A lemon fanfiction remake by Lord Noon

Inspired by the work of EvilCassy

All characters and names are the property of Namco Bandai.

... ... ...

The sky outside was already starting to darken, the sun crawling beneath the horizon and taking its foreboding red aura along with it. Damn, how long have I been working, mused Nina Williams as she strode through one of the less-impressive office levels of Gargoyle Tower in Tokyo. It was almost as if Jin knew what she had planned for tonight…but, no, he couldn't know. He couldn't. If he did, she would likely be in a cell by now. Besides, she'd covered her tracks expertly the last few times, and had no intention of fouling up now.

There – an unoccupied cubicle. Surreptitiously slinking into the seat, Nina glanced at the nearest surveillance camera mounted on the ceiling, and sighed inwardly when she noticed the red LED beneath its swivelling lens was off. As ever, no-one of importance had noticed her deactivating the cameras on this floor, and even if they did, she was for all intents and purposes second-in-command of the entire Mishima Zaibatsu. Who was brave enough to challenge her orders? None of these men, certainly. Hmph, 'men', she thought with a snort. As if any of them have the right to that title. No, she knew a thing or two about real men, and tonight…

She shook herself out of it. Business first, pleasure later. Signing in with a false account name she'd set up months ago with admin privileges, Nina accessed the archive for future troop deployments, looking for something significant but inessential…ah, there it was. Two companies dispatched to China by sea, hiding in cargo containers aboard a civilian liner, marked as 'livestock'. Realistically, the MZ had no pressing need to enforce more of their might upon the country, but the destruction of this small force would still be missed. It was more than enough to keep up her side of their little…arrangement. Fishing a flash drive out of her jacket, Nina plugged it into one of the terminal's access ports and copied the relevant files. Watching as they were duplicated, she actually recognised some of the listed soldiers' names from field operations. Now she was sending them to die unawares, for the sake of her own little spy game.

Sucks to be them, she thought dismissively. In practice, it was no worse than any number of other things she'd done to unfortunate souls over the years.

The transfer was complete. Removing the drive, Nina logged herself out and stood up, casting a casual look around the room; none of the assorted tech staff looked her way. They had their own work to do, after all, and knew better than to pry in her affairs. Her footsteps ringing loud upon the marble floor, she headed for the elevator bank and, finding one already open and waiting, stepped inside and tapped the switch for the basement motor pool.

As the elevator descended in relative silence, Nina stared down at the flash drive in her manicured hand, feeling warm from the recent activity. It was a simple model, innocent to the naked eye, though the scratches across its shell betrayed how much use it had gone through. Indeed, it was this drive alone that had contained all the MZ secrets she'd leaked and the leads she'd received in kind from her accomplice. Raising it higher, she could almost believe she could smell his musk upon it, a bitter blend of acrid gunpowder and well-earned sweat – repulsive to others, maybe, but it spurred her heart to beat ever faster in a way precious few sensations could. Smiling, leaning heavily against the elevator's side, she closed her eyes and let the memories flood over her…from their first meeting, purely as enemies, concerned with nothing more than each other's demise; there weren't many who could match her step-by-step the way he did, and when they closed in on each other, everything else seemed to just…stop mattering. It felt good, so good, to have his body pressing against hers – even the pain as his fists and elbows struck just served to excite her further, a feeling she knew he shared without a word passing between them. Hours seemed to pass as they circled and rolled and danced; her combat suit was sticking to her skin, staining dark from sweat, but her exhaustion was held at bay by a feeling she couldn't name, one she'd never felt before…but one she was helpless to resist. A minute later, pinning him against a cold steel fence, she let go of her last inhibitions and drew her tongue across his chest, left bare by her knife some time before. His firm pectorals trembled under the touch and a prolonged sigh escaped from his pale lips as she tasted the coppery tang of spilled blood – and she knew she had made the right choice even before he pulled her head up by the hair into a brutish, savage kiss.

