A/N: Before we begin, here are a few things I need to point out.

1) I do not own Frozen, Rise of the Guardians, or any of the characters therein. Disney and Dreamworks hold the respective honours. I only own the plot - no copying/adapting without prior consent from me.

2) I am reiterating the rating as M. If you are not of the correct age/maturity to read, please click the back button, close the tab, or read something else. You have been warned, and I will not be held responsible.

3) These characters are sexually liberated. You may even find them OOC. If that is not your thing, or you have strict perceptions on the characters involved and you react negatively if those perceptions are challenged, turn around and never look back.

4) This smut also deals with the concept of open relationships. You may not understand them, I certainly don't - however, I will not engage in flaming or insulting of those that do. It's their lives, not mine. Today's society could do with a little less vitriol and insults at things people don't understand.

5) This smut is smut. Just thought I'd put that out there.

Now that's over - here we go. Read at your own risk.

"Agents With Benefits"

"Help me make the most of freedom,

And of pleasure.

Nothing ever lasts forever."

"Everybody Wants to Rule the World", Lorde (originally Tears for Fears)

"Can't believe I have to take a polygraph," Jack says in a petulant grumble. The steel chair is hard and unforgiving, so it forces him to shuffle and adjust his position once again. It's been like that since he walked in twenty minutes ago. Hell, the entire room isn't conducive to an environment of relaxation.

The Grey Room, that's what they call it. Soundproofed light grey walls, secured by a magnetically sealed door opened only by speech recognition, watched over by security cameras and a one-way mirror at the other end, it serves a multitude of purposes. Interrogation, briefing, debriefing, it sees most activities - including illicit workplace sex. The Swiss army knife of rooms.

For Jack, it serves another purpose - evaluation.

Rapunzel smiles as a light chuckle fills the room with well-needed brightness. In fact, her entire person brightens the room by several shades - a brunette bob framing apple green eyes, a lilac blouse under a white coat. She's the unit's medical officer - and one hell of a woman. Her lips still curl as her dainty fingers peel apart the film covering the vacuum-packed heart rate sensors. "You know it's the rules, every evaluation has one." Her voice is also incongruous to the oppressive room. "You're no exception."

Surgery, and then nine months of recovery and physiotherapy later, he's back at work as a spy for Arendelle Intelligence Section Nine - well, supposedly. He's still got to pass the evaluation test so he can be deemed fit for duty. Getting shot in the shoulder by your own side tends to put a crimp in one's mental, physical and emotional state.

So does being forced to endure a polygraph, of all things. Sic transit gloria pride.

Jack leans back into the chair, pulls his suit jacket off and tosses it aside, huffing grumpily. "I'm fine," he says, shaking his head in exasperation. Placing the opened pack of sensors on the table next to her laptop, Rapunzel leans down to unbutton his shirt and gain access to his bare chest under it.

All of a sudden, it's not so bad. From his seated position, Rapunzel forms a perfect L shape as she takes apart his shirt button by button, her eyes following each step with an almost hungry look. Throw in the fact that he has - probably, by her design - a spectacular view down her blouse, and there's an excited twitch in his groin. Her breasts are still as pert as ever, housed by an apple green bra. She knows he's looking, so she ensures she's in the same position when she starts applying the sensors to his chest.

It was only a year and nine months or so ago he remembers her taking his shirt off for a different reason. He definitely remembers taking that bra off, too.

"You were shot in the line of duty," she says softly. It's a statement of fact, not a kick up the ass with the boot of honesty. Satisfied the first sensor will stay in place - they're pretty sticky, rendering unnecessary the pressure of her hand over it against his chest - she repeats the process with the second, making sure to stay in the same position. That's when she catches his eye, bites her smirking lips, and returns her gaze to the sensor's general vicinity.

He huffs, and tries to ignore the pain of his hardon straining against his pants. It's lucky the test hasn't been started yet, as his thumping pulse of tense anticipation is probably screwing the results before they even started. "Yeah? Whose fault is it my shoulder still hurts?" he growls.

She giggles, and clucks her tongue. Her fingers slip away from his chest and lace themselves around the armrests. Leaning over him, her face is merely a foot from his. "Awww, such a sulker," she murmurs, her eyes roving around his face like she's deciding where to start, before they dance down to his right shoulder. "Want me to make it better?"

See, agents like him, and the men and women he works with, are trained to notice the little micro expressions of body language - Rapunzel's breaths are restrained, but deep, and exclusively through her mouth like a slow pant. Her perfume is the same as the last time they had sex, what feels like an eternity ago, and he notices the slight pulsing in her neck. She's aroused.

Frowning, Jack wonders why. He hums to draw her attention, and holds her gaze with curious eyes. "I thought we agreed nearly two years ago, no more sex? On account of you and Eugene having a little workplace romance?"

It's called the Agents-with-Benefits system. Whilst other units frown upon fraternisation in the workplace, A.I.S. seem to condone it. Maybe they feel it's better that way, so their agents can blow off steam in between missions engaging in consensual sex. Pretty much every agent has had sexual liaisons with someone in the unit, and Jack's escapades were numerous. Yet A.I.S does frown upon romance in the workplace, and once Rapunzel found her feelings for her other conquest Eugene were returned, she and Jack came to an agreement to end their steamy sessions in the medical room. Which kind of sucked, as Rapunzel could be downright insatiable.

She huffs with a frown, and straightens up. There's a painful twitch in his cock as if to say, "why the hell did you say that?" just as she turns to pluck five fingertip sensors from another vacuum pack. Turns, and leans over the table - his hardon punishes him even further. She's probably wearing that apple green thong, too. Is she trying to make him fail? "You only suggested that when you found out Elsa was interested in you," she says as she turns back, busy peeling the blister pack apart.

A light smirk pulls up the left corner of his lips. That got her. "And you agreed when Eugene was interested in you."

Her breath hitches just enough for him to catch it, and her fingers stumble over the admittedly pain-in-the-ass packaging. "Yeah, well, sometimes a girl has urges."

It clicks, then, as his mind is calculating how quickly he could relieve her of her clothing, the signals she's putting out. "Wait… you're wearing that bra-" he lazily points at her chest, "-that perfume. And you're not wearing the necklace. You and Eugene having problems?"

It's a sun charm necklace Eugene bought her a couple of months before Jack's ill-fated mission to take down Pitch Black. Of course, she told everyone that she bought it herself, but Jack - and Merida - knew it was a wordless signal she was officially taken.

And it's not around her neck.

Bending down, her right hand lifts his up from the armrest, and holds it gently while she slowly slips the sensors onto his fingertips. Yeah, that's definitely a seduction sign. "What's it to you?" she says, challenging… but playful.

Jack shrugs lightly, and quirks his lips. "Nothing, I'm just wondering why your body language is screaming at me to bend you over the table and fuck you."

