The fingers rummaging on plastic keys match a fraction of intensity of the bustling street outside. The road's machinery occupants rush under the dipping sun, resulting in distorted orange reflections on their paints. Some of them are stationary by the sidewalk, and some ooze out of an opening of tar that deviates from the main freeway.

Amongst the evening hubbub, modest architectures mirror the tangerine sky. One among those, houses a young woman whose fingers are adamantly raining down the keyboard, though they slow down as the sun withdraws from the continent's view. Her work means a lot to her, possibly due to the fact that the Organization's project is on her shoulders, but she finds the knowledge enjoyable, and the laboratory experiments satisfyingly precise. What she doesn't like are the tiring paperworks that naturally come with it. Of course, those are crucial steps too, before she can report her results to the boss.

The woman temporarily escapes the demands of her profession when the sky morphs into deep azure. Despite wearing a night dress, her destination is not of her awaiting bed, no matter how the silky material ripples comfortably against her thighs that reminds her of slumber.

Just because she is busy, it doesn't mean that she will drown in her work. In fact, she is no stranger to pleasure. Be it five minutes or five hours, or of breakfast or supper, or in a cared-for classic car or on a couch, time for company is always scheduled. A company she has never yet resisted.

So when she allows her visitor an entrance to her quiet abode, milliseconds after the lock clicks behind them, her heels eagerly rose from the oak-brown flooring, giving her toes the control of balance while she tips his hat back.

The first kiss was chaste - a welcome. The second involved his lower lips in between hers - an I've-missed-you . Through the third, she has her arms around his neck. The fourth is to happen, only if he has not pulled away to trade it with a view of her oceanic eyes.

She perfectly knew why he reeks of gunpowder with a tinge of spearmint cologne. The notorious combination has gained an attraction from her neurochemicals since the moment it wafts into her senses. She watches him undo his coat, fold it into a square and lay it in a yawning bucket that nowadays has been quite frequently fed by his laundry. His hat follows suit, but on the coffee table near the beige couch.

While her visitor settle on her couch, Sherry disappears into the kitchen. After the soft thud of the refrigerator door, then the electronic beeps of the microwave, followed by the clinks and clanks of metals, the scientist appears next to his knee and presents a tray on the wooden table. If she doesn't know him better, she would miss the admiration in his slightly-widened eyes. But the best thing is his mouth starting to open a little as the spices do their work.

"Well? Waiting for me to spoon feed you, sir?" she says after a while, an amused eyebrow raised. She goes far to take the spoon and begins breaking off the perfect dome of rice into smaller chunks for him, like a mother. Before she could actually scoop some rice though, he steals the metal from her clutches, and resumes her fake work with a fake glare.

"Perhaps tomorrow morning." he says, cheeks hollowing with still steamy rice and hot curry inside his mouth.

The way his eyes flutter closed after the first few chews makes pride flower in her chest. There is perhaps nothing better than watching the Organization's valuable player surrender his guards to none other than that of her own volitions. Smiling as he eats spoons after spoons of perfect rice-to-curry combinations, she scoots closer and pecks his jaw. He's still absorbed by the dinner, to the her delight, and she places fond kisses on a patch of his neck that isn't covered by his green sweater.

His attention turns to her.

"Careful," he warns. "I'm almost done here, and there's a possibility that these plates won't get washed until they see sunlight."

Sherry tries to hide the smirk tugging on her lips. Her eyes though, gleamed mischievously.

"Hmm, I'm petrified." she challenges, voice growing somewhat sultry.

His Adam's apple bobs. Her leafy touches are fueling the temptation to wolf down his dinner and take her right there and then. But the assassin appreciates her cooking abilities like he does her female figure, so he obediently continues eating, licking the corner of his lips every once in a while to lap up stray curry.

"Dinner was delicious, Sherry." he muttered. It's the closest to a 'thank you' in his dictionary, and Sherry nods. She busies herself in stacking the spotless ceramics on the tray, thinking that if the plates are this clean, Gin, I don't mind not washing it until even tomorrow night. Gin is not a picky eater, and he'll eat anything edible, but he looks like a lion bathing after a big meal. A meal she cooked, that is.