The elevator shuddered to a halt and Nina snapped out of her reverie. She'd gotten carried away; her free hand had strayed beneath her belt and under her panties to tease her crotch. Fighting down a sudden instinct to blush, she withdrew it and wiped it on her white slacks, and pocketed the flash drive before the doors hissed open. A few guards were in the motor pool, but none seemed to notice anything amiss about their superior as she headed for her assigned bike. That was lucky, Nina chastised herself as she swung one leg over the machine. She'd make a stop at her apartment first to get changed. After that…she could amuse herself however she wanted.

... ... ...

He tried to focus on what his officers were telling him, he really did, but try as he might, Sergei Dragunov might as well have had hornets buzzing inside his ears for all the good it did. They were good men – he'd overseen their training personally – and their mission was important. But tonight, his attention was fated to be elsewhere. Tonight, the 'White Angel of Death' would be visited by another to whom that name would be well-suited, and the knowledge of that was driving him crazy.

The men had finished with…whatever it was they were trying to tell him. He threw them a curt salute and they marched obediently out of the room, down the stairs to the restaurant his platoon had commandeered as a front. The owners were quite fiercely opposed to the Zaibatsu's actions of late, and required little convincing to let his men use the upper floors of their building as an ad-hoc forward base. So long as they kept that attitude, he was content to leave them alive.

Of course, they likely wouldn't be so enthusiastic over his presence if they knew who would be visiting him tonight…but, they would never know. After all, they hadn't noticed the last four times she had snuck past them. Speaking of which…Sergei stepped over to the door and pulled down the blind over the window, something his soldiers knew to take as a 'do not disturb' sign. In the past, he would use it when discussing sensitive matters with his superiors, or when indulging his occasional fondness for classical music. These days, it was all about her.

It was strange for him, he mused, leaning with his knuckles planted firmly on the map table, to be so caught up in the allure of females. Throughout most of his adult life, growing through the ranks of the Russian military, he had precious little contact with women; gender equality may have been politically okay'ed long ago, but old habits die hard, and the senior staff of the army was prone to holding back or outright denying female applicants purely out of misogynistic spite. It was no great loss to Sergei; he took his joy from his sense of duty more than anything. Of course, he was no monk; in particular, he had served under a rambunctious colonel for several years who outright demanded his men partake in the distractions of the flesh when off the service rota, perhaps so he could be assured he had not been tasked with training any homosexuals. Another old habit. He had done as requested, but never more than asked. Besides, the women, the…paid company, they didn't care for his bedroom manners. The momentary attraction they may have felt upon seeing him – his body was no less defined back then, and age had yet to take its toll on his face – was swiftly replaced with horror and pain owing to his rough handling and, perhaps, excess of zeal. None lasted more than a ten-minute union, and they all left with tears in their eyes and curses on their lips. Sergei took their words to heart, and in the years that followed he had sworn off women entirely.

So to find himself laid out on his back and clawing the form-fitting clothes off a female's body as her perfect white teeth gnawed pleasurably on his neck was very much a surprise, doubly so when he found himself enjoying the sensation. He had come here, to this dingy little pier, expressly to stick a thorn in her superior's side. When she disrupted that operation, he decided that he would leave with her head, or not at all. He wasn't the sort of man to go back on his word easily, or at all – but now he had her, or perhaps she had him, and all he could think about was the aching longing in his heart, how unbearable it was, and how this woman, this…amazing woman would make him whole. With her combat gear torn off, her ample breasts hung free, the cold chill of the night air making her pink nipples stand on end. When he squeezed them, her gloved hands gripped his at the wrists – but rather than pull him away, she forced his hands to twist and claw even harder, all the while moaning as the pain only amplified her lust. Something that turned out to be a shared quality between them, he found, when she removed her gloves to rake her fingernails across his bared torso. The thin, needling lines they left hurt, but left him gasping for more.

