Archive of Our Own

A thin circle of light around Deadlock's bedroom door was all that illuminated the corridor as Jett stepped out into the gloom, rubbing her eyes to adjust to the shift. As usual, she was up late again. But Jett didn't mind it so much. After all, if she was finding it hard to fall asleep, she knew that she could slip into Deadlock's room without fear of waking her up.

Upon opening the door, Deadlock barely even glanced up at her, and continued tapping away at her laptop. Her desk was messy, messier than Jett had ever really seen it. Deadlock usually defined the word organised, never setting anything down for a moment longer than necessary, and performing a near constant rotation of tasks to maximize her efficiency. But recently she had been slacking, staying up till the early hours of the morning and as a result, her tiredness was catching up with her. But Jett saw the passion with which she delved into her work, and she was hesitant to get in the way. Deadlock could throw a mean punch when she was angry.

Instead, she shuffled over to her and wrapped her arms around Deadlock's waist, pushing her hands under her grey hoodie to slot them against her stomach, the soft material of her t-shirt the only barrier between their skin, and rested her chin on her shoulder.

"What are you working on?"

Deadlock huffed slightly.

"You know what I'm working on."

Jett kissed her neck, letting her lips linger before pulling back.

"Tell me."

Deadlock twitched her head, nudging Jett off of her shoulder.

"Cataloguing."

The familiar sting of rejection blossomed in Jett's chest, but she wasn't prepared to just let it drop tonight. She had been so unimaginably horny these past few days and Deadlock hadn't fucked her in almost a month. She understood Deadlock's commitment to her work, it was why they had chosen not to become anything official. But she was getting desperate.

"Isn't that boring so late at night?"

Deadlock's eyebrows pinched together in a frown of irritation, as if it were obvious why such a question was wholly unnecessary to ask.

"It's the only time I have to do it."

Jett hummed, fingers playing with the hem of Deadlock's shirt.

"You sure I can't help you relax?"

After a beat of silence, Jett slipped her hands under Deadlock's shirt, tracing up her abdomen to the underside of her bra, mouthing at the back of her neck with her tongue and teeth. Deadlock let out a grunt and twisted her neck, dislodging her.

"Please Jett, I'm busy."

Jett huffed through her nose and pulled away slightly, though she kept her hands on Deadlock's stomach.

"You're always busy."

"Well we aren't paid to do nothing."

Jett scowled, retracting her hands from under her shirt and pushing her hands against Deadlock's back rather more firmly than she needed to to detach them. Deadlock didn't respond to the aggression, and if anything, this riled Jett up even more.

"You're not even gonna look at me?"

"Like I said, I'm busy."

Jett balled her hands up into fists, lifting them to either side of her head in frustration before releasing them in fast motion, dropping them to her sides.

"Like... fuck Deadlock. What happened to us? I know we're not... anything. But you always used to make time for me. You used to want me. Hell, I couldn't keep your hands off of me a few months ago."

Deadlock didn't look up, but Jett fancied that she at least saw her shoulders stiffen.

"I made you no promises Sunwoo."

And that was the last straw for Jett, the final dagger to her heart. She scoffed, shaking her head and spinning tight on her heel to head towards the door.

"Yeah, okay Iselin. My mistake."

She slammed the door behind her without looking back.

***

The toe of Jett's sneaker connected with a chunk of concrete, and she watched it sail down into the sinkhole that had once been the Kingdom research centre, the echoes of it's collisions on the way down getting steadily fainter until they disappeared completely. With a huff, she dropped down into a crouch, sitting herself on one of the discarded metal barriers that now lay flat against the ground, and braced her elbows against her knees, pressing her palms onto the underside of her jaw.

To put it plainly, Deadlock had pissed her off. Ever since she had started this stupid Radivore cataloguing project with Gekko, she had barely had time to throw her a flirtatious glance, let alone touch her, kiss her, ravage her in the way Jett knew from experience she was more than capable of. Sure, it wasn't as if they were dating or anything, but what was the point in having a secret work fuck-buddy if they didn't wanna fuck you?

It was the day after their late night altercation, and Jett was still in a sulk. She had been so horny and yet Deadlock had annoyed her so much, filled her with so much confusion and self-doubt, that she hadn't even been able to get herself off. No, she had just sat fuming on top of the covers, hands clenching and unclenching around loose blankets as her eyes defocused, fixated onto the ceiling.

Turning away from the sinkhole, she headed back into the main centre of the market, deep in thought and not even really looking where she was going. She had traversed every path of this place enough times that she didn't need to, and she just followed wherever her feet took her.

The market had been abandoned ever since they had first evacuated the residents, in preparation for storming the Kingdom research centre. And with the sinkhole not getting any smaller, there was no chance of anyone coming back anytime soon. Since the research centre had been a hot-spot for Radivore energy, identical to that of Wingman's make-up, her, Deadlock, Gekko and a few others had set up base nearby to study it and keep it on lock. And so it had become Jett's excuse to come here to blow off steam, under the guise of 'perimeter control'.

With the rumble of LA traffic not nearly so loud here due to the road blockade, it was a chance for some peace and quiet at the very least, without the worry of being interrupted by anyone back at base. And Jett liked to explore the rooftops, up-drafting onto balconies and ledges, light-footing her way over roof-tiles and air-con units, and sitting with a snack she had picked up in town in one of the many abandoned cafes, food-stands and apartments.

This time however, she wasn't in the mood for eating.

She sat down in the centre of the market, back against the information booth, and rested her chin on her hands, and those on her knees. She didn't know what to do. Most of the team was away at various other bases, and so she had no-one to distract her. Deadlock, or reminders of her, were everywhere she looked. With only a small accommodation floor, their rooms were practically opposite, and up until now she had likely spent just as many nights in hers as she had in her own. But now she felt lost. Nowhere to go to feel comfortable. Deadlock had shut her out, dangling the key just out of reach, and she didn't want to jump to grab it anymore.

Pushing up from the ground, she got to her feet and started pacing, losing herself deep in thought. Sure, they had never really been girlfriends. Deadlock had made it clear she wasn't interested in an official relationship, and Jett had been just fine with that. But now... well. She hated what they had now. Not together, not separate. Just, hanging. Knowing that going somewhere up high usually helped clear her head, she was about to head into one of the food stands and up the back stairs towards the apartment balconies. That was, until someone behind her cleared their throat.

Jett turned in an instant, unholstering her pistol, clicking off the safety and holding it out in front of her in a smooth, one second motion. Her target didn't move, and showed no sign of aggression or surprise at being confronted, but their presence rooted Jett to the floor in shock all the same. That large muscular frame, stance always so solid and stable, the pale blonde hair, just long enough to hit the shoulders, and those chilling blue eyes, that could stare down even the most fearsome of beasts.

She clocked almost immediately that it was Deadlock's mirror. Her Deadlock never went anywhere without fully kitting out, gloves, boots, jacket and all. But this Deadlock was startlingly casually dressed, in a crisp white t-shirt, relaxed fit, olive green cargo trousers and weirdest of all to see on her, a pair of dark sunglasses on top of her head. It was so singularly out of place to see such a thing on Deadlock's body that all she could do was blink in surprise, only shaken out of it when she saw Deadlock's hand migrate to her hip to rest her hand over her own leather holster.

Shaking her head, she clicked the safety back on and lifted her pistol up so it was pointing at the sky and not at Deadlock's face, before slotting it back into her leg holster.

"Relax, I don't want a fight."

Deadlock's hand dropped to rest against her thigh, and she tilted her head to the side, looking at Jett with that silent blue-eyed stare that Jett had not been subjected to in a very long time. It felt like she were meeting Deadlock for the very first time again which she guessed, in a way, she was. Clearing her throat, Jett lent back against the locked-up shop front, the sole of her shoe pressed up against the corrugated iron shutter.

"Y'know, since... we're both here unofficially."

It was a guess, she certainly didn't look dressed for a mission after all, but Deadlock didn't refute her. Still she didn't speak and Jett, rarely so self-conscious, felt a desperate need overcome her to break the silence, to carry on conversation.

"Figures I would meet you here."

Deadlock's expression hardly changed, but Jett again felt that need to elaborate, that this mirror version of Deadlock somehow had this ability to compel her. But then again, hadn't her Deadlock always had that power too?

"I..." she laughed, a short, awkward noise. "It's stupid it's just..." She bit her lip. "I'm pretty angry with your mirror right now is all."

Deadlock considered this for a moment, and Jett was able to examine her face more closely for those few seconds and realise that, she did look different. She had seen her Deadlock's face inches from her own more times than she could count, mouth attached to her neck with her strap buried inside her, on top of her, behind her, pinning her against the wall. She knew her Deadlock's face like the back of her hand, and this one was different.