The idea to abandon her works to jump on him is enticing, considering that recently, the times they crossed paths could only warrant cold glares from each other with so many pairs of eyes around. But there are still a few paragraphs of her mini-research left to do. Reluctantly, she sets down the tray's contents into the sink, and drops yellow dishwashing liquid into a sponge. Feeling arms wrapping up her waist, she flinches. The sponge, choked in her grip, shoots out messy bubbles that splats on her dress.

She tilted her head over her shoulder. "Gin?"

His embrace tightens, but not too rough. He presses a trail of wet kisses on her shoulder, up to her nape, ending behind her ear.

"Should I ask if you want to do it here, Gin?" she says, but gives way for him anyways.

She hears him grunt behind her ear. A low, beautiful sound. As much as she controls herself, she doesn't think how her effort in nudging him away could cover the fact that she's actually shuddering.

The agent stoops down to nip gently where her jugular vein is, and notices the soft gasp that spilled from her lips. She digs her hands onto the counter, supporting herself. The turn to smirk is his now, blowing out silent chuckles of victory on her neck that grants him more sighs.

"Huh, asks the blushing maiden right here." he says, freeing the crumpled sponge. He butts in next to her and begins scrubbing a bowl. "From your face just now I guess your work isn't done. Leave this to me and go do it." he demanded.

Sherry blinks off the temptation brimming under her skin, flustered from mere kisses and half-bites that would have turned more possessive if nothing was holding him back. Strolling out of the kitchen, she shivers again, behind Gin so he won't see it. She had to get used to the little surprises he does, like helping her with laundry and wiping down dust off her tables when she's busy. It took time to notice that he's just like that - a clean assassin.

It's close to 3 in the morning, an overdued bedtime for normal citizens but not for people of their occupation. Despite that, Gin's head had lolled to one side of the pillow, naked chest rising and falling in a comfortable rhythm with one arm on top. He looks charmingly domesticated, not like a murderous executioner, drilling bullets through skulls, following every order of the boss.

The mattress dips under her timid weight as Sherry props herself on an elbow. His face is calm, lips slightly parted from probably exhaustion and silver hair revealing masculine angles of his forehead. She leans down to kiss his lips, featherlight, and retracts to study his face again. This side of Gin feels highly confidential, that she bets not even Vodka has seen him like this, unguarded and all loosened up. Most importantly, in her own bed. A selfish thought, but she entertains it.

She kisses his response-less lips again, a bit more passionate, until he suddenly stirs.

"You're a good sleep-faker." she says.

Gin takes a deep breath and a mini-stretch to shake off the tiredness. His green eyes creak open, and gleam like orbs in a pitch black cave. "I take it you're done with work." he grumbles.


"Good. Get in here then." he lifts the blanket lazily so she could scoot inside.

Instead of accepting his offer, Sherry tosses it off until half of it lands on the lower side of the bed and the rest waterfalls on the floor. She straddles him, balancing on his hips.

"Actually," she says. "Maybe I should thank you for waiting for me."

Words not quite forming a sensible interpretation in the drowsy state, he squints. "What?" Until she leans down to kiss his throat, wet like how he did on hers in the kitchen.

His body radiates warmth, like sitting next to a heater during winter. He smells like her 2-in-1 lavender body wash and shampoo, she notices, as she bites around the expanse of his chest. Her hands roam in a sinful worship, grazing firm muscles developed from crazy training, which apparently aren't hindered by his habitual smoking.

Beneath her chest, she feels his erection raging. But the man expresses little facial expression besides the clenches of his stomach he doesn't, or rather, couldn't hide under the magic of Sherry's mouth. Patiently, he lets her explore his male figure, feeling her trace the outline of stray veins near his hipline, and tasting the contours on his abdomen. His erection begs for freedom, yet he only sighs, proud to be an object of her appreciation - physically or not - and he couldn't think of any other woman he'd truly enjoy doing this with.