Now, if she's not too pissed off with Eugene, she would have slapped him on the knee and told him not to be so vulgar. Instead of that, there's an audible gasp, and her body becomes taut as a violin string. Jack's own heart is thumping at the idea, not to mention the freezing of his breath. "Maybe it is - but it'd skew the polygraph somewhat, no? Besides-"

The last sensor goes on. She straightens up and unbuttons her coat, letting it cascade to the floor, revealing the lilac blouse and the black skirt… which she hitches up over her hips. Yep, green thong. Her gorgeous legs slip either side of him into the gaps between the armrests and the seat, and her crotch lands with impeccable accuracy over his raging hardon. Factor in the light grinding she's doing against him, and her face hovering inches over his with her hands gripping the backrest... "-what if I… want it on top?"

Yeah. That being said, he's also fucking pissed with Elsa, since she's the reason he was shot. So maybe they both could use some pleasure over the table.

Her lips are parted, and there's a want in her eyes that makes him feel like food. Like he's a chicken Caesar salad, and Rapunzel's about to eat him all up. All he needs to do is say the word, and they'll be moaning each other's name to the heavens.

Jack smirks with a teasing chuckle, and winks up at her. Despite his urge, and probably hers too, he elects to not feather his sensor-free hand over her left buttcheek so he can squeeze and grasp at it. "Not your style. Astrid likes it when she's on top of me. Well, liked."

In between the tiny moans and bitten lips, Rapunzel frowns at him in surprise. "You two not banging anymore?"

Jack shakes his head. "Not since she fell for Hiccup. We ended our benefits thing when you and I ended our benefits thing."

Agents Haddock and Fitzherbert, or Hiccup and Eugene, had transferred to Section Nine from Section Seven at the same time. Their reasons were that Nine seemed to see more action than any other section, but any of Nine's old guard knew the real reason.

Nine does the harder, deadlier stuff. The things the other sections balk at. Wetworks, assassinations, intel gathering from fortified positions. Basically, everything that held an almost certainty of death, Nine does with a smile and a 'bring it on'. It cultivates a nihilistic, nothing-lasts-forever attitude amongst the agents, which goes with the Agents-with-Benefits system like peanut butter and jelly.

Or, as Bunny used to say, "Life is short, mate. Fuck when you can."

Jack still fondly remembers the threesome he had with Tooth and Bunny. She wanted to try something new, and Jack was the only person Bunny trusted. Three hours of hot, steamy, menage a trois sex later, all three were enlightened and already making plans to do it again.

The trap Pitch Black laid for Tooth and Bunny put paid to that. One day, they were boarding the C-130 for Peru, with Tooth promising she would go easy on them next time.

A week later, Jack was hanging their framed service photographs on the memorial wall, and swearing an oath to personally put a bullet in Pitch's skull.

Then again, those are the breaks of working for Section Nine. Take life from behind, because one day, it might just be taken from you.

Rapunzel tuts, and quirks her lips in pity. "Shame. I liked hearing you two when I passed by your office. She always sounded so… ferocious…" she accompanies with a long grind and a breathless moan, "when she came."

His sessions with his fellow agent Astrid in the weapons room also ceased when she realised she was falling for someone; Hiccup, Jack's occasional partner on missions. There are times when he misses her ferocity; Astrid liked to take control and be on top, and there were times when she would burst into his office, fuck him senseless on the chair or the table - though he'll always treasure the one moment she let him take control and fuck her from behind against the wall - and then leave, without uttering a word from beginning to end.

Well, other than the commands to go harder. Faster. Deeper. When he could come, and where - she usually ordered the mouth, for practical cleanup reasons. Though she wasn't averse to the chest. Once.

Other than that, not a word. Astrid was all 'take, take, take'. A sexual force of nature.

Then again, it's not like he has a reason to complain. it's not like he wasn't conducting a little illicit romance of his own.

Who? Director Elsa Whitethorne, of all people. The woman who's supposed to enforce the rules.

See, Elsa is weird. It isn't that she doesn't take advantage of the Agents-With-Benefits system, because she does. It's that she's particular about who she sleeps with, and the 'who' in question, is Jack. Now, that's technically putting their jobs at risk, but Elsa hasn't really confirmed or denied - shock horror, being the chief of a clandestine intelligence section - their relationship status. So Jack doesn't really know if they're enjoying a romance, or Elsa's just picky as fuck.

Maybe that's why he's so confused and angry over being shot. 'You don't want to tell me what we have, but you don't mind shattering my clavicle and shoulder blade?'

"You're telling me." Fuck, it's impossible to keep his hand away from that butt rubbing against him. "Oh well, Hiccup's the lucky guy, now. He can have all the bruising."

She giggles playfully behind nibbled lips, her neck and cheeks flushing a deep red. "Don't say you don't miss it," she murmurs in a husky, dirty tone. "You liked it when she rode you reverse cowgirl."

Jack's eyebrows peak, and his eyes glaze over whilst his lips curl into a lopsided smirk. "Sure I did-wait-" he shoots her a suspicious glare "-how did you know she rode me reverse cowgirl?

There's another giggle. She leans in close so her lips brush against his ear, and whispers something that pretty much turns his hardon into a rock solid erection, never to be softened again. "Sometimes I didn't just want to listen." Straightening up, she then adds, "I gotta say though, her booty?" Her left hand pulls away from the backrest to form a circle with her thumb and forefinger, and her expression becomes one of impressed appreciation. "Full marks."

Jack lets loose a shaky breath, and wonders if his face is going to spontaneously combust with the heat. Rapunzel fucking watched him get it on with Astrid. He shakes his head in bemused exasperation, and mutters, "No wonder Sections One through Eight call us the most oversexed unit of perpetually horny, death-seeking psychopaths. That's a direct quote, by the way."

Rapunzel's head tilts an inch, and there's an amused twinkle in her heavily dilated eyes. "Yeah, well, they're just jealous 'cause we're the best. So-" her hands release the backrest to slowly ghost over his shoulders down to his chest "-am I pulling your clothes off before or after the poly-"

Something cuts her flirtatious words off like a machete through an arm. The look of wanton lust quickly morphs into a confused frown, and her right hand shoots up to her ear as she looks off to the side. She's getting a message through her earpiece.

"What's up?" Dammit. The universe has a ridiculous sense of timing.

She sighs, and pouts at him. Disappointment rides her voice like a forlorn leaf in the wind. "Someone else is conducting your evaluation. Looks like we're not going to be each other's revenge fuck, after all."

Huffing, Jack's shoulders sag. He's just been cockblocked. "Who?"

"Me."

That voice. Of course it is. No other person would actively interfere in shenanigans like this, they'd be more likely to watch. No, it has to be her.

"Great," Jack drawls in deep, cynical exasperation, peering by Rapunzel's body as she twists around to look.

Elsa stands in the doorway, clutching a thick folder under her right arm. He catches her eyes, and her expression is… expressionless. Impassive. A fucking statue, as always.

When Elsa and her sister Anna transferred to the Section nearly two years ago, Jack was instantly interested. Inside her immaculately beautiful exterior was a frozen heart and a keen tactical mind - many missions that should have ended in disaster were marked as a success, largely thanks to her oversight and willingness to get the job done whatever the cost. She made the hard choices without hesitation, and after a few weeks of teething problems, she quickly gained the unit's respect.

