Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ Driving Miss Doujima ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't currently own the rights to WHR. I do hope to win the lottery and buy them though, in which case I will cajole the three M's into writing a second season. Can you imagine that collaboration?

 

This is a one-shot written in response to Mehiel's Smut-fic challenge on the Harry's board. It's definitely lemony fresh and full of language- hope you enjoy.

 

They'd been waiting in the rain for nearly an hour. If Nagira's damn contact didn't show up soon, Doujima was sure she was absolutely going to lose it. They were sitting in the front seats of his car, in a dark and deserted alleyway with the rain pouring down on the windshield and the windows fogged from their breathing. And it was silent. Which was unusual, she thought. Their usual time together was spent in a sort of quasi-arguing, quasi-flirting banter that was the reason she kept seeking out his company. She felt like he really understood her. God knew no one else did. She'd been in the lying business for so long, wearing so many masks that when she had first met Nagira she'd been relieved to find that she could finally be herself.

 

She didn't have to maintain the ditzy, clothes-obsessed, work-ditching persona around him that she had to at work.

 

And within minutes of their first meeting…well actually second meeting, she corrected. The first time they'd “met” he'd been unconscious in the back seat of her car, mainly due to the fact that she'd clubbed him over the head with the butt end of an Orbo revolver.

 

Within minutes of their second meeting, her inner dialogue continued, it had become obvious that he had been keeping up appearances as well. Doujima Yurika knew a fellow schemer when she met one. It had taken her more time to figure out what his game was though. His persona of the good but lax lawyer who never seemed to do enough to push his practice into the upper-echelons of the legal world (thus staying under the radar of Solomon) , the guy that threw his secretary into apoplectic fits, was a front.

 

He was a ruthless researcher and his network of informants spanned the globe. And he used those informants to help Seeds and Witches escape persecution and hunting. He had set up his own sort of Underground Railroad for those with the Craft.

 

He reminded her a bit of a young Clint Eastwood. The American actor who would chew a cigar and freeze the bad guy with an icy glare, his five o'clock shadow blending with his long sideburns. But instead of a poncho or cheesy seventies jacket, her Clint would be wearing a long, cream, fuzzy pimp coat that disguised a lean, toned physique all hard planes and angles…

 

Suddenly, as if just realizing the path her thoughts were leading her down, Doujima's eyes widened slightly. When had she stopped thinking about Nagira as a friend and comrade? When had she started thinking of him as some sort of sexy, do-gooder? Sure, they'd always had a flirty relationship but she had never before actually considered him as a potential lover.

 

The temperature in the car seemed to rise to a stifling degree as she realized where she was going with this.

 

She dared a quick glance at his profile and noticed that he was still staring intently out of the driver's side window, his angular chin propped on his right fist and the long fingers of his left hand tapping noiselessly on the steering wheel. He hadn't seemed to notice her sudden discomfort or the strange way the lower half of her body had begun to wiggle slightly.

 

Oh man, Doujima thought, her eyes suddenly drawn to his fingers. Sexy, long fingers. Sexy, long fingers touching her, invading her…a sort of low hum emerged from deep in her throat.

 

The hum got his attention.

 

“Yeah, this guy's late. I'm sorry for making you sit out here tonight. I'm sure you've got better things to do with your time. Sorry that our barbecue got interrupted. If this guy doesn't show I'm going to be seriously…uh, Yurika?”

 

He had stopped speaking when he noticed how absolutely rigid her back had become.

 

“Shit” he thought, “Guess I really pissed the little lady off this time.” And he was surprised by how much the thought of pissing her off bothered him. He had really enjoyed getting to know Yurika. He knew that she felt comfortable around him and that he was one of the closest things she had to a real friend now days. Since her co-workers had learned about her deception, they'd had a hard time trusting her again. He'd felt sorry for her. He knew what it was like to try to live two lives, to have to make people you liked believe the lies you told about yourself, to know that you were betraying them, even if it was for their own good. He was honored that she had let her guard down with him. He knew she probably hadn't been able to do that very often in her young life.

 

Dammit! He liked her with her sassy outfits and feathery blond hair, her confident swagger and her quick, sharp wit that always had him laughing and baiting her again just to get another tongue lashing. He liked the little frisson of sexual tension that always seemed to run just beneath the current of any conversation they had. She fascinated him, intrigued the hell out him, and…he realized, she had become one of the few women “friends” that he had, if he could count little Robin and that harpy secretary of his as friends.

 

Well, whatever was bothering her he'd better get it out of her damn quickly. He figured a blanket apology should do the trick.

 

“Like I said, I'm sorry…” he stopped mid-sentence. She was staring at him intently and by the look in her eye, he suddenly realized that she was far from angry with him. She was steaming alright, but not with anger.

 

“Um…Yurika?” he managed to get out before she dropped a bombshell on him.

 

“Nagira, what would you do if I went down on you right now?” she asked him.

 

“Wh…what the hell? Yurika?” he stuttered. He felt as though his brain had just short circuited. He could not have heard her correctly. Then he realized, with a mixture of shock, dread and electricity, that she was leaning towards him, over him and his brain simply refused to function anymore.

 

“The hell with it” she growled and then she stopped talking altogether.

