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⦻ Precision above all else ⦻

Chapter Ten ⦻₊ ⦻ ▬ι𓆃 - Hunger ⌯⁍ pairing: Adrian Chase x fem reader ⌯⁍ AO3 | word count: 6.3k | chapter 1|chapter 9|chapter 11 ⌯⁍ synopsis: You really shouldn't eat that alien goo, no matter how hungry you are. ⌯⁍ tags: ASPD! reader, assassin/mercenary reader, smut, casual sex, canon typical violence, fake relationship (at first), eventual romance, childhood trauma, reader is Chris' little sister, Auggie Smith is a pile of garbage, references to past torture, mdni please, sex pollen.

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“All things feel hunger.” Auggie stated, wiping his brow underneath the bonnet of his pet restoration project over the summer.

A 1976 Mercury Comet, sleek and in a deep red, the same shade dripping from your nose onto the concrete. It was near tandem with the oil as Auggie used a socket wrench to tighten up a gasket head.

“If you really want to win a war, any true victor and smart general will tell you how, starve them out.” His other pet project was proving more difficult than he anticipated, hardly making a sound or protest.

“When someone gets hungry enough they'll do anything. Even chew through their own arm just to survive.” The life lessons were hitting home perpetuated over the betraying garble of your stomach.

Tightly clasped hand-cuffs bound you, chained to the wall, they dug into your wrists, scarred with a litany of pointless escape attempts or trying to seek a position that would provide comfort.

There was none to be found.

“You've done well this past week at ‘summer camp’ not even a peep outta ya.” Auggie chuckled, standing up from the car to admire his handiwork.

The mercury was a beauty, and what a year ‘76, Ford was president, Cold War against those damn commie Russkies still in its prime offering Auggie plenty of mercenary work, the Eagles released their greatest hits, Hotel California graced the radio and that year his first son Keith had been born.

So much promise there in Keith, lost in an instant. He was the perfect soldier, followed orders to a tee, easily manipulated but not to the point of stupidity like his younger brother. Nor did he have that attitude and all the rest of it that came with being a girl like his sister.

A true weapon, one that he could’ve used to conquer nations. Only a fool would try to use a dull blade, too heavy handed and prone to making mistakes, or an overly sharp blade, edge too unstable and prone to losing control.

Captain Triumph would’ve been his moniker, the suit sat in the display of his interdimensional workstation, along with Peacemaker, Precision and of course his own mantle White Dragon.

Now it was 2006, and he had sired a waste of space pansy-ass son Chris and an acting up, wilful daughter that needed to learn her proper place in the world. Where had the fucking time gone and where had he gone wrong?

Auggie turned back to you, a silent question on his thin lizard-like lips, pursed as if begging you to give him a reason to get the car battery cables out again.

Suspended by a chain bolted to the garage wall made it difficult for you to really seem imposing. All you could do was glare back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

Pangs of hunger clawed desperately at your gut, vision failing, but still you had to keep eye contact.

You had to try to let him know that he hadn't broken you yet. And he never would.

That belief had to reside in you somewhere at least. It was literally keeping you alive.

Auggie didn’t appear to notice nor care about your deep set scowl, returning an effortless one of his own. Like a haunted house two-way mirror. “Summer camp is over. A hungry dog is most obedient,” he led waiting for you to continue, mockingly shaking the set of keys for your release in front of your gaunt face.

Your literal meal ticket, to finally leave the basement and get to the dinner table. There was no rejecting your basic instinct, biology was screaming at you to eat.

“..a hungry dog hunts best.” You finally replied to finish that stupid favorite saying of his.

“That’s my girl.” The dark grin made your stomach turn, you’d lost this bout, as he anticipated, a chess game with your hands cut off would’ve been easier. “Let’s go upstairs and get ready for supper, your brother’s going to be home soon and it’s an important day.”

Stumbling up the basement stairs, you let the shower pelt you with cold water, trying to wash off the grime with an old bar of soap. The drain spiralled with a dark mix of dirt and blood, you watched it intently, until the water eventually went clear.

