Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ His Gal Thursday ❯ 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 is the third in a little off-beat sort of SMUT trilogy that I came up with to unite some of the characters in different settings. It's definitely lemony fresh and full of language so read at your own risk! Also, my humble apologies to Mario Puzo. I stole a line from The Godfather - please don't send the thugs to my door. I just couldn't resist page 88.

 

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Sakaki Haruto lounged insolently on the lumpy sofa in Nagira's law office and attempted to lick the salt off of his last bag of potato chips. Giving up, he crumpled the bag and threw it across the darkening office. His hands were greasy and he wiped them against the legs of his jeans, stopping to massage the stiff joints in his legs.

All this inactivity was reminding him of the past months when he had been kept from going on hunts because of his injured leg. It had driven him crazy to just sit in the office and do research while the others were out on the streets. But he'd gladly take sitting at a computer in the office to this hellish existence.

 

Sakaki was not a man designed for laziness. He simply couldn't stand it. He loved the action and danger inherent in his work. He loved the rush of adrenaline when he was on the hunt or riding his motorcycle at breakneck speeds. He never felt more alive than when he was putting his life on the line, tempting the fates, wondering if this time he would finally have to admit that he wasn't immortal.

 

Sighing, he grabbed his hand-held gamer from the nearby coffee table and switched it to Play mode. For a few brief seconds, the animated graphics held his attention but soon he found that he had no interest in trying to beat his already unbeatable score. He tossed the game across the room in frustrated anger.

 

Why had the Factory sent an Assault team after him? And where was Miss Karasuma? And what was up with the sudden appearance of Mr. Amon and Robin? His brain roiled with unanswerable questions and he felt the beginnings of a headache pressing against the backs of his eyelids. He rubbed his face wearily with the back of his hand.

 

The office had grown much darker by now and he realized that he had been lying there for quite a while. Since he had begun this period of forced exile, he seemed to have lost a grip on time and he wasn't sure when he should be sleeping and when he should be awake. He wondered if this was what Robin had felt like during the time she had been in hiding.

 

He remembered suddenly that the last time he had seen Robin, before the night of his attack, she had been engaged in a life-or-death struggle with the master Hunter, Sastre. He remembered the look in her eyes as she had reached out to him and Karasuma, whispering something that he had been too far away to hear. He remembered too, his shock and confusion at Amon's sudden appearance and just as sudden vanishing. Perhaps, he thought, Solomon was attempting to remove any witnesses to that little scene. He knew they'd been hunting Robin and now it appeared they were trying to get rid of anyone who had witnessed her stunning display of increased power.

 

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the front door to the office crashing open and his body reacted instantly. Adrenaline coursed through his veins instantaneously and his hand shot forward like a snake striking, grabbing his Orbo gun from the coffee table, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans as he rolled off of the couch to a crouched, Hunter's position all in the space of a millisecond. He glided through the half-open office door and spread his legs in his gunman's stance, holding the gun stiffly in his two hands and aiming at the shadowy figure moving through the doorway.

 

So the Factory only sent one agent this time? What the hell's going on? No matter, this asshole is going to feel my fury now.

 

He slid the safety back and growled “Freeze!”

 

 

Hanamura Mika slammed her car door shut and trudged angrily back towards the building that housed Nagira Law Offices. It was just so typical of her boss to call her out of the blue on a Thursday night and expect her to drop everything and rush back to the offices to deliver some file or another.

 

Her fist clenched around the manila envelope she was clutching. Not that she really had much of a personal life to interrupt but still, it was the audacity of her boss that really set her blood boiling. Why, oh why had she ever taken work home with her in the first place?

 

She thought longingly of her small, sweet apartment and the glass of wine and half-read romance book that were waiting for her there. She thought regretfully of her sweet little kitten, Mary Sue, who was undoubtedly the only one pining for her at the moment.

 

The thought of being wanted and needed by only a kitten served to amp her frustration level to new heights and this was probably why she kicked the office door open with such uncharacteristic force.

 

She didn't bother to switch on the lights, moving toward her desk with the speed and instinct of someone who had trod this path a thousand times. And so, she was caught completely off her guard by the angry “Freeze” that came seemingly from nowhere.