The thing was, he started noticing things about her more than he should. She insisted on face-to-face debriefings with him whilst other agents simply dropped off a report, and her eyes would linger a little too long on his lips as he spoke. Rapunzel's examinations were conducted in her presence, which meant there would be no occasions of the brunette performing a deep oral exam on the bed, and she did not turn away when he had to strip.

In any other unit, Rapunzel being caught in such a compromising position over Jack's raging, restrained hardon would be grounds for instant dismissal for the both of them. In Section Nine, it's just another Tuesday. Walk in on two people making sweet music? Either get out, or join in.

Curiously, Rapunzel hasn't moved. She's still positioned astride him, her delightful derriere on full display, and she's still looking at Elsa as though waiting for her to decide what she's going to do.

The way her left hand rests over his heart tells him… she doesn't want to go just yet. She wants her release.

Unfortunately for the heated brunette, the decision isn't up to her. Elsa lifts her chin, and announces with her characteristically cool, measured voice, "That will be all, Rapunzel. I hear Agent Fitzherbert is looking for you."

Sighing, Rapunzel dismounts him with an air of reluctance, as though being told she couldn't ride her favourite horse any more. She jerks down her skirt, taking one longing look at his obscenely pronounced tent, and offers him an apologetic smile as she bends down for her coat. "Good luck," she murmurs.

"Likewise." He's not sure who's going to need the luck; her, or Eugene. Dude's probably going to be out of action for days when she's through with him.

Elsa stands aside as Rapunzel passes her on her way out, confidently sashaying her hips as a kind of signal of superiority and sexually-charged defiance, and then closes the door behind her before striding to the table, her heels clicking that inimitable rhythm of power. There's a light click followed by a heavy metallic clunk - the door's magnetic seal has activated. He's stuck there, lest Elsa deigns to let him out, or his speech is still recognised by the system. Standard operating procedure is to temporarily suspend access codes and clearance levels when off base for more than three months, in case of brainwashed agents returning to duty, so proper psychiatric assessments can be conducted.

Trying to ignore the litany of curses his boner is hurling at him - that was the first time in nine months he could have got some, for crying out loud - he straightens his posture whilst throwing hearty glares at her. She ignores each and every one, and proceeds to lay the folder perfectly parallel to the table's edges as she sits.

The next few moments are conducted in absolute silence while she initiates the program on Rapunzel's laptop, and Jack takes the opportunity to let his eyes wander. Her French braid is immaculate as always, with nary a hair out of place - though its post-coital mess is far better, in his opinion. Her plum lips are full and devourable, her stunning ice blue eyes framed by a faint lilac shadow and razor-sharp mascara as they study the screen. The suit she wears is classic Elsa; a black blazer and well-fitted knee-length skirt that shows off all the curves, stockings and a sky blue blouse hidden underneath the blazer. Business on the outside, sexy on the inside.

His eyes travel to the folder, a detailed collection of his character analysis, missions he's conducted and reports he's filed, along with professional opinions on him by his colleagues. All good things, he hopes.

He glances back at her lips. They've released his name, he's kissed them, they've been around his stone-hard dick from base to tip. They've also ordered a sniper's bullet through his shoulder, and deprived him of his revenge.

She taps the laptop's trackpad with light gusto, and pulls out a pen from the inside of her blazer before sliding the file over and opening it to study the first sheet. Jack eyes her carefully; her breaths are deep, and her cheeks imperceptibly hollow every now and then. Her thumb glides up the side of her pen, swirls a circle around the tip, then slips back down over and over as she reads.

"So," he breaks the silence like a scratchy crack of thunder, causing her eyes to flick up and meet his, "Why are you doing the exam? I thought you had better things to do."

She stares at him for a few seconds. Studying him. Assessing him. Her eyes dance to his lips and back. Jack smirks inside; she exudes control, but her desire is sneaking through the cracks.

She closes the folder, rests the pen by it, and laces her fingertips together on top of it. Her gorgeous, duplicitous mouth opens, and a sweet symphony rings out like music to his ears. "Perhaps I want to see the results in real time. Perhaps I don't want the results to be… skewed."

Jack's lips curl into a knowing smirk, though his neck burns with aroused heat. Maybe she enjoyed the show. "You were listening, huh?"

She opens the file once more and returns her attention to it. "It's my job."

He snorts, and his eyes roll in cynical derision. "Sure," he says, then inclines his head to the report, "so, what's the file say? When do I return to active duty?"

Her eyes meet his through her eyebrows, but there's a tell in the way they fall to his chest when she lets out a slow, quiet breath through her nose. Jack's heart immediately starts to sink - especially when the flash of guilt crosses her face. Once more she closes the folder, and slides it back to its original position. The sound of the card scraping over the metal table is like a death knell to his ears.

"I'm sorry, Agent Frost." She pauses. "You will no longer be an active field agent."

His heart begins to race, as anger floods his veins. Knuckles whiten as his hands grip the armrests, while her words spin around and around his head. No longer an agent. No longer an agent. "You're lying," he says in a toneless growl. "I passed my other tests."

Her eyes flash with indignant pique. "No, you didn't. You failed your physical evaluation by two marks, and barely passed your medical evaluation - due to Rapunzel adding a few marks, no doubt - and your marksmanship evaluation has seen a fifteen percent reduction in your accuracy. Not to mention your pathological distrust of authority..." Her gaze softens, perhaps in understanding of the sheer fury and disappointment in his eyes. "I am sorry, but the Section has expectations of its agents you no longer meet."

Jack's eyes slowly glide down to his hand. He turns it over, and studies the fingertip sensors - these are hands that have squeezed triggers, thrusted knives, punched, struck… caressed… but no more. The pain in his shoulder twinges, spreading its claws down his arm and chest, almost reminding him of why. Who.

"I'm being dismissed, then." His voice is low, forlorn yet seething like a river before a flood. "My services are no longer required."

"Actually, Agent Frost, you are being promoted. Contingent on this evaluation, of course."

He looks up, and shoots her a frown. "To what?"

Her gaze is impassive, but there's a slight curl to her lips, and her cheeks take on a faint shade of red. "Assistant Director."

Jack stares at her in blank surprise, before issuing a sarcastic scoff. "You're kidding."

"No." Elsa shifts her body, so her weight rests on her forearms on the table. "The Section feels that as you have the greatest field experience of any of our agents, with dozens of successful missions to your name, you are an asset they don't want to lose."

"A desk job," he drawls. "Hard work and deadlines."

"But plenty of snowballs and fun times, judging by what I watched."

There's her hand given away. She watched them. The ghost of a smirk curls at his lips - maybe she enjoyed it. His heart races. She observes him closely, as though predicting his response. "I bet you liked it," he says in a slow, smooth, playful voice. "Almost as much as you like the idea of me working-" he glances at the table and back up, "-under you."

There it is - Elsa does an excellent job of a poker face, but her tell is revealed. Her pupils visibly dilate, and Jack easily catches the gasp sucked through her lips. Not to mention the flush of red in her cheeks and exposed neck. The same thought has undoubtedly crossed her mind, and it's not one to which she is averse. If it even did soften before, his cock stiffens in response.

Realising her jig is up, she clears her throat and tries to distract herself in the laptop screen. "There are many tasks you will perform…" she pauses, her voice slightly breathless and wavering, "... under me."

