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Acapulco pulls up to the cottage in a 25,000 dollar Maserati, sunglasses pushed back into his windblown hair, and at least seven different weapons currently on his person.
“Fucking ridiculous,” he says, taking in the view.
The cottage is small, tucked in the backwater of the California coast and overlooking the ocean. It’s surrounded by a mixture of forest and lush fields, hidden far away from the village below and covered top to bottom in the best security money can buy. The rumors range from a crotchety old lady in search of peace, to a small terrorist organization, to a mad scientist.
The last one is much truer than they think.
Acapulco knows exactly who lives in the cottage by the sea; he knows that she’s not a terrorist (yet), certainly not old, and a little less mad than scientist. Mary-Anne Qin: codename Edison.
The air is breezy and full of salt, and Acapulco curses as his scarf whips around in the breeze. He flings it behind him, adjusting his sunglasses before slamming the car door closed and blinking up at the cliffs above.
“Shit,” he mumbles, “that’s gonna be a long walk.”
He trudges up the hill towards the house, sweat trickling down his back as the sun beats down. His shirt begins to stick to his chest and he pulls it away, grumbling about how goddamn hot his home state can get. By the time he’s reached the top, his hair is flopping down into his eyes, and he’s ready for a long drink of water and a nap.
Fist raised, Acapulco knocks once on the innocent-looking screen door. There’s a loud pop from inside, then a crash, and a string of wild cursing in what sounds like Chinese. Acapulco flinches. Yikes.
After a solid thirty seconds of chaos, a woman approaches the door. She opens it, takes one look at Acapulco, and slams it shut.
“Someone’s impolite today,” he says, eyeing the figure behind the screen. “PMS, much?”
“Fuck you,” comes a reply, and then the door swings open for real.
Edison puts a hand on her hip and glares at him, her eyes sending a signal of absolute annoyance. “What in God’s name are you doing at my house?”
Acapulco— well, Acapulco stares.
Here is what Edison usually wears: a loose-fitting men’s shirt, patchwork jeans, large, dangerous-looking combat boots, and a pair of neat, square glasses. Her hair is somewhat combed.
Here is what Edison is currently wearing: a snug, jersey tank top that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, including her finely muscled arm, flowing cotton shorts, a copious amount of sweat and grease, and what looks to be a combination goggles, magnifiers, and welding mask strapped onto the top of her head. Her hair is an utter mess.
Acapulco swallows hard. He was not expecting to be tried today.
“Well?” says Edison, cocking her head. “What do you want?” She juts out her hip, and Acapulco follows the movement with his eyes, gaze drawn to the strip of tan skin peeking out above her waistband. He swallows again.
“I need a favor.”
“Good fuckin’ luck gettin’ one.”
“Edison.”
“Acapulco,” she mocks, scrunching up her nose in distaste. It’s adorable, and Acapulco wants to kill her.
“Can’t I at least tell you what it is before you go kicking me out?” he asks, and Edison sighs.
“Fine,” she says, drawing out the vowels in a thick, syrupy southern drawl. “But come inside while you do it; I don’t need the folks down there gettin’ even more suspicious.”
She opens the door wider for him, and Acapulco follows her inside.
The living room is cluttered, yet cozy, with stacks of books on worn wooden tables, a massive leather couch, and shelves filled with everything from patents to a human skull. Sprinkled around the room are half-finished projects, piles of crumpled paper, and the occasional mug of cold coffee. There’s a truly lived-in feel to it all, from the fuzzy pillows on the couch to the blackboards propped against a corner wall, covered in diagrams.
“Geez,” says Acapulco, “you’re a fuckin’ mess.”
Edison glares at him. “Pot,” she snaps, “kettle.”
Acapulco slips around her and flops onto the couch, stretching out luxuriously like he owns the damn thing. Edison frowns.
“Can you not manspread on my nice leather couch?” she says flatly. In response, he spreads his legs wider.
Edison rolls her eyes. “Look, if y’all are here for a prototype, sorry to say, but there ain’t nothin’ new here.”
“Pity, but that’s not why I’m here, doll.”
Edison curls her lip in distaste. “Don’t call me ‘doll’ you weirdo.”