Sherry gives him one last peck on a sexy vein disappearing beneath the sweatpants, then locks eyes with Gin as her fingers arrive on their destination.

"Are you ready?" she purrs, immodestly biting her lip.

"Sherry," he calls, pushing himself up to lean against the bedrest. "Hold on, you've never done this before."

His pale eyes are devoid of sleep, serious in seeking one last confirmation from the woman. He needs to make sure she's fully comfortable in a land she's never set foot before. The predator-like look in her eyes however, tells him that a 'no' isn't an option right now, and she can be fiery when she wants what she truly wants.

Sherry quirks an eyebrow, swats his hands away. "How thoughtful of you," she replies, then mouths on the outline of his cock through the sweatpants. "But I'm a fast learner."

The grunt he makes is one of the sexiest sounds Sherry has heard in a long time, from him for that matter, and she's determined to draw out more from him.

"I assume that you're ready, then." she says, pulling down his sweatpants together with his boxers like that's the only thing she wanted to do today. He helps her take them off, let them fall on the ground.

Sherry oogles his length with lust blown eyes, licking her lips. Hunger and desire is obvious on her face, and his cock twitches in response.

It's the first time she's been this close to his most-prized possession, and it's mouth watering. She pays attention to the details, to the veins that are pathways leading her into a secret underworld, and the attractive head begging for her attention.

"Looks like you're well groomed." she remarks. She experiments his girth, while running a hand on the coarse, recently-shaved hair. It's fairly neat, and equally trimmed with no spots left untouched.

Gin sucks in a breath, a proud smirk tearing on his face. Not that he never received such statements from other females, in fact he could smell their approval even in their silence, but to hear it coming out from an unfriendly scientist whose supply of compliment is limited, places him in another level of dignity.

Sherry takes her first few tastes, bringing his mental back to the bedroom. Her tongue glides agonizingly slow from the base up to the tip, then she looks up at him. He wants more, more tongue and heat, no stopping, and he isn't confident if he could maintain this level of patience with anyone else.

"It's a bit salty even though you've taken a shower, but I like it." she comments casually, as though mentioning the weather.

Gin tucks away bronze locks behind her ear. She is beautiful. Looking at her face right next to his cock, the insides of his stomach melts into a puddle of lust. His mouth parts when Sherry's tongue dances on the head of his cock while she pumps the base. He watches his own length disappear deeper into Sherry's mouth, millimeters by millimeters, and it's a perfect ratio of moisture, warmth and pressure when she starts sucking.

His head tips back reflexively, and his grip on her head grows impatient, steering her where he knows will feel good.

And then the heat vanishes.

"Hands off, or I'll stop." she scolds.

She hears Gin hiss through gritted teeth, and lets out a devious smile knowing he's too haughty to verbally beg. He thinks that unlike other men, he's too strong to succumb into seduction. While Sherry had seen that happen, she's done more than a great job in proving him wrong multiple times. Gin eventually obeys, grabbing the sheets and making the material crumple angrily in his grip.

Every moan he lets out tears down his reputation as an assassin, the figure all coded members in the Syndicate respect with a degree of terror. Sexually humiliated, by merely the head scientist's hands and mouth. Yet it feels so damn good.

Ranks and duties aside, the psychological feeling of his most sensitive parts being under Sherry's control and taken care of is insanely arousing. Sherry speaks with cold wits. But on the opposite side, he finds that she can be wild in bed, and it turns him on like a light switch.

"If I didn't know you, I'd say you'd done this a lo-" is all that comes out of his mouth before Sherry engulfs him in one go.

His mouth now fully hangs open as he feels the back of her throat constricting around his head. The vibrations from her hums send a zigzag of electric waves up his spine that portals him into a dreamworld. Sherry's head bobs up and then down until her nose almost touches his stomach, cheeks hollowing, and she sets with a clever rhythm that he questions if this is really her first time.

"Shit!" he groans, sweet pleasure rippling in his abdomen. He feels himself leak, and Sherry keeps going faster. He's leaking more and more, and with every wet twist of her hands, the swirl of her tongue, the lewd sound from her mouth, his stomach knots.

