Work Text:
The space was no home—more safehouse than sanctuary—but it thrummed with an unexpected intimacy. Tension coiled in the air, electric and unsaid, threading itself between every breath.
A hideout for fugitives, true — but tonight, it became something else entirely.
Blueprints were scattered across the table, a chaos Shaw half-heartedly pretended to study.
Her fingers traced lines and notations without absorbing them, her focus tethered elsewhere — to the woman sitting across the room, long legs elegantly crossed in a worn armchair, like she owned every breath between them.
Root watched her with that knowing smile, the kind that curled slow and sharp.
“You know, Shaw,” she said, her voice dipping low, “I’ve always preferred a little danger. A touch of thrill makes everything more... interesting.”
Shaw glanced up, raising a brow. “Interesting? Or reckless?”
Root tilted her head, letting the soft light catch her cheekbones. “Aren’t they the same thing when it’s you and me?”
Their gazes collided, and in the charged stillness that followed, innuendo lingered like smoke in the air.
It was always like this with them — conversation coiled like wire, bristling with challenge and charged suggestion.
Tonight, though, something shifted.
There was gravity in the air, pulling them in. The world beyond these four walls felt distant, muffled — as if nothing else could quite reach them now.
“You know…” Shaw stepped away from the table.
Purposeful and controlled.
“Not every... every thrill is safe, Root.” she said, her voice soft but edged.
"Well..." Root leaned forward, her smile widening. “Safe is boring. And darling… we’ve never been boring.”
Their eyes met again, and the quiet tension that had lingered between them for months flared into something unmistakable.
With every step Shaw took closer, Root’s breath caught — anticipation curling tight in her chest.
Shaw’s gaze dropped briefly to Root’s lips—parted, inviting—and when she looked back up, Root was already rising to meet her.
“And you’re ready for what happens next?” Shaw asked, voice deep, husky and calm.
Root's smile deepened as she stood. “Always.”
The first touch was brief —
It sent a ripple through both of them—Shaw’s hand trailing along Root’s wrist, slow and deliberate. The touch lingered, a whisper against skin that burned with anticipation.
Shaw guided her toward the edge of the table with ease. “Let’s not waste our time,” she murmured, close enough that Root could feel the warmth of her breath.
Root tipped her chin, eyes dark and steady.“Then show me.”
Shaw’s hands slid beneath the hem of Root’s shirt, her fingers mapping the delicate curve of her waist, climbing upward. Skin met skin, a shiver answering every movement.
With practiced ease, she unhooked the clasp of Root’s bra, her touch lingering at the swell of her breasts, teasing with a quiet kind of reverence.
Root gasped softly, her back arching into the touch.
“God…” she breathed, voice trembling with need.
Shaw smirked against her neck.
“Trust me, Root.” she murmured, her voice a dark velvet promise. “You’ll like where this leads.”
Root’s body responded like it had been waiting for this — every brush of Shaw’s fingers, every scrape of her nails across hypersensitive skin drawing her deeper into the heat blooming between them.
And still, there was tenderness in her touch, the kind that belied her usual walls, her silences.
Root’s pulse quickened as Shaw’s hands explored further, working her shirt off before trailing down to the waistband of her pants. Each movement was patient, deliberate—a slow unveiling.
The clothing fell away, piece by piece, until Root stood bare in the flickering light, her breath catching as cool air met fevered skin.
Shaw’s upper body was stripped now too, her sculpted biceps flexing with controlled strength and her defined abs rippling beneath smooth skin as she gently laid Root back against the table.
Their mouths met in a kiss that was anything but gentle—urgent, claiming, full of promises that neither woman needed to voice aloud.
Root melted into it, her fingers gripping Shaw’s back, nails raking lightly as Shaw’s hand slipped lower, pausing at the apex of Root’s thighs.
Her touch was feather-light at first, fingers tracing the slick heat with maddening precision.
Root’s legs parted instinctively, inviting more, but Shaw held back—teasing, testing, savoring the effect she had.
Just enough to draw a desperate whimper from Root’s throat.
“Sameen…” her voice broke into a moan, the name sounding like worship.
Shaw’s lips hovered at her ear. “You need it that badly?”
Root nodded, the tension in her body curling tighter with every passing second.
“Please.” she whispered, the plea falling between them like a command. “Now.”
