Disclaimer: Ahola guys. This story was inspired by a great, hot fighting scene between Zorro and the beautiful Elena from the movie, the Mask of Zorro. Also what inspired me was a great Irosami fanart piece done by auroralynne. Legend of Korra is one of my favorite cartoons. I love Asami to freaking death. She's my favorite character. I also love Iroh II, who is downright hot and my new crush and I love him so. I ship Irosami, hope it will be endgame in the show, and wanted to do a story on them so here it is.

I also dedicate this oneshot to three awesome people: cabasa, an awesome person and fellow writer, auroralynne, who is a great Irosami artist, and kaze senju the wolfwarrior girl, my BFF and untwin twin. Both cabasa and kaze senju are insanely great writers. Highly recommend you check out their stories. Auroralynne has a great LOK tumblr page that should be checked out and followed.

Okay, I'm gonna shut up and get to story. Read and enjoy. Also don't own Irosami, though that would be cool. Only own my writing brain and the ideas it creates.

Alluring Game of Wit and Lips

"Search for him!" One of the men yelled. He had to captain of the guard. From the way his loud voice boomed, demanding his words to be followed through, he seemed to be a man of high status.

"Look everywhere and when you find me, bring him to me. I'll make sure Amon bends him dry by morning."

Amon? Hearing the familiar name, the young man listened intently to the conversation. Could the aggravated man be Hiroshi Sato himself?

Well, it would certainly make things interesting.

"We've searched the north and south gate, sir," another said. "Sources believe he may still be inside."

The third man of the small group sounded timid as he said "I sure don't wanna be the poor sap that has to tell Mr. Sato a bender gotten into the house."

The one who had spoken before snorted. "Better him than Amon. The worst Mr. Sato can do is fire us. Amon and his lackey would have our heads by sunrise if this gets out. Especially if the bastard interferes with our plans."

For a brief moment there was silence, which was quickly broken by the loud sound of meaty hands roughly kissing the back of heads.

"I'm gonna have both your heads if you two keep yapping. I want this bastard found and I want him found now. You take a party of twelve and search the west side. You take the east. I'll take the north. There are only so many places the rat can hide."

"Um?" He knew it was the timid one talking. He could tell by his sheepish-toned voice. "What about Ms. Sato, sir? Isn't she one of our top priorities?"

"She'll be fine. I have half a dozen men posted outside her door. No one is coming within five feet of her. Now move out. I want every free man searching the place from top to bottom."

The small party talked quietly to each other for a few moments in low, inaudible tones before each man went his separate way. It wasn't until the sound of their footsteps faded away into pure silence did he finally follow himself to breathe.

Praise Agni, General Iroh the second thought.

At thirty-six, the young Fire prince and army officer was used to the unexpected occurring during well-planned missions. He was used to booby-traps, enemy soldiers that slithered from the shadows, and malfunctions from his own party.

He didn't expect to cover a massively large mansion that rivaled the size of his family's palace. He didn't expect hundreds of guards to be patrolling the area. He certainly didn't expect three times that hundred men-power flooding in when the alarm went off.

Floors below, Iroh could hear the loud, ear-shattering alarm wailing throughout the Sato estate. He remembered how his normally-controlled heart nearly jumped out of his chest when it burst against his eardrum.

Serves me right for being so cocky, he thought. A twinge of shame fluttered within him as he recalled his early confidence when he entered into the house, slipping into Sato's upstairs office with ease. He believed at the time that the mission would simply be a quick in and out.

Now, crouched painfully in the tight squeeze of the small room hidden inside the stairwell, unable to raise his head any higher without hitting the ceiling, he was tempted to smack himself for being so naïve.

There was nothing simple when it involved dealing with two notorious mad men. One who was a powerful figure behind an opposing movement that was growing by the strength and numbers everyday. The other a mad genius believed to be one of the resources behind the movement's strength.

Over the last few tense months, the mysterious terrorist known as Amon has been causing havoc in Republic City with his Equalist army, upsetting the peace of the city, expanding the gap between bender and nonbender, escalating tension and hatred among the citizens.

The situation proved to be too great for Chief Beifong and the police to handle on their own, even with the Avatar by her side, so they called on the Fire Nation's armed forces for assistance. General Iroh and his men soon experienced on one too many unpleasant occasions how grave the situation was.

