Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen AKA Inner Circle Codename: Anya (CIA Deep Cover Operation: Honeypot)
Task Force 141 / The Inner Circle
Brussels, Belgium
Anya knew that the first person she would see when she woke up was Makarov. Whoever was tasked with trailing her was most likely called away to maintain the deception. Even though she woke up in a hospital, MacTavish would have already known that she was being followed because she had made quite a show of collapsing in a very public place at midday. Hopefully, the Captain was able to see who the person was.
"You should have been more careful, my dear," Makarov told her. "What has caused you such alarm that you have lost so much sleep?"
"I had a lot to think about," Anya answered with a smile when he took the seat next to her bed. It was now time to reel him in. This would be her strategy with him going forward. She did have a lot to think about, and the truth was that she had decided that she would lie to him with the truth. It would not do her any good to hide behind a wall of lies that could be taken apart at any time.
Makarov took her hand and kissed it. "My dear, you are an enigma," he said. She could feel his face coming dangerously close to hers. "Doubt is a greater killer than any known weapon. You have chosen this path now; you must walk to the end. But you already knew this."
Anya wound her arm behind his neck, pulling him closer. "They have all been cleared now," she whispered into his ear. With bated breath she waited for his reaction. The mission was officially called "Operation Honeypot" (Shepherd had not been the most creative in naming such things), and it was high time that she started to act like one. Where she had been bashful, and careful with MacTavish, she knew that she had to pursue Makarov. "With you, I will be only 'Anya'."
Her words held many meanings. Anya had been her callsign, her identity as a soldier of Task Force 141. She had not chosen an alias for this mission, because she wanted to remind herself where she had come from, no matter what she faced. She would present Makarov with her full self and all that it entailed.
Makarov understood the meaning of what she had said. "I will hold you to your word, my dear," he replied, and pressed his lips against hers. He had been a force that had just consumed. He had a taste of her and wanted more. Within seconds of initial contact, he deepened the kiss and brought his arms around her waist. He would have continued further, until Anya winced in pain. Their movements had caused the canula on the back of her hand to cause her discomfort. "You need to rest," he told her.
Anya nodded. She had not slept well in a week, and even a soldier like herself could not have endured it. His hand remained on hers. There was a strange warmth in this gesture. Although he had been known to be ruthless, cold, and violent, Makarov had only been gentle and attentive to her. She knew that she had not been an exception. Her presence had served a purpose, and he needed her around him. She needed to find out that purpose.
When she closed her eyes, she still felt his hand upon hers. She could not believe that such a simple gesture could bring so much comfort, even from the man who was supposed to be her enemy. His warmth had been a guarded one, one that was given only when he was willing. She did not know why, but he had only been like this with her, ever since they first met a week ago; from the way he had addressed her, to how he was currently accompanying her. Whatever trap this was, Anya knew that it had been a dangerous game that they were playing with one another.
The last thing that Anya remembered was Makarov's lips on her hand.
Capt. John "Soap" MacTavish
Task Force 141
Task Force 141 Land-base, location classified.
"Anya said that Makarov was planning a large operation that will take place in a year's time," MacTavish reported to Shepherd. "She witnessed a meeting between him and an arms dealer, one Alex the Red. The shipment is so large or complex that it would take a whole year to complete."
Shepherd listened intently. "Our girl is doing excellent work then," he said. "She's only been there, what, a week?"
"Anya knew that she was being followed," MacTavish continued. "She brought herself to exhaustion to test if Makarov's men would find her when she collapsed. I saw one of them bringing her to the nearest emergency room."
An impressed harrumph escaped Shepherd. "That's Anya for you," Shepherd said. "Always thinking out of the box." Although they were now limited in their contact with Anya, they had reached that conclusion organically, without any further risk. Anya had done this at the risk of her own wellbeing.
MacTavish balled his fists when he heard Shepherd's reaction to what Anya had done to herself. Shepherd was not there to see the state that Anya was in, but he was. "The longer she stays in the field, the closer she is to danger," he reasoned. "We need to pull her back as soon as we can."
"I'll pretend that I didn't hear that, MacTavish," Shepherd returned. "Anya is doing work that even a hundred men can't, she's too valuable in the field." MacTavish knew that Shepherd was right. Anya knew the same languages that Makarov knew, while she shared his background from the special forces. Anya could think of strategies that he could only have dreamed of… Even if there was another woman in the 141, only Anya could have been the one for the job.
