[M] are you this thirsty too? -- dimitry

[Acadia Lavalle]

She hadn't met him more than at the most one other time. It was the second time she had seen him and immediately wanted to make conversation. It was her job to be a companion but that didn't mean she had to act like a slut outside of her missions. She could behave like a normal woman and talk to men before she started sleeping with him. And she had tried, oh she had attempted to talk to him, but the furthest she had gotten to talking to him was finding out his name and his rank. Dimitry was a Special Ops agent who specialized in assassinations and sabotage. Definitely her kind of man.

But she hadn't had enough time to get to know the rest of him, a fact that she was rather depressed by. So like always she had taken matters into her own hands and insisted he come to her office for an evaluation on his missions. Or at least that's what the formal memo she sent to him said. She had made it obvious in the few times she had met him that she was interested and along with the obvious fact that every man who wasn't under the age of fifteen or homosexual was immediately attracted to her, he had shown interest. Or what she took as interest.

So she had taken the chance and requested him to her office. She wasn't quite sure what she would do or say when he got there, but she would do something to push them a step in the right direction. And for
Acadia, that was sex. Yes, she did want to act like a lady as much as possible but with her line of work, that wasn't an option or a need sometimes.

She sighed, waiting for him to arrive as she inspected her office. It was clean and comfortable looking. She had gotten everything steam cleaned or polished over the weekend. Anything to make it gleam as bright as it could. there was her desk, a large cushy leather couch on the opposite wall, and a frosted window separating her office from the rest of the Valentine sector. There was also a day bed that pulled out of the wall but it was merely for show. The only time she used it was when she was too tired to make the short trip back to her private quarters, which wasn't very often since she never had to work overtime. Or virtually never.

Today, Acadia was dressed in semi-normal office attire. A white button down blouse, rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned two down from the top, with a black pencil skirt. All she was supposed to be doing today was paperwork for her division and that didn't require a special mission outfit or her generals' attire. But she thought that jeans and a t shirt would be a little pushing it. So office attire it was. Her long multi colored hair was pulled back in a half up pony tail and cascaded from it down her back to her hips.

She sighed, looking down at the paper she was currently looking over. She had sent the request to him over an hour ago. It didn't take that long to get to the Valentine sector. She was growing impatient.

[Dimitry Zechevny]

He was late...

30 minutes earlier...

Gunshots echoed in the training range. None of these were actually real. The benefits of the technology department boffins cooking up virtual reality again. Possibly the most useful development they'd come up with. The level of training, as well as the reduction on training accidents was enough to prove how effective these methods were. Not that it mattered much for Dimitry. His marksmanship was near perfect. He was Spec Ops after all. And an assassin at that.

A final excursion through the breaching exercise concluded his days practise, hanging up the VR gear, he stepped outside, removing the bandana from about his head. An aide approched him, looking slightly flustered. A brief salute, matched by his own marked him out as a techie, or at least lower down. Dimitry gestured for him to continue.

I have a message from Ms Lavalle. It was received half an hour ago, but I was told to leave you to your exercise.

Dimitry froze. He was now late, for Lavalle of all Generals... He took the memo from his hand, shaking his head, cursing in Russian. The snarl on his face said it all. THe aide almost ran from the room, as the Russian operative stormed out after him, going to get into suitable dress...

Presently...

His footsteps, somewhat hurried, echoed down the hallway leading to Lavalle's office. He was seething inwardly, but outwardly, he expressed nothing. The memo indicated that she wanted to review his mission successes. Why Lavalle had been tasked to this, he did not know, but he did not question it. The plaque on the door marked her office. He felt formal dress was appropriate. She was a General after all. Even if she was one of the Valentines, she was higher in the hierarchy.

He stopped at the door, straightened the black shirt he was wearing, de-creased the fronts of his trousers, adjusted his belt, before knocking on the door, opening it, stepping inside, closing it, then turning to face her desk, snapping a salute, all in one slick motion.

Special Operative Zechevny, reporting as requested. My apologies for the delay, I was otherwise engaged, and it was deemed that it would be better to leave me continuing with such engagements rather than alerting me to your request, ma'am.

In that instant, he realised exactly WHY she was the Valentine General. Even dressed in simple office attire, she was simply... Gorgeous. No other word for it. Anyone other than an operative, most likely, would have simply gazed at her, and buckled. It was almost ethereal, her beauty. As if it didn't belong here. But here it was. Doing paperwork of all things. His poise was stiff, rigid, and unmoving. He was above such simple things as distracting physical attraction.

No matter how much he did find her attractive.