" Fuck , Sherry." he shudders.

Then he's moaning and bursting heavily, head in another world, hands almost ripping her sheets apart.

His toes curl in a heavenly aftermath. Into his eyes Sherry locks her teary ones with, giving him an erotic view of swallowing his release. The rewarding kiss on his hip bone feels like a buzz from a cold wind, a shock of shivers.

Sherry crawls up further, watching his breaths come in deep huffs of bliss. She kisses up his throat, moving under his jaw, making a mess of his hair which she knows he despises. Gin doesn't push her away, like she'd seen him do with women who approached him in bars, and to one particular blonde woman in the Syndicate. The latter thought snickers at the back of her mind, but she shoves it away, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"I thought you don't like clingy women." she teases.

"You're not a woman," he scoffs, thanking the dim air that hides the colouration on his face. Gin grabs her waist and carefully flips them around, placing a hand on her nape to soften her landing. "You're a devil I've sold my soul to."

Sherry lets out an amused laugh. Now he could see clearer, that her blue eyes are glistening, like the ocean surface reflecting sunlight, from the effects of her work. Gin kisses her passionately in a silent congratulation. She's done good, and he wants to let her know. It would have been outrightly sickening, Gin thinks, if he taste himself in the mouth of another except in Sherry's. He finds that he doesn't mind his own bitter taste in her sweet mouth.

Sherry melts, accepting the clever tongue sliding on her lower lips.

"You shouldn't act so sweet. It's not like you." she says.

"And you shouldn't act so stubborn," a smirk tugs on his lips. "You like it when I'm being quite kind, don't you?"

A valid point, Sherry thinks, as his hands vanish under her dress. They're warm - Gin is actually warm. He kisses her breasts where they're not covered by the satin, and his mouth snakes lower, forcing down the material until they can't go further.

Perhaps she's a bit too excited, that she hurries to strip. Gin marvels with a fierce look that grows hungrier with every piece of clothing removed. She normally allows him to unwrap her like a Valentines present. Instead, tonight she's grappling him down, shooting bedroom-eyes looks, sliding herself up and down his length.

"That's quite brave, young lady. You're usually quite shy." growls Gin, low next to her ear. He pauses when the head of his cock brushes over her clit, then he repeats again. The gasp she lets out is tempting enough to start penetrating her, when her entrance is so close. But he doesn't, only smirks as she arches her back and waits.

"Ah," Sherry sighs. "Shy like the look on your face when I suck you off."

Gin enters her before she can get more teases out of her mouth, except only a sharp sigh when he does so. It's an effective method they use in bed to get the other to shut up, and its effects haven't yet failed. Sherry anchors on his back and her legs cross behind him. He rolls, delicious and sinful, and she doesn't have time to be shameful about how quick she gets used to his girth.

Gin picks up the pace, groaning from the hypnotizing heat hugging him. He was too busy with missions and meetings to think about such matters, let alone touch himself in private, and now his body feels awakened with desire.

On the mattress, Sherry wraps her fingers with his and squeezes onto his hands as she meets deep thrusts. Animalistic growls flutter out of Gin and soon he gives her shorter thrusts, hitting a sweet spot and making Sherry hum in approval.

He knows she's close, from the way she throws her head back, chest rising off the mattress and the moans that turn into shallower gasps. He soothes her, by circling his thumbs on her hands, kissing delicately down her neck as he fucks her.

"Good, Sherry." he coaxes. He likes to praise her, likes to observe her quirks where others often overlook, like her dedication and unmatched intelligence.

His simple voice, yet seductively commanding, makes Sherry start rubbing circles down on herself. Goosebumps ghost on her neck, a mess of ecstasy whirling south in her body.

"Oh fuck, Gin!" she cries out, clenching and rocking uncontrollably that the bed creaks. She claws on his neck when Gin hits the perfect spot over and over again. The man first hisses, and then lets out a louder moan when she chews on the flesh above his shoulder. It makes him pause for a few seconds, allowing Sherry to ride her orgasm. Then he continues thrusting, fucking like he's in heat, putting the dirtiest pornstar to shame.