After taking one too many hits from the Amon and not getting any closer to answers, Chief decided that they needed to switch up the game. Instead of waiting for an Equalist attack, they needed to know more details regarding their enemy. Details such as location and members. Inside information that would would change the game.

The best way to get that information: an elite member of Amon's cult.

Their target: Hirosti Sato, self-proclaimed owner behind Future Industries. Though not officially confirmed as one of Amon's puppets, the police including Avatar Korra believed Sato was linked to the Equalists. He did have the resources such as the weapons that were produced in his company and the vast wealth to support production. He also had a motive: revenge. The man lost his wife to benders that had broken into the house, robbing the place of its jewels and killing Mrs. Sato in the process.

Chief decided that someone needed to sneak inside the Sato mansion and see to see if there was any information regarding the Equalists that could be profitable for them.

Avatar Korra immediately burst out of her seat, declaring herself as the seeker. Her two comrades, the somber-faced fire-bender and his brother, followed in suit. Though the three had proven that they could stand on their own against the Amon's soldiers, they were too quick-tempered and inexperienced in sleuthing.

The chief herself would have been the perfect choice, having experience and skill under her belt but she had a number of duties that required her full attention.

Deciding there was no one else more suited for the mission, General nominated himself, a choice everyone agreed with. He was a good strategist, a well-praised solider, and crafty in swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat as he was with his bending.

Iroh reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved two scrolls that were tucked inside. He dug out a small flashlight from the other pocket, twisted it on, and stuck the end into his mouth.

The first scroll he unrolled was a detailed map of the Sato mansion, detailing every level and room, pinpointing the exits and the alarms.

The other the information they've been waiting for. On one side of the scroll was map of the city, dozens of red Xs marking the Equalists' hideouts in familiar local businesses and homes, half a dozen black Xs marking the locations of captured benders that were in Amon's possession. On the other side of the scroll was a list, a family tree of some sort listing the members of the clan. Many unknown locals at the bottom, fellow businessmen including Sato at a higher status, each person linked by a line that went back to Amon who was at the top.

Getting into the man's office was easy, once the guards were out of the way. Though it cost the lives of two great oak trees that were consumed by his fire-balls, which had spread quickly among the plants, it caught Sato's men's attention. As many rushed toward the fire, he had leaped and scaled his way to top of the mansion, up to Sato's office that was on the fifth floor.

It was finding what he needed that proved to be the challenge.

Done in earthy tones, the office consisted of four large desks covered with trinkets and designs, ceiling-high bookshelves that stretched from wall to wall, and a locked steel vault.

There were too many places that could be used as a hiding spot. The vault, which was the most-telling, one of the compartments in his desks or tucked away in one of the books. Iroh had to think carefully.

Hiroshi had learned the hard way one needed to careful with the placement of valuables. He was also a clever man. Something as valuable as his keepsakes from Amon was something that required an excellent hiding spot. He'd want it near but not close. Hidden well without risking it disappearing into the void. Hard to find but not too difficult to get.

Iroh had dismissed the vault, deeming it a much-too obvious trap. As he swept across the room, keeping his mind open for possibilities, something had caught his eye.

Placed on top of the fireplace, guarded by two red candles, was a framed portrait of a lovely woman dressed in a uniform, dark hair pinned up, a gleam in her eye that was as bright as her smile.

Hiroshi's deceased wife.

I wonder. Walking over to the fireplace, he handled the picture with the great care as he lifted it off the wall and set it beside him. Taped on its back was a scroll sealed with Amon's mark.

Success.

Pleased of his achievement, he failed to notice the small dot nailed by the corner of the frame. At first glance he assumed it was a simple thumb-tack to keep the picture within the old frame.

Two seconds later, the room exploding in red light, the alarm bashing against his ears, did he realize his mistake.

He managed to escape the guards-barely. While most were putting out the fire outside, there were still close to five dozen inside. He had to fight, duck, and camouflage his way through. He used the blackness of his suit and the shadows as his shield. Spare rooms as his refuges. His fire as time-buying distractions.

"Hey, I see something. Over by the stairs."

Curses, he forgotten about his flashlight.

"He's in there."

Iroh quickly rolled up the papers and placed back inside his pocket. Just in time as the door flew open, revealing two masked guards.

"You're coming with us." The one on his left said. The other silently showed off his electrified glove that he switched on, sending off sparks that jumped from his hand.