[Acadia Lavalle]

As soon as she heard the door open she looked up and expected him to come right through the entrance. She smiled as he snapped up into a proper attention. Even though Valentines were very informal, she did appreciate the respect. He looked so formal. His attire, the way he stood there waiting for her to actually start asking questions about his progress in missions. Like she was really the one who should be questioning him about such information. His superior should have been asking. Not her. But she wasn't going to be asking anyways. That had been just an excuse to get him inside her office.

"Yes." She smiled at him and put aside the paperwork she was working on and the pen in her hand on the desk top. "Ah, relax, my dear. You don't have to be so formal with me. I promise you won't get reprimanded at all." She laughed lightly and gestured to a chair against the glass window. "Please, have a seat." She beckoned him to sit across from her in front of her desk. She eyed the door and noted that it was not locked. She would have to fix that before they commenced with their meeting.

Acadia readjusted herself in her large leather rolling chair. She re-crossed her legs, left over right and placed her hands on top of her knees. She enjoyed just looking at him. He was very handsome after all. A small mischievous smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she watched him. Oh how that shirt would look so much better if it were off him and on the floor. On the inside, Acadia was most like a little high school girl just waiting for her first kiss. She giggled, she flirted, sometimes she felt like she was fifteen again. But most of the time she was forced to either be formal and serious or smooth and seductive. She had to suppress her desire to just be truly herself and hopefully she could forget all that with him.

[Dimitry Zechevny]

She really was quite unlike any other General he had ever met, her candid, relaxed, open manner completely opposing the manic insanity that was Lunisary, or the silent dedication of Hosch. She was an entity all to herself. But, as yet, not a word to do with any mission reports. But then, perhaps she simply wanted him to feel more comfortable. It was, certainly working. He had immediately relaxed, dropping himself into the couch. He couldn't shake the feeling that this had all been somewhat prepares for his arrival. It was so... Clean...

I must say, Miss, your taste is impeccable. I find these furnishings compliment the room rather well. I have to enquire as to why you are the one to report on my successes, or rather, assess them. It is most... Irregular.

He looked at her, that perfect example of feminity, sat on the couch looking at him. No... More than that... Analysing him... Looking over him as one may say.

I take it from the look in your eye, and the expression on your face that in fact, that is not the reason I am here. Don't try to deny it, I know what to look for in facial expression.

He smirked lightly. Caught in the act, he guessed. He'd noticed the absence of speech, normally, when you had reports to analyse, one made concerted efforts to get it done. She was making no such efforts. He was sure on this, no-one yet outside of Hosch had ever really bee n able to deceive him.

Because you have some reason to call me here, I shall stay. What exactly, do you want Miss?

He looked at her quizzically, but deadly serious, a hint of a smirk on his lips. He could sort of tell what she wanted. His view on Valentines seemed to be exemplified by her. He was somewhat honoured, but at the same time worried at how easily she seemed to be able to disregard regulation. All this occured while he did his own peripheral survey of his own. She was indeed, possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon. The cascading of her vibrant hair, the smoothness of flesh, the pools of mesmerically soothing depth that were her eyes, right down to the unusual pointing of her ears, she possessed features with enough raw natural beauty to be able to stop, or loosen any mans tongue.

He hadn't even begun to mention her ravishing body. Slight of build, yet full of bust, she was what made most men gawp like schoolboys. With good reason. She truly was stunning. If first opinions were based solely on looks, she would never be short on ANYTHING.

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[Acadia Lavalle]

Acadia smiled and laughed, getting up from her chair and walking over to the couch where she sat on the opposite end of him, just to give enough space to begin with. "I'm afraid i haven't really called you here to asses your accomplishments. I am not, after all, the General that you will ever report to for such matters as evaluations." She looked down at her hands folded on top of one another in her lap. She smoothed out a crease in her skirt and then looked back at him, that same gleam of mischief in her eyes. She was positive he could see it. But there was a certain way that Acadia lured men into her arms and it was through the art of blatant yet tasteful flirting.

"So you are probably wondering why I called you into my office..." She started, restraining a laugh at how cliche that phrase sounded coming out of her mouth. She had said it often when on missions. 'So you are probably wondering why I'm here...' Something along those lines... It always caught the men's interest and that ultimately lead to desirable results. "I don't know if you remember meeting me a few times before this, but every time I've encountered you, the same.... desire fills me." All of a sudden she felt the room thicken with suspense. She had confessed her sin to him and now it was his turn.

