A/N: For Angelic Arrow.


The door was not locked.

Her captain could walk in any minute and switch on the light, but that seemed to teeter on the edge between impossibility and uncaring for her.

Gin twisted between her legs, carelessly shoving fabric aside to touch her more thoroughly and tasting whatever he found with his quick, clever tongue.

She bit her tongue to keep from betraying them with sounds, feeling her eyes roll back into her head with the onset of sweetest agony.

Gin was merciless, hammering without care until the couch groaned at the assault, angling himself until she bloodied his back with her fingernails and shrieked soundlessly into his shoulder.

He loved it like this, she knew, dangerous and rushed.

She loved it because he loved it, and because she loved him, and she would be lying if she said she did not feel the thrill of impending fear as he did.

So, she would keep answering the teasing knock on the door as long as she could.

Until he stopped knocking.