Iroh did what anyone would be in his moment, given that order. Refuse it. "I'm afraid I have to decline."

"It wasn't a request." The man reached for Iroh, but he was one step ahead of it. He snatched the man's hand and pulled him in. He brought his elbow down hard on the forearm, feeling bones cracking underneath.

The man shut his eyes tight. A scream was coming, traveling quickly to his lips, ready to be unleashed. Iroh silenced him with a solid punch to the face.

He shoved the limp body to the reluctant partner who skidded away from it, as if it were a killer snake, and stood before him, beckoning him to come forward with a wave of his hand.

"Fuck the captain's orders," the man growled. "I'll take care of you myself."

The man had speed, but no true skill. He didn't think through with his moves, which Iroh used to his advantage, dodging every attack he threw his way while producing solid kicks here and there that slowed him down a bit. He grabbed the hand that lunged for his neck, but failed to notice the other hand that shocked him from behind, sending waves of pain through his body and bringing him down to his knees.

The man laughed cruelly, delivering a solid punch to Iroh's jaw. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Iroh glared at him in response, wiping the blood off his mouth. His opponent laughed at him again as he reeled in his fist and lunged.

A move that the General was waiting for.

Quick as a panther, Iroh caught the hand with ease, turning the wrist at a one-eighty angle, listening to the bones as they cracked and spilt. He punched him hard in the throat, silencing his scream, and quickly overpowered him, pinning him underneath and holding both hands behind him.

"Let's see how you like being on the other end." He pressed the glove against the man's back, setting it on high. Blue sparks sizzled and danced across his body, all the way down to his lone strands of hair. He watched the guard twist and turn into painful positions before the lights went out.

Though the two didn't cause much noise to attract attention, the general knew he couldn't leave them out in the open. It was too much of a risk, one which he couldn't gamble with. He dragged them over to the tiny room where he had hide, piled one limp body on top of the other, and shut the door, melting the handle as a pre-caution.

He had grabbed one of the man's discarded communicator. It was of a poor quality, cheap-looking, with dents around the sides, but it would have to do. He cleared his throat before speaking into it, using a nasal-sounding, flat tone that was similar to the quick-tempered guard. "I've spotted the bender. He's went past the sixth floor and is heading to the roof. He may try to jump. Suspect is armed and dangerous. I repeat. Bender heading to the roof in an attempt to jump. Suspect is armed and dangerous. Send every man there."

While every guard in question rushed over to the roof, ready to bring down the bender, the General raced down to the corridor that led to the basement. To Hiroshi's old office that had underground tunnels leading back to the city.

After taking the final step, General shut the door behind, listening intently for anything. A heartbeat, a step, anything signaling that he wasn't alone. Ten seconds went by and there was nothing. He finally drew in breath.

Only for him to lose it as she spoke.

"Good evening, sir."

The voice was sultry, cool. It reminded him of a siren from under the sea. It brought his senses on high alert. One hand on the hilt of his sword, the other lit in fire, he turned to the source of the voice, looking into the bewitching eyes of a siren.

Holy…Agni….

To say that she was merely attractive would be an insult. Pretty didn't even come close. She was too stunning for the word. She was the definition of a dark, wicked angel.

Waves of inky black hair spilled over her shoulders, cascading down her back like a black waterfall. Porcelain skin smooth and flawless, contrasting dramatically with her dark hair. Incredibly gorgeous, heart-shaped face designed by the Gods detailed with dramatic features, consisting of prominent cheekbones, dark red lips that were full and looked like they were filled with something sweet, and eyes the most startling shade of green he had ever seen.

Her body was just as stunning as her face. A slender, hourglass figure graced with dangerous, womanly curves that could kill with one glance. Her body was showed off impressively by her nightly attire: a light-pink, thin-stripped nightgown trimmed with lace over a silk violet night robe with the long skirts kissing the ground.

He had known Hiroshi had a daughter. Despite his resistance, it was hard to stray away from the tabloids; he sometimes would see his men peering over the papers like it was the written word. The public made a speculator of the girl's beauty, declaring her the Helen of Republic City.

Standing in front of her, unable to tear his eyes from the material that showed off her curves, unable to stop his mind from imagining him and her in intimate positions, unable to pull away from her piercing emeralds that went right through him, he could see the speculation regarding this girl-correction-woman were in not in vain.

