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"The size of that thing; was that a giant?"
"Yes! And you - you - ! Saved my life back there, kiddo!"
"Yes! Did you see how I -"
"KABOOM! It stepped right in! That was BRILLIANT!"
Sigrun grasped Emil's head in both hands and stared down into his eyes, the crazed grin still splattered all over her face, along with bits of giant.
She'd said and done nearly the same thing before, but strangely enough this time Emil didn't even feel sick; he must have toughened up a lot since that first time, because the elation rushed through him in a wave that obliterated any fear and left his ears ringing. Or maybe that'd been the explosion.
It was obvious where this'd lead.
And no Mikkel to stop them this time.
Shit, Emil thought, but that was all before his reservations took off sky-high. Emil Västerström, giant-slayer! To fuck with protocol!
They bumped noses when Sigrun moved in for the kill. Kiss. Same thing. She kissed the same way she fought, reckless and with nothing held back. His knees went weak when she bit his lip and laughed at the way he couldn't swallow a moan, and another part of his anatomy went considerably firmer.
"Do that again," he managed when he drew back for air, licking his tongue over the sore spot on his lip, trying to focus his mind and finding it wouldn't budge from Sigrun. Sigrun in his mouth, the taste of gunpowder and earth and something slightly rotten didn't want to consider, Sigrun under his hands, Sigrun's breasts - she had breasts! - pressing into his shoulder through the padding of their jackets - oh.
And then Sigrun was grasping his hand, pulling him from the carnage they'd run to inspect and back toward the side of the hangar they'd taken shelter in before.
"I'm not into exhibitions, kid, wall will go easier - how long d'you think you'll last?"
"It's exhibitionism, and I -" he couldn't say! He hadn't ever been in a situation like this (what happened in Cleanser training stayed in Cleanser training, and besides, then it'd been him finding that bragging sometimes got people on their knees, not - this), though when he used his hands he - it was decent, he thought, but now he was straining against his briefs already, warm and sticky, so Emil mutely shook his head and his teeth clacked shut when Sigrun manhandled him so his back collided with the metal wall with a dull thump.
Sigrun froze momentarily, cocked her head to listen. Then the grin returned. "We'll work this out between us. 's safe for the moment, I reckon, enough for a quick fuck. We cleaned this place up good. C'mon, get those pants off, I wanna see."
"Ah, sh -" She was impatient, fumbled his pants open before he could, batted his hands away, whistled through her teeth. "Don't get flustered. That's a nice one, kid. Bet that got you some attention back home."
He murmured some nondescript answer when the true one would have been a 'no', but his knees gave out completely when she wrapped a fist around him, the chafed leather of the grip of her glove, the warmth of her skin through the material just barely underneath, fingers deft and nimble and oh so - oh. Troll hunting was not the only thing she was great at.
Sigrun's arm steadied him on the way down so he sat with the ground cold against his arse, and then there was Sigrun, Sigrun was unbuckling her belt and taking her own pants off, staring him down exactly like he was prey, and then - legs. She had legs, too. Nice legs. All muscle, pale, and paler scars striping from her knee up her thigh and vanishing up into the tuft of red hair just visible underneath the hitched-up uniform coat, and then she came down on him, legs folded on either side of him, and -
If Emil Västerström could have died then and there he'd have died the momentarily-happiest he'd ever been in his life up to that point, mind blank except for Sigrun, Sigrun nipping at his lips, her gasp as he went in like any guy's dream, the heat and weight of her, Sigrun taking charge and moving, working out a rhythm that he could ease himself into, her forehead pressed against his, tilting her head to whisper in his ear, "Relax, that's good, let me do the work, you've got this, I've got us," breathy and soft at odds with that grin of hers sharpening into focus and concentration and a high flush on her face that made Emil breathless. She was the one doing all the work, but she was working on him, it was him causing that.
