A Honeypot and a Bullet

For Pansyfest 2023

A Pansy/Fleur Interlude

Fleur never got used to looking at her wife in the long blonde wig, even when it was through her sniper scope. Pansy was flitting through the corporate party like the perfect high end call girl. Her long nails lingered on ties and forearms. She smiled a sweet vapid smile as she listened to the men discuss corporate secrets over their scotch. Some of the men there had their fingers in more business than insider trading and one in particular was their target. Aberforth Dumbledore, a slave trafficker who brought girls from the boss' motherland and sold them to brothels or as baby factories to the highest bidder. Offering Theodore Nott a business arrangement to do his work in Los Angeles had been a fatal error on the man's part.

Theo would have preferred a long drawn out torture session at his place in Los Angeles, but this bastard never left Chicago so here they were.

The other girls working the party were a well-oiled machine and only they knew that Pansy was a late addition for another girl who had fallen ill (she'd been drugged at her favorite dive bar and dropped off at the emergency room so that she could be safely treated). Pansy had instantly slotted herself into their protocols with no problems.

Pansy's identifying tattoos were covered with makeup, because her tiny sparkling black dress left very little to the imagination. The other girls were all in red, it was Christmas after all, but the black made Pansy stand out to Fleur who followed every flick of her head and flutter of her long sparkly fake lashes.

Even though Fleur knew that Pansy's tastes did not run towards men, she had to admit that the performance was masterful. Pansy beckoned without being gauche. She lured and, within about an hour, she had their target in an adjoining office, a discreet distance from the party. She plied him with an additional glass of brown liquor and got to her knees, looking up at the slave trafficker expectantly.

Fleur's signal. It was go time.

Two light squeezes to her trigger and the man went down like a sack of bricks. Two small holes in the glass window which luckily didn't shatter. Blood splattered all over Pansy, but it didn't slow her as she was locking the door to the office and was out like a shot. She grabbed her trench coat that she'd placed by the elevator earlier when pretending she was in the loo.

Fleur had exactly four minutes to get down from this rooftop. She had her gun disassembled before Pansy was even to the service elevator door. By the time the elevator arrived, Fleur was rushing down the fire escape, waiting just a moment at the landing to be sure that the elevator door closed behind Pansy and no one had found their target's corpse yet.

Fleur ran downward. They had parked in a dead zone between surveillance cameras and she managed to have her work bag in the trunk, the old black ford running and she rolled forward, right in time to be in front of the service exit as Pansy came strolling out as though she had not a care in the world and her face didn't have the splatter of blood on it.

Fleur leaned over and rolled down the window, "Ma cherie, Est-ce que tu vas dans mon sens? Parce que mon rouge à lèvres irait bien à l'intérieur de tes cuisses!"

"What have I told you about hitting on me in French?"

Fleur smirked and bit her lip, "To do it often and loudly?"

Pulling open the door, Pansy jumped into the car and immediately slipped off the bloody blonde wig, shoving it into a sack that she had under the seat. She went to wipe the blood from her face and Fleur said, "Non, Leave your lips bloody for me. Once we get out of the city, I am going to fuck you senseless in this car before we push it into the river."

Pansy blushed and grinned widely. It looked so good on her compared to the fake smiles she'd been throwing all evening. "Threaten me with a good time too."

Fleur reached over and squeezed Pansy's thigh. "Aussi longtemps que tu me le permettras, mon amour."

Bringing Fleur's hand to her lips, Pansy kissed her knuckles leaving lip marks of makeup and blood on Fleur's skin. "Whatever that was sounded good. I love you, Fleur. You did such a perfect job tonight."

"You too, my little wife, lined up my shot like clockwork," Fleur smiled as she concentrated on driving.

"I love working with you," Pansy said, closing her eyes for a second. "Zabini and Pucey picking us up after we dump the car?"

Fleur only nodded. She wasn't looking forward to putting on the dowdy dress that they had in the back seat and pretending to be Blaise's girlfriend for an hour before they started the multi-day drive back to LA. He always made one too many jokes to cover up his awkwardness at having to touch her. At least the man was a good shot, he needed a wife to settle him down. He was too highly strung.

"I wish I knew more straight girls," Fleur said seemingly out of nowhere as Pansy wiped herself down with baby wipes in the passenger seat.

"And what brought that on?" Pansy asked, "Looking to scratch an itch?"

"What? No, not for me, for Zabini. He needs a woman, especially since the last one did him so dirty." Fleur looked down at her highlighted map and turned left to head to the interstate.

"I think Theo has that sorted," Pansy laughed, "he's bringing in the old world energy. I think they're even doing a marriage contract like it's the 1800s."

Fleur looked over to see Pansy only in a pair of panties and a bra as she continued to meticulously clean herself. Everything, even the Jimmy Choo's, would be burned later.

"I believe it is called a prenup these days, ma petite pensée."

"Whatever," Pansy waved her hand in annoyance, "It's not like you didn't know what I meant."

...

A few hours later, Fleur pulled into a side road that ran along a levy and parked in a darkened pull off where someone had crashed through the barrier last week. Wasting no time, she rubbed her thumbs over her wife's face, kissing desperately, tasting the copper of the vile excuse for a man they had slain together.

"Je vous aime. Je vous aime. Je vous aime." Fleur murmured against Pansy's lips, licking and sucking and biting to draw Pansy's own blood. Pansy's hand went to Fleur's hair, but Fleur grabbed Pansy's wrist and spun her so that her stomach was to the back of the bench seat.

"Hold the back of the seat like a good girl," Fleur purred. Pansy nodded, biting her already swollen bottom lip and shivering under her wife's ministrations.

Pansy was already dripping when Fleur's finger slid under the black silk of her panties, circling her wife's clit and making her moan.

Fleur circled again and again, stopping each time her wife was about to come until Pansy was sobbing and begging desperately for release. Only then did Fleur wrap her arm around her so that three fingers from one hand could plunge deep inside Pansy and push against the spot that she knew made her wife climax like crazy. Playing her wife like an instrument, Fleur's other thumb rubbed at the swollen little button until Pansy's whole body arched.

"Fleur! Fuck! Fuck! I love you! Fuck!" Pansy collapsed backwards, her head on Fleur's shoulder and kissed her neck softly. "What about you?"

"Rain check for when we are in our own bed, ma cherie. Next time you eat my pussy I want an entire day to enjoy it, not a few rushed minutes."

Pansy scoffed, "Fine. Let's get out of here then. We've already been here too fucking long anyway."

"And you wanted to fuck?" Fleur asked in mock horror.

"I would have made time for that," Pansy threw her love a saucy grin and then both of them went into their cleanup procedures: drenching with bleach, gas, burning and pushing the old car off the levy, its license plates long gone on the side of the highway.

When they were finished, there was no sign that a car had ever been there. And two nondescript brunettes in loose dowdy dresses and oversized purses walked down a country road to the busy rural dive bar where their ride home was waiting.