(Advisory: MATURE CONTENT!)

Moments later, Agent Smith arrived perfectly on time in a 1999 black Jaguar. Paying her a compliment, which she took very positively, he opened her passenger door, and she climbed right in. Soon after, they drove off into the evening, watching the sun descend beneath the horizon, and arrived at Le Chasseur.

Le Chasseur was a swanky, elevated French cuisine establishment that served some of the city's best gourmet. According to many, their meat dishes and desserts were to die for. With a hefty price tag, most could only afford it for special occasions. So far, Morgana was impressed by Agent Smith, but didn't it seem a bit too good to be true?

"You know, Agent Smith," she began, as they both sat at the table, waiting for their appetizers. "The craziest thing about all this is that, we're going on this very fancy date, and I don't even know your name. I feel like this is the sort of thing only very impulsive, crazy, or foolish people do." She laughed as she said this, and Smith observed her, appreciating her physique. Never before had he looked at a human that closely; certainly, to study them—learn about them like a machine would—but never even insofar of appreciating them through an artistic or personal lens. He learned their weak points, their most vulnerable spots in combat, but he never once saw a woman, or any human, through any lens that wasn't hatred, frustration, or disgust.

Quickly, he had to come up with a name. He had never given much thought to it before; Agents were simply called "Agent Smith," or "Agent Brown"—the surname was really just their designated program name, but because they weren't human, the Mainframe never bothered to give them first names.

"Forgive me, Miss Morgana. I assure you that you are neither of those things. It is me who's been crazy for forgetting my manners," Smith said with a smile. "My name is Alexander Smith. You can call me Alex."

Morgana smiled and laughed. "Alex," she said, "I don't blame you; after all, we've barely started taking the time to know each other. With everything that's been going on, we've both been very busy—particularly, you, I imagine."

"As they say: no rest for the wicked," Smith joked. The entire time that they were together, he kept his earpiece and sunglasses stowed away inside his jacket. Morgana observed this, and just the flutter of a brief question hung around her head for a moment, before swiftly disappearing.

Conversing over a decadent four course meal, they asked each other what their interests were, what they did in their spare time, and all of the run-of-the-mill dating questions one would expect.

After a while of sharing, Morgana commented, "Well, Agent Smith. It seems like you know most of everything about my life, but I don't know enough about you." She realized that she still referred to him by his Agent name; it was just the way she knew him, and "Alex" just didn't stick.

"A fair observation," he said, taking a sip of wine. He could see why humans got addicted to this beverage; not only did it taste sweet, but it helped to relax yet arouse something in him.

"What would you like to know?" He asked. A curious look came upon his eyes.

"Everything," she said, meeting his gaze. The wine had given her some courage.

"It appears I've been in the habit of remaining as private as possible, due to the nature of my job," Smith said, shaking his head. "I do not mean to appear closed-off."

"I understand," said Morgana with a smile.

He hated this: despite wanting to actually be honest about himself, how on earth would he flat-out confess that he was a sentient program, sent to kill anybody who threatened or revealed the Matrix? He had no choice but to fabricate a story. Quickly running through a database of human biographies, he came up with one for his role.

"I was born in London, while my parents were there for a temporary job. I moved back to the States when I was three; I don't remember much of England at all. I sort of 'fell' into government work, you see; both my parents were involved with it themselves," he said.

"Interesting," she said. "Do you see them, or speak to them often?"

"No. We have a rather ... estranged relationship," Smith said, a mysterious look on his face.

"I see. Wouldn't I happen to know?" She joked, thinking about her mother. "So, what happened?"

"We don't quite see eye to eye," Smith replied. "Dad's always been the cold type, obsessed with work, and mom is strange and unpredictable; we are vastly different people."

"I understand that completely," said Morgana, and sighed. As she was finishing up her steak, she remembered the concern she was pushing at the back of her mind.

"Alex," she forced herself to say. The name felt uncomfortable; she was so used to calling him "Agent Smith".

"I received something in the mail today that might be of interest," she began, and reaching inside her bag, pulled out the correspondence.

Agent Smith's attention was rapidly directed to the piece of paper in her hand. As he took it and opened it, his eyes landed automatically on Natasha's words cautioning against the "men in black", and especially, the "Matrix". He frowned as he read this, and beckoned himself to resist the urge to crumple up the paper, or tear it apart.

"And you said you got this today?" He asked.

"Yes, I felt so terrified," she confessed. "They know where I live, where I work ... it's almost like they're somehow watching me, and I haven't even been on the forums since you warned me. I've been so anxious recently." The terrible sinking feeling returned to her stomach as she again thought of what this meant; it was believed Natasha went by choice, so were they closing in to take her by force? Were they trying to discredit her belief in a federal agent, as to encourage her paranoia?