Teeth at his throat through the material of his turtleneck, a wet patch cooling against his skin when she drew back. When she kissed him again she tasted faintly of soap - Mikkel always used too much of the stuff, they'd run out before the mission ended, and why Mikkel's washing was on his mind now when Emil was there and being fucked by Captain Sigrun Eide was anyone's guess.
It was incredible anyway, and he hated thinking how soon it'd be over, how they'd be going back to the tank and picking up their mission again, and this'd be a thing of the past. But not yet, not yet - with some effort he pulled his mind back to the present.
"Still with me, Emil?" He didn't know much about women or how they - well, did it, apart from the useless Cleanser crash course thing where they got a briefing from an awkward, tiny old teacher whose glasses would slip down her nose at every opportunity. That had been more about anatomy and the most common ways of female contraception, especially in the military - Sigrun had to have that, too, right? - and the genetics of immunity than anything useful, so he had to go playing it by ear but he was sure there'd have to be some sign that she was just about ready because he sure wouldn't last much longer -
"Emil, relax." Sigrun's voice. Her hands prised his loose from the tufts of yellow grass they'd fisted into; his fingers didn't unclench all the way and he ripped the stalks halfway off, gave a shaky laugh as he tried to let them go. She stopped moving for a moment, breathing open-mouthed and hot against his lips. "We can take it slow, let's draw this out. Hang on, I know something that'll help."
She positioned his hands on her hips as if to hold her steady when there was no way he'd let her go.
And oh, oh fuck, her Norwegian tricks. Her fingers were at the base of his cock, pressing down just so and the building pressure - well, it didn't ease so much as ground him - good - maybe this way he'd be going for a while. Sigrun looked like she knew exactly what she was doing - grinned that smug grin of hers, and sucked a finger of her glove into her mouth, swirled her tongue around it.
Hell, this woman would be the end of him.
"Better?"
Emil groaned, pressed his eyes closed, gave himself over to her again, and let it build, and slowly, slowly thought there was a change in her, getting tighter around him and even more perfect than before, and if he'd known about the crash course in Norwegian expletives as she came - no mistaking that, none, when it happened - he'd be damned if this wasn't it, really - maybe he'd be ready for a repeat lesson later sometime, he thought, and then she pulled him over the edge with her and the world went white and silent for a moment in a rush like the center of an explosion going off.
Her glove went over his mouth; he could smell her, taste some of that salt and slick. He wouldn't have thought he'd be loud, but he didn't mind the muffling, either. Not from Sigrun.
She was still on him when he'd ridden out the orgasm. Eyes blown wide, red hair sweat-damp and stuck to her forehead, and once again grinning. "You done?" Final and without drama, though there was more of her somehow - more that she let through, not only the fondness for the rookie she taught the ropes on their mission.
She got up, making way for a surge of cold. His mouth was parched and he didn't trust himself to talk yet, so he nodded and found himself pulled up to his feet, almost stumbling around the pants still down to his ankles.
"Buckle up, soldier, we need to get going." She was doing the same, snapping her gear into place with practiced movements; it looked like this wasn't the first time she'd done this, and his stomach twisted briefly at the thought with jealousy - not on this mission, though - he'd always been along when she went out into the field, and it was fair that things like this had happened in Dalsnes, he guessed.
"Hey - Sigrun?"
"Hmm?"
"Was it - okay? And - what are we telling the others? I mean - they'll know, won't they? We smell of - it."
She smiled, bright and large. The adrenaline had worn off, the bliss really hadn't, but she seemed to know better than to let it get to her. "Not just smell, it's a mess. For me, anyway. But worth it. You did great, Emil, you got some talent there. And we both needed that to cool off, yeah?"
"Yeah, we did." He fought down a surge of pride.
"See, it's fine. And frankly, no business of the others, this'll be between you and me. After decon they might not even figure it out. And Emil - if we take down another giant, let's have a repeat. One condition: you're playing giant bait next time."