"For God's sake!" Shaw cried, before launching into a kiss that made Root's eyes roll back in her head behind tightly closed lids. Then she pulled away—or tried to, at least.
Root grabbed hold of her and, with all the strength in her tall frame, pulled Shaw back to her. Into another hungry kiss. Like she was trying to hold onto an explosion, Shaw put her hands around Root's back. They stayed there.
"Uh…" Finch said.
"Hunh," Fusco said.
"Did I get hit in the head too?" Reese asked.
Sure now that Shaw was going nowhere, Root's hands dropped down to her ass. Before, she'd contented herself with a quick slap once in a while, an innocent goosing; now she grabbed hold of them and squeezed, making certain that Shaw's ass was just as firm and delectable as it had looked on the many, many occasions Root had been able to sneak a glance at it.
Moreover, Root's hands slipped down to Shaw's thighs. Perhaps it was Root's surprising upper body strength, or perhaps Shaw jumped, but either way, the petite assassin ended up in Shaw's arms, legs wrapped around the taller woman's waist, their kiss continuing in force as Shaw stripped off her jacket. Underneath, her arm muscles bulged through a tanktop as she gathered Root's hair in her hands and rendered her practically supine, wolfishly bearing down upon her momentarily submissive lips.
Outside the elevator, the firing had stopped. Suspiciously, Martine and the rest of the Samaritan agents advanced on the enemy position. If anything, they were even more surprised than Finch, Fusco, and Reese—or even Root and Shaw themselves—to find the two women in an embrace that seemed to pull together tighter all the time, like a star collapsing into a black hole.
Even with ten enemy operatives watching them, Root couldn't resist any longer. Shaw was right. They were a four-alarm fire. The kind you had to let burn out.
Slamming Shaw against the root of an elevator, she swept a hand down into Shaw's pants. The moan Shaw let out was the only reason Root could possibly have to stop kissing her, and even then she bit at Shaw's neck like a vampire.
The voluminous moan barely covered Martine's exclamation of "Holy shit." The hardened operators who made up her team had similar sentiments. One dropped his gun.
Reese figured, being in shock already, there wasn't much more for him to react. Hence his lack of reaction to the lesbian sex act happening in front of him which, he freely admitted, was a very passionate thing happening between two very attractive women. Or he might've been gay for Finch. Either way, he recognized a good diversionary tactic, even when it did give someone an orgasm in, like, five seconds.
As Shaw, eager to reclaim dominance, dismounted Root, swirled her around, rammed her against the wall, and dropped to her knees before her, Reese coughed and gave Fusco a look.
Fusco looked back at him and nodded excitedly.
Reese coughed again and nodded to the override button.
One eye on the cunnilingus, Fusco gave him a thumbs up.
Reese coughed hard enough to dislodge his pancreas and pointed vehemently at the override button.
Fusco pantomimed slapping his forehead. Then, keeping a careful eye on the Samaritan agents (who were keeping a careful eye on Root riding Shaw's face), tiptoed past them.
The sight of a two-hundred-and-fifty pound man tiptoeing—Very. Carefully.—was almost more noteworthy than the Sapphic lovemaking, even with Shaw standing up so Root was literally straddling her shoulders, palming the ceiling for balance.
Shaw had believed in suffering in silence. Root did not. "OH MY FUCK, SHAW, I TOLD YOU WE WOULD BE SO GOOD TOGETHER! YOU'RE ALREADY MAKING ME COME! I SWEAR TO THE MACHINE I'M GONNA SQUIRT, I'VE NEVER SQUIRTED BEFORE, SAMEEN, IT'S EITHER THAT OR I'M DYING! HOLY SHIT! YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A GODDAMN SUPER SOAKER!"
All without taking his eyes off this, Fusco groped his way to the override button, pressed it, and tiptoed back into the elevator. There, Reese graciously gave Finch the high sign to pull down the gate.
After giving him a thumbs up, and getting another high sign, Finch did it.
The elevator took off.
"Oh, c'mon!" Martine cried. "How am I supposed to explain this to Samaritan?"
The non-sixty-nining portion of the group offered her a collective shrug as their elevator ascended.
"At least let me know if she really did squirt!?" she called after them.