It was strange to have fear and comfort present at once; the pleasures of Agent Smith's company alongside delectable food and sumptuous ambiance were in stark juxtaposition to the inner turmoil she felt inside. She didn't know what else to do, and Agent Smith seemed to be her only lifeline.

"You won't have to be," he said. "I will make sure that you're safe, which means that I'll be making rounds more often. If you ever reach start to feel unsafe at home, let me know. There are ... options available."

"Thank you, Agent Smith. I appreciate everything you're doing for me. But I just keep wondering what all of this means," Morgana said, gesturing at the paper. "Perhaps it means nothing, but I want to know why they would send me this, and what they hope to achieve by it."

"Well, let's analyze it, shall we?" Smith said, and laid out the paper in front of her.

"As you may know, many such paranoid schizophrenics believe that they are being stalked by either one or a gang of malevolent individuals. Natasha's writing here is a sign that she was suffering from persecutory delusions. Now, as for the cultists' intent in sending you this—I believe that they want you to think that they have her. They're trying to lure you in, of course," he explained.

"Of course," she said. "That makes perfect sense."

"We will be in contact with our partner agencies, who will keep us updated on their hunt for these cultists," said Smith. "The ultimate goal of our collaborations is to eradicate their terroristic influence worldwide. It will only end when we reach the central hub of their operations ..."

"That would be for the best," Morgana said. "I hope I can stop being afraid one day."

"Look no further," Agent Smith said. "I'm here, Miss Morgana."

Reaching for her hand across the table, and burying his gaze into her eyes, she felt his warm, soft skin against hers, injecting her with a rush of heat and electricity. Staring at him from underneath her brows, she bit her lip, feeling herself swell up and arouse between her legs. Smith also felt this; he was mystified and yet entranced by these brand-new feelings. Something primal in him called to get nearer, get all the way inside, and feel her—own her.

Oh fuck, she thought, knowing that it was over for her. I'm so fucked. And in his ice-blue eyes she fell, a burning well that burned for her and her alone; those eyes would be her funeral pyre, but she didn't care, she thought, as her heart raced and face flushed. If he was what she loved and she let it kill her, so be it.

The next thing she knew, they were in a hotel room, pulling at each other's clothes, bodies pressed against each other, breathing heavily. With ragged breathing in between hot kisses, their hearts were racing, bodies alive with excitement. Pushing her against the wall, she let herself be taken by this enigmatic, powerful man that exuded a dangerous sort of magnetism. Smith looked at her and made sure her eyes met his by holding her head up, as one of his hands went down her body and started caressing her in between those legs, feeling her heat and dampness through the thin fabric of her panties. Morgana shuddered and moaned instantly as a wave of pleasure rocked her body backwards as he continued to caress her sensitive areas with his long, delicate fingers.

He smelled so good, she thought. And kissed so amazingly ... Morgana, in her past, had a few lovers, but already, this was so much better than anything she had ever experienced. Using her hands to unbutton his shirt, she marveled at his magnificent chest, toned and covered with a fine layer of brown hair.

Smith himself felt overtaken by a force he could not control, a fire burning inside him. Before Morgana, he wasn't even aware that machines could feel this way. Why did he despise every human he met, except Morgana? Why were his senses starting to awaken, and point him towards this woman? It was just something he couldn't explain, and suddenly, his mind went blank with pleasure as his throbbing manhood was caressed by her. He closed his eyes and groaned deeply within his throat, digging his fingers in her back and rear.

"I want you," she moaned, taking his face and kissing him.

"Oh, and I want you," he growled. Taking her hand and pushing her onto the bed, he removed his shirt, exposing his sexy, masculine body. His jacket had been tossed on the floor quite some time ago, leaving him only in his dark trousers, which he began undoing post-haste. Returning back to her, he pinned her to the bed and kissed her again, pushing his tongue inside her parted mouth; laying over her, she wrapped her legs around him as she felt his erection against her slit, panties having come off.