She clears her throat again and her voice returns to its even, cool tone - her desire is not so easily abated, it seems. "Provided you pass this evaluation."

And just like that, his arousal and racing heartbeat diminishes. His whole career is… riding… on the test, it lives and dies on her say so. If he fails, that's it - he's out. Rapunzel would likely pass him, but Elsa is bound by the rules. His jaw fuses shut, and his gaze becomes a steely glare. She's the whole damn reason his career's on the raggedy edge.

She taps the trackpad once more with fingers that once pumped him over her, and leans back, focusing her scrutiny upon him. "Now, this test is simple. I will say a word, and you will reply with the first word that comes into your mind. Are we clear?"

He responds with all the seething bluntness he can restrain. "As clear as a bullet in the shoulder."

His words and tone seem to flow off her like water. "Then let's begin with a few control words. Sky."

"Blue."

"Gun."

"Tool."

"Sex."

Her gaze searches the screen, as her lower lip dips between her teeth for a split second.

"Fun."

Her lips part as her breath catches. A smirk tugs at his lips.

"Mission." Her voice cracks a little.

"Success."

"Romance."

He imperceptibly snorts, yet Elsa still glances at him. "Worthless."

Taking a deep breath, there's a slight lift of her chin - and a strange look on her face. "Rapunzel."

The smirk widens to reveal some of his teeth, and he enunciates, "Insatiable."

Her eyes flash with a possessive glimmer. "Agent."

Without missing a beat, "Trustworthy."

"Director."

"Untrustworthy," he says too slowly for it to be anything but intentional. Her eyes narrow a micron, hiding the split-second stung look.

"Astrid."

He chuckles. "Multiples."

"Killing," she says, her tongue playing with the middle consonants. Jack's eyes flick down at the same time, and a rush of heat fills his chest and fuels his hardon. Judging by the light smirk, she didn't miss the catch of his breath.

He sucks in a quick breath. "Necessary."

"Hard."

"Harder."

There's a quiet, ragged breath, and it's not his. "Faster."

He leans forward. "Deeper."

"Elsa," she blurts. Is she hoping to make a connection and catch him out? Like the tongue twister where someone says 'silk' five times, and you hope they answer 'milk' when you ask what cows drink?

No. He's not falling for that. "Cold."

Her eyes return to the laptop. "Duty."

He lifts his chin and throws her a confident gaze. "Death."

"Merida."

"Forgiven," he answers, smiling. The fiery redhead had visited him in hospital a week after his surgery, and had taken him completely off guard - though it wasn't hard with the lovely morphine dulling his senses and killing the pain - by apologising profusely for taking the shot. In fact, she's the whole damn reason he knows Elsa gave her the order.

"Pitch."

His smile drops like a stone. She said it. She just went there. The one chink in his armor, his weakness, his vulnerability. Images and sounds rush through his mind like visual and aural noise, memories of finding the bodies of Tooth and Bunny… what's left of them. The bomb Pitch left in one of his safe houses made identification borderline impossible - but Jack knew.

Roars and taunts on a speeding civilian train bound for Burgess, with a nuclear device set to detonate upon arrival. Golden eyes that prey, calculate, observe. The rumble and thunder of a Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk flying at full speed alongside it, and the glimpse of red in the passenger hold.

The feeling of Pitch's vice-like grip around his right wrist, and the strength of his left arm, driving the knife toward Jack's eye, barely held at bay. The malevolent smirk as he whispers, "Shhh, Agent Frost. Don't be afraid. It'll all be over soon, you'll see."

Shattered glass. The feeling of being punched in the right shoulder by the Hulk, hurling him into his quarry, and the sound of a second thud as Pitch's blood sprays all over the wall behind him, his lifeless body sprawled over the seats.

Pain. Nothing but blinding, white hot, paralysing pain… then darkness.

"Pitch," she repeats, and the world comes back to him in a flood of reality - and fury.

"Done," he snarls.

Without waiting for her next word - if there even is one - he shoots to his feet and yanks off the fingertip sensors, casting them aside like bubble gum wrappers. His breathing comes thick and fast - not out of arousal, but of anger.

Elsa's voice is weighted with the command to answer, stern and heavy. "Where are you going, Agent Frost?"

He looks up at her as he reaches inside his still half-undone shirt, and rips off the heart rate sensors. Pain blossoms like a furious curse from the site, pain that he thoroughly ignores. "This exam's over."

Elsa's face twists into a seething, yet ice cold glare. She rises to her feet, and leans over the table toward him with her fingertips feathering over its surface. "It's over when I say it's over," she says in a low, threatening, monotone voice.

Jack mirrors her position to a tee. He's so close to her, his nose could high-five hers, and he'd barely have to move to capture those lips. Glaring deep into her eyes, he challenges her. "Kinda like Burgess, huh? Mission was over when you gave the order to shoot?"

Her eyes narrow, and her voice becomes altogether more dangerous. She's a tiger, a predator in the room… and so's he. Two predators, squaring off… with designs involving clothes on the floor. "Sit down," she snarls, "before I lose my temper and declare you unfit for duty."

Jack glances down at her lips - they're parted, not clamped shut. She's feeling the heat - her breathing is deep, and exclusively through the mouth. Either she's supremely pissed, which is always a possibility when it comes to Jack, or she's going to tear his clothes off. "You like that, don't you? Giving me orders knowing I won't follow them." He smirks. "You like the frustration."

She scoffs, and straightens up to cross her arms. Hard to get, eh? "Don't be so full of yourself," she says with disdain.

Mischief in the way he bites his lip, he too draws himself to his full height of six-one, and bounces his eyebrows with a cocky smirk. "What, you'd rather be full of me?"

Her silence is telling, as is the deep flush in her neck. Uttering a low, dirty chuckle, he circles the table and heads for the door. Maybe Rapunzel or Astrid's been watching and will let him out.

Her voice rings out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

"I gave the order to shoot because it looked like you were losing."

He whirls around, and fixes her with an irate glare. She stands her ground, and matches him. Director, indeed.

"I saw a chance to end it, once and for all. I will not explain myself further, and do not have to justify myself to you."

It's not arrogance on her part - she's right. She outranks him and every other member of the Section, bar the powers-that-be in charge of all nine, and Rapunzel should she invoke Article Six… the removal on medical grounds any member of the section, active or otherwise, if proven to be compromised.

She has the authority to tell him to shove it - but isn't. Maybe that's why he's so pissed off.

"Yeah," he sneers, "but you're missing the part where Merida told you there was a ninety percent chance she could hit my heart."

Her eyebrows rise. "Luckily she is such a skilled sniper, that it was merely your shoulder."

He stalks towards her. Still, she stands firm. "I could have taken him."

"Possibly. However, I stand by my decision."

He snorts. "Sure you do. You like having the power of life and death. Makes you feel strong, on top, doesn't it?" His eyes give her the onceover - not born of contempt, but of hunger. "Excuse me."

She takes a single step, and uncrosses her arms. He has the height, but she has the power. Under his gaze, her chest rises and falls, and the look in her eyes morphs from frustration to something else. Something

… desiring. "Sit down, Agent Frost."