Sherry bounces when their hips slam, bronze hair shifting lazily on the pillow, her lips between her teeth, and her eyes in carnal satisfaction locking with his - enough to bring him spiralling over the edge and clinging to her name.

She's still throbbing, he's still catching his breaths. It's one of the most erotic sex they've done, or rather, experienced, as they tumble on the mattress like fallen soldiers.

"I'm sure," she huffs. "That I've woken up a devil."

He's too tired to fetch his cigarette from the table at the opposite wall, so Gin grabs the blanket from the floor and surrounds themselves in a canopy.

"This devil doesn't mind being woken up by a goddess." he mutters. His chest presses onto her back for the second time tonight.

Sherry grins, and it stays hidden under the shadows. She feels his nose peck on her head, before a lazy embrace and then a rhythm of steady breaths she soon follows.

Something touches Gin's back, and his eyes juts open. It would have been a deadly mistake for the person, whose throat will likely end up choked with by his arm and at gunpoint. But Gin registers where he is, the familiar scent of the room, the different angle of sun rays from the window compared to the ones in his house. And the feminine body snuggling up to him, slender fingers dancing.

"Morning." the feminine voice mutters, deeper than its usual tone. Sexier.

He yawns. "How did you know I was awake?" he catches her ghosting hand.

"You were thinking of attacking me, yes? I felt you twitch." she says, like it's something obvious, and doesn't try to pry open his grip.

"Can't get used to it, Sherry, otherwise I'll be on the receiving end of a gun. I'd rather be the faster one."

It's only reflex sewn into his veins, she knows. Every member trained by the Organization would react like he did, and it's a sign of successful training. Even so, if it's easy for him to kill someone who disrupts his plans, or matches the description of the task, would it be easy for him to eradicate her too if he had to?

Certainly she wasn't thinking of such things last night, and for some reason she doesn't want to dive deeper into her sudden dark thoughts. Sherry tucks his hair away, kissing his neck, her doubts and fears. With so much power, he'll protect her, right? He lets go of her hand to ruffle her hair as though listening to her thoughts. There's teeth marks on his shoulder and scratches on his back, and she kisses them too. Gin looks attractively peaceful, even from the back, and she wants to consider the fact that it's merely the post-sex morning buzz in her chest is making her cuddle up to him.

Gin doesn't push her away, again. He turns to her and caresses her hair, playing with how her locks between his fingers reflect the sunlight, spreading shades of copper, bronze and brown that change into each other as he tilts his hand. A strand comes loose, and he picks it up carefully, rolling it between his thumb and index finger.

Sherry swallows. His face is too close. It was almost pitch black when they fucked last night, but now every ridge of his facial expression is clear. There's softness and tranquil in his face as he observes whatever that is interesting about her hair. She tries to avert her eyes from his sage-green ones, but she likes how the sun highlights the irises. She likes his sharp jaw, and the sharper attitude he sometimes has.

His eyes lowered to meet hers.

"What?" frowns Sherry straight away, cover blown.

Gin smirks, lopsided, and almost chuckles. "You look like a teenage girl drooling over an attractive man."

Sherry's eyes widened, arguments bubbling in her head. She sits up abruptly, covering her chest with the blanket because she correctly expected the immediate flicker of Gin's gaze there.

"Oh?" she retorted. "You're so full of yourself. You're not attractive as you think, and what do you know about teenage girls? I'm 20, so get your facts right, will you?" covering herself with one hand, another pulls furiously on the rest of the blanket, which Gin eventually lets go of with a smirk. Now she has to avert her gaze from his manhood that he doesn't even try to hide, and which thankfully, isn't erect. Flustered, she picks up her clothes from the floor and saunters to the washroom.

Then they manage to reach the evening without sex, where Gin reads on the couch while she studies biochemistry with her legs stretched over his lap. It almost feels normal , but then again she isn't sure what would be normal for her age. Three days from now, they'll put on a sour face when they cross paths in the headquarters, but at least, this feels normal enough; spending off days secretly with Gin.