Smiling at each other, he kissed her neck and forced another moan out of her. Somewhere between kissing down her breasts and body, he slipped off her dress, and made his way down her abdomen before spreading her full thighs apart and plunging his face in between them. Moaning followed suit as his lips suckled, and licked, and teased her, the heavy breathing and writhing of her body testament to how good he was eating her. She was breathless in between moans, focusing on each sensation he was giving her. He felt himself become more and more aroused as he exerted control over her, deeply enjoying the way she squirmed beneath him. Slipping his fingers inside to enhance her sensations, she brought her legs up, causing her to spread open more, and provoking him to keep going. With every lick, and relentless suckling, and now the added feeling of his fingers stretching her inside, she felt intensity brimming to the top, escalating and escalating, until she screamed, closing her eyes as a tidal wave of ecstasy swept through her—causing her to freeze, then tremble as she came to a pulsating orgasm. Feeling her finish on his fingers, Smith looked up at her heaving chest with a sharp grin as he watched her sigh and breathe heavily, tossing her head back in the rush that came over her.

Seeing her blushing face come up to kiss him, he embraced her and planted his lips on hers, and she wrapped herself around him.

"Oh, Smith ..." she whispered, kissing him. She liked the way his name rolled nicely off her tongue, and he liked it when she said his name. "I want all of you ..."

Pulling down his trousers, he revealed his large member, through which he felt a tingling sensation running inside of. Pleasantly surprised, Morgana caressed it, and Smith refused to tease any longer. Laying her down, pinning her arms down on the bed, he parted her and pushed himself inside of her, and she moaned as soon as she felt him. As he pushed and stroked, descending deeper into her, he groaned in delicious, electrifying pleasure. He loved the way she felt, wrapped around him, in all senses of the word, and he continued, feeling in control at first, but quickly losing it as his body compelled him to thrust more, to do it faster and harder.

As they both moaned and gasped, their breath became heavy again with his vigorous thrusting. Looking into each other's eyes, they kissed each other deeply—she couldn't get enough of him, and he of her. Wrapping both her arms and legs around him, feeling him take control over her, he started panting as he came closer and closer to an end he didn't know, but desired desperately to experience. Burying himself the deepest he could go, he started bucking his hips, out of control, as his body trembled and his muscles tensed—Morgana particularly enjoying the sight of the tightened muscles on his majestic figure—and he groaned and shuddered as all the neurons in his body fired up, and a sudden eruption of pleasure violently gripped him. His heart pounding, hips moving, he hung over Morgana as he closed his eyes, orgasm whipping his body hard, feeling like he could die for a moment, before a surge of electricity coursed through him, enraptured by a powerful orgasm—his first one ever. When the feeling finally released him, he breathed heavily, collapsing over Morgana, and they laid there for a moment, intertwined, before he shakily climbed off of her to lay beside her.

"Oh my god, Smith," she said, turning to face him. "That was amazing ..."

Closing his eyes, scarcely believing what he had done, he was attempting to process everything that transpired—how he felt, why he did it, and why it felt so damn good, but now wasn't the time to analyze his emotions.

"It was ..." he replied, attempting at catching his breath. "I've never known anything like this before."

"Me neither," she said, and snuck into the crook of his arm, embracing him as her face rested on his chest. He wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her forehead, a reaction that came automatically, and the two shared a series of kisses before he said, "I want more."

Morgana giggling in excitement as they initiated again, Smith became a slave to the master that was carnal pleasure. Never before, not even once, had he ever not been in control of himself, but losing himself in the bliss that being with her gave him felt like it changed him forever. After having their fill of enjoyment, she laid exhausted and in a deep sleep beside him. With a panic, realizing how much time had passed without being connected to the Mainframe, he suited up and was again in full Agent mode.

The Mainframe queried upon his whereabouts and why he had been disconnected for so long, and Smith replied that in order to obtain the trust of the human, it was necessary to appear as other humans do. He updated the Mainframe with a report of the situation, and the Mainframe was satisfied with the results of the unconventional method. It, of course, did not know about the relationship between the two, or even had an idea about Smith's feelings or private thoughts. Once the Mainframe's queries ended, he stood up and stared through the tall glass window at the pitch-black night, and the skyline generated by the sea of buildings across the city.

He hated this place, this zoo, he thought. He despised more than anything to be stuck in the Matrix, which was nothing more than a breeding ground for viruses, as he called the humans. As far as he knew, the Matrix was inescapable for programs like him, but Morgana ... and the feelings she gave him ... made the Matrix much more bearable, he realized.

As he turned back to look at her, sunglasses on, earpiece in, he thought, If she is the only thing that makes me forget at all that I am trapped in this hell, then she can never leave. She is mine now, and she will stay here forever.

Interrupting his private thoughts, Agent Brown's voice came in through his earpiece.

"We've got some rebels by the abandoned factory off of Wentworth," he said. "I am requesting backup."

After Agent Smith confirmed the message, he leapt off the balcony and into the night, with nothing else on his mind except death.