An old Linkin Park hoodie from a concert Chris took you to helped hide the swollen marks at your wrists and across the landscape of torture you’d endured over the past week. Auggie was more clever than he let on though, your face was left unmarred, so when Chris got home from his job at the local ammunition store, he was none the wiser.

“Dinner!” Auggie roared at you to hurry up, despite how much you wanted to collapse in a heap into your cramped cot bed and sleep.

“Good to see you sis! Did you enjoy summer camp?” Chris asked as he walked through the door, a wide stupid open-mouthed smile on his face.

Auggie glared at you from across the dining room table, knife and fork squealing across ceramic pointedly for you to keep your story straight or else.

“Uh-huh, it was so much fun.” You lied robotically, stabbing a fork into the peas on your plate.

“Make any friends?” Chris looked so hopeful, as if it was ever a possibility that you could ever connect with another human being in that way.

“Not really.” You replied, trying to keep the story realistic. “I enjoyed learning archery, wood carving, fishing and hunting though.” The bullshit lines Auggie told you to spout out were easy coming off your liars tongue.

“Glad you enjoyed yourself at least.” Chris nodded, none the wiser. “Thanks for cooking dad, this steak is awesome!”

“It’s fine.” Auggie grumbled back, glancing over at you. “This one was too lazy to make anything, you’d better sort out a birthday cake quick smart young lady if you know what’s good for you.”

It took everything within yourself to cut the steak and not your father’s trachea with the steak knife in your hand. “What cake do you want?” You asked instead, rigidly facing your brother.

“Chocolate!” Chris exclaimed, already salivating at the thought.

“Twenty-five, still living under my roof and you’re excited over chocolate cake. What a pathetic fuck up you are.” Auggie suddenly announced, fist slamming on the table, iron-clad.

“Sorry sir…” Chris started to make excuses, how he’d gotten himself a place with his pal Gut Chase, a trailer at the local trailer park and would be moving out soon. None of it seemed to impress Auggie, who wordlessly finished off his meal.

“You’re moving out?” You were shocked that the big lug had managed to keep it a secret from you, or that he managed to save enough from his job.

“It’s in the works, sorry Strawberry, I was gonna tell you…” He winced, as if you’d be upset to see him gone.

“Who cares, do whatever you want.” You shrugged, scooping more gravy onto your mashed potatoes, refusing to make eye contact with him either during the rest of the meal.

Afterwards you got to work baking the chocolate cake with whatever batter mix of cooking chocolate and half-used Betty Crocker packets you could find in the pantry to make something edible. Piping with cream on top you spelt out 25 in bold letters, your handwriting precise and clean, it read more as a statement than a heart-felt addition.

“Candles?” Chris had the audacity to ask when you emerged from the kitchen, baking tray in hand with a big stupid cake on top.

“What are you going to wish for? Another sock to jerk-off into?” Auggie put an end to that with one fell swoop of his poisonous ire.

That zipped Chris right up, who cut the cake up in silence, passing paper plates round. All of you ate up that chalky chocolate, a little too soft in the middle mess you’d baked while still half-dead from being tortured for a week straight, all pretending to be a regular family.

“Time for your present son, it’s down in the garage.” Auggie announced gruffly, wiping his face off of chocolate and enjoying how wide your eyes got.

“A present? Holy shit!” He was just as shocked, neither of you ever got gifts on special occasions, outside of when Auggie forgot what day it was and handed you a new weapon or ammunition absent mindedly.

Following the pair back into the basement you’d only just escaped from would have made most go into a hyperventilating mess, but you weren’t most people. You didn’t feel things like normal people did.

“Woah dad thanks so much! Oh man, I'm gonna call it the Peace-Mobile!” Chris was so excited, pumping the air and running around the car like a dog.

He forgot himself in his excitement and went to try and hug your father, who shot him a look of pure scorn and disdain at the act of affection.

“Fucking pussy.” Auggie shoved Chris back into the wall and shook his head thoroughly disappointed. When he went storming off to get himself another beer, you glared at Chris for poking the rabid bear.