 

She froze instantly and her blood seemed to turn to ice water when she heard the click of the safety mechanism of a gun behind her. She had heard that people facing death saw their life pass before their eyes but she didn't. In that unbearably tense second, when she knew that death was staring her in the back and time seemed to stand still, she could only see the soft, green eyes of Mary Sue and she wondered who would feed her little precious after she passed on.

 

“Turn around slowly,” the rough voice commanded her. “Hands up where I can see them.”

 

Trembling, she did as the voice commanded her, the file of papers she had been clutching to her chest in her terror, falling to the floor with a whoosh that seemed to echo in the abnormally quiet office space. Her terrified gaze focused on the shadowy figure that was standing in the doorway of the boss' office. Her eyes narrowed a fraction. There was something familiar about that frame. Her knees were still trembling and she thought she might faint when the voice spoke again.

 

“Ms. Hanamura?” it asked, sounding puzzled.

 

One of her hands reached up to clutch at her throat as if trying to force her heart back to its original residence in her chest. And recollection swamped her.

 

“Sakaki Haruto?” she queried, noticing how high and tight her voice sounded as it rushed past her fear frozen vocal chords. She moved slowly over to the wall and flicked on the light switch illuminating the boy who had been living in the boss' loft for the past few days, the boy who was currently aiming a lethal looking weapon in her direction. It was him. “Wha…what is the meaning of this?” A shudder passed over her rigid body.

 

They stared at each other in fascinated horror until, mumbling a hasty, “Oops, sorry about that” he lowered his gun, tucking it efficiently back into his waistband. By this time, Mika's initial terror was beginning to fade and was rapidly being replaced by the feeling of righteous, furious indignation.

 

Regaining the use of her paralyzed limbs, she stomped forward and halted just in front of him. Her right index finger jabbed into his chest as she began to berate him.

 

“What the hell do you think you're doing pointing a gun at me? Who the hell do you think you are? You lazy, ungrateful, spoiled, juvenile delinquent!” she was working herself into a genuine lather now, letting loose all the frustration she had felt with her boss earlier, frustration that had been buried under raw fear when she had seen the young man pointing a gun at her chest.

 

“You could have killed me!” Poke, poke, poke. “Why Mr. Nagira allowed that girl to stay here was beyond me but you,” she made the word you sound like something filthy and he cringed in humiliation. “You, her reprobate, good-for-nothing boyfriend take the cake! You have pushed his generosity to the limit this time young man. I'm going to report this to him immediately.” Poke, poke, poke.

 

If she pokes that damn finger into my chest one more time, so help me, I'm going to use this gun to blow it off her hand! Sakaki thought angrily. Adrenaline was still coursing through his body and he didn't feel capable of justifying his position to her right now. He was tired of the way she kept harping on his indebtedness to her boss, the way she constantly shoved it in his face that he was acting like a free loader, the way she tried to make him feel as though he were ten years old. He was tired of her insinuations about the relationship between him and Robin.

 

“For the thousandth time, lady, Robin is not my lover! She's my co-worker.” He enunciated the last word slowly and with deliberate emphasis as though she had a mental defect. His tone seemed to heighten her rage.

 

“Co-worker?” she practically screeched. “I can't imagine what kind of employer would hire either of you two lazy good-for-nothings, let alone give guns to children…” she trailed off, noticing the way that he was staring at her prodding index finger.

 

He froze, staring at the finger poking into his chest. Slowly, his gaze traveled upward to meet her eyes and he saw the flicker of anger being replaced by look of startled awareness. He was amused to see that her mouth had frozen into a small “o” shape. Then his eyes narrowed again in fury as the force of her words struck him.

 

“I.Am.Not.A.Child.” He ground out, emphasizing each word succinctly and furiously.

 

Before she could reply, he grabbed her roughly, pinning her arms to her sides and slammed his mouth down on hers. Her body stiffened instantly in shock and she gasped in surprise.

 

Her gasp allowed him the opening he needed to push his hot tongue into her mouth. Their teeth clicked against each other as he stroked the inside of her cheeks, the roof of her mouth with his tongue. His firm lips covered her own and she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything except feel.

 

His tongue was in her mouth and she sucked on it.

 

Then, just as suddenly as he had begun the kiss, he broke away panting slightly and eyeing her warily. She stared at him, her own breathing hitched and ragged as sanity returned.