They kissed again, sloppily, too excited to be romantic about it – before the sound of booted footsteps and name-calls in Japanese distracted them. It was her back-up, looking for her. They exchanged silent stares, and when he peered into those shimmering crystal-blue eyes, he knew that her desires were more important than her orders. The very same sentiment he was feeling. Taking her in his arms, he carried her out of sight, into an empty cargo container, feeling her firm legs clench around his hips as he went. She could have called out at any time and taken him prisoner; instead, she snapped off his belt and reached down to stroke and tease his manhood most expertly. Even so, he hesitated to enter her, and struggled to restrict himself to only gentle probing – by his standards – when he did. But then she leaned forwards, and whispered in her sultry, dangerous voice, "Give me your best shot, you cold bastard." He complied mercilessly, thrusting himself against her so forcefully he feared the sound of her inevitable scream would draw unwanted attention…he shouldn't have worried. Though the heat between them grew almost unbearable, and she reached her thrashing climax even as he peaked, she made no sound beyond her hoarse, ragged breaths, and a post-coital promise; "I'll see you again."

She had kept her word, even though he had never told her where to look for him. Perhaps she had marked him somehow that night; even when his team had moved here from their first HQ, she required no directions to their new location, as if she could track him by something more than sight. That was how he liked to think of her, anyway.

On her first visit, she had come bearing the gift of information. "Take it, or I go." He was puzzled at first, but then came to realise the true meaning behind the offering; she was unwilling to admit that simple attraction could hold such a strong sway over her. Her pride demanded that this…arrangement…be about something more than carnal lust. He went along with it, even to the point of trading her employer's secrets for those of his country. It was a game, you see; how long could she deny the depth of her own feelings? And Sergei, well, he had every intention of winning that game. Sooner or later, she would simply refuse to leave his side, and he would take her out of the country with him, to be used as a bargaining chip or an information goldmine. After all, his feelings were not nearly so deep.

no, not even close, he reminded himself, wiping the back of his hand across a suddenly sweating brow.

He didn't hear the door open, or the lightened footsteps across the linoleum floor. He didn't need to; the tingle of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end was enough of a warning. In one motion, he whirled around, caught an incoming chopping arm at the elbow, grabbed one of his assailant's legs and lifted them bodily, turning around again before slamming them down across his map table. He knew before he even looked that he would find himself staring at her, and that she would have that taunting smile playing across her glistening, peach-hued lips. "Hello to you, too," she said lightly, without a hint of apology. It wasn't needed; this had become the pattern, a quick tussle to warm up before the real action began. He knew she loved it, and the feeling was mutual. The pain would only make what came later that much finer a pleasure…

Even so, he didn't expect her other knee to strike his jaw quite so forcefully. Coupled with a bucking of the hips that sent a brief electric tingle through his groin, she easily forced him to flip over her, and he landed in a heap on the floor with a grunt. He was up like a shot, to find her standing on the table with that sense of triumphant glee she always seemed to have whenever she was on top, in any sense. He had no real problem letting her 'lead' him, but it was amusing to deny her that and watch her stew over it. He swung his leg up towards her ankles, but she leapt towards him, over him, and he felt those slim but firm hands catching around his neck, forcing him to fall once again as her momentum unbalanced him. Her grip shifted to one of his arms, and not a moment later he had to grit his teeth as she started to bend it backwards at the elbow; she wouldn't break it, probably, but he wasn't about to let her 'win' so easily. Reaching up with his free arm, he quickly found her ponytail and used it to pull her head down low, then swung his left leg up to crack the knee against her skull. Turnabout is fair play.

That was enough to break her grip, and they both rolled to their feet, adopting measured stances barely a metre apart. Though they were done smiling, they could both see the glint of humour in each other's' eyes, something that would be lost on most people. This time, he struck first with a front kick that caught her firmly in the gut, but his following discus punch met nothing but air as she swayed out of its way, and a firm palm strike to the cheek gave him pause. Even so, he was ready for her next try, a high right kick aimed straight for his skull. Catching it, he slipped his own foot behind her other leg and pushed her with his shoulder, tripping her to the floor. Intending to give her a little taste of her own medicine, he weaved one leg around her caught one and put pressure on the ankle – but she rolled up and pulled on his arm with her full weight, forcing him down once more. He kept her leg trapped and continued to twist, even as he felt his right arm being hyperextended in her grip. Her grunts of exertion were louder than his own, but even so, he doubted she would willingly submit before him; she was much too stubborn for that. Instead, he made eye contact with her once again, and on a nodded cue they both released their holds with sighs of relief.