“Thanks a lot big bro, bet I’m gonna have another shiner for school tomorrow for that now.” You snapped venomously, eyeing the car with intense jealousy.

In a sick twisted way, you felt owed the vehicle for what Auggie put you through. That had been your daughter-daddy bonding project over the summer.

Chris was left alone with the cold car keys in his hand, trudging back to eat the rest of his birthday cake, hoping food would fill the loneliness he felt in the pit of his stomach. The warmth of a family who cared and loved him wasn’t something he could rely on, Chris knew for his sanity that he had to get out of this house.

But he still worried, abandoning you with Auggie. Yet the way you treated him with such malcontent, he couldn’t lie, that helped with the decision to get the fuck outta dodge.

It was fine, you were totally okay, Chris lied to himself after moving out, he went to family dinners on Sunday evening to do a welfare check-in.

At school you didn't interact much with anyone, keeping to yourself. A true loner it opened the gateways of would be bullies, had they not been terrified of you. So any teasing about how horrible your home life or financial situation judging by your clothes was usually done well outside of your periphery.

However at times you did hear hushed whispers of your fellow female kind, discussing the new trends that you clearly couldn’t afford. What bothered you wasn’t their vapid murmuring, gaping stares or exclusionary tones. It was that they had something you couldn’t attain.

Money was paramount to keeping appearances, blending in, getting what you wanted, climbing the ladder, being left the fuck alone. You needed to get money. But your father wouldn’t let you get a part-time job, and you didn’t want one.

Being told what to do for minimum wage? You’d likely snap within the first shift at McDonalds and the greasy managers atlas cervical vertebrae in one swift motion.

Stealing was easy, you had been trained for warzones and operative missions by your father, swiping some clothes from Hot Topic was child’s play. Speaking of, there was a neat Child’s Play t-shirt along with a Poltergeist shirt that you proficiently snapped up to wear at school tomorrow.

The emo grunge style suited your wants to be left the fuck alone and spoke to you the most of the cliques that hovered around the school yard. A nice camouflage to be the strange girl that kept to herself, listened to MyChemicalRomance and smoked cigarettes under the bleachers.

“Heya, a little help there goth lady?”

A voice called out to you one frosty morning during your routine of dragging a pack stolen off your dad's wardrobe of Marlboros and imagining his rage-filled shout tear through the house as he turned it upside down trying to find them.

Looking directly up at the source of the irritating sound landed you with the sight of a scrawny bespectacled boy hanging suspended by his underwear on the bleachers. A seriously heinous wedgie.

“Kinda a lot of effort for them to haul you out of middle school to do this. Who'd you piss off?” You replied, standing up to get a better look at how pathetic he was.

His face was riddled in acne and a couple bruises, curly hair a frizzy mess alongside a metal monstrosity of head gear. A striped polo shirt with a precious pocket protector, washed high-waisted khakis and bright white sneakers finished the geeky ensemble. “And why are you dressed like the weirdo host off Blues Clues?”

“Steve? Wow that's an honor you think so! But I'm not a middle schooler, I'm Adrian Chase, a senior just like yourself!” Adrian explained, swinging helplessly back and forth, trying to keep the position where he could bask in your beauty most.

Adrian knew that your makeup was urban decay graveyard themed, banned apparel black knit cardigan with holes down the sleeves, a military green skirt and combat boots with red and black striped tights. While he didn't approve you stealing from Hot Topic, he had to admit it all looked great on you.

“My condolences.” You blew a line of smoke right into his face.

“We're actually in math class together and share the same lunch period!” Adrian knew this because he sat in a prime spot to watch you eat your lunch.

It was the same thing every day, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He had counted how many bites it took you to finish it and that was how many motions he was allowed to finish his own meal.

Totally normal behavior and he didn't use that measurement to finish anything else off later at home while surfing the world wide web on the family computer in the basement.

“What's in it for me?” You asked, stamping out a cigarette and considering putting the next one out on his sweaty forehead.

“Justice?” Adrian suggested.