Her eyes were cold, as they were usually, but these were somehow darker. Icy like a hidden undercurrent in a frozen cave, ready to sweep you away after one misstep. There was a small scar to the left of her top lip, tucking the skin up and giving her mouth the quality of a permanent half-sneer. Her hair was more unkempt, longer, and Jett found herself imagining it pulled up into a short ponytail.

"Tell me."

Jett came to at the sound of the first words she heard Deadlock's mirror speak to her. She sounded the same, that familiar rhythmic, almost melodic accent. But it was also different, if indefinably so. If she had had to describe it, it sounded... rough. Like fingers carding cautiously over sandpaper, restraining from stripping themselves down to the muscle. She cleared her throat, looking away from this Deadlock's uncanny features.

"We're supposed to kill each other on site."

Deadlock nodded, a small curl of her scar giving the imitation of a smile.

"Do you want to kill me?"

Jett looked at her then, really looked at her. At her dark blue eyes, her scarred face and her messy hair, falling about her face in scraggy waves. So similar and yet not the same. And again, she felt that raw compulsion in her chest and she decided well... what the fuck did it matter?

"I think she doesn't want to fuck me anymore."

Deadlock did not look in the least bit surprised by this, and it made Jett wonder... did she perhaps... could she have a similar relationship going on with her own Jett? She rarely gave thought to the life of her own mirror, outside of swiftly ending it with a bullet to the brain, so she supposed that, if the two of them could hook-up in one timeline... why not in another?

"Are you together?"

Deadlock's expression was one of offhand curiosity, but her eyes were deadly serious, dark currents of blue that made Jett's mouth run dry as she shook her head.

"No."

"But you want to be?"

Jett shook her head again.

"No, it..." She swallowed thickly, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's casual."

Deadlock hummed lowly to herself, her thumb tracing repetitive circles around the button fixing of one of the pockets on her cargo trousers. Jett found her eyes drawn to the movement. She did not often get to see her Deadlock's hand up close, as it was usually gloved, whether in material or within the tight heat of her pussy. This Deadlock's hands had many small raised white scar lines, fingers rough and calloused, and... uh. And...

"What a waste."

Jett's head snapped up to look at her.

"What?"

Deadlock held her gaze, her head drifting to tilt ever so slightly on it's side.

"As pretty a girl as you right in her lap, and she doesn't even care."

She took a step toward her.

"If I'd had a taste of you... I'd never give you up. Not of my own volition."

Jett, almost despite herself, stumbled back, hand moving to rest against the holster strapped to her thigh. Her heart was thudding in her chest, blood rushing through her ears, unable to quite comprehend what was happening. This was Deadlock's mirror. This wasn't Deadlock. It wasn't her. It wasn't...

"Stop it. This isn't... we're enemies, you hear me?"

Deadlock didn't approach her again, but a knowing look played out across her face.

"Are we?"

A fierce lump had formed in Jett's throat, every muscle in her body fighting for control, of which urge to give into first. The urge to kill her was strong, to just pull out her pistol, shoot her in the head, get this shit over with. She could out-gun her own Deadlock nine times of ten. It wouldn't even be a contest. But as her eyes traced over the stocky build she had come to know so well the feel of pressed against her, her well-muscled arms, her anchoring thighs, her firm, capable hands that always knew exactly what to do. Fuck... she missed it. She missed it so much. And though it wasn't quite the same it- it was damn close. And maybe it was just close enough.

"Or aren't I just the reflection of what you could've had?"

Another beat of silence hung heavy, the air so thick between them you could cut it with a knife. It was a stand-off, trigger-itchy fingers and feet braced, ready to react to the slightest movement. And it was Deadlock that finally obliged. Jett scrambled for her pistol, un-holstering it and pressing it to Deadlock's chest as she strode forwards and pressed their bodies together, pinning her against the wall. Her hand shook, locked against the trigger but unable to press down, as Deadlock's piercing gaze held hers.

"Go on then. Kill me."

It was a challenge, plain and simple. Like she knew the power she held over her, and was forcing her to decide. Would she be strong, and end it right now? Or would she be weak and give in like a little bitch, so horny and desperate? Jett's whole body tensed, jaw locked and a tremor in her hands that extended all the way up her arms. Because... well. Shit. It had been so long since she'd had a good fuck.

Pushing up onto her toes, Jett kissed Deadlock fiercely, letting her pistol tumble freely to the ground as she reached her hand up and wrapped it around the back of Deadlock's neck instead, tugging her down to her level. She bit on Deadlock's bottom lip, begging entrance, and Deadlock in retaliation, shoved her own tongue into her mouth, breathing harshly into the kiss. Unlike her Deadlock, this one was all teeth when she kissed, biting and mouthing at her lips, her jaw, her neck, as her hands roamed across Jett's body, casting blazing trails across the skin wherever she touched.

The relief was instantaneous. After weeks of barely more than a kiss on the cheek, the feeling of being touched, of being tasted, of being lusted after, set a fire alight in Jett's chest. Anchoring her hands in the roots of Deadlock's dusty blonde hair, she pushed her hips up against hers until they were practically grinding on each other, grunting, animalistic, fighting to gain leverage over the other. Only when Deadlock's hand found it's way under Jett's shirt, her thumb teasing under her bra to swipe against her nipple, did their mouths detach from one another. Panting, Deadlock's mouth split into a crooked grin.

"My Jett never let me kiss her like that."

Jett scowled and shoved a hand against Deadlock's chest, making her take a step back, pulling her hand out from under Jett's shirt.

"Shut up."

Unbuckling her belt and tossing it aside, she tugged Deadlock's hands down to her hips, and she took the hint from there, pushing her pants down just enough to expose her underwear and push her hand inside of them. She explored for a second, her fingers probing deeper, and a smirk immediately overtook her face.

"Fuck, you're easy aren't you?"

Jett's scowl deepened, and she grabbed Deadlock's wrist, thrusting her hips up into her hand.

"I said shut up."

Deadlock's dark eyes glinted wildly, but she obeyed, pushing one finger deeper into Jett before pulling it out slowly and then thrusting back in. She continued this pattern until she felt Jett loosen up, at which point she added a second, and any pretence at gentleness melted away in an instant. Hooking her prosthetic arm under Jett's thigh she lifted her and pinned her firmly to the wall, encouraging her to wrap one leg around her as she thrust hard and fast into her, fingers becoming steadily more slippery as Jett leaked into her hand.

Doing as told for now, Deadlock kept her mouth firmly shut, pouring all her energy and focus into maintaining a consistent but brutal pace, fingering Jett like her life was on the line for it. Jett, so sure she had managed to regain control, simply melted against the wall, encouraging an ever more secure pin as Deadlock just fucking wrecked her.

Jett had had her fair share of rough fucks. With a strap-on in play, it was hardly rocket science. But this was like no fuck she'd had before. Deadlock's fingers seemed to be able to reach everywhere, curling and pumping inside her with practiced ease, firm and rough against the spot she always struggled to reach herself but she was somehow able to hit perfectly. There was just something about her using her fingers... it was different.

Her Deadlock tended towards the strap-on. And it wasn't as if she didn't like that. Of course she did. She loved the feeling of being held down against the bed by Deadlock's weight and fucked by a seven-incher into a satisfying orgasm. But there was something so intense and personal about the way this Deadlock stoked the burning fire of lust in her stomach, how she angled her fingers just right to make her clench wildly around them, how her thumb stimulated her clit in perfect tandem, instantly making it hard and throbbing.

Having found a rhythm she could maintain, Deadlock's posture relaxed, the pumping of her fingers slowing and her thumb moving to rest in the groove of Jett's pelvic bone. She watched her with a calculated interest as Jett rode her fingers, the ones on her prosthetic gripping firmly to the flesh and muscle of her upper thigh.

"You seem like you're enjoying yourself."

Jett scowled, the noise rough in the back of her throat, and ground her hips down harder on Deadlock's fingers, trying to get more friction from her palm against her clit, now that she had removed her thumb.

"If you say one more word before I finish, then I'm going to fucking shoot you."

Deadlock didn't say anything else, but she smiled, and moved her thumb back to Jett's clit, pushing back the hood and applying pressure to it directly. Jett's teeth bit down hard on her bottom lip as she grabbed Deadlock's upper arm, fingers digging into the firm muscle she found there. The sensation was harsh, almost too painful to bear. But Jett had out found long ago through extensive self-exploration, that nothing really turned her on more than a little over-stimulation.

