A/N: Another two flashbacks for you fine people. Sorry this one took so long to get out, I was angsting over it for quite a while (thanks especially to Inu-midoriko for being a fantastic sounding board!)
(Also, please note the rating change!)
(Equivalent Year: 2146)
Preparations for the arrival of the Sixth Pilgrimage meant it was several months before they were able to find enough time to meet together again – though Taylor had long since added Alicia to the security program which controlled access to the range, allowing her to visit on her own.
Not that she often did though – it wasn't the same without him.
Now they watched as the paper target travelled towards them, every metre of its approach making it clearer that he'd missed her target dot once again – a quarter inch out at most, but still not good enough. And considering where they were and how normal rules didn't strictly apply, she had no problem in telling him just that.
"No no no, you're never going to get it if you don't listen to me. I know you hate following orders but I trained for this, you didn't." She chastised as he sent the target back down the range angrily. "And, I might remind you, that was your choice in the first place."
He huffed but nodded; barely a tip of his head, but a nod it was.
"Come on, on the floor, you had this place designed properly so let's use it properly."
Under the bench in each lane there was an open space for a shot to be made through, with a sandbag for additional weapon support. Taylor made sure the safety was on before placing the rifle on the floor and settling behind it. Wash lowered herself to join him, shoulder to shoulder.
"You've got it easy here, sir. No wind direction to consider, barely a fraction of the distances I covered. No distractions." He snorted at that and she allowed herself a moment of pleasure at the fact he apparently found her just as much a distraction as she did him. "Nothing to factor in except the size of the target. Use the ball of your finger." She reached out to adjust his hold on the trigger, ignoring the little spark she felt at the contact and writing it off as static build-up (what else?).
"Deep breath." She instructed, and he did so. "Now release it and when your lungs are empty, line up and take the shot."
He got it, finally. The flush of pride she felt at actually teaching the great Nathaniel Taylor something was almost dizzying, a fact not helped by the pleased grin he flashed her when noticing the cleanness of his shot. She rolled her eyes at him to hide her true reaction and thought over her next step. A memory of a particularly shitty sniping session came back to her and just like that, she had her plan.
She rose to her knees and lifted one to straddle his hips. She leant forward, placing her folded forearms along the width of his shoulder, before laying the majority of her weight on his back.
He stiffened, the muscles in his back tightening against her chest in what she would never admit was a completely delicious manner. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Half the time I did this it was last minute back-up and I had almost as much kit as my own body weight on my back. I still made every shot. Let's try you now."
"I can't help but think there are better ways to do this." He murmured, but his tone was light, amused. He tried to take a deep breath and Alicia felt herself lift into the air a little. Damn, it was like she barely a nuisance to him.
"Did your pack breathe down the back of your damn neck?" He asked, pressing his cheek against the stock of the gun.
"No sir. The heat and dirt took care of my discomfort, sir." She replied, hearing his exhaled amusement.
When he made the next shot, nearly perfect on the subsequent dot on the target, she tried a different approach. She pinched and prodded her fingers up his side mercilessly until his head popped up from the sight again.
"What now?"
"Bugs, sir. Can't forget the bugs. Do you know, I once had a snake crawl over my back while I was sniping?" She smiled to herself, swiping her fingertips slowly along the skin exposed where his t-shirt had ridden up. "Right about here."
"Is that so?" He asked, the slightest hint of a tremor in his voice.
She placed her palms flat on the floor beside his chest and leaned over him, watching his finger tighten on the trigger. Just before the rifle fired she threw caution to the wind and placed her mouth in the curve of his neck and sucked lightly, nibbling at the skin with her teeth. He lost his measured breathing completely and the shot was horrendous, not even making the paper as it flew straight into the back wall.
"I win." She crowed, climbing off of him and heading over to the weapons cabinet to select her own tool for the afternoon.
She heard him rise from the floor behind her, hesitating once he was upright. He then quickly crossed the room and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her back against him. She gasped at both the sudden movement and the feel of his length pressed against her.
"Don't start something you can't finish, lieutenant." He warned.
"No, sir." She said, turning in his arms to look up at him. "Wouldn't dream of it."
He growled and ducked his head to capture her lips, bruisingly hard. He nipped at her lower lip as his hands trailed down her back to hold her tighter to him.
She ran her hands up to rest on his shoulders, tipping her head to the side to accommodate his wish to deepen the kiss. He walked her backwards towards her empty bench and when the backs of her legs hit the wood she winced, harsh contact with a week-old bruise on her thigh enough to make her pull away with a hiss of pain.
Taylor moved his lips to her jaw, tracing a line up to her ear. "This is a bad idea." He muttered.
"The worst." She agreed, clutching at him in a manner that was far too submissive for her liking.
"We should stop." He continued, moving down to her neck.
"We should, sir."
He stilled, pulling back to observe her. "You mean that, don't you?"