She breathed in slowly, trying to keep her heart from going into over drive. Just because she'd done this before didn't mean she was used to the feeling that she always got when she was about to become intimate with a man. "Surely you've felt it too." She slid closer to him on the couch, feeling a bit like a cougar but not enough to make her care. Honestly, he was just a distraction. She needed something other than paperwork and missions to distract her from the stress that her job really put on her. How would you like to be a Valentine General, a woman specifically trained to obtain information through sex, under the conditions of fairly recently exiting World War III? He was a distraction, yes, but a good distraction, for a very good cause.

[Dimitry Zechevny]

Dimitry knew there was something up. Not really in a bad way, but in an... Unorthodox way. She was very much a Valentine. She knew what strings to pull on which person to get them closer to them. The fact she was now sidling up next to him was testimony to that fact. Inwardly, his mind raced. What was he supposed to do now? Did he resist, as protocol dictated, or did he simply, yield? It was evident she wanted it that way, but his sense of duty was not so willing to yield just yet.

I'm sure you know the regulations on this Miss. No relations between operatives unless absolutely necessary.

Already he could see two gaping holes in the regulations. One, she wasn't an operative. She was a General. She had some form of... Mobility, within the rules. The second was the notion of it being absolutely necessary. How did you define absolute necessity? If she was truly desperate enough, or began harrassing him, it could be deemed necessary to simply cave in, just to get her to leave him alone. Not that he'd mind THAT much.

Whether I feel it or not makes no odds. My personal desires are put to one side when around those of higher authority. So regardless of how much I may, or may not want such a... Transaction... I must decline, out of a sense of duty, as a Special Operative.

He smiled courteously, the hint of mischief lingering slightly, mirroring the one that glinted in her eyes, before adjusting his seating slightly, head held high, eyes straight forward. He was intentionally not raising his own personal feelings in this. It was all too easy for him to simply close off his attraction to her. He had been trained to be able to repress all forms of emotion, individually, or collectively, as he saw fit. Inwardly he tallied up a couple of points for himself. She had a, made the first move, and b, made all the advances. He couldn't repress the mischievous grin spreading across his face. He was enjoying himself tremendously. He knew he would cave eventually. He almost wanted to. But he wasn't about to let her simply treat him like a common agent. He wanted something more meaningful. Or at least, didn't want to merely be a passing dalliance.

And I'm sure, as a General, you agree with me.

He emphasised the point on her duty as a General being to refuse her urges. Almost coaxing admission out of her. It wasn't just the Valentines who knew how to get information by more... Sensual means, whether by inviting action, or simply tempting words and multi-layered phrasings, he knew how to draw a response from a woman. And at the very core of Lavalle's being, she was just that. A woman.

[Acadia Lavalle]

Acadia should have known better than to be so straightforward with a special ops agent. They were trained to be better than the rest of the agents and she should have remembered that. But as a General she didn't get to go on too many missions anymore. So first of all she was maybe a little bit rusty, but that might have been giving herself a little too much leeway. She inwardly frowned at his decline.

'Fine, fine.' She thought, only a little bit bitterly. 'If he wants to play that game, I'll play.' She let her shoulders drop in disappointment and tore her gaze away from him, to the floor. She backed away and looked defeated. Not so much though that it would be obvious and theatrical. She wanted to make it look believable. Acadia rose from the couch and walked back over to her desk, letting her hips sway back and forth on the short walk back. She turned, letting the fingertips of her left hand trace the corner of the desk as she walked behind it and sat down again. She turned to face him once more, still with a little bit of a sad, lost puppy look on her face. She'd be damned if he saw through this.

"I suppose then you can go back to your training or what have you." She murmured in a shut-down sort of tone. "I thought maybe..." She looked away from him and down to her desk. Maybe she was playing it up a little too much. But she was a girl. She couldn't help being so dramatic. It was in her nature. "Nevermind." She inhaled deeply and pulled her paperwork back out in front of her, prepared to just let him leave. This wasn't a mission. She didn't have to get him to comply and give way to her. It would have been nice, but she didn't have to.

[Dimitry Zechevny]

Dimitry raised an eyebrow as she went sullen, almost immediately after he finished talking to her. He was a little unsure of himself. Perhaps he'd read her wrong after all... Maybe she wasn't just being a Valentine with nothing else to do. Maybe she ACTUALLY felt something... But wasn't prepared to go back on his earlier comments. Smudge them around the edges, blur the distinctions of the lines, but not reverse them, erase them, or directly change them.

He watched her stand up, and walk away. How did someone make such a casual saunter back to a desk look so... Seductive... In such a completely natural way? It was uncanny, and wholly distracting. Her ringers running across the desk, the look in her eyes. It was like a siren song, keening into the depths of his soul. Enticing, wholly innocent, almost over-riding his restraint instantly. Almost...