“Not very lucrative.” You shrugged.

“I could hold your book bag for the rest of the year?” Adrian offered.

“Gross. You look like you'd love being my little slave, no thanks.” You pulled a face of disgust at the very idea.

“Nuh-uh…” Adrian tried in vain to hide the half-chub forming by swinging to the other side. “Hm well what about something super valuable, it's in my locker if you let me down it's yours!”

“What is it?” You frowned, his clothes weren't overly preppy but not super discount store looking either. Maybe he did have something valuable.

“Payment only after the kind deed is performed, milady.” Adrian wouldn't budge and you sighed, flicking open your switch blade to cut him down.

“Fine, but a deal's a deal. Better be worth my time.” Slicing through the tightie whities, Adrian bellyflopped to the grass with a groan.

It wasn't worthwhile at all.

It was a fucking toy.

“A priceless Spinner the spider beanie baby for your trouble madam!” Adrian proclaimed proudly, green eyes sparkling behind those insanely punchable frames.

“You've got to be shitting me.” You grumbled, holding the stupid PVC bean bag with beady eyes and for whatever reason a tiger patter on its abdomen.

“Nope! She's all yours.” Adrian grinned, retrieving a spare pair of underwear of which you could see there were several folded and slammed his locker shut. “Totally gonna be worth like a million dollars soon, she’s discontinued by TY!” He whistled cheerfully along to the Gilmore Girls theme on his way to English class.

Without another word you marched off and never really spoke with that geeky Chase kid again. The spider toy remained in your locker, a reminder to never do a favor without the payment negotiated clearly and first half upfront, second half after the job is completed. Via wire transfer.

But you’d been staring at the photograph of Chris with his new car, you beside him, after he painted it over with an American flag decal and that stupid beanie baby on your mantle for too long now. Note to self, never let either of those idiots into your room, lest they believe you hold sentimentality for them.

Another morning, another run around Evergreen park. This time though, no sign of Rick. Finally you could be left alone, taking a slightly different trail than usual. The thought made you nearly crack a smile, until a man in a gaudy teal lycra sweatsuit right out of the late 80s came bounding up to you, waving profusely to get your attention. Curly bob of hair was bouncing above a thick silver framed set of polarised running goggles.

Fuck. This was worse. Much worse.

Mostly because Adrian was in great shape and could keep up with you, and talk at the same time. “Woah! You run around the park too? What a coincidence.” He flashed you a genuinely toothy grin, one that spelt out indeed he hadn’t been following you around.

“Yes, quite the coincidence.” You muttered back, mentally checking off to never change your morning routine or run path again, ever. Upping the pace, Adrian smiled even wider, happy for the challenge that he frustratingly met.

“What are you listening to?” Adrian wondered, motioning to your noise cancelling headphones.

You really should get a refund for those, they clearly didn’t work on whatever whiny annoying frequency Adrian operated at. “Hotel California.” You replied stiffly.

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes-Benz, uh

She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys that she calls friends...

How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat

Some dance to remember, some dance to forget...

“Oooh nice a classic, I’m listening to In This Skin by Jessica Simpson.” Adrian showed you his ancient teal iPod nano.

To be worthy! To feel beautiful in this skin

Be beautiful in this skin, love the skin I'm in

Love me for me! Have confidence in this skin!

Be confident in this skin!~

“I didn’t ask.” You rolled your eyes, what a weird song choice, did he need the early morning boost of body empowerment or some shit?

“I listen to it for a boost of body empowerment early in the morning, to know I am beautiful in this skin and while I run for fitness it’s not to define my self-worth.” Adrian explained and you hated how you got that right and were unraveling his insane logic so easily.

He truly was a toxin of insanity infiltrating your mind.

Parasitic in every sense of the word, blathering on.

“I’m getting a coffee after this.” You said it to try and stop the conversation, but Adrian of course took it as an invitation, dawdling behind you all the way to Jitters.

At this point after hearing him drone on during your run without skipping a breath about the MTV reality series Newlyweds: Nick & Jessica and his opinion on every one of forty episodes, you’d become immune to being annoyed any further for today.