She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him briefly. "Don't rush into a dangerous situation unplanned. You taught me that."
"Dangerous, eh?" He grinned.
"Could be, sir. Need to evaluate and build an appropriate strategy." She said, her businesslike tone entirely at odds with the way her hands were clutched around his biceps, her legs tangled with his.
"Sounds fun." He said, eyes sparkling.
She laughed. "You would think so."
#
And then, naturally, everything went to hell.
#
(Equivalent Year: 2146)
"Wash, stand down." He shouted. She knew he was aware she could hear his words but she chose to ignore him, ejecting the empty clip and inserting a new one, before firing anew.
She ran out of ammo and walked to gather some more and he moved to stand in front of her station and block her return path.
"Excuse me sir." She said not looking at him.
"No. Stand down, lieutenant."
Her hands clasped behind her back as she fell into parade rest in front of him.
"I know you're angry, Wash. And do I ever understand how much this helps. But there's a limit."
"Yes sir." She said reluctantly.
"Come on. Change up to a rifle. I'll help you out."
She smiled now, letting him know how well she remembered what happened the last time he did that. "Okay, sir. No blindfold this time, sir?" She teased and he relaxed slightly when she walked over to store her pistol away for cleaning and gather a larger weapon – her being rattled always set him on edge too.
He tapped at a few of the buttons on the control panel and set the targets into a predetermined cycle of movement. Wash looked over at them curiously as she set up, turning an amused smile on him.
"We need to channel that anger into something productive. I don't imagine the Sixers are going to stand still and wait for you to shoot at them."
"I know how to shoot at live targets, sir."
"Humour me." Taylor said, walking behind her and grasping her hips. "Please?"
She cocked her head to one side, her mouth pulling up into a smirk. "Well, when you put it like that, sir."
At first she thought he was just toying with her – now that she wasn't blindfolded she didn't need his guidance to aim correctly. He simply stood, hands on her hips, watching as round after round found its way to the target. It was oddly relaxing, his presence behind her, but she didn't quite get why he was doing it – she thought this was a game, he should be trying to distract her as she had him. Instead he was treating it more as a strange therapy session.
Concentrating on the target, painting each one with Mira's face, Wash found a happy place and stayed there.
Then his right hand moved forward until his fingers just slipped under her waistband. She tensed, then relaxed again, not letting her rhythm falter.
Game on.
He unbuttoned her pants with a flick of his wrist, but his hands didn't stray any lower. Puzzled as to his intention she continued until she was out of rounds, removing one magazine and inserting another. She placed the gun down carefully and tapped the interface to replace the paper target with one on a different motion cycle.
When she was settled back in and lining up her next shot his hand moved downward, pushing the zipper lower from the inside, the two halves of her fly parting in the wake of his hand.
He chuckled when she didn't react and her accuracy didn't diminish, despite the progress of his fingertips across her skin. But then he'd trained her well over the past year or so - it took a lot to distract her when she was out on duty anyway yet he'd upped her ability to concentrate tenfold with their little competitions.
It seemed to her that this session had become all about incentives. She made a particularly good shot, his hand slid lower. A miss and it retracted (though never far). It took four rounds hitting dead centre one after the other for his fingers to slip into her slick folds for the first time, the pad of his middle finger finding her bundle of nerves and stroking, just the once.
Her knees felt a little shaky but she was damned if she would give in; she'd been working hard on this and he wasn't about to undo it with his talented fingers.
He was amused by how long she held out, she could tell by the deep rumbling chuckles that radiated through her entire body as he moved ever closer to her. Her aim was reasonable even as his fingers delved further, requiring her to widen her stance. Considering she was starting to feel delightfully warm and slightly floaty she managed the reassignment of her weight without even breaking stride.
It became a battle of wills.
One of them would have to yield first and considering the last three of her rounds barely hit the target she figured it could only be her, in the end.
"Keep going." He warned when she fired her final round and pulled off her ear protectors.
"No." She responded, making the weapon safe and laying it down carefully. His hand started to retreat and she grabbed his wrist, forcing it back down. "No."
"Take the guns away and what are we doing?" He asked, warm skin pressed against her as he dropped his ear protectors next to hers.
"With or without guns, it doesn't matter." She said, threading her fingers through his and drawing their joined hands further into her underwear with a breath of excitement. "So long as we both want this."
She bucked her hips as fingers found her clit again (his, hers, it didn't matter) and he grunted against her ear at the press of her ass into him. "The rules..."
"Here was me thinking we were doing it this way to avoid worrying about your damn rules?"
She was right, they both knew it but neither had dared admit it to themselves before now. It'd been a very long time since they were coming to the range for practice, or stress relief. Somehow it had morphed into a way to circumvent all the trappings of their positions without giving up who they were, at the core.
As he brought her over the edge, Alicia wondered (in the one part of her mind that wasn't enjoying the sensation of her first non-solo orgasm in rather too long to consider) whether that had been his plan all along.