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“Can’t handle the pressure?” Kafka asks, hand slowly closing around her throat, squeezing lightly.
Silver Wolf glares, neck straining to stare up at her. The woman chuckles, a dirty sound that sends shivers down Silver Wolf’s spine.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was that too much for our little wolf?”
“Kafka…” she says, an edge of warning to her voice.
The hand on her throat presses flat, dragging over her collarbones and snagging her tie. Kafka yanks it, pulling Silver Wolf to meet her face.
“Poor puppy makes a mistake and can’t handle being scolded,” Kafka coos. “Perhaps you need to be trained again.”
Silver Wolf grits her teeth, lips curling into a snarl, as she stares into Kafka’s infuriatingly calm eyes. “Kafka.”
“What’s wrong? Is my name the only thing you know how to say?” Her lips curl up. “Speak.”
Silver Wolf shoves her, a growl revving in her chest. Kafka is still holding the tie, so she gets dragged with her, stumbling into Kafka who braces her. She smiles kindly, but her eyes are cold.
Silver Wolf’s hands curl into fists. “What’s your problem?”
“My problem?” Kafka gasps, releasing the tie to cover her mouth. Her eyes widen. “I’m concerned. Fucking up something so simple. Were you bored?”
Silver Wolf grinds her teeth. “You-“
“I let you go off script and it almost cost us.” Kafka raises the end of her coat, scorched and tattered.
Silver Wolf cringes back, the fire dying. She can see it again, the sight of Kafka enveloped in flames-
“Do we need to start you from the tutorial?”
Hot rage burns through Silver Wolf as she surges forward into Kafka’s face, snarling.
How dare she call her a newb.
“I thought I was letting you off easy. Seems you can’t handle even that.”
Silver Wolf’s eyes are wide, they feel wild, a seething blackness engulfing her being, making her tremble. “Kaf-”
“I’m sorry it wasn’t stimulating enough for you. Should I have taken Bladie?”
She pants harshly, feeling very much like the untrained, rabid dog Kafka is making her out to be. “I-“
“Don’t worry, he won’t be in charge this time. I’ll personally oversee your punishment.”
“Kafka-“
“See it as a penalty for losing.”
Silver Wolf snaps.
She shoves Kafka, stalking forward so she has to keep walking back until her ass hits the back of a couch. Kafka is smiling, looking very much like the cat who caught the mouse.
“Is it too much?”
“Shut up.”
“Aww, poor Wolfie. Am I being too harsh?”
“Shut. Up.”
Kafka leans down, casting a shadow over Silver Wolf. “Why don’t you make me?”
Silver Wolf’s mind goes blank, vision closing up. The roar of her heart is in her ears, chest heaving in time with the beats. Something blinding sears itself into the emptiness that has taken over her mind.
Her hands move, a growl rises from her throat-
Kafka laughs, bright and clear. It brings Silver Wolf out of her daze. She follows Kafka’s eyes down, startling at the sight of her revolver pressed to Kafka’s chest. She freezes. When did she do that?
Her hand trembles, uncertain. It spreads into her lungs, making her breaths come harsher. The hot air puffs against Kafka’s neck. Kafka who slowly grabs the gun and presses it firmly into her chest. She looks up into Silver Wolf’s stunned eyes.
“Our little wolf. Seems you really do need training.” Kafka says softly, stroking the gun. “We’ll start from the basics. How about ‘sit?’”
Silver Wolf quivers. She wants to strangle Kafka. Kick her- Punch- Snap- Bend-
“Strip.”
The silence following is deafening. Sanity seems to return to Silver Wolf after the word leaves her mouth. She blinks, astonished by her own audacity. Looks at Kafka who appears just as surprised.
The gun slackens in her grip, pulling away a bit. This is dumb. To let herself be driven this far. Embarrassment colors her cheeks. They need to take a step back-
Kafka smiles, looking down at her, believing Silver Wolf won’t. And that one look has Silver Wolf breathing rage into her lungs again.
She presses the gun to the button of Kafka’s pants. “Strip.”
“Heh.”
The hammer clicks into place in response.
She pulls the revolver away, leaving enough room for Kafka to maneuver. The suspenders slip from her shoulders, slapping against her legs. Slowly, her gloved fingers go to her button, freeing it.
The zipper is unnervingly loud.
The pants drops to her ankles. Silver Wolf’s eyes follow them down, then jump up to Kafka’s crotch. She is wet, soaking through her underwear.
Her brain buffers as Kafka’s thumbs slide into the waistband, pulling the underwear away. Her arousal stretches and breaks as she lets the underwear fall onto her pants.
The air is thick, hot with their ragged breathing as Kafka leans back against the couch, lower half now bare. Her fingers dig into the frame, and she swallows, eyes on Silver Wolf’s finger that sits on the trigger.
They flick up, piercing Silver Wolf. In them she sees curiosity and excitement.
She licks her lips, feeling suddenly aware of the shift in their relationship. Whatever she’s about to do, things have already changed between them. Knowing that… Knowing that…
Breathlessly, Silver Wolf lowers the gun and presses the barrel to Kafka’s vulva. “Since you think I need correcting, why don’t I take the initiative and teach you a few things first?”