After you ordered your usual of an Americano, iced today as it was getting hot, before you could pay, Adrian stepped forward. “I don’t really drink coffee, I’m already high energy. But I’ll get a caramel frappe with extra whipped cream thanks!” Then he unexpectedly got his credit card out, a pithy low-rate blue American Express, and paid for your drinks.

“Why did you do that? I make exponentially more than you do. Also the low-rate cards are a scam, you shouldn’t fall for those gimmicks.” You lectured him and despised how he smiled sweetly at that, as if you were giving advice from the bottom of your heart.

“It’s my mom’s card and I wanted to be a good boyfriend and buy you a coffee!” Adrian insisted, not at all seeing how cringe that was and gesturing for you to both sit down at a booth.

Right, you’d nearly forgotten. You were fake dating Adrian.

“We have a lead on the aliens, Guan Tai or some shit, sounds like yoga.” Adrian informed you, slurping down his sugary drink.

“Don’t you do pilates?” You scoffed, checking over the newspaper for your favorite orange cat.

“That’s totally different! It’s like awesome for my core strength…” Adrian whined, peering over to read the cartoon with you.

Today Garfield was sitting at a laptop, typing away, John behind him. ‘I’m creating a new organizational chart, I’m supreme overlord of course…’ Then he classically turned to the idiot John. ‘Do you want to be called Food Servant or Litter Box Flunky?’ Garfield asked with a smirk.

Adrian was in total stitches, laughing horrendously loud, milk snorting out of his nose, hand clutched to his side, another banging the table with a closed fist. “GARFIELD YOU’VE DONE IT AGAIN!” He didn’t care about the looks glaring his way in the slightest, wiping tears out of his eyes before smiling adoringly at you.

“That was a good one.” You admitted quietly, finishing your coffee to stand up and leave. Adrian wasn’t at all finished with his drink, but chugged it down in two choking gulps to race out ahead with you towards the Hennelotter video hideout.

There was a game plan in motion, hit up the warehouse, secure whatever they were making and get out of there. Simple enough.

Then Vigilante started setting off a chainsaw loudly in the back of the van. “I can’t wait to fucking kill someone with one of these bad boys!” He exclaimed, Harcourt viciously telling him to knock it off. Everyone denied him the fun toy, as it wasn’t great for espionage.

Despite how annoying Vigilante was, you did feel a little disappointed to not see or get to participate in the next Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The group split up to cover more ground and be inconspicuous, you and Vigilante paired together with Harcourt who bitterly lost the paper scissors rock with Adebayo for who would babysit the psychopaths.

Adrian wouldn’t know quiet if you put it into a cement brick and hit him upside the head with it, something you imagined out frequently. “Hold up! I remember this warehouse, it was the old hideout of that asshat and where we first met Pris.” He attempted to whisper but barely contained a shout.

“Yes, the job for taking out that mafioso wannabe.” You agreed upon survelling the warehouse more closely.

Heading through the coast was not clear as your brother Chris immediately fucked up and it was a fire fight that with your skill was easily dispatched of. Closing in to reconvene as a larger group, Adrian was still wandering down memory lane for some reason.

“Oh wow, right here you were, Pris, gosh you looked so beautiful bent right over in this spot…” Vigilante began dreamily, and the gang all wondered how he still had his voice box intact with you standing next to him.

“UGH DUDE I AM RIGHT HERE!” Chris shouted, looking close to vomiting.

“...as you shoved that live grenade down that fuckers throat, fuck still gives me tingles!” Vigilante continued, clasping his hands together into a full swoon.

“That was fun.” You admitted, sauntering past Vigilante to continue investigating the warehouse.

“Right?” Vigilante beamed.

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse.” Adebayo shook her head and Harcourt merely rolled her eyes. Murn wasn’t participating at all, actually getting to work at finding another hidden door at the back and waving them to join him.

“Do you seriously have an erection right now dude?!” John asked with a disgusted frown on his face, everyone looking down at a tent that had formed at Vigilante’s crotch.