It was all the invitation Shaw needed.
She obliged, slipping two fingers inside her in one smooth motion, then three, and filling her completely.
Root cried out, her voice raw with need, as Shaw moved with a deliberate, devastating rhythm that left no space between pleasure and surrender.
Every thrust filled her, claimed her, coaxing a deeper response with each motion. Her body yielded eagerly to the stretch, the friction, the relentless pace that left her gasping.
Her back arched in a helpless offering as Shaw’s thumb found her clit — circling, teasing, pressing — slow at first, then faster, harder, in perfect sync with the rhythm of Root’s unraveling.
“Fuck,” Root choked out, her thighs quaking, her whole body tightening, spiraling, caught in the exquisite pull toward release.
Shaw watched her—watched the way her eyes fluttered shut, the flush blooming across her chest, the way her mouth fell open in a perfect soundless moan.
Her fingers plunged faster, deeper, slick with Root’s arousal, each thrust drawing a shuddering gasp. She pulled Root’s legs farther apart, adjusting the angle and requesting more space for efficiency.
The table beneath them groaned with each rhythmic motion, their breath, their sounds, the wet echo of pleasure filling the space with a symphony all their own.
Root came hard, her body convulsing, her cries echoing off the concrete walls.
Still, the marine didn’t stop—barely slowed.
A kiss silenced her moans, their mouths colliding in a frenzy of tongues and teeth, as if trying to consume each other completely.
Shaw’s fingers moved with a relentless rhythm, unforgiving and precise, shifting to find deeper, sharper angles that sent Root hurtling higher with every stroke.
The hacker trembled, thighs falling wider at the marine's command, surrendering without hesitation, her body aching for more.
Her voice — usually laced with confidence and playful — was gone, melted down to ragged, breathless moans that spilled from her lips, raw and uncontrollable.
Root’s second climax built faster — her body already primed, oversensitive and desperate.
Shaw leaned in, whispering something against her ear, something only Root heard, and that alone tipped her over again — hips bucking, voice caught somewhere between cry and gasp as another orgasm tore through her.
Shaw pulled her close, kissed her deeply, drinking in every shake and tremble.
"Again?" the marine murmured with a smirk, her fingers still resting inside.
Root gave a breathless nod, her body already aching for another wave.
With a low chuckle, Shaw pulled her up and carried her across the room. Root clung to her, arms wrapped tightly around her neck until they reached the worn couch and she was gently lowered onto it.
The moment Root's back met the cushions, Shaw was between her legs again in seconds, fingers slipping back inside with no preamble, moving with relentless rhythm.
The hacker’s moans spilled out louder now, raw and unrestrained, her hands twisting in the worn fabric beneath her.
And theat surged fast and sharp, curling through her spine.
The room filled again with the sounds of her pleasure — the wet, rhythmic slick of Shaw’s fingers, the ragged edge of every breath, the soft curse she couldn't hold back as her body trembled beneath the onslaught.
As pleasure surged through her, her mind slipping further with every pulse of pressure — untethered, undone, aching for more.
Just before she tipped, Shaw stilled her hand — and flipped her onto her stomach, hips lifted and legs parted.
Root gasped, cheek against the couch, the shift catching her by surprise.
Shaw positioned her from behind, spreading her open, and slid back in.
There was no build — only intensity.
The thrusts of Shaw’s fingers were deep, rough and fast, each movement sending tremors through Root’s spine.
Her orgasm hit with stunning force, a full-body quake that left her breathless and pliant in Shaw’s arms.
By the time Shaw finally withdrew her fingers, Root was undone—glistening, breathless, her body trembling in the aftershocks of pleasure.
Shaw leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder, slow and reverent. Root turned toward her, fingers gliding over Shaw’s torso in a lazy, reverent path, tracing every curve like a secret she wanted to remember forever.
They melted into each other on the couch, limbs tangled, bare skin flushed and warm.
Root rested her head against Shaw’s chest, her breathing slowly evening out, one leg draped over hers — still trembling, still humming with the echo of Shaw’s touch.
For a moment, neither spoke. Just the sound of breath shared, hearts syncing back to steadier rhythms.
Root finally stirred, her voice soft and rough with satisfaction. “You really do make danger worth it, sweetie.”
“Told you you’d enjoy it, Root.”