Even so, her hips pulled away from Deadlock's hand, a reactionary movement, protesting the sensitivity even as she immediately brought them back against the punishing comfort of the blonde's touch. She kept up contact as long as she could bear before twitching away, but always returned within the next second, feeling her climax build quickly through the pain. Deadlock seemed away that Jett needed to be in control for this, as the thumb on her clit remained still, as she focused on hitting the spot inside her as hard as she could with each roll of her hips. And it was as she sensed that Jett was close, that she pinched her clit between her thumb and forefinger, and Jett finally came undone.

"F- fuck, oh fuck, fuck..."

Deadlock kept her fingers inside her even as she came down from her high, still thrusting, still coaxing as much slick out of her as she could produce. Eventually Jett let out a whine of discomfort and she pulled out, lifting her fingers up to examine them before, while staring Jett directly in the eyes, putting them in her mouth. She sucked her fingers slowly, pulling them out of her mouth clean and spit-coated before wiping them on her trousers. She looked at Jett for a moment, as if appraising her, before reaching down and picking up her sunglasses from where they had fallen and putting them on. Twisting on her heel, she made for the entrance to the market, calling back over her shoulder.

"Pull your pants up, dirty girl."

***

"You seem in a good mood."

Jett turned, head tilting somewhat to the side, and smiled at her, watching Deadlock as she swept her scanner over the room they had just searched.

"Should I not be?"

Deadlock shook her head.

"No, it's just. I thought I may have upset you the other night."

Jett's eyes shifted upwards for a moment, considerate, wistful, and very unlike her. Deadlock's eyebrows pinched down into a frown, as she waited for Jett's answer. Meeting her gaze once more, she smiled again and lent forward to kiss Deadlock's cheek.

"Well. It's water under the bridge isn't it?"

Deadlock watched her go, bemused, her eyebrows pushed up as far as they could go. They were on one of their many scouting missions, blocking off the underground laboratory section by section and going through each with a fine-tooth comb. A mission which, on any other day, Jett would have grumbled about from start to finish. But today she had been as chipper and cheerful as a rookie on their first job, with not a bad word to say about anything.

Something was up with her.

It wasn't that Jett was never in a good mood. In fact she often was, perhaps even a little too often for Deadlock's liking. Teasing and joking and rough-housing off the clock was all well and good, but Jett was the kind of person who didn't know how to separate work and play. But this was an entirely different sort of good mood. Chilled and breezy, with a water-off-a-ducks-back attitude that Jett simply did not normally exhibit.

And it worried her.

It worried her because, well. The last time they had spoken, she hadn't exactly been the nicest to her. As impervious as she seemed to the recognition of how she made others feel, Deadlock knew that Jett got upset when she was short with her, when she didn't entertain her conversation, her touches. But work, in a very literal sense, was Deadlock's life. Having casual sex with Jett was fun, a nice way to fuck out her stress, but when it got in the way of her work? It was never going to be the priority.

She'd pushed Jett away before, when time and workload had started to get away from her, and every time she had sulked for at least three days before getting over it. But this time? She had disappeared for a few hours and come back a whiplash in personality change. In all the time Deadlock had known her, Jett had acted extremely predictably. She wore her heart on her sleeve and any significant change in behaviour was a cause for concern. And so yes. Deadlock was worried about her.

Finishing up her infrared scan of the area, she let out a soft grunt of annoyance as she pocketed the device and followed Jett's path down the hall. Goddamn this girl. Always in her head.

***

It was equal parts curiosity to horniness that brought her back to the market.

Deep down, she knew that what she was doing was wrong. That she shouldn't even be talking to a mirror, let alone fucking one. But as many others before her had figured out, often the person most out of reach was the one you wanted the most, the one that drove your desire out of control. Fucking Deadlock's mirror was about the most taboo thing Jett could do, to spurn both her lover and the loyalty of her organisation in one fell swoop. But that was what made it so... intoxicating. For her mind had been fixated on her, and those piercing blue eyes, ever since she had left her slumped and gasping against the wall, pants around her ankles, sitting pathetically in a puddle of her own spent desire.

It was something she had never quite had with her Deadlock. That feeling of being used, fucked hard with no care or love, just pure pleasure and pain mixed into a spine-tingling, mind-numbing cocktail. Although it could never be said that Deadlock wasn't a firm lover, always giving as much as she took, she was in many ways, too careful. She would never hurt her, even if Jett asked her too, nor would she leave a mark anywhere that could be seen, if at all. And although the sex was never bad sex, it was just not that... exciting.

She locked her fingers behind her back, twisting them into knots as she ducked under the protective tape sectioning off one of the many back alleys that winded themselves into the greater market centre. She wasn't sure what she was more afraid of. Finding Deadlock's mirror waiting there for her, or waiting there herself only for her never to show up.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and it was just coming up on fifteen and Jett was considering whether she should just tuck her tail between her legs and sheepishly return home, when she heard footsteps on the tiled floor leading into the market. It was embarrassing how fast she straightened up, hopping from foot to foot, and her heart jumping in her chest when she caught sight of that familiar blonde mop of hair.

Deadlock stopped in the entry way, eyes looking her up and down like an appraiser at an antiques market. In an instant Jett felt exposed, vulnerable. And she couldn't quite explain why that turned her on so damn much. Striding forward with a conviction that made Jett's stomach turn over, Deadlock pressed her against the wall, the cool plastic molding of her prosthetic hand closing around her throat in a firm hold. They locked eyes and Jett practically felt her underwear flood at the penetrating gaze of the mirror. Deadlock's other hand went to her crotch, pressing her palm flat against Jett's trousers, and she smiled when she felt the heat.

"Missed me that much huh?"

Jett tried to retort, to snap back at her, but her mouth was dry, tongue glued in place. Because what response could she give that wouldn't, at least in part, be a lie? Deadlock seemed to understand this all to well, as her hand tightened slightly around Jett's windpipe, causing her to let out a stuttered breath as she rubbed gently against the fabric of her pants.

"I thought as much."

Deadlock's hand went to her own pants, unzipping them and reaching inside.

"So I brought a little something from home to show you."

Jett looked down between their bodies to see the head of a bright blue strap-on poking up between Deadlock's fingers, and she was struck with just how similar it was to the strap her Deadlock used on her. Seemingly no matter the universe, some things remained consistent.

"You like the look of my cock babygirl?"

Jett shook her head, as if in a stupor, and frowned.

"Don't call me babygirl."

Deadlock smirked.

"Whatever you say princess."

Jett glared at her, taking her hand to move it from her throat to her chest as she kissed her.

"Just shut the fuck up and fuck me."

Content to obey for now, Deadlock made light work of Jett's belt, shirt and pants, pushing the latter down to her ankles as she pushed her own down just enough for her strap to stand up, fully out and proud. Sucking two fingers into her mouth and getting them slick with saliva, she reached down and began fingering Jett in earnest, keeping her still against the wall with her other hand pressed down against her thigh.

"You're so fucking needy, you know that? It's only been one day since I fucked you and you're already back for more?"

"You talk too much."

Deadlock chuckled.

"Wow. And that's coming from a Jett."

Deadlock pulled her fingers out of her and spread the lingering wetness over the tip of her strap, before nudging it up against Jett's entrance, making sure to apply pressure to her clit. She grinned as Jett closed her eyes and tilted her head back, chest already rising and falling a little more rapidly.

"Maybe you shouldn't make it so tempting to rile you up."

"I swear, if you don't-"

Deadlock cut Jett off by clamping her prosthetic hand over her mouth and maneuvering her strap with the other, pushing into her in a smooth motion, making it past the slight resistance of her inner walls and curving the strap up to nudge at the spot that made Jett see stars. She pulled out about an inch just to press in again and hit the spot harder, causing Jett to bite down hard on her lip, suppressing a moan. Dropping her hand from her mouth, she slid it down Jett's thigh, gripping the back of it, and Jett got the hint, bracing herself against Deadlock's shoulder and lifting herself up to wrap her legs around her waist.

"That's right, wrap your legs around me. Dirty girl. Take it as deep as you can."

Her hands moved to Jett's lower back, punishing her with short, tight thrusts and keeping up a constant stream of taunting encouragement as Jett moaned and gasped into her neck.

"Can't get enough of my strap huh? The way it fills you, fucks you, makes you feel owned? I bet you could come from this alone, I don't even have to touch your clit, you're that fucking desperate."

Taking a step, Deadlock backed her against one of the shop fronts, so that the wall could take some of Jett's weight and leave her hands free to roam. She fisted a hand into the roots of her hair, turning her face and pinning it down, exposing her neck to run her tongue along it. Licks soon turned to suck and finally to bites, savouring the decadent flavour of a horny Jett. And she moaned approvingly, as Deadlock sucked particularly firmly over her pulse-point.