 

“You bastard!” she spat out accusingly swiping the back of a hand against her trembling mouth. “How dare you?” Her pointer finger snaked out again and he backed up slowly to avoid her. The backs of his knees came in contact with the arm of the couch and he swayed, just barely managing to retain his balance.

 

“Look, don't get all worked up about this, OK?” he placated putting his hands, palms out, in front of him as if to stop the impending verbal barrage. “I don't think I deserve your tongue lashing.”

 

“Tongue lashing?” she screeched. She thought she felt something inside her brain go pop. She advanced on him angrily. “Tongue lashing? Oh, I'll give you a tongue lashing!”

 

Before he could react, she had pounced on him and the forward momentum sent them both tumbling onto the hard cushions. He landed with a muffled “Oof” and his arms went around her to prevent them both from rolling off the couch. She hovered above him, fisting her hands in his hair, her breath washing over him hotly. Then she lowered her mouth to his and kissed him.

 

Their tongues met, tangling and mating with hot urgency, anger and raw lust. The hands he had placed around her waist tightened and squeezed her hips. She clamped her thighs around his and ground down against him. One of his hands was stroking the back of her head, removing pins and letting her hair fall loosely around his face.

 

The tickle of her hair on his nose and cheeks brought Sakaki back to reality. So she thinks she can control me, huh? Like I'm some little hormonal teenager he thought. Abruptly he pulled away from the kiss and looked at her. Her eyes were half closed, her cheeks flushed and she was panting. Keeping his smile hidden, Sakaki grasped her hips tightly and tried to flip her over on the couch, putting himself in the dominant position. But the couch proved too narrow for his maneuver and they both ended up tumbling to the floor, Mika emitting a startled “Whoof” and Sakaki a frustrated “Aw, shit.”

 

For some reason, the fall only seemed to heighten her intensity and she reared up on her knees almost immediately, pulling him towards her aggressively. She seemed like a totally different person from the one he had seen moving so efficiently around the office, placating clients that the boss stood up, ordering her co-worker on one errand after another, nagging her boss and him about office decorum, cleaning up messes, blah… blah…blah. The woman who knelt in front of him now, clinging to his shirtfront and nipping at his neck with her teeth had to be an imposter. It was the only rational explanation.

 

Now, they were fumbling with buttons, tugging at t-shirts. Now they were facing each other. She admired his smoothly toned chest, tracing a faint scar on his side with her fingertip. He gazed at her pale skin, covered only by a plain silk bra, the tops of her breasts swelling up invitingly. He leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, biting gently down her collarbone, sliding the straps of her bra down with his fingers. She ran her fingers up his spine, smirking at the shiver she felt coursing through his torso, twisting them in the longish locks that fell across his nape.

 

When she felt his fingers fumbling at the fastenings on the back of her bra she laughed in his ear. “What's the matter boy? Not very experienced at getting a woman out of her clothing are you?” She expected a moment of triumph for herself and a moment of humiliation for him. She did not expect what he did next.

 

With a low growl, Sakaki gripped the two ends of her back strap and yanked so hard that the fabric and metal closures seemed to melt in his hands. Grinning with malicious glee, he slipped the bra off of her stunned shoulders and, placing a strong arm behind her, bent her backwards until her newly freed breasts were just below his lips.

 

He tweaked a nipple between his thumb and finger eliciting a startled gasp from her. Then, as he began to lazily roll the bud between his middle finger and the pad of his thumb, his mouth came down upon its partner with a sucking ferocity. She threw back her head in complete surrender to his ministrations and she felt her unbound hair caressing her bare back.

 

Who am I? She pondered, and gasped as he swirled his tongue over her nipple and then bit down gently. Who have I suddenly become, that my own hair touching my back is getting me so excited? She was arching unashamedly into his face now and her hands were beginning to flutter limply against his back. She wasn't in control of this encounter any longer and she was even more shocked to realize that she didn't want to be.

 

Her shell-shocked brain began to recognize that they were moving. He had somehow managed to get her to her feet and stagger forward without his lips and hand ever leaving her breasts. Then she felt the cold edge of a desk pressing against the backs of her thighs and he was pushing her down on top of it - her boss' desk!