Jack narrows his eyes, and does what he does best - challenges her. "Make me."

A shaky breath escapes her lips - her limit of control has been reached, and exceeded. "Fine."

What happens next, Jack barely registers. Hands grip the open shirt, and before he knows it, he's been swivelled around like it's the damn tango, and shoved into Elsa's empty seat.

Enduring a partial winding from the surprise attack and the dull pain in his shoulder, he looks up in surprise just as Elsa straddles his lap. He barely has time to smirk before her hands cup his face, and their lips are smashed together like waves on rock. She moans into his mouth, their tongues attacking each other with voracious intent.

Her crotch is firmly pressed on his clothed cock, so his hands feather themselves over her butt and squeeze hard, a silent coax her to grind. Which she does.

She breaks contact with a gasp. Her lips are red and well-kissed, and her eyes devour him with lust. Panting, her hands working to unbutton her blazer, she manages to force out, "The only person you'll be fucking from now on, Agent Frost, is me."

He snorts quietly. "For a year and nine months, you're the only person I have been fucking." His hands slip under her blouse, gliding up her spine. "Nine of those months, I haven't even done that."

Her fingers run through his white hair, sending shocking tingles through his scalp, and his lips search for the sweet spot on her neck. The collar of the blouse puts a stop to the line of sucks and kisses from the base of her ear.

She senses his frustration, and her hands dive down to grip the bottom of her blouse. "You came close to taking Rapunzel down Memory Lane."

She yanks off the blouse like it's burning her, and casts it aside, revealing a black bra with red roses protecting her perfect, full, round and pert breasts. Jack stifles a gasp - that's his favourite set. Is she wearing the matching underwear? "Or was it 'up'?"

His immediate answer is silenced by another passionate mash of their lips that turns into a nibbling of his left earlobe - not content to let her take too much control, his mouth finds her jaw and traces a hungry, red, wet line down to the sweet spot where her shoulders meet her neck. Seeking action, his hands glide around her torso and grasp her breasts, massaging them whilst stroking with his thumbs the rough area of her nipples. She moans hotly into his ear, driven wild by his lips and hands.

"Yeah," he says in between sucking kisses, "only 'cause I was under the impression you put a bullet in our secret relationship."

His lips find the spot. She cries out, grasping his head with her left hand to keep him there whilst her right hand descends his shirt-covered back.

Any more, and she'll come undone right there. She pulls his head back by his hair, and her lips ghost over his as she murmurs, "I was under the impression the A.W.B system allowed us to fuck who we want, but no relationships allowed?"

She dives for his mouth, occasionally sucking his lower lip. "And yet, you only fuck me," he murmurs in between his pants and her kisses.

"Indeed." She slams into his mouth one last time, and orders, "Take off your shirt," as the pressure of her crotch grinding on his hardon is released. Jack obliges with zero complaints, furiously undoing the buttons and throwing the garment away while the spy goddess dismounts him and kneels down. Her hands grip the waist of his pants, and he's practically pulled off the chair with the force with which she yanks them down.

Freed of its prison, his erection stands tall and proud, its head glistening with liquid excitement. Smirking, Elsa curls a hand around it and slowly pumps him from base to tip. With shuddering breaths, he watches her mouth inch lower and lower to the head, her alluring eyes fixed on his… but then she catches sight of something on his right shoulder as his bare chest heaves, and her face softens while everything stops.

It doesn't take a genius to work it out.

"Elsa," he chokes, part out of complaint, part out of a strange desire to reassure her, but a quiet shh silences him. Slowly, she stands up just enough to reach it, and with lips as soft as the brush of a feather, she kisses the circular scar two inches above his right nipple. His heart melts - it's like she's trying to make it better, but doesn't want to hurt him.

She looks up at him with a strange look in her eyes, a silent question he's not sure how to answer with words - so he answers it by cupping her face and roughly bringing her up to smash their lips together. She feeds off the kiss as his fingers slip into her hair, pressing her abdomen against his length, a desire to feel him against her.

Slowly, her mouth moves away from his lips, and traces a line down his jaw and neck that feels more ravenous with each kiss. She glides the tip of her tongue across his left collarbone down towards his left nipple, leaving behind a moist trail that chills with the cool air, before sealing it with searing hot lips that suck hard. A throaty moan releases itself from his throat, and her right hand returns to his length and resumes its slow pumping. She continues on with the trail of kisses down his chest, past his abs, and her tongue finds the base of his cock to slide up to the head. If he could breathe, he's got no chance now. She swirls her tongue around the tip a few times, sending shocking bliss through his cock, before her mouth wolfs the head.

His hips jerk, and he damn near comes right then. Her mouth is volcano-hot, applying insane suction that feels like she's pulling it all out of him, and her mouth opens just enough so she can lower her head and take even more. Her right hand pumps up and down with each slow bob of her head, and her tongue swirls around his dick like heaven feels. She picks up the rhythm and length, coating him with her saliva, sloppy slurps filling the room as she conquers him inch by inch until, far quicker than his pride would allow, his resistance gives in when her lips touch the base. His cock jerks up as stars fill his blurry vision, and a cry of her name bursts out as her mouth is filled with his fluid, coating her tongue, inner cheeks, and spraying down the back of her throat. She squeals in surprise, squeals that turn into moans as she swallows what she can, her reflexes working overtime to counter the sheer volume pouring in.

Slowly, her head draws up whilst sucking out the last remnants of him, before his head is released from her lips with a light pop. Panting with post-orgasm bliss, he stares at her, marvelling at the complete lack of gag reflex. She really is in total control of her body.

"Sorry," he murmurs breathlessly, "nine months of enforced celibacy followed by one of the best blowjobs I've ever had. I didn't mean to be that quick."

"Well, then you'll have to rectify that," she says with a half-smirk. Rising to her feet, she marches over to the table and shoves its contents to the floor - including:

"That was a several thousand dollar laptop," he says, gaping. The hard drive will be intact, but… damn.

"Bill me," she says brusquely, "and get on the table."

He grins wickedly. "Yes, Director."

Pulling himself to his feet - a herculean effort considering his legs are doing a fantastic imitation of jelly - he kicks off his trousers and staggers to the table, where he slides onto its edge. Watching Elsa, he feels a dual sensation of admiration and animalistic hunger as she unzips her skirt and slides it down her hips to the floor - and in the two seconds before they come off too, he notices the thong. Black with red roses. Perfect.

Her left foot comes up for her to peel them from her heel and toss them aside, and she looks at him with an impatient expression. He gets the message loud and clear, and scurries to lay flat on the cold table's surface, his legs akimbo with his feet at the table's edge. Elsa clambers up to straddle his chest with those gorgeous, milky thighs, and bends her body to capture his lips with another passionate set of kisses.

"Are you about to do what I think you're about to do?" he murmurs against her lips. She giggles in response, her lower lip dancing between her teeth.

"I am. I hope you'll be able to breathe down there."

"Only one way to find out."

A dirty giggle escapes her lips, and she shuffles those delicious stocking-covered legs up so her sex hovers above his face. He looks up at her between her still bra-covered breasts, where her eyes radiate challenge - but also, hope - and back down to her sex, glistening, open and inviting. Waiting for him.