"You like it when I suck on your neck? You like it when I claim you, when I bruise you up for anyone and everyone to see?"

Jett gave a whimper as Deadlock dragged her nails down her back to her ass, and nodded insistently. A wild look had overtaken Deadlock's eyes, dark with lust and delight.

"Helvete... I swear. You're the best fuck I've ever had. So needy, so willing."

Realising she had slowed down her thrusts to focus on the love-biting, Deadlock's hands re-anchored to Jett's hips, pushing in and out of her at a brutal pace. If she had anything to do with it, Jett wasn't going to be able to walk properly for a week.

"And you take it so fucking well."

And all Jett could do was whimper and take it as Deadlock once again pushed her head to the side and sunk her teeth deep into her neck.

***

The next time Deadlock came into contact with Jett, she had been coming out of the laboratory. Jett had seemed distracted, not even looking at her as she stepped through the doorway, and Deadlock probably would've let her past. Had she not seen something that made her stomach twist in fear and concern. Reaching out, she stopped Jett, catching her wrist.

"Hey."

Jett looked at her but didn't respond, and in answer, Deadlock nodded towards her neck.

"Where did you get those?"

Jett huffed and tried to pull away, but Deadlock's grip remained firm. Tossing her hair, Jett gave Deadlock a withering look.

"Since when did you care?"

Deadlock seemed taken aback.

"I've always cared about you getting hurt."

Jett scrunched up her nose into a scowl.

"Who said I was hurt?"

Jett pulled against Deadlock's grip on her wrist once more, and this time she let her go.

"How I got these is none of your goddamn business. You are not my keeper, Deadlock. I am free to make whatever choices I want, whenever I want, and no bossy blonde bitch is going to tell me what I can and can't do. Especially since she's never cared about being around for me until now, for whatever reason I cannot fathom."

Deadlock looked as if she had been going to protest, but she bit her tongue and swallowed her pride.

"So just let it go okay?"

Jett turned to leave and Deadlock watched her go, staying frozen on the spot for a minute more before slumping against the wall and dropping her head, her arms resting across her knees. And that was where Gekko found her an hour or two later, deep in thought and self-pity. He nudged her with the toe of his sneaker, and she looked up.

"What you doing on the floor amiga?"

Deadlock didn't respond for a moment or two, and Gekko took the initiative to sit down next to her, slowly petting Dizzy who was snoozing in his lap. Deadlock, who was usually overly wary of his creatures, didn't so much as bat an eye at her this time.

"Can I ask you something?"

Gekko nodded.

"Anything."

Another pause.

"What would you do if... someone you cared about was doing something that might be hurting them? And when you ask them, they don't want to tell you about it."

Gekko thought about this for a moment, looking down at Dizzy and then back at her.

"I would say, you have to let people make their own decisions. Even if its hurting them."

Deadlock fell silent again, and Gekko patted her knee before straightening up and continuing on his way. The silence stretched out, oppressive, leaving Deadlock entirely alone with her thoughts. And eventually she reached into her pocket, pulling out the small tracking device she had taken from the labs earlier that evening, and began turning it over and over in her hand.

***

"F- fuck... fuck!"

The distinct sound of skin slapping on skin filled the apartment building, as Jett bottomed out onto Deadlock's strap over and over, the blonde gripping her hips tightly as she guided her up and down. She was facing away from Deadlock, completely naked and riding her hard and fast, as Deadlock relaxed against the bare mattress, enjoying the view. Having found the outdoor sex increasingly impractical for achieving a good, hard fuck, the two of them had broken into one of the many evacuated apartments that sat over the market-place.

"Fuck, you look so good sinking down onto my strap. Taking it like it's nothing"

Deadlock moved her hand from Jett's hip to squeeze her ass, before smacking it hard enough to leave a red mark. Jett moaned, hips stuttering, and Deadlock smacked her ass again, making sure to hit the exact same spot to make it sting.

"I bet my mirror never fucked you like this, never fucked you hard enough to make you shake and dig your hands into the flesh of her thighs. Never made you so sensitive you couldn't help but yell out when she just kept pushing. That cuckold little bitch, so weak and pathetic she can't even keep you by her side for five minutes without you running off to get fucked by someone else, to get fucked by someone who looks exactly like her-"

A low growl escaped Jett's throat.

"Stop it, fucking- shut up."

Deadlock's eyes flashed.

"Oh you don't like that? You're the one riding my dick right now. Hers a little small?"

Jett slowed her pace just enough to shoot a glare over her shoulder.

"You don't know anything about us, okay? You don't know shit."

Deadlock's mouth curled up into a sneer.

"I know that there's something that has you running back to me like a needy little slut every time you need to get fu-"

Jett's hand was a blur as she reached for her belt, and Deadlock only had time to throw her arm up in front of her face before the horrible screech of metal on metal clashing and a shower of sparks shattered the tension between them. Opening her eyes, Deadlock looked up at her arm to see one of Jett's kunai knives buried halfway into her prosthetic. Jett herself was frozen still on her strap, hand locked around the handle, shaking. Deadlock looked her up and down with fresh eyes, a disbelieving smirk lingering around the corners of her mouth.

"Maybe it is more complicated between you two than I thought..."

Reaching for the knife, she nudged Jett's hand to the side and pressed down with her fingers until she found a point of weakness along the join in the centre. Already bent from the impact with her prosthetic, she twisted it until it snapped, leaving half still embedded inside. She dropped the blade, sending it toppling down under the bed.

"Mmm, still. Bad behaviour needs to be punished."

Unbuckling Jett's belt from around her waist and tossing the remaining knives to the side, she held her wrists together behind her back and secured them, making sure that she would be powerless to interfere. She noticed that Jett had started to squirm on top of her, frustrated by the feeling of the stationary length inside her. Lifting her hand, she took hold of Jett's chin, turning her head to face her as she slipped her thumb into her mouth, resting it just in-between her teeth.

"You listen to me now. None of this backtalk."

Jett swallowed and nodded, and Deadlock smirked, removing her thumb.

"So here's how things are going to go. You're going to take this strap for me. And you're going to take it for as long as I decide you will."

Deadlock thrust her hips up with a hard jab, pushing all the way to the hilt and causing Jett to let out a high whimper. A warning shot. Locking her fingers around Jett's joined wrists, she tugged, Jett's back arching as she tilted her shoulders back to accommodate.

"If you finish before I tell you too, I promise you are not going to like what happens after."

Deadlock's fingers pushed in harder to the indents of Jett's hip-bones as she stared deep into her eyes. Jett's quivering gaze held hers, teeth sinking into one side of her bottom lip, tugging it into her mouth. And before she could give an answer, Deadlock lifted her up by the waist and then brought her back down hard on her strap. Grinning, she didn't give Jett even a second to adjust, as she lifted her back up to begin the punishing cycle.

***

Deadlock tilted her head, looking up from the ground floor of the market place. The tracker had led her to this exact location, which wasn't exactly surprising, as the three of them were down here a lot. Although, it was odd that Jett had come here alone. What was she doing here? Was she looking for something in the apartments?

The tracker signal had been stationary in this location for several hours now, and Deadlock hadn't been able to help herself from following it. She was so worried about Jett. She needed to know what was going on. She climbed the stairs with learned precision, making little noise, aware that she had no way of knowing what she might find. Without more information, caution was the best approach. The apartment was several flights up, just shy of the top floor and from the outside, unassuming. The door was ajar when she approached, and when she pushed it open, she was greeted with perhaps the very last thing she had been expecting to find. She froze, tongue like glue in her mouth, hand clenched tight around the tracking monitor.

"What are you doing here mirror?"

Omega Deadlock didn't turn around straight away. In fact, as Deadlock watched her, she reached her hand down and picked something up off of the bare mattress and examine it for a moment, before turning a half circle and looking at Deadlock from over her shoulder.

"Now that's not much of a welcome. I am a guest in this world after all."

Deadlock's hand clenched into a fist around the handle of her knife, flush against her thigh.

"You answer me right now. What are you doing here?"

Her mirror turned to face her fully now, her hands moving behind her to brace against the metal bed-frame.

"Well I will say, you weren't exactly the person I was hoping to see. I'm rather sick of seeing-" She trailed off, drawing a circle with her index finger pointing towards herself. "This face, if I'm being honest with you."

"Don't play games with me. What concern is she of yours? Are you tracking her?"

