she could only speed this up...
Hock didn't seem surprised when her fingers began to curl around his erection, but responded quickly by grinding a knuckle roughly against her clit.
His constant teasing had left her aching and sensitive, and the sudden, forceful touch was like an electric shock, sending a spasm through her entire body, making her back arch, and it was all she could do not to cry out.
"Not yet, Ms. Gunn," she heard him say, distantly, in a tone that suggested a smirk. "I will play with you for a bit more, first."
She growled, and he began to massage her, still rougher than before, in quick circles around her clit, and the growl very nearly dissolved into a deep moan before she could bite her tongue and stop it.
She could feel Hock's smirk when he returned his attention to her breasts, the other side now, sucking, licking, biting. That bastard was reading her like an open book, every twitch, every little shudder of her body, every little strangled noise in the back of her throat. Reading her and playing her like a goddamn fiddle.
She groaned, head falling back, eyes squeezing shut as little yellow lightning bolts flashed before them. She was close-
-and Hock kept her there, swaying, sweating, panting and trying to grind herself against his fingers, but they were always right where he wanted them, never where she needed them.
She -
She never thought she'd admit it, but she wanted him. Wanted him badly. Anything to get something inside of her, something thick and hard, something she could ride in a blind frenzy until she could finally discharge that immense electric pressure inside of her.
And the fucker knew it. She could feel it in his smirk, in the way his fingers rubbed and flicked and prodded her through her soaked panties.
It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, even if it felt like hours; always reaching out, but never reaching all the way, pleasure and frustration intermingled and building until she could barely stop herself from screaming, from reaching down and robbing him of that control. One touch, just one firm rub across her aching clit would set her off, would bring this all to an end. But that would be like admitting defeat, and she resisted. Her hands trembled. Her entire body trembled. She was leaning on him - didn't know when she started, didn't care - hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his back.
When it finally ended, she couldn't be sure if it was intended or a mistake on his part, but she was fully prepared not to give a fuck. It hit her like a flash of lightning, an earth-shattering boom of thunder, blinding and deafening. Her hands fell and her arms hung helplessly at her sides, twitching and shaking; her hands clenched and opened, clawed at her thighs. Shock after shock, ripple after ripple surged through her, until her senses were numb, until the rest of the world seemed to vanish, and she sat in the middle of a dark void, shaking with pleasure and exertion, gasping for breath.
When reality started to creep back, the first thing she heard was Hock, laughing. It wasn't the most comforting sound to wake up to.
"A beautiful performance, Ms. Gunn," he said, voice thick with desire.
Slowly, she raised her head and blinked, trying to focus her gaze on him. He looked... smug. It bothered her, no matter how justified the expression may be. To do that with just his fingers was - was - was probably dumb luck, she thought resolutely. Nobody could be that damn good.
Hock didn't need to hear that theory, though.
Hock didn't need to hear anything.
Except one thing. "Pants," she said, her voice hoarse. "Off. Now."
He still laughed when he rose and obliged. He wore briefs underneath, with a sizeable tent in them, and a wet, glistening spot from precome at the top.
She licked her lips, a little horrified at the realization. Hock grinned knowingly, and folded his trousers neatly. That was a seriously annoying habit, she decided, but it gave her a few more seconds to search for the rubber she'd dropped -
Suddenly, she felt a hand at her wrist, turning her hand up, and the little package appeared in the palm of her hand. There was no comment, which was probably just as well.
Hock turned back to her, entirely naked this time. He didn't join her on the bed this time, but stood silent by the bed, waiting for her to come to him.
Well, that position was as good as any other. She shuffled over, swung her legs over the side; laid her hands on his shoulders, fingers splayed, and let them slowly wander south. He was in good shape, despite his age; taut skin stretched over strong muscles. His nipples were hard under her palms, and she teased them, circling with her fingertips, pulling and pinching, not entirely gently.
Hock did nothing to stop her. His cock stood hard and erect, twitching with each heartbeat, a thick drop of precome forming at the tip, then rolling down the underside of his shaft.
She had to stop herself from licking it off.
Hock clearly wanted her to, pushing his hips towards her, until she almost had to lock at his dick cross-eyed.
"Not without this, you don't," she said, letting her hands fall and opening the little flat package. His expression turned annoyed for a brief moment - a crack in the armour - but then it was gone again, replaced by that same old grin. He knew well enough that starting an argument with someone about to go down on you was silly.
She quickly unpacked the condom and rolled it onto his waiting cock - hard and warm, thick, but tapering slightly towards the tip. He groaned when she finished and wrapped her fingers fully around the root of his prick, palm cupping his balls.
No sense delaying it. She bent down and pressed her lips against him and, slowly opening her mouth wider, began to take him inside.
He growled when she brought her tongue into play, swirling it around the tip of his cock, and she felt a hand on her head, pulling her closer.
Then it quickly vanished when she showed her displeasure with her teeth.