She waits no longer, and descends. He opens his mouth just as her sensitive, wet folds touch down upon his face, his tongue darting in and out, seeking her clitoris. A throaty, loud moan makes an appearance from her feminine voice, and her left hand entwines itself in his hair to keep him firmly attached to her. His hands feather themselves across her butt, squeezing and massaging her perfect cheeks whilst she begins to grind against him, impatiently seeking the connection of tongue to clit.

She tastes exactly the same as the last time - delicious. A salty, musky taste he can't get enough of, and each lick makes him go harder, faster, deeper with his tongue. She jerks when the tip flicks down to her entrance and back up, and when it finally finds the sweetest spot of all, a cry of his name breaks into the walls. As he watches her, she closes her eyes and grinds harder against his mouth, covering his lips and chin with her wetness, panting and moaning. "Fuck, right there," she mews, "I love your tongue right there-" her body undergoes a small shudder, "-oh, God yes!"

His tongue flicks up and down, left and right, alternating speed and direction, pressure and area. Her right hand twists behind her, and there's a brief moment of finagling before the bra loosens around her shoulders - and her perfect breasts are revealed. He marvels at them as she rides his mouth, and after the bra is cast aside, her right hand cups her right breast and massages it, slow and hard. It's when her thumb and finger pinch at her nipple that he fully zeroes in on her clit, his mouth applying such enormous suction around it whilst his tongue furiously flicks over the bud that her cries rev up and up in pitch and volume. Her movements become hard and jerky, with such pressure his jaw is in danger of dislocating itself, and her face contorts with that unmistakeable expression.

There's a slam as her hand meets the table to grip its edge, such is the force of her oncoming orgasm, and as his left hand slides up from her ass to roughly cup and massage her newly freed breast, she finally comes undone. Her body arches as she rides his tongue with uncontrollable speed and fury, her breasts offered to the sky as his name is screamed out to the heavens above. "Oh, God, I'm still coming!" she whimpers, her orgasm not even at full power, "Fuck me with your tongue, Jack! Fuck me… fuckmefuckmefuckme-oh yes!"

Her entire body jerks and shakes, shuddering over his tongue while his hair feels like it's about to be ripped out, while her orgasm tears through her like rain through paper. A light spank on her left buttcheek returns a semblance of reality to her, and with obviously weak legs, she shuffles back down and collapses on his chest, nuzzling her face into his neck whilst heavy, satisfied, wet pants heat his skin. His newly rock-erect hardon nestles itself between her ass cheeks, twitching with the anticipation of further playtime.

"I had forgotten," she says in between heavy gasps and moans thanks to the bursts of post-orgasm aftershock, "how much of a deadly weapon your tongue is."

"Don't tell me you're spent already," he taunts her.

Her head darts up to hover over his, and she glares at him with an annoyed, thirsty look. "Keep talking and I'll put that mouth to good use-" she lowers her lips, and begins to kiss at the liquid aftermath on and around his mouth. "-again."

Just as Jack opens his mouth to retort, there's a rattling thud. His eyes whip over to the one-way mirror, and all he sees is the reflection of Elsa laid on top of him, sucking and kissing at his jaw. "Someone behind there?" he murmurs.

Elsa hums affirmatively. "Agents Hofferson and Haddock. They wanted to observe your evaluation."

He looks back at her. "So they've been-"

"Yes."

"And now they're-"

"Yes."

Her face is impassive, nonchalant. Astrid and Hiccup have probably been watching them do the horizontal tango, and now they're doing it too. Maybe it's the competition. "I didn't know you could be so… liberated," he murmurs in admiration.

"There's a lot about me you don't know, Jack," she answers. "A lot I want to show you."

His name rolls off her tongue with the ease of a petal taking flight, sending a flash of desire and one hell of a pull through his heart. His head shoots up to crash their lips together, and his arms wrap themselves around her nude body, holding her searing heat close. She moans into his mouth, gently rubbing herself against him, and he inclines his body a little to the left as a silent prompt.

She follows his unspoken direction and carefully rolls over so she's under him, arching her body to feel as much of him as possible. "Then let's give them a show," he murmurs, and begins to clamber back off the table.

Of course, he can't go just yet. Kneeling near the edge of the table, with her legs hooked around his body, he leaves a trail of sucked kisses down to her chest. His tongue darts out and flicks over the skin before sealing it with a kiss, each one causing or lengthening a moan, and as he reaches her sternum, he blazes the trail to her left breast, cupping it with his right hand as his mouth encloses her nipple. A cry of delight breaks the air, and her chest is thrust into his mouth. Her left hand grapples at his hair, holding him firmly against her breast as a wordless order to keep sucking, flicking his tongue over her taut nipple and pebbled aureola. Her right hand grasps for his free hand, and yanks it over to her right breast, coaxing him to massage and knead it with as much vigor as his oral care on her left.

"No more teasing," she gasps, "please…"

He wickedly chuckles, and relinquishes the treat. One leg unfurls to plant itself on the floor, then the other, and his arms wrap themselves around her thighs to pull her closer to him. With the length of his cock laid over her entrance, each movement twitches against her clit, causing her to suck in a sharp breath. Her hips just at the edge, she watches him with half-pleading, half-aroused intent, waiting for him. Smirking, he slowly slides his cock up and down her folds, watching as her face tautens with frustration and slackens with pleasure. "I said," she practically growls, "no more teasing."

"You sure?"

"Yes," she snaps. "Fuck me."

"I'm sorry," he says, leaning his ears a little closer, "I didn't quite catch that."

It seems she's in no mood for games. One hand grasps his dick and positions it at her slick, wet entrance, and her eyes glimmer with vengeful fire. "I said," she says sternly, every word an order, "Fuck. Me."

"You're the Director," he says, grinning wickedly, before plunging himself in all the way. The resultant burst of pleasure forking down from the head of his cock is heightened by the way her eyes widen in surprise and pleasure, and how her lips utter probably the loudest cry he's heard so far. He closes his eyes and groans, relishing the searing heat and vice-like contractions around his dick pulling him further in, holding himself back from another burst of pleasure.

"So fucking tight," he gasps in appreciation. He's not wrong - but whether or not he'll be allowed to move is another matter. She giggles in an unusually bashful way, before another mew of delight escapes her lips.

"I believe… my orders…" she says breathlessly, "were to fuck me."

"That's an order I'll -oh, shit-be happy to follow."

He slowly pulls back, a tricky endeavour considering the sheer constriction around him, yet helped by her wetness. He manoeuvres her legs to rest on his shoulders - the constant buzz of pleasure is a remarkable pain killer - and his hands grasp her hips. He gently thrusts again so she can become acclimatised to him, over and over. Her core squeezes him hard, willing him to keep going.

Her whimpers, moans and mewls beckon him on, and he finds himself mentally reciting the Section agents' manual to keep himself together.

"I forgot-shit, Jack, you feel so good inside me-how big you were…"

He smiles awkwardly - she always knows what to say. "And I forgot how amazing you are."

"I want you, Jack. I want to feel you fill me." Her eyes find his, with an undefinable look. "Fuck me harder."

"Harder?"