The silence between them went on and on, heavy as a thunderstorm, charged with fiery tension that sparked as emerald and amber met. He knew he needed to say something. He had been silent for too long.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, Ms. Sato?"

"Shouldn't you be with your men, General?"

A beauty with wit. She knew just by looking into his eyes his identity, despite the mask that concealed his face, despite the plain black clothes that hid his status. He was impressed.

"Touché." he acknowledged with a slight nod of his head.

"Give it back." she demanded.

He raised a brow questioningly. "What?"

"Whatever it is you have you have stolen from my father, I want it back. Give it to me."

Ah. So beauty, wit, and dutiful daughter. Ms. Sato was certainly interesting, he'd give her that. "I'm afraid no."

In a flash of silver, he had a sword to his neck, the tip close to his vein.

Second time of the night he was caught off guard.

He whisked the sword away and made his way to the door on the opposite side.

Within a step, her sword was back at his neck, nicking a piece of his skin.

His eyes slide from the tip of the sword, skimming over the fine metal, past the hilt, up to the owner. A hint of a smirk hung by the corner of her lips as she met his eyes.

He brushed aside the sword. Her smirk widened.

"I admire enthusiasm, but I don't have to time to give you the proper instruction."

Ms. Sato scoffed, amused. "I have been given the proper instruction since I was four," She fixed her body into the right fighting position. "Among other things."

A shiver went through him as the word "other" slid off her tongue. He was curious on which things she learned.

When she brought her sword down again, he stepped back quickly and took out his, using it as a shield. Metal pushed against metal, both of the owners channeling their strength. She pushed hard. He held his position, refusing to yield.

With a grunt, he pushed her off. She bounced back and struck.

Iroh stiffened. He felt her sword slash at his skin. Yet he didn't feel anything.

Confused, he touched his cheek. No sooner did he touch, his mask break and flutter to the ground like a stricken butterfly.

He looked up from his fallen mask to the dark beauty. She cocked her head as she studied him, a bit more in depth with her examination now that she could see the man behind the mask. Her left brow rose slightly. Perhaps he was younger than she believed.

"Interesting," she said. "You're not as ugly as I imagined."

"And you're not as ignorant as the public claims."

From the drop of her smirk, he knew his words made a mark. One which he would pay for.

She came at him again. This time he was ready, though he couldn't remember a time he had to be more swift on his feet and tactful with his moves till now. Metal clashed against metal, the opponents throwing in every move they knew, both refusing to be overpowered. Ms. Sato wasn't exaggerating when she claimed she knew swordsmanship. She was good, incredibly good. She was both quick and light on her feet, able to jump and twist away from his blade, and delivered firm strikes that came close to swiping his face and bending back his sword.

She twirled and parried, avoiding another hit. While she avoided his blade, her clothes weren't as lucky. The sword made a clean cut at her thigh, cutting through the material like paper, showing a generous amount of leg from the slit.

A tantalizing amount of leg that caused his mouth to water.

She peeled away her robe that was getting in the way of her fighting, letting the silk fell from her body and drop at her feet. She had done so slowly, knowing he was watching her, knowing she had an affect on him, causing his throat to go dry. De-robed, she surveyed the damage of her nightgown, seeing the tear raised higher at her upper thigh.

"Not bad." she smiled slyly.

He slammed her back into the nearest wall and held her sword above her head, wary of the sharp blade that was close to his head.

"Not bad at all." He couldn't control the small smirk that tugged on his lips. He couldn't control his body that leaned closer to her, feeling her body tense. He couldn't control his lips that kissed her cheek.

Her body stiffened from the touch. Her next breath died half-way through her lips as he brushed back her hair and touched the cheek he kissed moments ago.

His other hand reached for her hand above, stroking the soft skin. Then knocked away her sword, rendering her defenseless.

"Looks like, Ms. Sato, our little game is over."

She grabbed him by the collar, pulling him so close he could feel her breath kissing against his skin. She kissed the corner of his lip gently, sending a rush of warmth so hot it nearly paralyzed him. Then kicked high at his chin, sending him skidding across the floor and his sword the other direction.

She smiled innocently at his stunned expression, though her wicked eyes told a different story. "On the contrary, General, the game has only begun."

If she was skillful with the sword, she was deadly with her bare hands. She punched as hard as she kicked. She reminded him of a cat somewhat. Light on her feet, sharp with her claws, fluid with her movements. She dodged every kick and punch with ease. Quickly responded to his missed hits with her own. Sometimes he dodged. Other times a bruise would be added to his face.

