Alliance || 1 || ✔️ mature

05 | Eleven

Rule number five; I don't care what your mind says, you deserve to be happy.

My body slams hard into the back of the door as his lips move over my neck, his tongue tracing imaginary tattoos on the sensitive skin.

I moan as one of his hands trails the curve of my hip and rests on the small of my back. His other holding tightly to my waist as my hands roam unabashed through his mussed up brunette hair.

I push myself off the door, shoving the man in front of me onto my bed, climbing over his hips and settling against him. I reach down, pull my shirt over my head, and fling it to the floor.

My hands hold his above his head as I lean down and demand his attentions once more. His hips lift, rolling us to the other side of the double bed.

One of his hands trails up my side before lingering on my jaw. He clutches my face gently, pulling my face to his roughly. Yet his face sinks into my neck, leaving my lips tingling for touch. He drags his lips over my pulse point, slowly making his way up to my ear.

I moan, rolling us back over, straddling his hips.

The man leans back, his hazel eyes stark on my brown ones, the pillow crinkling under him.

"You're not what I expected, Agent Eleven."

Cold washes over me and I react, twisting for the side table and retrieve my gun.

The click echoes in the silence as I push the gun under his chin, lifting his head up slightly though his taunting smirk doesn't dissipate.

"Are you so cocky that a gun to your head does nothing for you?"

The man below me grins, jaw ticking. "On the contrary, it does a lot."

A wicked gleam lights his eyes, his hips lifting just slightly, the bulge beneath me causing my brain to lose focus for just a second.

It's all the time he needs, my body ending up under his on the bed, a gun in his hand and pointed at my head.

He lifts a brow, as another click echoes, the safety of a gun flicking off and the barrel held against my temple.

"Seems we're at an impasse." The man above murmurs, leaning down despite the gun pointed at him.

I chuckle breathlessly, shoving my forehead into his face. He pulls back on a yell, blood dripping from his nose and arm lifting to survey the damage.

I use the opportunity, pushing him off my body and rolling from the bed. I stand up, holding my gun steady. Watching his smirking features for any sign of his next move.

He lifts his own gun, cocking his head to the side.

"Who sent you?" I growl out, my feet skimming over my discarded shirt.

I ignore the vulnerable position I've put myself in and round the bed but keep my gaze on him.

"Who said anyone sent me?"

"You called me Agent Eleven, few people know me by that name. I don't remember you being one of them."

A smirk tilts his lips. "Director wants you back."

I scoff, "Took him long enough."

The man on the bed moves then, getting off the mattress and appearing in front of me.

I take a step back, shaking the gun in my grip.

"You forget who has the upper hand here." I remind him, lifting a brow.