She nods vigorously. "As hard as you can. Don't hold back-I need this."

God, how he adores this woman. He obeys willingly. His thrusts ramp up in power, plunging inside with strength before slowly withdrawing, only to hammer her all over again. Her entire body moves up and down with each thrust, her perfect breasts jiggling a delightful rhythm, and every moan and cry of his name is fuel for him.

"Faster, Jack!" she begs. "Fuck-give it to me!"

He responds in kind - his hard thrusts plunge inside her with growing speed until the room is filled with his groans of pleasure, her sounds of ecstasy and delight, and the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin.

"Deeper!" she shouts, her eyes closed in bliss. Her right hand shoots up to roughly massage and knead her left breast, while her left fingers glide down to between her thighs. Jack aids her quest by carrying her lower legs in the crook of his elbows, and her fingertips immediately seek out and furiously rub frantic circles around her clit, adding its own wet sounds and greater cries to the sexual symphony.

Jack's eyes drink in her bliss, how she writhes and jerks with every thrust, her eyes clamped shut and mouth wide open in ecstasy, her glorious abdomen tensing and relaxing over and over. How one breast shudders whilst the other is squeezed and massaged, and how her clit is manipulated with the speed of light. He plunges himself in as deep and hard as he can, gaining the cry of his name as her back arches in delight...

...but then, as he feels her approach the raggedy edge of rational thought, she calls out for him to stop.

He gapes at her. "Director says what now? Why? Weren't you enjoying it?"

Her eyes open, and fix him with a lidded gaze. "I was in heaven for every second," she says, panting breathlessly, "but it appears your mischief is rubbing off on me."

He stares, dumbfounded as she pulls herself up, and his cock slips out - the action causing him to yelp, and her to suck in a sharp breath. "You'll see," she says in a shaky voice, as she horizontally rotates and slips off the edge to her feet. "Follow me."

Bewildered by the sudden turnaround, he does exactly that. With weak legs that betray her every other step, she leads him to the one way mirror, where she presses her breasts against it while slightly bending over, offering her gorgeously curvy derriere to him.

It's then that he twigs with a smirk what her intentions are - and who she wants to see her.

"Fuck me from behind," she orders with a wavering voice, "hard, fast and deep. I want you to fill me with every inch of you. I want you to make me scream."

She's never been this dirty. Sure, she's willing to experiment and find her limits… but damn. Under this queenly, authoritative exterior is a tiger.

She wiggles her ass as an impatient prompt - he doesn't need telling a third time. Holding his steel hard cock, he takes a step forward and aligns the tip with her entrance, before taking her hips with both hands and thrusting all the way in. Her mouth drops open with a loud moan that coats the mirror in vapor, and her breasts flatten to the sides against the smooth surface while her forearms support her either side of her head.

He plunges in over and over again, resuming the speed, power and depth of before. She mewls and cries with each thrust, and the room is once again filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin. Her ass ripples with each slam inside her, a satisfying sight that makes it altogether harder to hold himself back from coming.

"Jack, I-oh, my God, your cock feels amazing-think I'm about to-"

"Me… too…" he moans throatily.

"Do it." She looks at him over her shoulder, willing him. "Fill me completely. I want to feel you."

Her words are the last thing his self-control needs. With a roar of her name to the room, his entire groin tightens, and he thrusts all the way inside before the lightning storm of his orgasm bursts through his body, spilling his load into her searing hot core, spurt by spurt. Stars fill his vision once more, blinding him with ecstatic bliss.

It's all Elsa needs to push her over the edge.

"Shit-fuckfuckfuckfuckfu-uck! JACK!"

She screams his name to the mirror as her own orgasm tears through her being. Her body shakes and trembles in his hands, and her core tightens and squeezes his cock like it's trying to pull him in - which only intensifies his bliss - and each jerk and twitch of her hips drives her further back to the base of his cock.

Their entwined bodies endure a host of further convulsions before, spent by their voracious sex, Jack's weakened legs wave the white flag. He leans down to place a gentle kiss of appreciation at the nape of her neck, and sinks to the floor - not before sneaking another kiss to her left ass cheek - where he rests his upper back against the wall under the mirror. In his blurry, peripheral vision, Elsa's body undergoes some light shakes, and he hears the occasional faint moan of pleasure as the aftershocks undoubtedly pulse through her body. Eventually, she too sinks to the floor by sitting between his legs and resting her back against his chest, her flyaway-hair braid sat happily on her left shoulder as she nestles the back of her head in the crook of his neck. Jack holds her sweating, hot body against him like a protective, affectionate cuddle, and the two share a moment of quiet appreciation of the furious sex they shared. As he breathes, so does she, and her arms wrap themselves around his. She's the boss, but she's perfectly okay with being protected - her pragmatism is another reason he's so drawn to her.

Several minutes pass before her voice rings out in the room, and it's quiet. Uneasy. "I need you to know something."

Jack gives her a light squeeze. "What?"

"When I ordered Agent Dunbroch to take the shot…" She pauses, long enough for Jack to think she's having unusual trouble articulating her thoughts, and for the scar to pulse with unwelcome pain, "it was the hardest one I ever had to make."

"So why did you?" he murmurs close to her ear.

A long, drawn out sigh escapes her nose. "You were losing, no matter how much you want to deny it."

The thought had struck his mind.

"You had been awake and chasing Pitch for seventy-two hours. You were tired, and he was rested. He was too strong. He would have killed you."

He scoffs with cynicism and derision - way to ruin the afterglow of hot sex with a freaking goddess. Remind him of the whole damn reason he's in this mess. Nice. "So you had me shot?!" he sputters with faint incredulity.

"Yes." She turns her head, and her entire body, so she can look him in the eye - but what takes him completely off guard is the fact that she's not wearing the impassive, statue-like mask she usually does. Her face tells a tale of regret, and a plea for understanding. "I ordered Agent Dunbroch to shoot Pitch through you."

His eyes take on a look of disbelief. "That's fucked up," he murmurs. He knows she can be cold, but yikes.

What she has to say, she's evidently not content to convey it in their current position. Whatever it is, is important to her, so she pushes herself to her knees and directly faces him, cupping his face with her hands. "Jack, listen to me. If I had waited, Agent Dunbroch would have had a clear shot. He wouldn't have been able to detonate the nuclear bomb. Burgess would be safe."

Deadpan is the name of the game as far as his expression is concerned, though his eyes radiate an unimpressed glare. "Wasn't that the mission?"

"Yes, it was…" Her eyes fall to the scar for a moment or two, before meeting his once more. "...but then you would be dead. I couldn't let him kill you. I ordered her to shoot him through you, so you could live, and Burgess would be safe."

Jack tilts his head slightly, and a small smile curls up at the left corner of his well-kissed lips. "You got greedy."

The lightest of feminine and self-effacing chuckles escape her faintly smiling lips. "I suppose I wanted to have my cake, and eat it, yes."

"Burgess safe, and me alive."

She nods, and the smile widens half an inch. Her expression exudes relief for a moment, before it falls to guilt. "Precisely - but my greatest regret is that your career as a field agent was the price to save your life." Her thumbs stroke at his eyebrows - he locks that well away in his mind, as if she knows all she needs to do to crumble his anger is to stroke there, he'll never be able to be pissed at her again.