MacTavish now understood that Anya was selected into the 141 because of how similar she had been with Makarov on paper. She was what he should have been, had he not turned to hatred and bloodlust. Anya told him that Makarov could see right through her, perhaps in due time, she would be able to see through him as well.
"I spoke out of line, sir," MacTavish admitted.
Shepherd tapped him on the shoulder. "Your care for your subordinates is admirable, MacTavish. However, you must respect Anya's choice. Until the day that she comes home to this base, she chooses to be there," Shepherd advised. Anya was forced into a corner, and forced to think that she made that choice. Shepherd was the one that forced her to it. "You are dismissed, Captain."
"Yes, sir," MacTavish returned, and went back to his quarters. Right next to his door was Anya's.
He opened the door and found it exactly as she had left it last. She had only left a week ago, but it felt like it had been a lifetime. He did not enter her quarters, content to just remember her presence by recalling the last few nights they had spent together.
He should have told her everything. Although he now knew the reason why she had looked so haggard and frail when he met her in Brussels, there was a fear in his heart that Anya might not live to complete the mission. In a perfect world, he should have been the one that protected her. It should not have been the other way around.
MacTavish closed Anya's door. In a way, Shepherd was right. No matter how much pressure Shepherd had placed on Anya to agree to the mission, she had taken up the mission willingly. She would have to see it to its end. He would guide her if he could. She would have to walk this path alone.
Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen AKA Inner Circle Codename: Anya (CIA Deep Cover Operation: Honeypot)
Task Force 141 / The Inner Circle
Paris, France
When Anya was discharged from the hospital in Brussels, Anya and Makarov boarded a plane to Paris. This time, he had booked only one room between them at their accommodation.
Anya did not question it. She had started the game, and she would lie in it until she finished it. More and more to the outside world, they looked to be a couple, travelling, enjoying the company of one another. She had wished to no end that MacTavish was the one who did this with her, but beggars could not be choosers. She had a duty to fulfill.
This was the lie she told herself. She would get in bed with the most wanted man in the world, so that they might have hope that they could kill or apprehend him. However, it would be a travesty if she did not admit to herself that Makarov was making everything easier for her.
With his high cheekbones and piercing gaze, Makarov had an elegance to him that no other soldier had. He knew the power of image. His mannerisms were that of a gentleman, and it was enough to melt any woman's resolve, even her.
When they entered their room, Anya went straight to the balcony that overlooked the Eifel Tower, with its glimmering lights amidst the setting sun. The view was stunning. As she took in the sight, she felt Makarov's arms encircle her waist from behind her. He was so close to her that she could smell his cologne.
"Come to bed, my dear," he said, kissing the base of her neck. It was not a request; she could feel the pull of his arms. He had wanted her. He had wanted her since their first shared kiss in the hospital in Brussels.
"It's not every day that I get to see the Eifel Tower at sunset," she teased, feeling his fingers creeping below the neckline of her dress, his teeth grazing the contours of her shoulders. She could feel his hand cupping her breast and sighed. Instinct told her to stand her ground, to let him think that he was breaking her resolve. The first contact was always the most memorable, and she had to make it count.
"Did you have a lover before you came to me?" Makarov asked, sensing her resistance.
"Yes," Anya answered plainly. That was all she needed to tell him.
"Where is he now?"
"Too far for me to see, and touch. Too near in my mind that my heart breaks when I remember him," she said. "I cannot look back now." She turned to face him, breaking from his hold over her. Anya held either side of his face and kissed him, taking even Makarov by surprise, so much so that he had taken a step backwards.
She knew that she had to press her advantage. Kiss after fervent kiss, she removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, whilst he unzipped her dress. She helped him in removing her bra and underwear, and bit her lip while his eyes scanned every inch of her body. "Beautiful," he praised. She was a soldier, and every single part of her body was a weapon. She had worked hard to shape it into what it currently was. She had not been as strong as MacTavish or Ghost, but she was fast, and she could endure what most men could not.
Makarov pulled her into his arms by the small of her back, causing her to anchor herself onto him by resting her hand on his chest. He had been well sculpted, which was probably why he often left the top three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned as a habit. He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. She gasped, arching her back into him.
Taking advantage of her response to him, Makarov lowered himself onto the floor, trailing kisses, flicking his tongue at times, nipping with his teeth at others. When he reached her womanhood, he knelt and toyed with her clitoris with his tongue. She grasped at his hair and sighed. Perhaps this was why he had been so charismatic, his skill with his tongue was considerable.