 

For a moment, she struggled to rise but he held her down with one hand while his other unfastened her belt and unzipped her pants, pushing the garment towards the floor. Now she was reclining before him in her underpants and she realized that she was wearing an old, serviceable pair and she felt a moment of intense embarrassment. She dared a tiny glance at his face, trying to see if he had noticed her un-sexy apparel but she was relieved to see that he seemed too preoccupied with stroking her stomach and thighs to notice.

 

Oh, God! The feel of his calloused fingertips brushing against her through the cotton crotch of her panties was making her wet. Her heart was racing so hard, she thought she might pass out. And then he slowly, slowly began to peel the panties down around her thighs and she gave up trying to think at all.

 

She felt him slip her pumps off her feet, heard the clunk as the shoes hit the ground, felt him tugging the last of her clothing off her legs, and then she felt her legs being lifted slightly and placed over his shoulders. She opened her eyes again and saw that he was staring straight at her, his lust and general male satisfaction gleaming at her even though the office was dark. He kept his gaze fixed on her face as he lowered his head forward and touched his tongue to her very center.

 

She arched so hard and so fast that she almost flew off the desk. Her surprised reaction seemed to be the catalyst he needed to set him to sucking and swirling and lapping at her. She reached her arms up and over her head to grip the edge of the desk behind her as he inserted two fingers into her vagina and began to stroke.

 

She felt the tingles in her body gaining momentum as she writhed and pushed against his fingers. She was so ready, so anxious to reach her climax that she was almost panicked when he pulled away from her. She heard him unzipping his jeans and raised her head to watch. His back was to her, his taught, shapely buttocks appearing first and then his hard, lean thighs. My God! What an ass! she thought appreciatively and licked her lips. Then he turned around.

 

Dear Lord he was magnificent! His cock was long and lean like the rest of his body, jutting out from a thatch of dark hair. It seemed to jump and twitch a bit as he noticed her appreciative gaze and a small, tight grin appeared on his face. He stalked towards her waiting body and she felt as though she were a gazelle being hunted by some fierce, powerful foe.

 

His stiff member prodded against her burning entry point and she bit her lip, opening her thighs a bit more to accommodate him, but he didn't impale her as she expected. He rubbed up against her clitoris sliding up and down against her wet flesh and then he leaned further forward until his penis poked against her stomach, between her breasts.

 

“I want you to call me Sensei” he growled, using his penis to punctuate his words, mimicking the actions of her sure-fire pointer finger.

 

Her mind was spinning and his words hardly registered at first. Sensei? He wanted her to call him…what?

 

“You goddamn, son of a …a…” she was interrupted by the tug of his teeth against her nipple and the feel of him stroking himself against her stomach.

 

“You know you want it, so say it bitch…call me Sensei.”

 

She raised her indomitable pointer finger in the air and he was sure she was about to hit him in the chest and demand that they end this now. But the finger hovered and then descended toward the back part of the desk.

 

“C…co…condom,” she mewed pointing vaguely toward one of the desk drawers. “Upper left drawer…hurry.”

 

He let out a short bark of satisfaction and flipped her over onto her stomach, parting the cheeks of her buttocks and stroking himself between them. Leaning heavily on her, he reached forward and opened the drawer she had indicated. He didn't really want to know how she knew that Nagira kept his stash of prophylactics in that particular place. He was grateful that she had thought of it, his mind had been too wrapped up in conquest and sexual pleasure to have considered the ramifications of their actions. His fingers groped blindly in the drawer as he roughly pushed paperclips, memo pads and god knew what else out of the way. Finally, they closed upon a small, foil sealed square and he leaned up again.

 

Ripping the package open with his teeth, he extracted the small circle of rubber and began to roll it over himself. All the while she was arching her ass off of the desk and chanting “Hurry. Hurry… Please hurry”. Her cries were beginning to wear on his already frayed control but he gritted his teeth and stroked between her ass cheeks again.

 

“I told you…Sensei, bitch! Say it, say it!” And to emphasize his point he wormed his fingers under her body and twiddled her clit.

 

“Oh…God…I…hate…you…you… bastard…ah…Sensei…Sensei!” The last part of her speech was drowned in a scream as he lifted her hips off the desk and plunged into her, filling her fully.

 

They fucked hard and fast, their bodies slapping against the desk, his groans and her screams alternating. He gritted his teeth and kept pumping into her as she shot her backside hard against his abdomen.