He really did start to doubt himself when she spoke. If this was a ploy, then damn, she was good at it. He couldn't read anything in those eyes, the forlorn, lost look, the innocence, almost hurt tone in her small voice. I thought that maybe... He was frozen there for a moment, before regaining his composure, standing up, walking to the door, his course of action clearly set. He would insist on playing with fire... Or had the fire come to him?

Well, I'm not quite sure you picked up my meaning quite right. I said that I must decline as a Special Operative. And that as a General, you should respect that decision...

He walked to the door, put his hand on it, one finger over the lock. You play with fire, you get burned, but only if you let it spread. Nothing would be noticed if no-one saw. The measure of privacy the Generals were given was exceptional. No monitoring equipment. A level of trust, owing to the fact none of them had ever rebelled. It seemed like it had all cumulated in this one moment, as if foreplanned.

But if we take this in a different light... We take away anything to do with Os... We strip away all the duty, and obligation, and the punishment should this become known...

He turned the lock, the tumbler dropping the latch into place. A smirk graced his lips, as he turned away from the door, and began to walk towards her desk, not breaking eye contact for a second. He felt an over-whelming sense of danger, triumph, nervousness and expectation, that he assumed only came from doing something you knew you could get into serious trouble for. For someone who'd never broken a rule in his time thus far, he was doing a damn good job of it now.

We have two people. A man, and a woman. And there is nothing wrong with that. Is there, Acadia?

His blatant use of her first name demonstrated the point. No formality. Only sincerity, and a frank demonstration that could only be brought forth in that way, allowing two people to express themselves in a perfect and fully understood manner. He stopped in front of her desk, one hand in his pocket, the other on the desk, a smirk on his face. Blurring the lines was so much fun sometimes...

[Acadia Lavalle]

Acadia attempted to repress a smirk on her face but instead she was forced to put her head down and let her bangs cover the sly smile creeping up onto her face. She should have been an actress. Acadia quickly bit the inside of her lip and forced herself to look something along the lines of happily shocked. Her heart rate had gone back up to beating a million miles a minute and while he walked back to her desk, she scanned the top of her desk for the remote that controlled pretty much everything in the office, including the bed that came down from the wall. It was much more comfortable than the desk, the floor, or the couch.

She got up and met him on the other side of the desk , letting her trademark smile appear on her face, something like a cross between inviting and seductive. "I suppose you're right." She sighed, letting her hand "coincidentally" fall on the remote control that she had spotted, and specifically the button that release her bed down. It was typical for her to have a bed in her office, considering that she was a Valentine. She didn't use it often but she was sure as hell glad she had it in here now. "Woops." She said, obviously not putting any effort into acting innocent or meek anymore.

Acadia managed to stop about six inches from him, that smile still pulling at the corners of her lips. She stepped forward once more and softly pressed her lips against his, letting her poison set in. She doubted some of the effect on a Special Ops agent such as Dimitry but she knew that it would effect him one way or another. It always did.

[Dimitry Zechevny]

Dimitry had to smile as the bed dropped down, her false innocence rolling off her tongue so deliciously. Her inviting smile, so seductive in it's nature, lit up her face magnificently.

How... Convenient...

He raised an eyebrow, not even attempting to repress the smirk that spread across his lips. His eyes seemed to glint with a sense of victory, but was quickly cut somewhat short as she stepped toward him, almost bracing himself for what he knew would follow.

Nothing could prepare him for it though. The softness of her lips was just... So... There weren't really words for it. His heart almost skipped a beat, and for a moment, he was stunned. But his finely honed mentality brought him back to reality, over-coming the urge to simply give in. He kissed her back, just as gently, breathing out very gently. Breaking the kiss for a moment was almost painful, but he shook it off, forcing himself to speak.

You're not too bad at this...

His voice trailed off as he pressed his lips against hers again, relishing the contact. It was sensual in a very simplistic, undeveloped way, like tension being relieved, it was uplifting in such a unique way. She continued to immerse himself in the feelings he was experiencing, both the physical pleasure, and the emotional relief...

[Acadia Lavalle]

'You don't know the half of it.' She thought and smiled, deciding not to pull away and retort what she was about to say, instead show him. Among her current action of slipping her tongue through her teeth and softly parting his own lips, she snaked her arms around his neck and started to lead him backwards towards the bed.

Along the way, and maybe she was getting a little too ahead of herself, she managed to slip off her heels, which accompanied by walking backwards, was a feat that she had gotten to practice many times in her short lifespan. She grew a few inches shorter but not enough to make a huge difference. She was pretty tall without heels anyways.

