Ava can swear the blond Captain likes it when she comes over and reprimands her for the Legends’ frequent mishaps. She asks her if she’s told the team of her encounter with Mallus.
The woman opposite her is nervously scratching her head. ‘Yeah, no.’
Ava narrows her eyes. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means—that I haven’t told the team anything just yet,’ Sara has the audacity to reply.
Ava rolls her eyes so hard, she has to take a moment to take a deep breath. It now made sense that she asked to meet her in her quarters; stupid Ava, she thought to herself; she’d let herself consider that she’d done so for any other reason. ‘Rip is trusting the team to fight Mallus, and you haven’t told them anything, yet?’
‘We just stopped a level twelve anachronism, a day or two off won’t hurt.’
‘Your whole approach is just wrong,’ Ava snaps, moving her hands frantically.
‘You don’t get to tell me how to lead my team,’ Sara replies, pointing straight at her. Ava’s gaze falls from Ms. Lance’s eyes to her finger.
For a moment there, she pauses to plan her next move. She shakes her head, before she nudges Sara to the side and makes for the door.
A hand locks around her wrist and she’s twisted around.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Sara asks.
Ava rolls her eyes. ‘If you’re not telling them what they’re up against, I’m telling those fools myself.’
Sara scoffs. ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ she declares and tightens her grip around her wrist.
‘Take your hand off me—or I’ll have to break it,’ Ava grinds her teeth. The Captain doesn’t comply, and Ava tries to catch her wrist before Sara swings her around and presses Ava’s hand behind her back. Ava spins Sara around and tries to knee her in the stomach.
The inevitable fistfight looks like a practiced choreography.
Pants and groans fill the air as the two compete in fighting skills and overall dexterity.
Ava feels something weird in her, for Sara is the only one who can match her in battle; she’s not sure what that is or why her stomach feels raided by butterflies.
With a stony face, Sara bumps her head against Ava’s, who is taken by surprise, and Sara manages to push her backward, ‘til she hits the door. Ava curses herself for getting distracted and steels herself for what’s to come next.
Sara’s arms ensure that Ava’s trapped between her body and the door. They take a moment for their pants to subside.
Ava lets out a breath she’s been holding, as Sara’s face is now a few inches away from hers. Her breaths, deep and quick, synchronize with that of Sara’s. She seems equally fatigued, but that fire in her eyes sends waves of heat lower and lower in Ava’s body, ‘til she feels her work suit getting more and more ruined with each passing moment.
A smug smirk is on Sara’s face, probably stemming from too much self-liking; she ought to feel proud, though, for Ava hasn’t felt like so torn for someone in so long. The thought almost makes her mad at herself; the fact that she let herself get seduced by a stupid Legend—
Ava aches to erase that smirk off the captain’s face. Her hands fist the fabric of Sara’s top and pull her closer. In a split of a second, her lips are against Sara’s, brushing against them sloppily. The captain’s hands tug at her perfect bun, until the hairband is on the floor. Freckled hands victoriously roam the length of waves of hair.
Busying Sara with her lips, she manages to shift positions with her, so she’s now the one pinning her against the wall.
She breaks the kiss to nod at her smugly. Sara tilts her head in reply. Ava finds her reaction too cute to not recompense her for it; her lips are back on Sara’s, kissing hungrily.
Sara’s hands desperately scout along Ava’s body for something to tug at—or rather, something to regain leverage from. They settle on the lapel of her blazer and tug furiously.
Ava takes her hands in hers, momentarily intertwining their fingers, and then pins them next to her head. She coarsely takes her blazer off and throws it on the floor. Ava snickers over the disadvantaged position of the captain.
Soon, she realizes it was very naïve of her to think that this would stop the woman from trying anything else; one muscular leg finds its way between her own and starts pressing upwards. She hates to think that Sara is aware of the arousal pooling down there. Her lips are detached from Sara’s, because the feeling coming from the friction is just too much for her to process anything else.
‘Fuck,’ Ava husks as her head is thrown back against the door with a loud thud.
‘You?’ Sara asks teasingly. ‘I’m trying.’
Ava narrows her eyes, challengingly.
Sara tugs at the collar of Ava’s shirt. Freckled hands struggle to unbutton her plain, white shirt, as Sara’s lips find their way to Ava’s collarbone. The straps of her bra are nudged to the side, and before she can bat an eyelash, her bra is falling on the floor. Sara’s palming her breasts a tad too roughly, and Ava tries to bite back a moan, but fails to do so.
Even in this position, Ava searches for some kind of sign that she, too, has some control. She tangles her hands onto blond locks of hair, and steers the woman where she desires.
Sara kisses and sucks and laps on the sensitive skin of her collarbone, and Ava is sure there are going to be some bruised spots tomorrow.
Ava’s hands travel down Sara’s back; she smiles to herself as she finds her hands full with Sara’s toned ass. Sara seems astonished by that, as she detaches her lips from her breasts where they were working.
Sara’s hands fall on the waistband of her slacks and use it to pull their bodies flush together. Ava's back is pressed against the cool surface of the door. With Ava’s shirt open, Sara’s hands are running across Ava’s toned core, stroking her abs, which jump under the touch.