“No, it's just the crotch padding to protect the merchandise. Which is definitely flaccid at this current moment in time.” Vigilante boldly claimed, his voice getting a few octaves higher. “Don't be staring at my dick!” He squealed at everyone, who walked past him to check out the secret back room.

“They’re making that goo stuff Goff was eating here!” Chris exclaimed, picking up one of the jars and turning it around.

“More like transporting it from somewhere…” Adebayo noted, there didn’t seem to be any production plants, only conveyor belts for transporting onto trucks.

John logged into the computers to try and figure out where else they could be, and all in all you were quite bored until the next wave of whoever you were allowed to kill turned up. The entire warehouse was surrounded, Murn, Chris and Harcourt all leaving to deal with the exterior, Adebayo below with you and Adrian as John tried to hack into the computer for the location of the cow like creature these aliens were milking the goo from.

It was all going great until Adrian unleashed a shotgun shell into a shelf of goo jars above you both, glass shattered across the ground, and the thick honey like ooze was dripping helmet to boots, obscuring your visors.

“You fucking idiot Vig…” You grunted, trying to wipe the goo off, you blasted away the final stragglers. But there was no use clearing the visor, you only achieved smearing it more, sticky residue coating your glove.

“Sorry Pris!” Vigilante similarly had to take his helmet off, the goo was everywhere. Then you caught him doing something insanely heinous.

This motherfucker assessed the goo on his gloved finger and licked it.

“Did you just fucking eat that?” You demanded, like an owner discovering their dog eating some mysterious item off the ground.

“...no.” Adrian lied, trying to hide his shame, some of the honey still on his bottom lip. “It does taste good though.” He admitted when he realised there was no point in lying.

“So this is how we figured out which mushrooms were poisonous in the middle ages.” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes. “Nice knowing you.”

“It was?” Adrian cooed, over the moon by that, “Awww it was nice knowing you too!”

“Gross this stuff is all over my gloves,” You tried to remove them but it was tricky with how stuck together the fingers were. Using your teeth, you got one of the gloves off to remove the other, not noticing the intense stares until they flopped to the ground.

“That’s better.” You sighed, then took in their bewildered expressions. “Oh fuck.”

“Vig ate some of that weird alien goo and now Pris has also ingested some…” Adebayo updated the others outside.

“They did what?!” Harcourt shouted back.

“That’s not great, you two might want to get a wide berth…” Murn said, sounding as if he could anticipate what might happen next.

“Uhh guys they're fighting!” John called out over the comms.

You and Adrian were circling one another, interlocked in an equal sided sparring match. Swiping a leg to underpin his own, you smashed an elbow at his sternum, but Adrian caught it and wrestled back a shaky control. Kneeing you in the gut, you returned the favor with a sharp jutting punch to the chest, winding him.

“What the fuck?” Harcourt replied, “why would they do that?”

The two of you unsheathed the blades at your backs and began to clash swords, dodging, ducking and weaving, each with dazed grins plastered on your faces.

“I wonder if it tasted any good?” Chris wondered and Harcourt slapped his hand from grabbing a nearby jar in the van.

“Ugh Adrian also suddenly smells awful, like he rolled in pig shit.” John bemoaned, pinching his nose shut.

“No I don’t! How dare you say that around my girlfriend!” Adrian gnashed his teeth back towards John. Did that fucker just growl at him?

“Male butterflies emit an anti-aphrodisiac for other males to leave when about to mate.” Murn explained calmly.

As if on queue there was a new wave of pheromones in the air, palpable enough to cut with a blade, the two of you dropping your blades to the ground.

You swallowed dryly, starting to feel overwhelmed as his scent hit you like a freight train, sending shocks right to your core. Sure Adrian was meticulous with his skin care routine and used pleasant smelling deodorant, it never had this visceral reaction before.

Adrian had a similar experience, because oh god, you smelled way too good, like a bakery putting out their sugar buns out on a spring morning, fresh pastries, vanilla, big plush, bouncy…

Okay the bakery metaphor was gone and he was fully staring at your tits now. He felt himself hardening at an alarming pace, which wasn’t all too strange around you to be honest, but there was something a little off this time.