He inhales a deep breath through his nose, and out of his mouth. Her eyes dance between his over and over, searching for the answer hidden deep inside. She's got a point, as much as he hates to admit it; he knew in his heart he was no match for Pitch Black at his best. Chasing him through three different countries and killing countless henchmen had taken too much out of him, yet he still got on that train.

That was the job, the basis of their nihilistic attitudes and liberated views on sex; certainty of death and a small chance of success, but they do the job anyway. No-one else will. Live every day like it's your last, and fuck like you'll never see them again.

It was a strange, destructive way of looking out for him, but she had his back - and he's finding it harder and harder to hold it against those gorgeous ice blue eyes. "Fine," he sighs dramatically, "I forgive you." He rests a finger on her forehead, and traces it down to tap at the tip of her nose. "But you've still got to make it up to me."

Her smile widens in relief and happiness, with more than a little impish mischief in her eyes, and her lower lip briefly darts in between her teeth. "Oh, I have an idea how to start. Which reminds me-" her hands slip down to rest on his chest, "-I have a question."

"Shoot," he says, then immediately wonders why the hell he said that.

Curious eyes watch him for comprehension. "How would you define the relationships in the unit?"

Jack tilts his head in confusion. That's vague, unusually so. "As in…?"

"As in what Agents Hofferson and Haddock, or Rapunzel and Agent Fitzherbert share?"

He quirks his lips sideways, and frowns in thought. It's a good question, one that's been irregularly gracing his mind since the looks he gave Elsa started to be more than simple lust. Some would call it cheating, but those people are only peripherally aware of the fleeting nature of life. For Section Nine… it's a reality. For him, a near certainty. For Tooth and Bunny, a fact.

Was it love? Team Sweet Tooth, as the other agents called it, seemed to think so. Tooth deeply loved Bunny and would never do anything to hurt him, and vice versa, but when they signed their names on the dotted line, giving their lives over to the finality of fate? They fucking meant it.

Civilians talk about accepting the inevitability of death, usually by saying they could be accidentally hit by a car tomorrow. Section Nine agents talked about it by saying every single car on the road was actively trying to kill them.

Life is fleeting, meaningless. Death is final, inevitable. Nothing. Oblivion. End.

There's a ninety five percent chance you'll be killed in action on your next mission, so why bother thinking you're going to live forever? If you need to do, then do. Live for the moment, die for your country, love like it's your last day.

Let fate see to the rest.

"Life is short, mate. Fuck when you can," he murmurs his buddy's quote out loud.

"I'm sorry?"

He takes in a breath, and slowly exhales through his nose. Here goes nothing. "I guess… the closest thing would be what the civvies call an open relationship. Like, they've got the option of sleeping with other people, but emotionally, they are only involved with one person. Rapunzel can fuck me if she wants, or if Eugene's unavailable, but she'll always pick Eugene over me. Same with Astrid. Nothing but absolute acceptance and trust between them."

Elsa straightens up, and looks at him with eyes that ask for clarification. She truly wants to understand. "So, even with the option of sleeping with other people, the heart belongs to only one?" She leans in a few degrees. "Is that what you and I share?

He shrugs, and his eyebrows briefly touch his hair. She's not wrong. "Romantic way of putting it, but yeah. Why?"

She blinks a few times, and there's the sign of cogs turning behind her eyes. Her finger traces a line to his heart, and draws gentle circles around it. "I have a favour to ask of you."

His eyes narrow slightly, and he cocks his head in curiosity. "...okay?"

Her business voice returns, yet circles are still slowly drawn over his heart. It's like she's claiming him. "Agent Bjorgman has had to extend his mission pursuing Hans Westergard by a few more months, and Anna's feeling lonely. Which means she will be pent-up, and moody until she finds release." Her hand slowly glides down his chest, lightly covered with post-coital sweat. "I took the liberty of informing her you'd be visiting her quarters tonight. Do take care of her, please."

The wall prevents him from recoiling his head in surprise. "Wait, you want me to... y'know… with Anna?"

Elsa's eyes become stern and impatient, like his incredulity is a minor annoyance. "Aside from Agent Bjorgman, you are the only one I trust who would ensure her needs are satisfied. She's consenting, fully aware of the System, and she is, rather annoyingly, excited by your potential visit. She has been, and I quote, 'wanting to butter that biscuit for a while'."

Jack eyes her with a searching gaze for a few moments. Is she serious? The woman who threw him onto a chair, declaring the only woman he sleeps with will be her, is now suggesting he visit her sister's quarters and give her a good time? It's a whiplash to be sure - but maybe she understands the prevailing attitude around the Section. Live for the moment, try something new.

Plus, if she says stop, he'll stop.

He takes a deep breath in and out through his nose. She is the one posing the suggestion, after all - and maybe, under all the freedom and sexual liberation, she doesn't want Anna to be alone, sleeping in an empty bed tonight. She's consenting, Anna's consenting… it's up to him.

"Okay. You're the boss."

She smirks, teeth nibbling at her lower lip. Her other hand slides up to stroke under his jaw toward his chin. "And don't you forget it."

The hand gliding down his body gently wraps itself around his length, still glistening and moist from her wetness and his come. Slowly she begins to pump it, and a familiar heat causes a predictable response.

It's still freaking sensitive, so his breath catches every time her fingers ghost over the tip. "What will you do while I'm… erm... taking care of Anna?"

"Well," she pauses to lean down and kiss his left nipple, and each word is punctuated by her lips descending his body, "Agent Dunbroch has been feeling extremely guilty over shooting you in the shoulder. I think I'll drop by her quarters and-" her kisses reach the base of his cock, "-'convey your forgiveness' once today's paperwork is concluded."

Jack smirks, and a chuckle breaks his quiet grunts. "I see what you did there. Smooth." The mental image of Elsa and Merida engaging in casual shenanigans is not a displeasing one. "Wish I could watch."

Elsa's lips make their way up his length, before running her tongue down the base. "I'll record it for you. Now, as for making it up to you…"

Her hot, wet mouth engulfs his glistening tip, applying such suction he can't help but jerk his cock further into her mouth, eliciting a surprised moan. Maybe he's got one more orgasm in him.

Minutes of luxurious oral heaven pass, with her claiming every inch of him, breaking only once to inform him of the success of his evaluation…

...and when he finally lets it go, shooting spurt after spurt that coats her offered breasts, he thinks that being the Assistant Director of Section Nine might not be such a bad thing after all.

A/N:

Like I said above, some or all of you may not understand the concepts put forward. I don't, either. I am a one woman man, and I can't grasp the idea of having multiple partners.

However, it is not for me to judge or decide. Too many people nowadays judge others without knowledge or experience of what other people's lives are like. I'm old and ugly enough to know that everyone is different, they have different opinions and different preferences, different attitudes cultivated by different life experiences.

Regardless, those of you who know me or follow my writing know I try to push boundaries or tackle things e.g. assisted suicide in Of Ghosts and Valkyries. This is no exception. I love writing smut, especially when it's hot, dirty and there's no holding back.

Love you all,

Furiyan