Dance Till I Die (gxg) ✓

"Russian Roulette"

ACE

            "I still don't understand why you have an AK-47 in your back pocket."

            "In situations like these," Ace said in a rough voice, "it is best to be prepared."

             One of her hands was planted on the wall above Mavis, and with the other, she tilted Mavis's chin. 

             "What's your game plan?" Mavis asked, more than a little breathlessly.

            Ace liked the way Mavis looked up at her, eyes shadowed with long lashes. She trailed her fingertip over Mavis's jaw, and Mavis shuddered, arcing into her touch.

           "To fuck you," Ace whispered darkly. "Right here. Right now."

           Mavis's breathing turned uneven. "We're in an airport bathroom!"

          One long, leisure graze against the underside of Mavis's breast. "I."  The peak of Mavis's nipple hardened, and Ace caressed it through the layer of Mavis's shirt. "Don't."  Mavis bit back a moan, and something vicious, hungry unfurled within Ace. "Care."

          Between breaths, Mavis managed, "What if―someone―walks in―"

          "Then they'll turn around."

          "We can't―"

          "How do you want to be fucked, Mavis?" Ace said, in a voice edged with desire. "What do you need?"

           And Ace knew Mavis needed it―badly. She had just seen her daughter for what she thought was the last time. She was about to offer herself up to the Russian Mafia as a grieving mother. And in exchange, they'd do blyad knew what to her.

         But Ace didn't care if it meant putting a bullet into her brother's head herself.

        Mavis was determined to give herself up to the mob. And Ace was not going to let her go gently. 

      "Teach me self-defense," Mavis gasped into Ace's mouth.

      "Like this?"

      Ace pinned one of Mavis's hands above her head. 

      "Yes, I want to learn how to fight!"

      "Hit me," Ace whispered.

      "What?"

      A soft, dark smile. "Try and hit me."

      Mavis's eyes were wide, glossy and bright. Pure determination sparked in those liquid depths, and Ace gritted out a laugh at the fire she had first been drawn to. Red―if Mavis was a colour, it was red.

       Mavis punched her.

       Or she would have―if Ace hadn't lashed out her own hand, sealing Mavis's fist in hers.

       "Puta! How are you so fucking fast?"

       Ace released Mavis's hand. "Try again."

       "Confident, aren't you, Blondie?" Mavis taunted. She struck again―probably hoping to surprise Ace.

        This time, all Ace had to do was hold her wrist.

        "How?" Mavis gasped.

        "I was once a weapon for the Russian mob, remember?"