 

Her hands reached under the flap of his coat, knocking it aside quickly and impatiently as it began to stroke the growing bulge in his pants. Her long fingernail trailed slowly down and then up again as his shocked eyes watched her in amazement. Her nose was practically buried in the waistband of his pants and he could feel her hot breath feathering his abdomen.

 

“What are you…why are you…we can't do…Oh, God!” he exclaimed roughly as his head fell back against the neck rest on his seat and his eyes began to roll back in his head.

 

Doujima's stomach was twisting with anxiety and lust. She inhaled his scent deeply and leaned in further. The scratchy sound of his descending zipper seemed to echo in the car.

 

Her juices were flowing as the hot, wet tip of his penis pushed against her cheek. She slid further forward so that her tongue could catch the first, glistening drop of fluid as it leaked out. She tasted salt and something richer…life. And suddenly she was pushing her wet lips around his tip, teasing the soft edges with her tongue.

 

She felt his right hand fisting in her hair as he pushed his hips upward to give her more access to him. Her hands reached for his waistband and she quickly pulled his pants and boxers downward, pushing them around his knees.

 

Then he was springing up and against her face. His tip was against her nose and his hot, hard shaft butted her mouth and chin. Greedily, she licked up and down his shaft and then lunged to capture him in her mouth again. She was careful of her teeth as she began the up and down movements of her head. Her left hand was pressing against the dashboard for support and her right hand was massaging his balls.

 

Up, down, up, down. Her head bobbed slowly and leisurely and she thrust her lower half forward for greater access to him. Her pelvis made contact with his stick shift and she parted her thighs and straddled it. Grinding her crotch against the shift in tight, circular motions she removed her mouth from his cock with a wet, popping noise.

 

He made a small groan of discontent until she tipped further down and sucked his testicles into her mouth, rolling them around like plums. Her right hand moved beside her mouth to continue stroking him. Up, down, up, down.

 

He moved his left hand shakily against her back, under her shirt and across her overheated skin to feather lightly against her nipples. She stilled instantly as his long fingers pinched and tweaked her nipple through her bra. Yes, she thought hazily, she had been right about those fingers.

 

Her pelvis continued to grind against the shift and she felt the delicious waves of her orgasm begin to build in her belly. Then she noticed that his hips had begun to buck more quickly and his gasps and grunts were becoming louder. He was ready and so was she.

 

She lifted her mouth once more to cover him as he exploded into her mouth. She swallowed pulse after pulse of his juices as they came feeling her own climax hit her and suck her under. She thought she heard him, as if from a distance, calling her name. She dropped her head into his lap weakly, limp hands falling to rest against his hip and his knee, her own knees clenching to keep the pulses in her lower body coming.

 

The car smelled of sex and the windows were steamed to opaqueness.

 

Then she heard the soft tapping on the window from the outside and reality intruded.

 

He pulled the folds of his coat over her head and put one steadying hand on her back as he rolled down the window.

 

“It's about goddamn time” Nagira's voice rasped. Though she couldn't hear a response, she could feel the whisper of cold air against the skin of her back where her shirt had been pulled up and that his coat hadn't covered. She heard the rustle of papers being passed through the window and a fist banging twice on the roof of the vehicle. Then the window was rolled back up and the silence returned.

 

She found that she couldn't bear to sit up now and look him in the face. What had gotten into her? What had they just done? Now the only heat in her body was the slow burn of mortification.

 

She rose and fumbled with her bra, pushing it back into place and straightening her shirt over it. Her trembling hands reached up to push her sweaty, sticky bangs from her hot cheeks and she kept her eyes focused on the luminescent clock on the dashboard.

 

“Yurika,” his low voice broke the tense silence. She could hear him adjusting himself, the zipper being jerked upward again. “I don't know what just happened, hell, I don't know that I even deserved that…my God!”

 

At her continued, embarrassed silence, Nagira reached out with his left hand and gently turned her face to his. “That was amazing” he stated simply, gruffly.

 

She dared to look at him then and saw to her amazed delight that he was smiling crookedly.

 

“Well…for an old geezer you sure are a sexy bastard” she responded, covering her nervousness with her usual snide, cocky banter.

 

“Watch it, little lady. Don't start with that `old geezer' stuff again. I think `hot stud' would be more appropriate right now, don't you? Damn it woman, where did you learn a trick like that anyway?”

 

“Learn?” she giggled and he quirked an eyebrow in response. “That was a first for me. I've always wanted to but I've just never had the opportunity. Was it…was it good for you big guy?”

 

His eyes closed briefly in response and his hand moved quickly to his keys, starting the engine even as he hit the defogger option on the air panel.

 

“Yurika, tell me,” he said as he shifted loudly into gear and they began rolling down the alleyway, “If that was your first time…have you ever had it done to you?”

 

“Umm…” she stuttered, her belly contracting and her breathing quickening, “Is that an offer Nagira?”

 

Grinning slyly, he suddenly reached out with his long, sexy fingers and began to stroke between her legs. Then he reached up, brushing against her breasts and sending her pulse skyrocketing, and pulled her seatbelt across her.

 

“Fasten up Yurika,” his voice was smug and assured, “It's gonna' be a bumpy ride baby.”

 

And the dark car zoomed into the night.