Her mirror smiled, lifting up her hand and twirling a small little electronic piece that it took Deadlock several seconds to realise was the tracking chip she had attached to Jett's belt.

"Well by the looks of this little device I'd say you were the one tracking her Iselin."

Deadlock watched as her mirror squeezed her prosthetic hand around the chip, crushing it in her palm and letting the fragments fall to the floor. They locked eyes and Deadlock's stare hardened as she took a step closer to her, closing the apartment door behind her.

"I don't know what you think you're doing here, but I'm going to have to insist that you leave her alone. Or I am going to make your life a living hell. I am going to hunt you down until either your sorry ass escapes back to your pathetic reality, or you lie dead on the floor in front of me."

Her mirror stared back, unblinking.

"Now why would I do that, when I'm having so much fun in this world."

Deadlock's fist tightened at her side, the bones in her knuckles cracking softly.

"I'm warning you. I don't want to have to kill you if I don't need to."

Her mirror tilted her head to the side, eyes raised up, as if in consideration.

"I think I'll stay and play with your pretty wind girl a little bit longer."

Within the next second Deadlock had closed the distance between them, hand raised to strike. But her mirror was just as fast, blocking the swipe with her prosthetic arm and holding her at bay. The two pushed against each other for a moment, straining in place, before Deadlock winced, the exposed part of her wrist just below her glove catching on something sharp embedded in the prosthetic. She pulled back to look at the offending item, knowing that there was no such thing on her own prosthetic. And she recognised it almost immediately, though it took a few more seconds for her to really understand what she was looking at. Her eyes widened and after following her gaze, her mirror grinned.

"Your Jett lost one of her knives has she?"

Dread seeped into Deadlock's chest, as realisation clicked into place, like puzzle pieces in her head. She remained still for a moment, her heart pounding against her ribs, as the thoughts of what her mirror might've been doing to Jett flooded through her mind like a torrential river, and suddenly all restraint left her. Forming a tight fist around each side of her mirror's jacket collar, Deadlock swung her round and slammed her against the wall, pinning her throat with her forearm.

"What did you do to her? What the fuck did you do to her?!"

Her mirror grimaced in pain, struggling against her pin, until Deadlock eased the pressure slightly on her windpipe, at which point she choked out a laugh, her voice rasped and laboured.

"Nothing she didn't ask for."

Deadlock's nose scrunched up to meet the deep frown of her eyebrows.

"Her knife is in your arm."

Her mirror glanced down, gaze relaxed and curious, as if she had only just noticed the fragment of Jett's kunai knife embedded in her prosthetic arm.

"Oh sure, things got a little rough. But she likes a bit of that doesn't she?"

And the look in her eyes when she said this, that smug, almost gleeful sneer, was just that bit too much for Deadlock to put up with. Pulling her arm back from her mirror's throat, she pushed back on her heels and used the full force of her momentum to throw her fist into her face. Her head jolted back, slamming into the window of the empty apartment and leaving a spider-webbed crack across the glass. And when she came to, her nose was already bruising, blood staining her teeth and dripping down her chin. She coughed, turning her head to spit onto the ground next to them, and lent her head back once more, closing her eyes with a smile.

"Ah Iselin... you just don't get it do you?"

No longer pinned by the throat, she was able to lean in closer, mouth open in the beginnings of a whisper, her eyes meeting Deadlock's just inches away, so close that Deadlock could smell the iron in her blood as it pooled on her bottom lip.

"I fucked her, because you..." She paused, and Deadlock closed her eyes tight shut, unable to let herself look at her a moment longer. "Wouldn't."

Deadlock hardly heard this last word, though it was whispered not a hair's breadth from her ear, as her blood had begun pounding in her temples, her vision spotting red under her eyelids. She could hardly think for the rage, for the images in her mind that she knew now weren't just intrusive thoughts. She felt coiled like a spring, wound tighter and tighter, till there was no more pressure left to give.

Bringing up her knee, she rammed it into her mirror's stomach, doubling her over before kicking her in the chin and sending her sprawling across the wooden slats, spraying a spotted arc of blood from her nose across the wall. Giving no time for her to catch her breath, she jumped her, straddling her hips and pinning her to the ground, fists formed so tight around her shirt the fabric was beginning to tear under her fingertips. Her mirror, teeth clenched in pain and nose now purple, still managed a throaty, gasping chuckle.

"What are you gonna do now bjørnejeger? You gonna fight me for her?"

"Dra til helvete."

Deadlock swung at her mirror once again, but this time she blocked it, deflecting the punch with her prosthetic arm and bucking her hips, throwing her legs behind the momentum to dislodge Deadlock from on top of her. She rolled, scrambling away from her pursuer. And pursuing she certainly was, throwing out her fist once more as soon as she got close enough to connect it. They grappled like this for a few moments, Deadlock clouded with rage, putting her full force behind every punch as her mirror dodged and deflected, tiring her out.

But inevitably, like a bull baited to the run, Deadlock found her moment, catching her mirror on a stumble and throwing herself at her hard enough to send her crashing through the apartment window, glass shattering in an arc around her body, as Deadlock caught herself on the window frame, her whole body undulating with each breath. Her whole being seemed overtaken by anger, by a need to exert her wrath on the one responsible for her pain, or at this point, anyone who happened to get in her way. Glass crunched under her fist as she gripped onto the windowsill and looked out.

Picking herself up from the pile of shattered glass, her mirror staggered over to the corner, leaning up against the bricks and breathing heavily, looking up through weighted eyes as she watched Deadlock clamber her way through the broken window.

"You have no idea, the world that we come from."

Landing with a thud and a crunch on the scattered shards of glass, Deadlock looked up at her, mouth set in a hard line and with eyes that held no forgiveness. Her mirror wiped away a trickle of blood from a new wound on the side of her head, cleaning the excess off of her hand onto her trousers.

"If you knew what it was like... you wouldn't think twice before fucking the first pretty thing to give you the chance."

She started a laugh, but it no sooner turned into a cough, doubling up and clutching at her stomach for a moment or two before she regained her composure.

"Then again, maybe you did. Since that's all she is to you. Your little fuck-toy."

Deadlock's hand clenched into a fist.

"Don't you talk about her. Don't you talk about us. You don't know shit about us!"

"I know that your little girlfriend came crawling back to me on her hands and knees, three more times after I first fucked her. Must've had some big trouble at home."

With a shout, Deadlock ran towards her, with every intention to tackle her to the floor and punch her stupid face in. And as such, Deadlock only saw the flash of the knife-blade when it was too late to fully react to it. She flinched all the same, raising her hand, and the blade intercepted the movement, slicing down through her glove and into the palm of her hand. Wincing, Deadlock lashed out with her prosthetic hand, knocking the blade from her mirror's grasp, and grappling with her as she tried to grab it again, eventually using her boot to kick it down the stairs and out of reach.

For a few agonising seconds, the two of them fought for leverage, kicking, punching, biting, anything they could to gain an advantage. Like two dogs in a fighting cage, beaten and goaded, with death or murder the only escape. Eventually though, Deadlock was able to get a leg underneath her mirror and knock her down, kneeling on her so that she remained still enough to grab the scruff of her jacket and tug her backwards.

Pinning her against the railings, she twisted her prosthetic arm behind her back, twisting until she had it bent at a completely unnatural angle, straining against the now cracked and scuffed material, looking for a point of give. Her mirror struggled against her, boots looking for a purchase on the ground with which to throw her off, but Deadlock had the heel of her own boot wedged firmly into the small of her back as she tugged on her arm, keeping her prone and unable to fight back.

A snap like bone echoed out across the courtyard below the apartments, and Deadlock staggered back from her mirror, her freshly detached arm clutched tight in her fingers. Part of the fixings still remained on her mirror's shoulder, with the severed ends of wires and sharp pieces of plastic and metal jutting out. She groaned, falling limp against the wood of the balcony railings, from where the pressure of the force Deadlock had exerted on her body had left it splintered. Exhausted herself, Deadlock slumped against the wall, watching her, as she coughed, spitting up blood until her hacking turned to struggled laughter.

"Take it. I'm sure she'd love a souvenir."

It was a vague enough statement, able to be taken many different ways. But it was with a certainty assured in her heart that Deadlock knew what her mirror was implying Jett would do with her prosthetic arm. And it blinded her with a temple-thudding rage she had not know possible for her to feel. An intense deep-seated jealously that upturned any and all sense of logic and restraint she might've still had.