She was soon riding his tongue, her legs straddling both sides of his head. He looked directly at her as he pleasured her, sending jolts of electricity all over her body. He wanted to see if she was enjoying his services. She returned the gaze, goading him on.
"Insatiable woman," he growled, standing on his feet. Allowing her no time to react, he hauled her over his shoulder and nearly flung her onto the bed. So much for being a gentleman. He drank the sight of her, naked, golden hair fanned out on the bed. Makarov kissed her top to bottom, helping her to remove his pants and briefs.
"Take me," Anya pleaded, holding her arms onto his neck, her voice barely a whisper.
"As you wish, my dear," Makarov acquiesced, thrusting his erect member into her depths. They had both moaned at the initial contact. All Anya felt was him. His hunger, his desire, and his will. It was when they came together as one where she could see him, all of him, not only in the physical sense, but she began to understand what he meant about the similarities between them.
With each thrust, Makarov buried his head between her breasts, either sucking one nipple, or licking the other. She could feel him exploring her, trying out every possible combination. Curious, yet passionate. She let him have his way with her, observing how he would pleasure her.
As a lover, he was exceptionally patient, preferring to discover as much of her as he could. Whenever she wanted to return the favor, he would pin her back down. "There will be time for that in the future," he whispered into her ear when he felt her fingers wrap around his shaft. He positioned her on her back and entered her from behind.
Anya let out a long moan, feeling him fill her again, their bodies in total contact, the skin on her back caressed by the skin of his chest and torso. She turned her head towards his, seeking his lips in a kiss that involved dueling tongues and even more fervent thrusts on his part, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.
"Vladimir…" she gasped his name when she went over the brink. It was at this time when he withdrew from her and had her stroke his manhood. When he finished, he spilled his seed over her breasts, and pulled her back onto the bed.
"Sleep," Makarov instructed her, spent from their carnal activities, spooning her body against his.
Anya nodded and settled in his arms. Sleep came naturally to her, realizing that she would be the safest in Makarov's presence, despite the greatest dangers that he posed to her, an irony that was not lost on her.
When Anya woke, the sun had not yet risen. Makarov was leaning on the balcony, looking deep in thought. He beckoned her to join him and drew her into his arms. "How do you feel, my dear?" he asked her.
"Content," Anya answered. "Sated." She referenced the grumble that he had let out when she had been riding his tongue.
Her response elicited a chuckle from Makarov. "Your lover, did you find him in the Spetsnaz?" he asked her.
"He was my Captain," Anya answered. "He is tall and handsome, he never left anyone behind in the field. When I joined his unit, we were immediately attracted with one another. You told me that I was fighting to prove myself, to prove my abilities. I realized that I was doing that to show that I was worthy of him. In my head, I didn't want anyone to think that I had my place in the unit because I was with him."
What she said was entirely true in the context of her days in the 141. She had buried her feelings for MacTavish because she wanted to prove her mettle. Seeing that aurora with him in the immense quiet of Siberia had only brought them back to the surface. They had not declared anything for each other yet, but she knew that MacTavish was letting her take the lead, only going where she had been comfortable, on her terms. He told her that they would talk about it when she returned to him. She swore that she would do everything she could to return, even if she had to become Makarov's woman.
Makarov kissed the crook of her neck. "That is why you could not sleep last week," he surmised. "You were trying to balance your duties here with me and your heart that bled for your captain." He was not wrong, but she knew that she could not let his insight of her mind take the better of her. She would need to get used to it. "Anya, I will not lie to you. I have wanted you, all of you since I saw you with Dimitri. You are a rare jewel. If you play your cards right, I can give you more power than you can ever imagine."
Anya silenced him with a kiss, one that was slow, but fiery. "It seems foolish to say this, but you are my future now, Vladimir," she answered. "I will go where you lead me."
Makarov grunted in agreement. Her last sentence seemed to work their magic, for he led her back into the room and closed the doors to the balcony. Then and there, their bodies came together again. It could only be described as "mating". Pure desire came through them, and they allowed themselves to be ruled by it. Anya did not know what would come from her giving into him, but she knew that the more she resisted, the more conflicted about herself she would be. She had to lock everything about her past deep within herself. She had to immerse herself in her current situation. If it meant that she had to submit herself to Makarov, then so be it. She might as well enjoy him in bed as he did her.