She rolled away to the side, comforting her hurt leg, but Sergei blocked out the pain in his arms, instead sliding across to her and rolling her onto her back before straddling her torso. Pinning one of her arms to the side, he struck her across the face, hard, drawing a cry – but even so, her sharp, beautiful features remained unblemished. His next punch was caught short by her, and when he tried using his left arm she took grip of that, too. Matching her grip, he returned to his feet and pulled her up with him, then slammed her against the wall, knocking several pinned-up dossiers off their places. He pulled her back and aimed to do the same towards another wall, when suddenly she dropped and he felt his legs being kicked out from under him. He fell, being pulled forwards as he did so, to land flat on his belly – and with his head trapped between her thighs. This is a new trick, he thought drily, a moment before she began to squeeze with all her might, sending searing pain through his skull. He wanted to pry at her grip with his hands, but she still held his arms firmly and he couldn't shake them free. He tried to get his feet under him and stand up, but her own feet pressed down firmly on his back, thwarting his efforts. All that he could do was wriggle his head, and even that seemed to be impossible in her grip…and, he grudgingly admitted, having his face so close to her crotch wasn't helping his resolve.

He held out for two minutes before letting his arms slump limply in her hands. She released him immediately then, shimmying around to face him and help him up. As ever, he noted how the struggle had brought a glow to her supple skin that wasn't there before, only serving to amplify her beauty that little bit more. Feeling a faint stirring of anger at the mischievous grin on her face, he pulled her close for a kiss, letting it linger long enough to twist her tongue into knots. When they broke, she was as out of breath as he was. It was a reminder to her that, whoever 'won' their little sparring sessions, they were equals where it mattered.

Standing, she turned her back on him and began the slow walk to his chambers; as an officer's privilege, he'd taken the only bedroom with an en-suite shower. "Hope you've managed to pick up a new bed since last time – I don't think the old one would last another round with us," she called back over her shoulder casually, all the while undoing the zips and buckles that held her camouflage-patterned catsuit in place. The top half fell down to hang at her waist as she crossed the threshold, her pale flesh looking as damnably flawless as ever over the tight muscles in her back and shoulders. Feeling his temperature rising for reasons unrelated to fighting, Sergei stood up in turn and followed her, undoing the buttons of his officer's jacket as he went.

She was slipping out of her leggings as he stopped behind her, bending over ostensibly to undo the buckles on her boots. He had no issue with her teasing, just as he knew she had no issue with his staring at her bared, tight, gym-honed but still girlishly curved rear. He longed to feel its firmness under his fingers, but he waited until she was finished, stepping out of her fully-unzipped boots to pad on the floorboards with her curiously dainty feet, leaving her suit in one scrunched heap before turning around to face him again, her eyes immediately going to his sharply-defined abdominals. He hadn't mentioned it to her – nor would he ever – but he had made a point of…bettering his physique since they had started seeing each other this way. Perhaps it was a sense of envy; though he could tell she had been on the battlefield in one way or another for as long as he had, she had somehow conspired to remain unblemished by the experience, while he had watched his youthful good looks fade…but then, here she was, reaching out to run her thumb gently across the outline of the scar on his face before bringing their lips together again. If she could see something in him worthy of her intimacy…he decided to drop the train of thought as she sank into a crouch, running her lips down his neck then all the way down his body, sending a constant electric tingle straight through to his spine, until she stopped at his waist. Unbuckling his belt, she shot another suggestive look his way before pulling open his dress trousers so forcefully they're ripped clear off his legs. He can afford more. She laughs appreciatively. "Already at attention, Colonel? I didn't know I was your superior."