“About to mate? Oh god they aren't fighting anymore…” John raced for the door before he could witness anymore of this insanity.

The imperative took over, the two of you stepping closer, only inches away, before taking a deep long breath of each other's intoxicating, alluring scents, eyes locked in an amorous war. When Adrian reached out to touch you, pulling in an arm around your waist, you moaned lowly. He responded in kind with a deep purr, pressing his tenting desire against your thigh, biting down on his lip with a swear when you ground back.

“Sweet baby Jesus...” Adebayo was well ahead of him, dashing down the hall.

You had come out victorious, and slammed Adrian to the ground, unbuckling his belt. His hands were desperately groping out for your own.

“Once the female is satisfied with her suitor, she allows him to attach himself by extending and offering her abdomen towards the male for coupling.” Murn continued to inform them flatly.

“How long do butterflies usually mate for?” John asked, Adebayo giving him a weirded out look. “So we know when to go get them!” He qualified.

“Anywhere the coupling could be from one to twelve hours…” Murn replied with an awkward clearing of his throat.

“I think I'm going to actually throw up, please can we stop talking about this.” Chris retched.

“Let's leave them there and go before more show up!” Harcourt said, stepping on the gas.

“What about their safety?” Adebayo asked.

“Trust me, they were even more psycho than usual in there. They'll be fine!” John shouted back, buckling his seatbelt.

“I guess you’re right.” She supposed, looking back a little worried through the window at the warehouse now in the distance as Harcourt peeled out onto the highway.

Duran Duran’s A View to a Kill started to spill into the van, slightly muffled, with gun fire riveting over top.

Meeting you with a view to a kill, face to face in secret places feel the chill…

Nightfall covers me but you know the plans I'm making…

“You know what Vig, keep that on.” You had to give it to him, that song was a certified banger while killing enemies.

“You mean it?!” He was so excited, a murderous puppy wagging its tail as he shot through another line of enemies.

“Yeah, but don’t keep those pants on, get them off.” You ordered him.

A very unsettling unzipping and ruffling sound echoed throughout the van communication system. “Dude, turn it off.” Chris nudged John to hurry up.

Usually whenever Adrian accidentally hit the comm button it was funny and they laughed that they overheard him tinkle or something stupid.But this wasn't funny.

Dance into the fire that fatal kiss is all we need….

“I’m trying, there’s some interference with the signal,” John typed away, but it was far too late.

“Hurry up and give me your cock Vig! Put it inside– now!” Your sharp voice boomed.

“Ohh baby, it’s all yours, uhh fuck you’re tight!” Adrian’s panting love struck voice was met with an unspeakable sound.

Choice for you is the view to a kill between the shades assasination standing still…

First crystal tears fall of snowflakes on your body…

“Shut up and stop talking, just move your hips!” You demanded coldly.

“C-choke me harder Pris…ohh y-yeah make quiet...” Adrian strangled out adoringly.

First time in years to drench your skin with lovers rosy stain…

“TURN OFF THE GOD DAMN COMMS!” Chris wailed in a pitch that could break glass, John quickly shutting down the comms in the van.

The rest of the drive to the Hennelotter video was in complete silence outside of Chris’ sobbing about how he could never enjoy Duran Duran ever again.

Meanwhile the two of you were in a heated lock together, it was like a frenzy, and now that you had gotten a taste, you needed to have all of him.

Adrian was trying to keep a proper pace, but you were so fucking tight and gripping him so well, that restraint or coordination weren’t really an option, so it had to be fast, unrelenting and awkward. He’s huffing underneath you, eyes rolling in the back of his thick skull, mouth wide open, jaw shifting in gasping silent cries as your hands squeezed around his neck.

“You’re so fucking big Adrian, it’s really good,” despite yourself the words tumbled out, body reveling in how his hip bones struck against yours.

That was strange. Why did you say that?