Kafka’s lips twitch, eyes burning. She leans down, bringing their faces centimeters apart. “The dog thinks she can teach the owner?”
The barrel parts her lips, drawing a gasp. Silver Wolf sneers. “I think I can.”
She pulls the gun away, lifting it between them. It glistens with Kafka’s arousal. The sight is stunning, stifling her breath, but Silver Wolf forces her lips to curl as if in disgust.
The cylinder opens, revealing a full chamber. Silver Wolf dumps it into her palm and turns away, loading an unknown number. She taps the gun. Looks into Kafka’s eyes.
“Feeling lucky?”
“Always,” Kafka says, looking down at her.
Silver Wolf primes the hammer. A bullet loads with a deafening click. She rises to her tip toes, into Kafka’s face. “Shoot or take?”
Kafka’s eyes lower, running along the gun. A small smile plays at her lips. “Shoot.”
Silver Wolf steps back, aims the gun at the wall behind Kafka.
BANG
Silver Wolf jolts, the sound louder than she expected. Kafka is still, chest rising and falling heavily. The shot rings in their ears, bouncing off the enclosed space.
“Off to a good start,” Silver Wolf says, more breathy than she would like. She presses the hammer down. Click “What are the chances the second one is loaded too?”
Anything Kafka has to say stops at her tongue, coming out as a gasp. The sights of revolver catch her clit. Silver Wolf slides the barrel back and forth, watching Kafka twitch and tremble.
Kafka bites her lip. The metal is shockingly cold against her sensitive skin.
Silver Wolf angles the revolver, moving the tip deeper. Kafka’s hips jolt as the cold length enters her. A hand rests on her hip, squeezing softly.
“Careful,” Silver Wolf whispers, the words dancing over Kafka’s mouth, “Wouldn’t want to pull the trigger.”
“No.” Kafka laughs, the sound coming out as quivering exhales. “That would make a terrible obituary.”
Silver Wolf’s mouth curves into a half-smile, amusement twinkling in her eyes. She thrusts the barrel until the ejector rod hits Kafka’s entrance. Oxygen stalls in her lungs, lost between them and her esophagus. It comes out burning.
Once Kafka stops shaking, Silver Wolf pulls it out until only the tip is inside and thrusts it back to the rod. She goes slow, dragging the muzzle along Kafka’s wall.
Kafka pants, heat building low in her abdomen. Sparks skitter down her spine, a pulse in her chest and around the gun, making her legs tense.
The focus with which Silver Wolf moves blurs between anger and desire, eyes swallowing Kafka with awe. It makes her clench, an intense wave of pleasure sliding down her thighs.
Silver Wolf blushes at the wet sounds of the barrel pumping in and out of Kafka. Looks down to see arousal dripping from Kafka and the gun onto the discarded clothes.
“Oh,” she breathes, as if realizing what she is doing. Her eyes travel up and meets Kafka’s, lidded and hazy. It’s an intoxicating sight, makes her heart jump, legs quiver. Heat surges downward, her own underwear wet with the knowledge Kafka is getting off on what they’re doing.
With a sharp thrust, she hilts the barrel all the way to the trigger guard, watching it disappear with a twinge of pleasure. Kafka’s breath hitches. Her hips cant roughly, jostling Silver Wolf’s grip and making her hand tighten-
Click
The two freeze. Their eyes meet, stunned. Silver Wolf slides the gun out in time with a whimper, and she can’t tell if Kafka’s reacting to the gun or movement. Whichever it is, the sound makes her squeeze her legs together.
“So eager,” she says, trying to retain her wits, “Third time’s the charm?”
The hammer cuts through their uneven breaths. The sound makes Kafka bite her lip, a noticeable shiver wracking her body. The couch cracks under her grip.
Silver Wolf’s eyes widen, a low laugh rumbling from her chest. Kafka clenches.
“Nnnngh…”
“Like it that much?” Silver Wolf presses their bodies together, thrilling at the heat Kafka is giving off. “You want me inside you that badly?”
Kafka moans, throbbing pleasantly, hips rolling into Silver Wolf. A hand comes down to steady her, trembling and rough. Silver Wolf’s breaths quicken, and suddenly Kafka feels an overwhelming need to steal away the rest.
But Silver Wolf backs off, and flourishes her hand, sending the gun back in with an abruptness that short-circuits Kafka.
“Ah!”
Silver Wolf thrusts in and out, twisting and tilting the gun, listening raptly to the wetness below. Her eyes are for Kafka whose head is dropped back, a line of drool creeping down her chin.
Her face burns, heart thumping madly in her ears. Kafka is lovely as she is infuriating.
She presses her lips to Kafka’s ear, speaking low, voice hush with pleasure, “Shoot or take?”
Kafka nearly cums. She squeezes the gun tightly, but it’s so wet that Silver Wolf can keep moving unimpeded.
“Toeing the line gets you off, huh.” Kafka’s heart leaps at the scornful tone. “Are you so deprived of fear that death turns you on instead?”