Sergei let a thin smile crease his expression, something he'd never do unless he was alone, or at least alone with her. Yanking his jackboots off and casting them aside, he gripped her gently by her biceps, before he pushed her onto the bed – which was indeed a replacement. She fell with an "oop" of playful surprise, and then lay still with one leg resting flat and the other with knee raised slightly. The neon-red light from a sign across the street shone through the room's shutters and fell across her body, highlighting the thin sheen of sweat that had built up from their scuffle. He could hear the rush of his blood in his ears. There was no more need for restraint. He wanted her, and he would have her.

Planting his knees on the bed, Sergei took hold of her raised leg, running his rough hands up and down the smooth meat of her calf, again slightly dumbstruck at just how gorgeous every part of her being was. Then his hands shifted to her foot, where his thumbs massaged her soft soles, moving in soft circles, while he kissed her toes one after the other. He could hear her giggle and feel her body tremble in response; she'd actually asked him to do this last time, but he had a better feel for it now. That done, he slowly slid his way up across the sheets, further up her body, tracing her figure with the lightest touch he could manage and laying kisses in the softer, more sensitive spots of her body. He paused over her crotch for some time, gingerly prodding the rim of her clean-shaven pussy, but then moved on with a mocking shake of the head, drawing a brief scowl from her. He didn't want her to be finished too quickly. And she was unmistakably heading that way, as her hand crept down to claw at his hair whilst his tongue circled her belly-button and she pushed her body up against the motion. He pushed himself further upon her – or perhaps she pulled him? – and cupped her breasts, large but natural and soft as velvet, with his hands before lowering his head over them, working on the left first, then the right, teasing the areolas with his tongue before gently nibbling on their tips. Her belly trembled in anticipation under his even as her moaning grew increasingly loud and persistent.

At last, they were face to face again. However much Sergei admired and lusted over every inch of her body – and he did – it was always her face that he craved the most. Those enchanting blue eyes. The inviting curve of her lips. The graceful point of her chin. And her complexion, so creamy and pure it was irresistible. So he kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips once again. Then she spoke in a whisper that was somehow both pleading and commanding all at once. "Don't keep me waiting any longer."

He nodded – and was immediately forced to roll over as she pushed her way atop him, placing her knees on either side of his hips as she stripped his underwear from his groin, with enough force for it to hurt. Nevertheless, his member stood erect – how could it not? – and with a sigh, she forced herself upon it, gasping as he pushed deep inside her. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment as she adjusted to the feeling, before her palms braced themselves upon his firm abs and she began to rock back and forth, her breaths heavy and kept in pace with her motions. Sergei felt himself shifting along with her without really trying, the sheets under him now clinging to his back as he continued to sweat. The pressure in his loins was starting to build, just as she panted his name. "Sergei…hah…you gonna join in…or what?" For a moment, he almost responded verbally to her challenging tone, but he remained silent, instead lifting his hands to tightly grip those firm buttcheeks of hers and started to thrust back in time to her rocking. She let out a loud laugh in response, pulling the bangle from her ponytail to let her hair fall freely as she went. "Oh yeah, that's…mmm! More like it…oh?" She looked down at her own body, then cradled her pussy with both hands for a moment – he gasped as her probing fingers stroked his penis – before removing them, now coated in her own juices. "Damn, I'm making a mess tonight. Only one thing for it, then…" And with that, she started thrusting against him even faster, harder, as she swung her head back and her hands massaged her breasts, leaving them gleaming stickily in the half-light from outside.

Sergei was starting to lose it, fast. Holding her by the shoulders, he rolled over, positioning himself on top again. Last time she'd complained over that, but tonight he wasn't going to give her a chance, bringing his mouth down on top of hers to silence her with a kiss. She seemed mollified by it, responding enthusiastically to his tongue with her own even as the motions of their pelvises grew faster and more furious with each passing second. His hands stayed on her shoulder for a good grip, while hers clawed and scraped across his back, undoubtedly drawing blood in some spots, but only enough to spur him on. The bed began to creak alarmingly but they were both too far gone to notice, lost to the madness of passion. The breaks in their kissing grew frequent as they ran short of breath, and then…and then Sergei felt it. He was going to come in a matter of seconds, and had no intention of doing so inside her. He made to ease off – but her panting voice whispered in his ear. "No, I'm so close…" He weighed his options, grit his teeth, and thrust against her as hard as he could muster, once, twice, three times – until she stiffened under him, then trembled, and with a sudden bestial shriek of "YES!", slumped down onto the mattress.