Hand throbbing from the knife-wound and every muscle in her body aching with exertion, she lunged for her mirror just once more, and this time she didn't stop her, collapsing back against the floorboards as Deadlock straddled her. Her face, already bruised and caked in blood, held an expression of resignation, though her eyes still flashed bright blue as Deadlock looked into them. Moments passed, tense and painfully extended, where all they did was stare into each others eyes, the pulsing, seething rage in Deadlock's body held back only by the thinnest of margins.

And then her mirror's mouth curled up into a smirk.

Deadlock hardly registered what she was doing until the hand of the prosthetic arm clutched amongst blood-stained fingers connected with her mirror's face, knocking her head back into the wooden floorboards with a dull thud and a groan. And no sooner had the first blow connected, did she devolve immediately into a frenzy, arm raising and falling as if adhering to a rhythmic beat only she could hear. After a while, she could hardly tell what part of her mirror's body she was hitting. She registered only blood, spraying up in an arc with each connection, and the steadily weaker cries of pain that left her victim.

By the time her mirror fell silent, Deadlock's eyes were glazed over with mania, the prosthetic arm broken and discarded. The face of the limp body underneath her was unrecognisable, bruised and bloodied purple and crimson, and where before there had just been a small scar curling up the corner of her mouth, had been split all the way up her cheek, exposing the horrible undercoat of teeth and gums. Grabbing a fistful of her jacket in each hand, she stumbled back, her mirrors body lurching forward with the movement as she staggered to her feet, muscles straining as she heaved her up with her. And with a final grunt that turned into a shout, she shoved her mirrors body at the railings.

The wood of the railings cracked and splintered as she broke through, careening over the edge like a rag-doll and thudding once, twice until it made final contact with the concrete floor. Brought to her knees, Deadlock stared at the hole she had made, at the blood that stained the wood and walls all around her, and at that which dripped through her fingertips and down from her hair. Breathing heavily, and with every muscle protesting as she stood again, she scooped up the prosthetic arm she had tossed onto the floor and limped towards the stairs.

***

Jett was sitting on the floor of the gym, legs stretched out and a towel around her neck, soaking up the sweat of a workout, when she heard someone approaching. It had been their usual routine around this time, when neither of them were on mission, though Deadlock had missed more than a few sessions this past month. And Jett couldn't help herself from perking up. As much as Deadlock had pissed her off recently, she missed her, and she wanted her Deadlock back. But nothing would've prepared her for what actually stormed through those doors, with the pace of a juggernaut and a face like thunder.

To say that Deadlock was covered in blood would've been an understatement. It seemed to saturate every part of her, her blonde hair sticking into congealed clumps, her white jacket unrecognizable, and every footstep leaving a smudged trail on the floor. The glove on her right hand was torn, slashed open and hanging from her wrist by mere millimetres of stitched fabric. And gripped so tight in her other hand, was what looked from here to be what Jett could only describe as a hacked-off limb, dripping a thick, choking concoction of oil and blood from its mangled fingers.

Jett stumbled back, reaching a hand out to steady herself, as Deadlock strode towards her, eyes heavy and burning underneath her blood-smeared brow, and teeth gritted in an indeterminable mixture of pain and anger. When she was no more than a meter from Jett's side, she threw the limb at her chest and spat out her following words without even looking at her.

"To remember your hook-up by."

Shocked into silence, Jett could only clutch at the arm thrown into her lap and stare at Deadlock's retreating back as she pushed open the door to the showers with her shoulder and disappeared from view. Swallowing thickly, Jett looked down at her prize, fingers feeling across the thankfully, very un-human flesh like material, and felt a spark of recognition flicker across her mind. Balling her towel around her hand, she wiped away at the blood until the rough fibres caught on something sharp embedded into the prosthetic material.

"Oh... fuck."

Realisation came to her in a head-rush. Deadlock knew. And- and she was angry and covered in blood and she had just thrown her own severed arm directly into her lap. Only that, she had still had both of her arms... oh. Deadlock knew. Panic jumping in her chest, she scrambled to her feet and ran towards the showers, shouldering opening the door just as Deadlock had done, not minding the blood that she had left behind smearing itself onto her shirt. It was already stained anyway.

Deadlock had left a trail of clothes on the grey-tiled floor of the showers, each one getting steadily less blood-soaked as she stripped down, finishing with her completely untouched bra and tight, white boy-shorts. Jett swallowed thickly, seeing steam already rising up from behind the frosted glass door of one of the further cubicles. Hurrying over, she could see that there was enough of a gap at the bottom for her to see Deadlock's feet and ankles, and the bright crimson river of washed-off blood pooling around them and disappearing down the drain. Her own prosthetic arm was propped up directly outside the cubicle, sitting in a puddle of red. She eyed it, remembering it's copy that she had left, discarded on the floor of the gym, before she kicked her foot against the glass to get Deadlock's attention.

"What did you do to her?"

She heard Deadlock audibly scoff from the other side of the shower door.

"What do you think I did to her Jett?"

Jett shook her head, leaning back against the tiled wall, pressing her face into the base of her palms.

"So she's dead now? You killed her."

"Oh is that such a disappointment to you?"

Indignation rose up in Jett like a wave building in the ocean, with the swift inevitability that it would soon crash against the shore. Her hands were shaking, flexing back against the tiles, a desperate restraint not to just punch right into it. She didn't fancy breaking half the bones in her hand right now, no matter how angry she was.

"Where do you get off on this huh? You barely touch me for over a month, ignore all my advances, basically tell me to go fuck myself. And then when I actually find someone else to give me what I need, you fucking beat them to death?"

"But it wasn't someone else Sunwoo, it was her."

Such was the venom behind Deadlock's words, it silenced any retort Jett may have offered up. Deadlock rarely spoke more than was necessary to get her point across, but this seemed to have unleashed something in her that was steadily becoming impossible to tame.

"If you really wanted to have sex that bad, you could've fucked anyone. But you had to go and fuck the one with my face didn't you? One of the people, may I remind you, who are trying to kill us and destroy our world, and all for what? For the sake of some fucking Radianite. But no. You didn't want anyone else, but you just couldn't bear the thought of not having someone around 24/7 to get you off."

Unable to hold back any longer, Jett pulled open the door to the shower cubicle. And even though she had known what she would be confronted with, it still left her mouth dry and throat tight. Deadlock's arms were raised, fingers tangled in her hair, washing out the shampoo that had becoming a foamy red from mingling with the blood that had been caked onto every strand. Her back, as firm and stable looking as ever, a back that could take punishment as much as it could give. And then the plump curve of her ass and thighs... fuck. They never ceased to captivate her, to stoke the excitement of the very thought of being trapped between them.

Jett bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, the pain helping to regulate her, as she kicked off her socks and shoes, not wanting her feet to get wet. Now was not the time to be a horny little bitch.

"You are such a fucking hypocrite."

Deadlock didn't turn around, but her back tensed, the corded muscles in her shoulders becoming ever more prominent, and Jett had to swallow back the pang of lust that threatened to overwhelm her anger. She couldn't give in to Deadlock, not this time. She had every right to be pissed with her. Why should she let her win?

"You insisted that this would never be more than casual thing. You told me we weren't a couple, that you never promised me anything. But just because it was your mirror I fucked suddenly it's a problem? You are such a jealous, self-centered prick, Iselin."

And finally Deadlock looked at her, spinning round and pushing her to the side of the cubicle, trapping Jett against the wall of the shower, the muscles in her arm flexing with restrained fury as her eyes seemed to burn a hole into Jett's very soul.

"You just don't get it do you? She can't fuck you like that, she doesn't get to fuck you like that. Because then why the hell did I spend so much of my time making sure this thing between us never left closed doors, that I never left a mark on you where it could be seen, why the fuck did I fucking bother being so careful with you when you were just gonna parade yourself around in front of everyone with your throat bruised up like a common slut?"

Jett stared back at her, jabbing a finger at her chest, renewed confidence flooding her with this latest wave of indignation.

"You fucking take that back."

"I don't take back things I mean."

"I am not a slut."

"Sure don't fucking act like it."

Deadlock was so close to her now, she could feel her body brushing up against the wet material of her t-shirt and gym shorts. Her breasts in particular, cresting just at the edge of her eye-line, full and heavy and just begging to be looked at. So she forced herself to maintain eye contact, knowing that stronger people than her would falter just at the sight of Deadlock laid bare.

"You could've given me love-bites, I wouldn't have stopped you." Her eyes burned as she looked up at Deadlock through the water that fell in an arc around them, angry yes but more so they burned with hurt, deep-seated and not easy to heal. "I wanted you to."

Deadlock tilted her head with indifference, shifting back slightly, so that their faces were no longer just inches away from each other.

"I was being professional. Something you seem incapable of doing."