The gun stills. Kafka continues riding it, chasing an ecstasy that’s so close- so good-
“Shoot. Or. Take.” Silver Wolf hisses, ripping the gun out.
Kafka’s legs give out. She clutches the couch, whining at the loss. When she opens her eyes, finding Silver Wolf’s terribly fake disdainful expression, she moans.
Silver Wolf’s eyes narrow.
Something cold and wet presses into her cheek. Shocked, she stares at Silver Wolf, skin still tingling from the cusp of an orgasm denied.
“I asked you a question,” Silver Wolf growls. She suddenly smiles, looking feral. “Speak.”
Kafka swallows, throat tightening with the ghostly sensation of a collar. The reversal has her burning. “Take.”
“Always confident.” Silver Wolf clicks her tongue, running the barrel through Kafka’s labia and into her, eliciting a wavering moan. “Let’s see if you’re right.”
Silver Wolf jerks the gun.
BANG
The shot vibrates, stealing away their breaths. Kafka blinks. Her vagina flexes, demanding attention. She’s alive. She looks down. The revolver is aimed at the floor. Her clit aches.
Silver Wolf thumbs the hammer. Click
Kafka's eyes go up, heart racing. Silver Wolf smirks at her. “Maybe you’ll get lucky with this one?”
The muzzle is pressed below Kafka’s navel, dragging down her heated flesh, through her hairs, and slicing through her labia. Silver Wolf angles the gun to her vagina. It pulses, craving for the metal.
Kafka shudders, tears gathering in her eyes, looking at Silver Wolf with trembling anticipation.
“Go on.” Silver Wolf nudges her entrance. “Show me how much you want it.”
Holding her gaze, Kafka sinks onto the gun, squeezing and pulling it in as far as it can. Silver Wolf doesn’t move when she rolls her hips, so she starts riding it.
Silver Wolf watches with a sort of mesmerized bliss, the echo of pleasure on her face when she hasn’t even been touched.
The expression does something funny to Kafka, so she looks away, eyes falling lower, captured by the sight of Silver Wolf’s unmoved finger, resting easy on the trigger.
She arches, driving her hips up and down, and gasps, thinking the sound will be a note of pleasure, but it comes out wrong, “Silver Wolf.”
Silver Wolf quivers, broken from her reverie. She is sure her name will never sound the same coming from Kafka’s lips again.
“Look at you,” she breathes, bringing their faces together. She fingers Kafka’s clit. Her reward. “Fucking a loaded gun. Should I pull the trigger?”
Kafka’s breath hitches. Lightning arcs down her spine, the taste of Quantum rippling into her mouth.
Silver Wolf shoves her into the couch with a sharp thrust, fingers teasing, lips at her ear-
Click “Bang.”
Kafka screams. Silver Wolf jumps, heart spiking. Frantically, she summons a screen, cutting the outside world from them a few seconds late. Her face is hot, hoping the other Stellaron Hunters didn’t hear them.
Shakily, she helps Kafka ride it out, grunting under her weight when Kafka crumbles into her.
She pulls the gun out carefully, shivering as a weak whine is muffled into her shoulder.
Silver Wolf’s heart races. The sweat-slick warmth of Kafka in her arms, amid post-sex high, feels surreal. It’s not something she ever imagined, at least, not like this. Just stray thoughts of compliments or something vaguely explicit.
She feels soft and malleable. Uneasiness grips her thumping heart.
Arms wrap around her, Kafka shifting to find a comfortable position. With tired eyes, Kafka looks at her. The gentleness makes her heart leap to her throat.
“Was it actually loaded?”
Silver Wolf raises the gun. She grimaces at the mess, and Kafka blushes, watching her open the cylinder and show off the empty chambers. She hands it off to Prometheus.
“Editing trick,” Silver Wolf says, wishing the confidence she had a minute ago was back.
Kafka hums. “The shots too?”
“Yeah.”
“Clever wolf.” Kafka kisses her, a gentle press of their lips.
When she pulls away, Silver Wolf stares dumbly, drawing a sweet laugh from Kafka.
“My room? I don’t think I can stay awake much longer.” Kafka admits, shyly resting on her.
Silver Wolf swallows, entering the coordinates to Kafka’s room. They materialize by the bed. Kafka tugs her along, pulling her onto the bed and into her arms.
“Stay with me.”
She shivers. “Okay.”
Kafka’s breaths lull her into a state of sleepiness. Her stomach flips. It feels like things are moving too fast.
“Kafka?” she asks, not knowing if she hopes the woman is awake or asleep.
“Mhm?”
“I… Uh…” Silver Wolf blushes, trying to push down the tangle of thoughts and feelings. “…Next time, we should talk before doing something like that.”
Kafka laughs. “Yeah. We will.” Runs a hand up and down Silver Wolf’s back. “We’ll figure it out in the morning, darling.”
Silver Wolf breathes, the tightness in her chest falling away. She nods. In Kafka’s voice is a promise that makes her feel things will be okay. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. It’s okay.”
Silver Wolf bites her tongue to stop any other words from leaving. She listens to Kafka fall asleep, going slack around her.
She breathes deeply, timing her breaths with Kafka’s.
Her eyes close.
Hell of a first time.