Adrian glanced at where you were both connected, a delirious grin on his face from the compliment. “You’re so fucking b-beautiful…” He cooed, his next thrust incredibly rough and making you mewl.

“Y-you’re handsome…I think you’ve got gorgeous green eyes.” Your brow furrowed, what the fuck was happening?

That encouraged him to rut against you harder, “Ohhh Pris, you’re so kind to me,” Adrian looked so taken aback and pleased. “I don’t deserve it!” The room filled with the sounds of desperate slapping flesh from his thick cock fucking you in earnest.

“I also love your music taste.” You clapped your hands over your mouth while bouncing at every thrust, it had to be goo doing this. What else might you accidentally reveal with this truth serum? Or rather false serum, obviously you hated his music…obviously!

“Really, you do?” He leant back bewildered by your kind words, watching you ride him in amazement.

Adrian was looking completely wrecked underneath you, pure putty, sending another shock of lust through you. Not satisfied by being the only one moving, you tugged him by the hair to direct Adrian, unleashing a moan in appreciation of his overeagerness at that to participate, driving his hips mercilessly against yours, bodies rejoicing at the slick sloppy connection.

He hummed as your hands traveled to his stomach muscles and the V at his hipbones, pawing at the outline through the combat gear. He allowed his own hands to find their way to your figure, squeezing your hips and thighs, hoisting you up so you could wrap your legs around him.

When you complied, both working purely on instinct that shouted in bright lights that you needed to fuck whatever this was burning hot within eachother, and god fucking damnit had to do it now.

“Ahh fuck, I want you to have my babies!” Adrian groaned, hands latched to your waist, thumbs pressing where the outline of him was at your lower abdomen.

“Give me them, I need you to finish inside!” You moaned back, wrenching a fistful of his hair to urge him to move. A cry ripped through you, back arching as Adrian properly split you, rough hands holding you in place as he sawed in and out, pushing deeper with every thrust.

“Shiiiiit,” he growled, he could tell he was insanely close, his balls were tightening, cock twitching and legs weakening as he drove himself closer to his release.

But a good feminist, Adrian sucked the tip of his fingers before rubbing your clit to ensure you’d hopefully finish alongside him too.

“That’s…amazing, Adrian, feels so fucking good!” You hissed, head tipping back, swollen lips parted, eyes squeezed shut.

Adrian had noted you’d been letting a couple things slip this time and broached the topic he’d been wanting to ask for a while, “do you love me Pris?”

“Wh-what?!” Your eyes snapped open and were just as magnificently murderous as he thought they’d be when he popped the question. “Why would you ask that you fucking moron?” There was a deeply seeded part of you glad that those words left your lips.

Another sentence had grated to a halt, entirely unwelcome.

“Sorry, I think it’s the goo making me tell the truth…but seriously I love you,” Adrian hung his head into the crook of your shoulder, blubbering as he felt his gut tighten.

“I’m g-going to--” words failed him, his sentence ending with a sharp guttural cry. With a final breathy gasp, you bucked against him, jolting as you came, savoring how good his twitching cock felt inside of you until your mind caught up to speed.

The alien goo haze had left, and you pushed yourself off him, Adrian sitting there dumbfounded, brain still rebooting.

Damn it, he’d completely finished inside.

“You're a fucking moron. I'm going to the pharmacy, then a shower.” You said and stood up.

“What for? I have wet wipes here.” Adrian helped clean you up and you slapped his hands away when done.

“Obviously for pregnancy tests and some plan b.” You snapped.

“You don't want my kids?” His goofy face fell.

“No, I only said that because of the fucking insane alien goo was ruining my brain chemistry.” You firmly rolled your eyes.

“Ohh. Yeah totally me too…” Adrian replied, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly. “But it did kinda seem like that goo was acting like a truth serum right?”

“Ughh. I can't even look at you right now.” You grumbled, not wanting to engage with this lunacy any further.

“Can I still look at you? Your pretty face is all red…” Adrian was met with Precision’s visor and the barrel of her gun. “Okay, no looking, got it– I’ll drive.”

======

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