Ava understands that her eyes are as dilated as the sky-blue pair she’s staring into, for Sara bites her lip. Sara takes a moment to look at her and seems to be enjoying another moment of conceitedness; the corners of her lips curl up, as a hand comes to cradle her cheek.
Ava lets out a guttural grunt; she definitely was not expecting that—softness from the captain. Or herself, for that matter.
Sara remains staring into her eyes, so, Ava, not withstanding the teasing any longer, unbuttons her own slacks.
Sara teases for a moment longer, her fingertips brushing against Ava’s stomach, before they head south.
Sara’s hand –finally, gets past her unbuttoned slacks and teasingly runs a finger over her underwear. Ava grunts; she needs more. She tries to make her intentions clear by pressing their lips forcefully together, biting, every now and then, with excessive roughness.
In her pants, Sara’s pulling her underwear to the side. She slips two fingers with much ease inside her. Sara crooks an eyebrow when she finds how wet Ava is—all thanks to her, and Ava averts her gaze in embarrassment.
With her free hand, Sara places two fingers on her jaw and tilts her head to face her. Ava, flushed as she is, takes a moment to lift her gaze off the floor.
‘Ava,’ she purrs with a smirk, her fingers still inside Ava, but not quite moving.
‘Go on,’ Ava merely orders.
Oddly enough, Sara does as she’s instructed; Ava can’t help but sigh in relief. The speed of her thrusts gradually picks up, pumping in and out, hitting every right spot.
Sara moves even closer so that she can move her hand more freely; the angle Sara’s hand has taken is weird, and Ava wonders whether Sara’s hand would be sore the following day, but remembers she doesn’t actually care.
Sara, finally, caves in and grunts. ‘Screw this,’ is all she says before she pulls her fingers out and drops to her knees. Ava’s slacks and panties are pulled all the way down and thrown away.
With one last glance thrown her way, Sara is challenged anew; Ava’s leg is hooked over the captain’s shoulder.
‘Dammit, Sara,’ Ava rasps, when Sara decides to kiss her inner thigh instead of going where she wants her to go. She knows that the woman yearns to have her plead for it, but is certain she’s not caving in further.
Sara cocks an eyebrow at her reaction.
Two long fingers are parting her folds, and Sara’s tongue is circling her entrance. With broad licks, and, then drawing intricate patterns with her tongue, Sara manages to extract all sorts of sounds from the agent.
The sight of Sara Lance kneeling in front of her alone is enough to send her body into the sweetest of releases, but Ava tries to hold a bit longer. The scene was too much of an accomplishment for her to have a stupid orgasm ruin it.
Ava’s pants are intermitted by gasps and moans; the frequency with which her chest rises and falls picks up as she tenses up.
Ava had promised herself to not let out a sound of weakness when she’d orgasm, but her mind is too hazy for sane thinking. And, the arrogant captain was the only to be kept responsible—
A silent gasp parts her lips as she dissolves into pleasure. Her eyes fall closed as her head hits the wall behind her.
Just as she feels her legs giving way, two strong hands reinforce their grip on them, providing the support she is silently asking for. Clenched muscles are now trying to relax.
Sara keeps sucking and licking her for a little longer, guiding Ava through the waves of pleasure. Ava takes a moment to catch her breath before she grasps a fistful of Sara’s hair, pulling the long strands. Thankfully, Sara gets the idea, and she gets back on her feet.
Sara’s hands are now around her waist, keeping a very unstable Ava standing. With labored breaths, Ava passes a hand through her own messy hair as she looks at Sara.
She unconsciously licks her lips at the sight of the woman; the image of her lips shining from her arousal, combined with the lust in her eyes satisfy her beyond description. Having the Sara Lance in this state for her—and only her, is enough for another wave of arousal to be sent down her core.
Ava’s mind is busy trying to find something to say, when her hand thoughtlessly comes to wipe away the cum off Sara’s face. The blond Legend smirks at her, but Ava is avoiding looking in her eyes.
When she’s finished, Sara’s hand guides Ava’s lower, to her breasts and has her massage them over the fabric of her tank top.
‘Ava,’ she breathes. But, Ava doesn’t plan to give her what she wants until she has her begging for it. She longs to see what the woman would look like in that state.
Ava is now the one smirking. Soon, she’s shoving Sara against the wall, kissing her hard on her lips. The other woman reflectively throws her arms around Ava’s neck, before, with a hop, her legs are wrapped around her waist.
Ava’s working on creating a hickey of the same proportions she’s sure exists somewhere on her body. Her hands sneak under Sara’s tank top, her fingernails grazing the skin of the small of her back.
‘Fuck—Ava,’ a needy voice groans as she maps every inch of the still-clothed captain’s body she can find with little kisses.
And, then, an idea hits her.
Ava stops her ministrations, and she gently lets Sara down. She earns a groan from the woman as she distances herself.
Sara watches her in impatience, but Ava smiles slyly; she has better plans for her, for which, Ava congratulates herself in her mind.
She takes some calculated steps back and sits on a chair Sara rarely frequents. Ava huffs a strand of blond hair out of her face.
‘Strip,’ she commands.