Jett held her gaze for as long as she could bear it before looking away, gaze dropping to the floor, to the short blonde hairs stuck flush to Deadlock's lower legs, and to the rivulets of blood slowed to a crawl across her skin since she had stepped out of the direct path of the shower-head. And her next words came in a mumble.

"You didn't have to kill her. Not like that."

Deadlock pulled her arm back from the wall and folded them over her chest instead.

"I had to make sure she wouldn't come back."

"Why? You were that threatened by her? We're not even dating Iselin."

"You are mine, not hers!"

Jett's gaze snapped back up to hers, her mouth ajar, eyes wide and confused. Right from the beginning, they had never been anything but casual. Sure, Deadlock had been possessive before, but only ever during sex. Outside of that, you could've forgiven an outsider for not even thinking them to be friends. Deadlock had always maintained an iron will of professionalism, that not for one second had Jett ever assumed that she had actually cared about her. Not in that way.

Deadlock stared back at her, her gaze only wavering the longer the silence between them stretched on. For as furious as she was, Jett could see the hesitation in her eyes, the insecurity. She was scared.

Jett's mouth was on Deadlock's before she could remind herself why it wasn't already there. The slight shift of their positions pushed both of them under the cascading water, but Deadlock's height advantage kept her mostly protected, water trickling down her naked back to pool around their ankles. Deadlock kissed her back for a moment or two before breaking it off, eyes still hard and cold, a hand resting firmly against Jett's chest.

"Don't kiss me if you don't mean it."

Jett's eyes wavered back to Deadlock's lips, eager to reattach them to hers. But she could sense the severity of her statement in the way that she held her back. This was no simple tease. Gaze shifting back up, she nodded.

"Okay."

She leaned in to kiss her again, and Deadlock took this as her green light, pressing the base of her amputated arm against Jett's shoulder to keep her steady as her other hand cupped her face, fingers tangling into her hair as she kissed her hard, breathing sharply through her nose. She was kissing her like she had never kissed her before. Even when they had been fucking on the regular, Deadlock would rarely kiss her. Kissing was for girlfriends, for partners, for lovers. And they had never been that.

Deadlock kissed her for a few moments more before detaching and moving to nose at Jett's lower jaw, hand pawing at her neck.

"Turn around, take your shirt off."

Jett did as asked, Deadlock backing off from her to give her space, and reaching out to turn off the faucet as Jett lifted her arms, peeling off her soaked t-shirt and tossing it over the door. Immediately the absence of the hot water sent a prickle of goosebumps all across Jett's body, and her nipples, hard already from the cold, got harder still as Deadlock pressed against her back, pinning her to the wall of the shower. Her mouth went to Jett's neck, lapping at the water pebbled skin until it was warm and pliable in her mouth and she could introduce her teeth. The first bite caused Jett to seize up, hips stuttering against nothing, with no room to grind on anything but the flat tiled wall.

It seemed as if Deadlock had taken issue with what Jett had said earlier, as she was now sucking on her neck with abandon, the base of her hand anchored firmly against her shoulder-blade as she bruised a trail all the way down. Moving to her jaw and the part of her throat over her pulse point, Deadlock shifted her hand to her chest, her own breasts pressed firmly against Jett's upper back as she fondled roughly, hand gripping and rolling her nipples between her thumb and forefinger. It was painful, but the pain was delicious. Jett had always liked a little manhandling in the bedroom, and finally Deadlock was no longer caring about being gentle. Finally she was fucking her like she meant it.

A greedy hand moved down to her hip, gripping and tugging her ass flush with her pelvis as she worked on peeling her soaked gym shorts down and off, kicking them into the corner of the shower cubicle. Her mouth shifted back upwards, over the faded imprints of her mirror's hickeys, and she doubled down, sucking hard and fast, painting over the memory of Jett's last fuck. She wanted to be the only one who could mark her and make it last.

Pinned to the wall with Deadlock devouring her skin, all Jett could do was gasp and moan as the older woman claimed her. Asserting her dominance with every suck and bite, with every light nudge of her hips up into her ass, with the way her hand had already slipped in-between her thighs, working away in firm circles to encourage a rush of blood-flow to her clit.

Omega Deadlock had been talkative to say the least during sex, always with a snarky comment or wry observation that had riled Jett up in just the right away. The Deadlock that was fucking her now though, was near silent, ruthlessly methodical in the way she touched her, with not a second wasted in producing her exact desired outcome. Within a minute Jett had been reduced to a quivering mess of sensitivity and pleasure, her skin hot to the touch, nipples hard and reactive, and her clit throbbing under the rough pads of Deadlock's fingertips.

She surprised even herself with how quickly she found herself approaching the edge. Although it didn't often take her too long, it usually required a lot of stimulation to get her this close this fast. And yet she could feel her orgasm building in the pit of her stomach already, just from Deadlock's fingers alone.

"I- fuck. I'm close, I'm close."

Deadlock hummed against the skin of her neck, biting down softly before pulling away entirely, her hand falling from between her legs. Jett let out a cry of dismay, humping up against the air, desperate to regain friction.

"Wha- why-"

Deadlock didn't answer straight away, and stepped out of the shower instead, leaving a prickle of goosebumps to rise up all over Jett's body, now that she no longer had a body hot with lust pressed up against her.

"Come."

Jett looked at Deadlock's outstretched hand, her chest heaving from the exertion of being brought close to the edge only to be left hanging.

"I don't want to fuck you in a shower cubicle."

Jett bit her lip, but took Deadlock's hand readily. It was a risk, but neither of them cared. The chances of Gekko catching them in the hall was slim to none, and to their knowledge, there was nobody else around. With the base having been set-up in an old gymnasium, the indoor space was not extensive, and it took them barely more than a minute to reach Deadlock's room. They stopped by the door, Deadlock pushing her against the wall and slotting her thigh in-between her legs for her to grind on, as her mouth migrated to her breasts, kissing and sucking and licking across the already reddened skin.

Jett's hand fumbled for the handle first, and the two of them tumbled inside, with only just enough wherewithal from Deadlock to kick the door shut behind them. They made their way towards the bed blind, lips locked and hands wandering, until Jett's legs hit the mattress and she was pressed down into it, Deadlock climbing on top of her. Jett had never felt so turned on in her whole life. In comparison to the many times they had fucked before, Deadlock had barely touched her, and yet she was dripping wet, her thighs slick as she rubbed them together, desperate for any contact other than her own.

Deadlock was working with a sense of possession alien from her to Jett. Back when they had first agreed to start their simple relationship of casual sex, it had very obviously been nothing more than a relationship of convenience for the both of them. A way to work out stress and to feel another body against your own. Never had Jett felt like Deadlock had owned her, controlled her, made her do exactly what she wanted purely because it was her who was asking. But it was clear now that Deadlock was working off of the understanding that Jett was now hers, to do with as she pleased.

She ended up in Deadlock's lap, kissing and being kissed, lips no longer a barrier to each others tongues and hands scorching burning trails across over-stimulated skin. It was a heat that was fast becoming unbearable to Jett. She needed to be melded into Deadlock, to feel them as one. She needed Deadlock to fuck her now, or she might die without it.

"Deadlock, Iselin, please, I- I'm so wet-"

Deadlock didn't say anything, but by cupping Jett's mound and twisting her fingers between the soaked dark hairs, it was safe to say she realised what a dire situation she was in. Pushing Jett back down onto the mattress, she knelt against the bed, her posture firm and strong, and wrapped her hand around Jett's ankle, tracing it up her leg to anchor just behind her knee. At which point she simultaneously tugged, while also pushing upwards with the base of her palm, encouraging Jett to shift her hips until her ass was resting against Deadlock's chest with her legs over either shoulder. Deadlock's fingers splayed, a firm grip across Jett's abdomen, locking her in place as she secured her head safely in-between her thighs.

Upside down, completely prone in Deadlock's lap, Jett felt vulnerable. She could feel her slick, guided by gravity, begin to drip down the divots of her hip-bones, slowing to a sticky crawl as it came into contact with Deadlock's hand. She bit her lip, lifting her head slightly, trying to get a better look at what Deadlock was doing. And that was when she dove in.

Using the flat of her tongue, Deadlock gathered up as much of her wetness as she could before pooling it around her clit, enveloping it in soft, wet heat. Immediately she began to eat Jett out, and she was overcome with just how... careless she was being. Deadlock was usually so calculated with how she touched her, not liking to make a mess or drag things out unnecessarily. Jett would even have gone so far as to say it was a point of pride for her how fast she could make her finish. But right now she was working off of instinct and reaction, tongue spread out, covering every inch of her pussy as she licked and sucked, devouring her in every sense of the word.