"I see one of us has greatly underestimated the other."

He threw a punch. She caught it. She twisted his hand and threw him over her shoulder, wiping the floor with his body.

"Weren't the first, General. Doubt you'll be the last."

He rose again, ready to get her. Then quickly dropped to the ground, barely escaping the daggers she aimed towards his direction. The knives caught hold of his sleeves, ripping them from their seams, pinning them to the wall.

A beauty with wit. A dutiful daughter. With impressive aim. He stared wide-eyed at his discarded sleeves and turned back to the beauty who smirked at his expression.

He swept at her feet, intending to see her fall. She anticipated that move and jumped, landing gratefully on his feet, breaking in the delicate bones around his ankle. He bit his lip to focus on something other than the pain.

She had a smile on her face that was equally wicked and flirtatious as she crawled on him, making herself at home on his chest. His heart, betraying him, raced. The scent of her sweet perfume, jasmine mixed with vanilla, called to him. Her raven hair the spider's web, trapping him in their silken grip.

The little minx. The devilish, bewitching minx. She had to know what she was doing. Knew how strong her beauty was. Knew how she affected him. He looked up. She met his gaze with a smoldering look in her eyes that preyed on his desires, a slight smirk he wanted nothing more than to make disappear with his lips.

"I must confess, general," she said. "This game has been interesting. I almost don't want it to end."

He couldn't argue with her, finding truth in her words. The game almost made his mission worthwhile. "I admit. The feeling's mutual. This meeting has been interesting. Sadly, Ms. Sato, all good things must come to an end."

He grabbed her arms and pinned them to her sides, then rolled over, switching their positions. He had the good fortunate to watch her lovely face go from playfully sly to stunningly flush, a look he preferred than her cutting smirk. "It would seem our game has reached its peak."

She frowned at his taunting. "The game isn't over until someone draws the white flag and admits defeat."

He smirked, careful not to put too much weight on her as he leaned close. "Are you drawing your white flag, Ms. Sato? Do you surrender?"

"Never."

She struggled against him, trying to break free. She nearly did, but he was determined to keep her underneath him. He grabbed her hands that were clawing at his face and pinned them over her head in a firm grip.

"How about now?"

"Still no," She was annoyed, but he caught a shadow of a smirk curling by her lip. "But I may scream."

"True, but that would leave our game on a rather sour note."

She pouted. "We wouldn't want that."

Strands of raven hair were too close to her face. He brushed them aside in a caring manner. Yet after the hair was in order, his hand remained there, seeking her warmth. Despite himself, his hand stayed there, stroking her skin for a moment or two before slowly traveling down to her lips, which he traced with his fingertips.

"No," The space between them shortened as he leaned closer to her. "We wouldn't want that at all."

He wasn't sure if he kissed her first or she him. Or perhaps their lips met at the same time. He didn't really know. All he could make sense from the dimmest corner of his mind that in all his thirty-six years, he has never tasted anything so warm it was scorching. Or so sinfully sweet it was like biting into the forbidden apple.

The charged tension that hung between exploded into searing flames as their lips dueled for dominance the way they did when they fought, striking each other in a thousand ways that burnt like hot fire, losing themselves in the sweet heat that consumed them.

Underneath him she whimpered and moaned against his mouth, a prisoner to the passion just as he. He tugged at her strap, pulling it down her shoulder. She didn't protest and he took that as an invitation to suck and kiss her beautiful skin that called to him like a siren's song. She arched her body against his, needing more.

He caressed her side as he went over to the neglected shoulder, rewarding it the same treatment. She also did her own exploration of the skin. She unbuttoned his jacket, then his shirt, burning him oh so deliciously with her slow strokes and lingering kisses that chilled his skin down to the bone. She wound a naked leg around his torso, pulling him closer, igniting a spark that triggered his "friend" down below.

Dear Spirits. Dear great Spirits. He wanted her. He wanted nothing more than to have her. Strip her of everything and have her right then and there.

But the guards…her father…the Equalists. He couldn't forget the mission. He needed to see it through.

After one last skin to her shoulder and neck, he kissed her again on the lips, letting go of his restraints as he kissed her desperately. She cupped the back of his head, brushing her tongue against his, nearly making him lose his senses with the delicious fire. He pulled back with a soft pop.