 

She felt caught in a whirlpool of sensation that was pulling at her from the inside, dragging her into a zone of pleasure that she had never felt before. So close…so close… there! She let out another scream and collapsed against the desk, shuddering in the aftermath of her explosive climax. He pumped into her once, twice and then groaned loudly falling on top of her.

 

They lay that way for what seemed like hours, but what was in actuality only minutes, each one too caught up in the aftermath of the encounter to speak or even to move.

 

Sakaki felt her elbows digging into his chest as she pushed up and away from him. He moved backwards silently and turned to remove the spent condom and regain his clothing. He hesitated for a moment, looking at the used rubber in his hand and wondered what he should do with it. He finally decided to throw it in the wastebasket near the desk, figuring that the cleaning crew would be in to tidy the office later in the night before Nagira or anyone else would show up to discover it. His decision made, he breathed a small sigh of relief and turned to face her.

 

Mika was dressed and standing by the door looking down at her hands with a puzzled expression. Sakaki followed the angle of her eyes and saw that she was clutching her torn bra in her hand. He couldn't suppress a small grin of total male satisfaction at the sight of that ruined bra. Unfortunately, she saw the look on his face and with a slight “Hmmph!” she quickly shoved the traitorous object into her pocket and stalked loudly towards the outer part of the office. He hurried to catch up to her, scooping up his Orbo gun from the floor, tucking it back into his waistband and made it just as she was grabbing her purse and keys from her desk.

 

“Mika! I mean, Ms. Hanamura, please wait,” he pleaded and she stopped, spine rigid, not looking at him.

 

“I wonder if…you might, um…wish to take some more dictation tomorrow night?” he said, realizing how ridiculous he sounded as the words left his mouth.

For a moment, she didn't answer him and he thought that she was going to leave. Then she turned her head a fraction of an inch in his direction, the edges of her lips twitching upward and replied in her usual crisp, business-like tone, “Eight o'clock.”

 

And, back held even straighter than before, she exited the office, her pumps clicking smartly against the cement floors of the stairwell.

 

Sakaki waited until he heard the slam of the outside door to the building before he exhaled and slumped against the doorway. Three cheers for the Sakaki charm, old boy he thought with a small, triumphant grin. Then he turned off the outer office lights, shut the door and locked it, pocketing the key and taking the steps up to his borrowed loft two at a time.

 

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Nagira paused in the outer office to switch on the lights and toss his white coat over the hook on the wall. His night had been lousy. He had been tracking information on Zaizen but he hadn't managed to score more than two sore feet and an empty wallet. The bastard really knew how to cover his tracks. Tomorrow, he thought as he walked toward his office and hit the light switch, tomorrow he would head down to the Court archives to do some more research. Maybe he'd even ask Yurika if she wanted to go with him.

 

He grinned a little in pleasure at the thought of the sassy blond. Sinking down into his chair he tossed his cigarette pack on the desk and searched his pockets for a light. Nothing better to do tonight than look over the files Hanamura had left for him and enjoy some nicotine. Damn it! Where had his lighter gone?

 

He opened the top drawer of his desk to retrieve a book of matches and his hand stilled. Someone had been rummaging through his desk drawer. Of all the goddamn nerve! He sniffed disgustedly…then, a curious expression on his face, he sniffed again.

 

Sex! His office positively reeked of the scent of passion.

 

He looked around a bit confusedly. His eye was caught by the flash of an aluminum wrapper in his garbage can. What the hell? His eyes widened as they took in the sight of the condom wrapper and its contents lying half-buried among the scraps of discarded paper and food wrappers. He recognized that brand! His eyes returned to the scavenged desk drawer and his eyebrows shot toward the ceiling.

 

Only one person knew that he kept condoms in that drawer. The person who had bought said condoms for him after complaining about his alleged philandering. He could hear her voice nagging him to protect himself from all those ladies of dubious virtue that she assumed he was enjoying during office hours.

 

But who had she…? His thoughts trailed off as he noticed the discarded potato chip bag and computer game on the floor near the couch. Now that he was looking for details, he couldn't help but notice that one of the couch cushions was lying on the floor as if it had been knocked down violently.

 

Nagira began to chuckle as he imagined the scene between the hot-blooded young Hunter and his oh-so-prim-and-proper secretary. The chuckles gave way to loud guffaws and he held his sides in mirth. He could not wait for business hours tomorrow - for this, he was even going to be early!