"None of that," she said, pulling back to give him a stern look. She might do this for the sake of the mission, but fuck if she was about to let him do anything he wanted.
He actually looked somewhat meek when he nodded. It was only fair - he'd had his fun. It was her turn now.
She opened her mouth wide, pushed forward until she had half his length inside, feeling the heat but not touching it. Then sealed her lips tightly around him and began to pull back, cheeks hollowing as she sucked. Hock arched his back, whistling up at the ceiling. Sure, she wouldn't be surprised if he had a stable full of highly trained asari prostitutes somewhere in the building, and her technique likely paled to theirs, but she still had certain advantages most of them would lack.
Advantages Donovan Hock turned out to very much appreciate. It wasn't long before he was sweating and panting, trying to thrust into her mouth. This time, however, she was the one in control, and she easily parried his movements, continuing her slow, careful ministrations as if his frustration didn't even register in her mind.
It wasn't until she heard him whimper and moan that she let up, pulling back, lips popping off him with a loud smack.
"On the bed," she commanded.
Hock stared down at her, wide-eyed and panting. Not fast enough. She grabbed him by the hips, lifted him off his feet and threw him down on the bed, caught his wrists and pinned his arms at his sides while she slid a leg over him and sank down on his throbbing, twitching cock, growling deep in the back of her throat as she felt it sink deep inside of her. Finally. Fucking finally!
Hock tried to move. It didn't do him any good. She waited until he settled down, and then she began to ride him. Roughly grinding herself against him, hissing between her teeth as the friction set off echoes of her first orgasm, little frizzy bolts of lightning crawling out through her body from down between her thighs.
Down her legs until her toes curled inside those stupid shoes; up, until her spine felt like it glowed, then out across her shoulders and down her arms, a tingling, fizzy sensation like becoming immersed in champagne. She shook her head, tossing her hair back, when it began creeping up her neck; shuddered when it spread inside her head, blanketing her thoughts in a thick fog.
Vaguely, in the distance, she could hear Hock grunting, feel him trying to thrust faster into her, but she had him pinned, right where she wanted him, exactly where she needed him. She rolled her hips, purring and smiling at the sensation; ground back and forth, slamming Hock down against the mattress until she bed began to groan and she started to wonder whether she'd break it or Hock first.
It didn't matter. He was completely at her mercy, arching and tossing about, groaning and moaning as she fucked him.
It kind of turned her on, in a way. Baring her teeth in a grin, she began to move faster, to ride him harder. The fizzy electric sensation inside her grew stronger as the friction increased. It wouldn't be long now.
Hock panted, gasped and writhed. She felt him arch up and knew that he couldn't hold out much longer; let go of his left arm and wrapped her fingers tightly around the base of his cock, firmly intending to keep him hard until she could get off. His hand twitched, but all he could do was clutch weakly at her thigh; she ignored it and continued to ride his throbbing cock, suddenly seeming even thicker than before. Her hand was in just the right position to let her rub her clit against it, and so she did, eyes narrowing, biting her lip as she felt herself rushing towards the peak, knowing that once she reached it there would be nothing she could do to stop.
She welcomed it.
Hock groaned and twisted underneath her. Her hands tightened their grip, on his arm and his cock.
Swiftly, and yet nowhere near swiftly enough, the tension grew until it became unbearable. For a few moments, she struggled at the edge, gritting her teeth.
Then, the dam broke.
She came like a meteor impact - hot, fiery, explosively, throwing her head back and roaring at the ceiling.
Beneath her, inside her, she felt Hock twitch, heard him groan.
Losing sense of time, she continued to ride him until he began to grow soft inside her. She was just a little disappointed when she felt it, but she had what she - well, what she came for.
All of it.
Slowly, she eased herself off Hock's twitching body. The condom came off easily enough, and she tied it shut; then sat down next to him.
"Not too shabby," she told him, and he gave her an I don't believe what just happened kind of look. She chuckled. Hock may be scum, but she was going to take that look as a compliment.
"I'll go back to the party now. Wait a minute before you join me." As if he could even move right now.
He didn't respond. She wiped herself down with one of the sheets, retrieved her underwear and pulled them on, wincing somewhat when she felt the panties rubbing up against her, cold and wet. The bra went on easier this time, as did the dress; she always had been a quick learner.
Then she blew Hock a kiss and sauntered towards the door.
No one raised a finger to stop her.
"That was... quite a performance, Ms. Gunn."
She didn't bother to comment. Instead, she held out the filled condom, still slick with her own moisture on the outside. Kasumi took it without comment.
"There is your DNA sample. If anyone ever hears about this, I will punch you through the nearest airlock."
The thief chuckled. "Who would believe me? Trust me, Alison. I know when to keep my mouth shut."
"You damn well better. Come on, let's take his stuff and get out of here. I need to brush my teeth."
And the next time someone needed to dress up like a hooker and infiltrate the bad guy's hideout, she was bloody well going to make Miranda do it.