Acapulco shrugs. “Fine. You in a helpful mood today?”
“Never. What do you want?”
He smiles like a bottle of cheap wine. “Got anything that can cut through reinforced steel alloy?”
Edison thinks on this for a moment. “Do I want to know why you need that?”
“Hell no, and I wouldn’t tell you even if you did.”
She sighs and darts her tongue out to lick at the corner of her mouth. Acapulco swallows for a third time and subtly pinches his thigh. This isn’t the goddamn time.
“Look,” says Edison, “I’ve got a modified flamethrower that could probably make a dent, but something tells me you’re not looking for size.”
He shakes his head. “Not in this case.”
“Okay then. Does a plasma cutter work?”
Acapulco smiles again. “No idea what that is, but I like the word ‘plasma’.” He shifts in his seat. “I’ll need about twenty.”
Edison nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Y’know it’s gonna cost you, though.”
Acapulco looks at her for a long moment, then pats the space next to him. She frowns. “No.”
“Oh c’mon, live a little. Your girlfriend knows I’m here, right?”
Edison narrows her eyes. “Of course. What about it?”
Fuck, he thinks, I forgot she’s the most oblivious bitch on the planet.
“Listen,” says Acapulco. “I need those cutters, but you charge out the fuckin’ ass for anything good. So maybe you and I can come to a little arrangement.”
“I don’t need any guns, Aca.”
Acapulco rolls his eyes. “Don’t do this to me right now, Edison. We both know what I’m saying.”
“I don’t,” she says, “I really don’t. Maybe if you weren’t so goddamn cryptic all the time--”
“Jesus Christ!” he shouts, throwing his hands up into the air. “If you give me the shipment, I’ll fuck you!”
Edison looks actually taken aback at this for a moment, her eyes going wide and the slightest blush rising to her cheeks. Then, she shakes her head. “No way in hell.”
Acapulco pouts, leaning forward to grab the strings of her shorts and pull her closer. “Aw, c’mon baby. I promise I’ll fuck you good.”
Edison does not seem phased by this at all. “I’ll pass.” She pauses for a moment, then a devilish grin spreads across her face. “Nice try, kitten.”
Acapulco freezes.
“Uh oh,” she says, “did I hit a nerve?”
He bites down on his lip, hard. There’s a heat rushing down his body and pooling in his groin, and he doesn’t want to think about why. “Shut up, you-- you didn’t hit a goddamn nerve. I was just-- caught off guard.”
Edison smiles wider. “First time for everythin’ I guess.” A beat. “Kitten.”
Oh fuck. That bitch. That motherfucking she-demon. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing. Acapulco can feel his pants getting tighter, and he crosses his legs. “Fuck off.”
“Kitten, kitten, precious ‘lil kitty cat--”
“Shut up!” he roars, springing to his feet and balling his hands into fists. “You little bitch; you have no idea what I could do to your sorry ass.”
It’s at this moment that Edison chooses to look down.
“Um. Acapulco,” she says slowly, turning red. “Are. Are you hard?”
Acapulco flushes scarlet. “Fuck. You.”
“I- yeah I reckon that’s what you want, you goddamn whore!”
At this, he can barely suppress a moan. Edison takes notice.
“Are y’all gettin’ off to me insulting you?”
“Fuck off, so what if I am?”
“That’s disgusting!”
“You’re the one who keeps doing it!”
“Well what else am I supposed to say?!”
Acapulco is still hard at this point, cock straining in his pants. The heat of Edison’s body feels so close, and he can see every last freckle on her face magnified times a thousand. There’s dirt on her nose and oil in her hair, and he knows that if she doesn’t kiss him right now, he’ll die.
Edison licks her lips, moving closer, and their noses are almost brushing when she murmurs, “Y’know I hate you.”
“Baby,” he says, “the feeling’s mutual.”
They kiss like they fight, Acapulco warm and sensual, Edison rough and dirty. She pushes her tongue into his mouth, lips sliding over each other, hot and messy. He bites her lip and she moans, pouring the sound into his mouth and wrapping her arms around his back. He grabs her ass, squeezing what little flesh is there and pulling her close. Their chests touch, and he brings a hand up to slide over her breasts.