She opened her eyes a second later, almost dazed. She looked surprised. Though not as much as she did, her eyes clearing and widening, when she heard the click.

She titled her head back, seeing her left hand was handcuffed to the low railing close to them. She turned back to the general, watching silently as he melted the key in his fist.

"Forgive me," He wore a small, charming smile that both regretful and undeniably smug. "But I must make my way and can't afford to continue our game."

As surprised as she was by his trick, she looked somewhat impressed by him, smirking just a tiny bit. "Seems that one of us has greatly underestimated the other."

He gave her one more smile, bowed in awe of her skill, and disappeared into the tunnels.

Chief Beifong called them into her office bright and early the next morning, a request that was difficult for all for them to go through half-asleep. While he was navigating his way out of the Sato's mansion, avoiding the guards and sparring with his daughter, Amon's men created a riot near the city's council building, one which took most of the night and most of their energy sustaining.

His companions were half-asleep in their seats, their bodies scarred and bruised from last night's events. Chief Beifong, standing tall, walked away with a broken wrist and a bruised lip. The Avatar was slumped against the fire-bender, trying to fight off the exhaustion, while the fire-bender kept himself awake by focusing on the wall in front of him. His brother, sitting on the ground next to the pair, had given into exhaustion, loud snores erupting from his throat, streams of drool dripping from his mouth.

"General," Chief greeted him.

"Chief," he nodded, and then turned over to the young trio. "Avatar Korra. Men."

The Avatar sent him a warm smile. The fire-bender nodded his greeting. His brother leaped from his spot, dazed, as he was elbowed awake.

"Who? What? Where?" He rubbed his eyes hard, muttering curses against his brother under his breath. Once his eyes were clear, he looked around the room, noticing the somber tension and the eyes that studied him. "Well, this is going into my top ten embarrassing moments."

"It's not your fault, Bolin," the Avatar smiled at her friend. "We're all out of it."

"No thanks to the Equalists," he muttered, his usually smiling lips twisting into a sour frown. "I swear, every time a person walks by me, I expect them to pull down that mask and try to shock me."

"I hope things were smoother on your end, General." Chief said.

"I'd say it was more bumpy than smooth," he confessed. "But I came back from the snake pit with something other than a few bruises."

Their eyes lit up at the sight of the sealed scroll he retrieved from his jacket. He smiled, basking in their joy. He placed the scroll on the Chief's desk and unwrapped it.

His smile immediately fell as he read the cursive hand-writing written in purple ink.

Games end in two ways. Either by call of defeat or triumph over the enemy. Check mate, General. In the mood for round two?

She sealed the note with a kiss.

He didn't realize the teens were next to him until Bolin threw his head back and laughed hard, shattering his eardrum with the loud burst.

"Oh man, dude," he roared, grabbing his stomach as he collapsed onto the ground, still laughing. "You got doped."

His brother bend down before him and smacked him upside the head. "Not now, Bolin."

The Chief was steaming as she read the note. If she were a fire-bender, he could easily see her burning the paper with her scorning glare. "Looks like Hirsohi roped his daughter into this mess," She looked at the General with sympathy, mistaking his silence as one of anger. "Don't be too hard on yourself, General. We underestimated how cunning our enemy is."

Underestimated was right. Cunning was one of the many words he'd use. He wasn't too sure if it was right stamping the enemy brand on her though.

He raked through his mind for the memories of last night. He had lost his sleeves, courtesy of her daggers, but his jacket remained intact. At least it did until she unbuttoned his jacket, running her hands over his body as they kissed.

And then switched the scrolls while he was lost in her sweet skin.

That crafty, little minx.

He, an experienced general who had never be beaten in battle, victorious in every fight, was outsmarted by a little girl who knew how to work her beauty to her advantage. He should be annoyed. He should be furious even. All his planning and hard-work went right down the drain because of her.

Yet, despite his annoyance that he was back at square one, despite his frustration that he was "doped" he smiled.

He smiled at the memory of her beautiful emerald greens that pierced through his wall easily with just a glance. He smiled at the memory of her lips against his, igniting that incredible heat that was too much yet not enough. He smiled at the memory of the porcelain skin he was able to taste and the rest that he had yet to explore.

He smiled at the thought of seeing her again.

I believe round two can be arranged.