Pushing himself off, Sergei slipped down beside her, his vision fogging over as fatigue claimed him. Releasing his load harmlessly into the sheets, he turned his head towards her, noting her already-shut eyelids and the look of angelic calm upon her face, he croaked hoarsely, "Ngh…N…Nina…" before slumber claimed him.

... ... ...

It was at least 90 minutes before he awoke, or so his body-clock seemed to think.

When his steel-grey eyes fluttered open, he found her crystal-blues staring right back at him, with a gentle smile upon her face. Very uncharacteristic for her, but…not unpleasantly so. "I heard you," she said simply. He did not respond, not with a word nor even a change of expression. She was baiting him, certainly.

With that, her eyebrows turned downward, and she instantly transformed back into the more cynical, sardonic woman he'd come to know, sitting up and shuffling towards the foot of the bed to rummage amidst her clothes. Turning his head over, he stared at the ceiling pensively, wondering what the ramifications of his verbal slip might be, if any. A moment later, something small and plastic landed on his chest – the flash drive, same one as usual, containing whatever intel she'd chosen to salve her conscience with this time.

"I'm taking a shower," she said matter-of-factly, and slipped around the room towards the en-suite, with the supermodel-like poise of a woman who knew she was being watched. He was, at that, though he made no move to join her. It would seem too much like a sign of weakness after him saying her name.

He waited until he could hear the water running to sit up and open the drawer on his bedside table. Inside were three items, each, to him, representing a possible future.

His tablet computer, ready to receive the flash drive: to continue this charade for another round.

His gun, cleaned and oiled and with a full magazine: to kill her and end his inner turmoil.

And a small jewellery box containing a simple white gold ring: to firmly and decisively forsake his country and his honour for the love of, he knows, the one woman who could ever satisfy him.

He had lied to himself before. This game worked both ways; maybe she would come to fall for him utterly…but he knew it could just as easily be the opposite. What then? Would she take pity on him and help him evade his former comrades, whilst shielding him from her own superiors? Or would she do exactly what he had promised to do with her, and make him a prisoner? He didn't fancy his chances there. After all, it was her own lack of mercy that had made her so attractive in the first place. To kill her would be the easy way out, assuming he pulled it off; he had no illusions about her skills. Even so, she would still let her guard down from time to time, and when she did, he would be ready. But then…then he would never have this again. And this…this was what he wanted. These nights. This intimacy. This shared euphoria…this desire.

…with a faint sigh, he switched on the tablet and inserted the flash drive. Maybe he would make a more permanent decision next time.

Or maybe not.

... ... ...

Author's Notes: *cough* Well, um…this is my first and to date only attempt at writing a lemon fic, folks. I've no idea if it's good or not, so if you feel it's lacking, please tell me so with a review. I am completely open to criticism so long as it's well-phrased and helpful, or at least funny.

Now, regarding the title: my inspiration for this story was 'DESIRE', a DragNina ship-fic on this very site written by an author under the penname EvilCassy. It's a little old now but if you search for stories involving Nina and Sergei, you'll find it (and little else). That story really opened my eyes to what this character pairing can be, so I started this story with the simple idea to remake it in my own writing style…which then somehow evolved over the course of my writing it to the point where it's kind of its own thing. Weird, huh? But I'm still giving the credit for the story's conception to EvilCassy since I wouldn't have written this without reading her work first, and it'd mean a lot to me if you all could go read her story as well, and maybe drop her a review. Maybe it'll convince her to come back and post more stuff, who knows?

Thanks for reading this far! Now, AWAY WITH YOU.