Edison grinds against him and Acapulco leans into the friction, his hips jerking forward and moving against her wiry frame. She puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back onto the couch, straddling his hips and grinding down onto his clothes erection.
Acapulco whines and grips her ass tighter, pressing their foreheads together as their hips move against each other. Edison reaches down and peels her shirt off, sweat shining against her warm skin. Despite the mess, Acapulco leans forward and latches his mouth around a nipple, sucking hard before lightly biting down. Edison lets out a high-pitched keen, pushing her chest forward into the warmth of his mouth.
He pulls back for a moment, planting a messy kiss on her lips before grinding up once more. “Want me to put that mouth somewhere else?”
All Edison can do is nod, shimmying out of her shorts and lying back on the couch. She spreads her legs, sighing as Acapulco settles between them and lets a warm breath pass over.
He licks a stripe up her sex and she almost screams, reveling in the wet heat of his tongue. His mouth latches onto her clit and Edison whines. His tongue lavs back and forth, twirling around her clit and enveloping it in warmth. It slips into her pussy, pushing in and out as he fucks her orally, sliding his tongue around and lapping up her come.
Edison’s hips push forward, and her clit is so hard it aches. She’s dying for release, but just as she’s about to tumblr over the brink, Acapulco pulls away.
“You--” she stammers, trying to catch her breath, “you put your mouth back there right the fuck now or I’ll--”
Acapulco keeps her pinned with a hand on her chest. “I thought this little arrangement involved my dick in your ass. Having second thoughts?”
In lieu of a response, Edison sits up and begins unbuttoning Acapulco’s pants. She pulls the zipper down and drags his pants and boxers to his knees. She’s already soaking wet, so she gives his cock a few tugs before pushing up onto her knees and hovering above it.
Acapulco raises an eyebrow. “Forgetting something?”
Edison glares at him. “I got my tubes tied years ago, Aca. As long as you’re clean, I’m fine.”
He grins and jerks his hips up, letting the head of his cock brush against her. She moans, then places a hand on his stomach and slowly lowers herself down.
Acapulco isn’t huge, but he’s certainly not small, either. Edison hisses, letting the sensation of fullness spread throughout her body. Below her, Acapulco groans with pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re good,” he mumbles. Edison laughs.
“You say that now,” she says, then grinds down.
“Fuck!” Acapulco shouts, snapping his hips up. Edison moans loudly, moving back and forth as she begins to ride him. They quickly establish a rhythm, Edison rocking back and forth on his cock. He angles himself deeper and hits a spot inside of her that makes her scream.
“You like that, baby?” he sneers. She digs her nails into his chest in reply.
“God, I fuckin’ hate you,” Edison drawls, shoving her hips down. Her eyes have almost rolled into the back of her head, and she’s panting hard. “Y’all are the-- oh right there please-- the worst.”
“Fuck-- yes-- you.”
“You’re disgustin’” She can feel herself getting close.
“You’re a pain in the ass.” His cock is so hard inside her, she feels so full, and oh God her body is burning with pleasure.
“You’re-- ah-- amazin’--”
“Gorgeous--”
“Pretty boy--”
“Fuck--!”
He’s coming inside her and she’s screaming, ecstasy washing over her like a flood. They ride out their orgasms together, Acapulco jerking his hips up wildly and Edison throwing her head back as she grinds down furiously. She’s breathing and screaming and drowning in how good this feels, until finally his hips still beneath her and her head drops onto her chest.
“Oh…” she breathes, sliding off and collapsing onto the cushions. Edison is hot and sticky and utterly fucked out, not to mention nowhere near awake enough to deal with silly things like consequences.
Acapulco wordlessly grabs a throw blanket draped over the back of the couch and drags it over the both of them, settling down in the curve of her chest. She’s taller than him, and easily able to spoon his soft form. His hair smells like honeyed cologne and cigarette smoke.
“You can have the cutters,” she says softly, curling her fingers around his arm. Acapulco gives a soft chuckle.
“Wish I’d known about this a long time ago, sweetie. Could’ve saved me thousands.”
Edison kicks him in reply.