There was something oddly beautiful in the unloading and the slow, deliberate, almost ritualized dis-assembly

Sex As A Weapon

By Besterette

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, no copyright infringement intended.

There was something oddly beautiful in the unloading and the slow, deliberate, almost ritualized dis-assembly. Like watching a traditional Japanese tea ceremony. The careful movements of his hands as he lay each part down on the clean cloth gently as a live kitten. The brush dipped into cleaning solvent and lovingly scrubbing every inch of her, the rag wiping away loosened fouling. The cleaning patch and rod dipping down into the barrel again and again and again a visual freudian pun that made her blush and look away. Oil carefully worked into every nook and cranny. Reassembly, reloading. The soft satisfied sigh he gave, inspecting her, checking the action, and slowly slipping her back into the embrace of the leather holster.

"I've been spending way too much time with Sledge. And I need to get myself a boyfriend," Doreau thought to herself, clearing her throat and crossing her legs.