Her knees hit the back of the bed and she stopped, not wanting to move too fast - even though she was already going the speed of light at the moment anyways - She stood there, kissing him for a little bit more, taking in the sweet slowness of the process. One would think that Acadia would have gotten tired of kissing and sex, but really, it was a more enjoyable experience when it wasn't part of a mission. Also, she hadn't had to go on a mission in quite a while and not all missions were completely sex.

In any event, Acadia was having a grand ole time just taking it slow right now. And Dimitry didn't seem to mind either, unless he was just hiding his need. Which normally people didn't do when they were with Acadia. She moved her left hand from behind his neck to cup his face and pulled herself closer to him, even going so far as to rise up onto her tiptoes a little bit.

[Dimitry Zechevny]

Sometimes actions spoke louder than words. In this case, it was actions crying out in ecstasy, compared to words simply describing the feeling. Every motion set fresh peals of pleasure, warming and enticing, rippling through his body. Pretty good was an understatement. The best you could possibly EVER get, and then some was pretty well aimed for the mark. She just seemed to know what to do, how exactly to handle him, how to set things in motion, that in all honesty, both of them wanted. What had he let himself in for? Still, he would play with fire…

Her slow, but sure movement toward the bed was fairly self-explanatory. It was obvious what she ultimately wanted, but she seemed perfectly prepared to savour this moment. He assumed this was because instead of being ordered to do this, she was doing it of her own free will. Made it less artificial he guessed. Not that he’d ever experienced such a thing, but he made the prediction that ‘love’ that was commanded was somehow less meaningful, less impassioned than that given freely, and without order. Such was the nature of true feeling. You could force feelings from someone, but they weren’t genuine. Nothing compared to genuine emotion.

Which was what he was feeling now, even as her hands snaked through his hair, her tongue entwining itself with his, the two engaged in a long, passionate kiss, that seemed to set every nerve ablaze with renewed longing, aching. The venomous creeping of the pleasure she seemed to weave amidst his very person was irresistible to the extent that he could not stop himself from enjoying himself, wanting more. But he knew full well that he could quite comfortably detach himself from her. It came from being able to blot out almost all feeling from his conscious thought. Allowed him to make the quick, impartial and unbiased decisions that he so often had to make.

He matched her attentions blow for blow. Every time she caressed his skin, in such delectable torture that it was almost painful, he returned the favour. Despite not being a Valentine, he certainly knew how to push those all-important buttons in the female psyche. The firm, but sensual skin contact, one hand around her waist, the other at the back of her neck, gently holding her into the kiss, as he began to kiss her more forcefully, but retaining that lack of urgency, letting her control the pace, merely altering how much they did it.

He had relaxed somewhat. He felt somewhat honoured to be one who she CHOSE to spend such time with, to grace with her rapturous attentions. It was uplifting, and relieving at the same time. The tension and stress both of them were regularly placed under, as masters of their field, was often too much to bear. Such releases were needed, whether through bursts of physical, if not violent activity, or in this case, the engagement of another form of physical activity…

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[Acadia Lavalle]

Every caress, every little movement that under different circumstances would have been trivial, felt like a million pounds had been lifted from her. Acadia swore this was the lightest she had been able to float in a very long time. For a while she stood there with him, as they both kissed and touched innocently yet as pleasing as the good stuff. She hadn't gone slowly at this in a while and it was really that much more of a sweet escape to her. It was better than alcohol. Both sex and alcohol released tension fast but this was way better tasting and it didn't give her a huge headache the next morning... usually.

After a few more seconds of just standing there feeling all warm and giddy like a high school girl from his lovely kisses, Acadia decided that it was a good time to now start moving a little faster. She wanted the whole process to last a while but there was only so much kissing she could handle before she wanted more. And especially kissing from someone like Dimitry.

She let both of her hands slide down his neck to the top of the black shirt that separated her from his assumed sculpted torso. Acadia, with steady hands from years of practice, started to move down the center of his shirt, unbuttoning it one by one until she reached the bottom, where she hit his belt buckle.

Sweet Victory

She refrained from unbuckling it for a few seconds as she slid her hands back up his torso and down the sleeves of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and then eventually all the way off. As she heard the fabric softly hit the floor, she couldn't help but pull away slightly and open her eyes to gaze down at her prize. A greedy smile crossed her expression as she went back to kissing him, only this time harder against his lips, still with her hands possessively placed on his abdomen, relishing the sculpted muscles that lay under her hands.

The thought of skin to skin contact, more so than what was happening at the moment, made Acadia's body go into overdrive a little. She pulsed with the need of her bare skin to his and her hands moved from his torso to her shirt, slipping out of it in a matter of seconds. Things were moving faster now as a very good result of the speed mixed with the steadily increasing heat throughout the room. This was going to be a good night.