Jett couldn't usually come from oral alone. She was someone who needed both penetration and clitoral stimulation to get off in any reasonable amount of time. But she was so worked up right now, that Deadlock's tongue felt like magic between her legs, every suck, big or small, sending a spark of molten hot pleasure sizzling up her spine. And when her climax approached, it had felt inevitable, like a rolling wave crashing against the rocks.

Deadlock licked her through her orgasm, drinking in every last spilled drop and nuzzling against Jett's centre until she whined and bucked her hips away in oversensitivity. She was pretty sure she had blacked out for a second when she came, the combination of being upside down while also being the horniest she had ever been mixing into a cocktail of euphoric lightheadedness. Having cleaned her up, Deadlock let her down gently, standing up from the bed and leaving her to recover as she went to fetch something.

Reaching into her bedside drawer, Deadlock pulled a light blue strap out from underneath a stack of books and trinkets, one that Jett had never seen before. Quite different to her usual one, this one had no fastenings or harness, and instead had a shorter, bulbed end on the other side. Back to her senses, Jett sat up on her elbows, staring curiously at the toy. And she realised a moment later that the bulbed end was supposed to go inside whoever was doing the fucking. She watched, eyes wide, as Deadlock touched herself eagerly, rubbing her swollen clit in slick strokes, before lubing up the short end up the strap and then, gently, pushing it inside herself.

Jett watched Deadlock's face, jaw slack, as she adjusted to the intrusion inside her, eyes falling closed. She felt a sense of awe that she was getting to see her like this, taking control of her own pleasure. Crawling forward on her belly, she looked up at Deadlock, bottom lip tugged inside her mouth between her teeth, chest alight with excitement as a fresh spark of arousal pooled in the pit of her stomach.

"You need help?"

Deadlock opened her eyes and stared down at her, her gaze steely.

"Up, stand up."

Jett obeyed, as easily as breathing, scrambling up from the bed with eyes wide and eager to please. Deadlock took her chin between her thumb and forefinger, tilting her head from one side to the other, examining.

"Against the wall."

Deadlock's hand went to her hips as Jett pressed herself up against the wall, her back to Deadlock's front as a hand snaked down to start rubbing at her clit. Jett whined, shifting against the pressure, still sensitive from having come so recently. Showing mercy, Deadlock dropped her hand, but immediately grasped her strap instead, lining it up against Jett's ass and rubbing the tip against her folds. Uncharacteristically impatient, Deadlock pushed the tip in, testing the waters before sliding into her sensually, a smooth glide aided perfectly by the all the slick left behind from Jett's first orgasm.

"Ah... oh God, oh fuck."

Deadlock's face was contorted with pleasure, the bulb of the strap-on nudging just right against her stiff and swollen clit from the inside. She gave a single thrust, testing out the movement, and they moaned almost in unison, connected by more than just skin and silicone. Unable to contain herself any longer, Deadlock began pushing in and out of her at a fast pace, impatient and desperate to bring both of them to a fast completion.

"Fuck Jett, you're so fucking hot."

Deadlock was once again, fucking her carelessly, paying no mind to hitting a consistent rhythm. She was focused only on friction, heat, pleasure, just bringing as much stimulation as possible to both of them. Her hand was greedy, aggressive, grabbing onto Jett's ass like it was her anchor, not caring what marks she left behind. Her head was tossed back, throat bared and hips churning as she tried to get as deep inside Jett as possible.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck Jett, you feel so good. So fucking good. I love fucking you, I love it, I- I love- I love you Jett, I love you..."

Awareness came to Jett in micro-doses at Deadlock's confession, pushing through the haze of lust and pleasure that kept threatening to overwhelm her. She loved her? Did she mean it? Was it a real confession? Or was it just something she was saying because she was fucking her? With Deadlock, affection was so rare, it was hard to tell when she was being genuine. If she had meant it, Deadlock didn't show it on her face, and just continued to fuck her and so Jett let the moment pass. That was something to unpack later, when Deadlock wasn't balls deep inside her.

Arching her back, Jett pressed her ass against the part of the strap inside Deadlock, trying to stimulate her clit and bring her as much pleasure as she was giving her. Deadlock had always been a giver, and Jett wanted her to lose control, to forget all about her and just focus on getting herself off as fast as possible. Deadlock noticed what she was doing and grabbed her ass, helping her to grind in the right way.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that, I'm gonna- shit."

Deadlock was breathless. Even during a mission, or a high intensity run or work out, Jett had never heard her sound this exerted. And sure, she had helped Deadlock to orgasm before. But never like this, with her sounding so wrecked and desperate and needy. And fuck did it turn her on like nothing she'd ever known before.

"Fuck Jett, please come with me. It's okay if you can't but I... fuck I want- I need- please Sunwoo, come with me. I need to feel you come with me."

Deadlock's hand moved down the Jett's clit, rubbing it in generous circles and Jett felt her abdomen tense up, like a spring slowly being coiled. It was the start of that build-up to orgasm she was so familiar with, but this time it felt so much more intense than usual, causing her to clench down on the strap pistoning inside her.

"Fuck, yeah- squeeze me, fuck-"

They rocked against each other, suspended on the edge, clits throbbing and visioning spotting. They were both so close and they knew that either one coming would finish the other one off immediately. It was just a matter of who. Deadlock was wild with need, rutting against Jett like a bitch in heat, and soon enough it was just too much for her to handle.

"Oh fuck I'm coming, I'm coming."

Deadlock's hips stuttered against Jett's ass as she made an inarticulate sound into the crook of her neck. Jett's own hand went to her hair, gripping tight to the dark roots as she reached her own climax just seconds later, pushed over the edge by the desperate and just utterly feminine moans that she had wrung out of Deadlock. They were so unlike her and yet it sounded so right. Deadlock continued grinding herself against Jett, stretching out her orgasm for as long as possible until they were both wrecked, bodies limp and boneless.

"Helvete..."

Feverish kisses were pressed to Jett's cheek, neck, shoulders, as Deadlock ran her hand down her arm to interlock their fingers. And for a long while that was all they did, collapsed against the wall, panting and making as much physical contact as possible. Deadlock separated them first, their bodies slick with sweat from where they had been pressed together, and pulled the strap-on out of Jett's soaked pussy, fumbling with it for a moment before edging it out of her own and letting it drop to the floor. She cradled Jett's head against her chest, clumsy kisses pressed to mussy hair, fingers digging in firmly against her scalp.

"Lie with me. Please. I need to hold you."

Jett nodded and they stumbled, collapsing onto the bed, entangled. It was a feeling of closeness she had never felt before, that the two of them were so totally intertwined she couldn't tell where she ended and Deadlock began. Although she couldn't hold her in both arms, the one she had was strong, and she wrapped it around Jett's torso like a shield, protecting her from the world and all of it's harm. And it felt like the easiest thing in the world to drift into unconsciousness, knowing, if nothing else, that she was safe.

***

Jett awoke to a dull throb in the centre of her skull, and an overheated body pressed tight to her back, an arm loose around her waist. Kicking off the blankets that had pooled around their legs, Jett shifted out of Deadlock's embrace, sitting up and settling her head into her lap instead. She smiled, watching her sleep, a sight she had not often been privy to. And as recollection of last night came back to her in bits and pieces, one moment in particular kept replaying over and over in her mind. What Deadlock had said to her when she'd had her pinned to the wall, hand glued to her ass and strap buried as far as it would go in her pussy.

I love you.

She knew that there was every possibility Deadlock had not meant it, that she had said it in throes of sex and sin, where emotions were high and chasing pleasure was the only goal. But she couldn't help the feeling that there had been a real moment of vulnerability in Deadlock then. And quite opposite to the dread Jett had imagined coming from a love confession like that, she actually felt... happy. Warm. Like the two of them were finally on the same page.

Jett glanced down at the sleeping form of her lover, the muscles in her back rising and falling with each breath, and it was almost in that instant that Jett realised how much Deadlock meant to her. And it was this Deadlock. No copy or mirror could ever be the same. Because sex, no matter how good, would always be just sex, no matter where you got it from. But this? This was something. Yet undefined, as intangible as a dream upon waking, and yet she knew that whatever it was, it felt right.

She smiled, stroking her hand up the skin of Deadlock's shoulder-blade. Perhaps, one day, something more would come of them. But for now she was happy as they were. Casual lovers. Nothing more, nothing less. Carding her fingers gently through Deadlock's darker roots, Jett smiled and lent down to kiss her forehead, whispering into the messy blonde locks that fell around her face.

"I love you too."