Subtle Tears On Marble Walls

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"It's been a long time but," you muttered frankly, but excitement was building in your body. "I still lo-"

She silenced you with a quick peck on the cheek as she removed her checkered shirt, leaving her in just her underwear. "Ditto."

You smashed your lips against hers in a fit of passionate joy. She held the back of your head gently as she lowered you onto the silken blankets, her amazing tongue begging you to undress her by rubbing the back of your teeth. You obliged, removing her bra without breaking the perfect kiss you found yourself in. In return, she literally ripped of your shirt and threw it behind her, taking her lips off yours so she could carefully bite the flesh next to your neck, leaving a mark.

As if in a trance, Bel guided your hands up to her perky breasts, letting you run your unworthy hands across them. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head at the rush of pleasure before she pushed you back down onto the bed and shoved her wet limb down your throat: more aggressively this time. You didn't need to say anything, and you knew she didn't want you to.

You moved your hands to her rear and started massaging her cheeks, making her moan in your mouth. You were both getting more frantic now, almost feeding off each other. The golden fringe tickled your forehead as it moved hypnotically, putting you in a dream-like state. A dream-like state.

A dream.

You woke up in the tarpaulin tent with a cold bead of sweat running down your collarbone. The rain pattered against the ground quietly. It was unimaginably calm. And then it wasn't.

The awful sound of nearby cheap gunfire rattled your bones. Sighing, you picked up your M1A and trudged out onto the streets of Auckland. It had been a good few weeks since you set off to find her, and it had been a nail-biting experience to say the least: terrorist activity on the island had reached a record-breaking three attacks in a month. This was the fourth; a territorial war between a group of local gangs that had access to some pretty high-grade stuff and the White Masks. To make matters worse, you had lost connection with Hereford Base four days into the mission. Most teams would choose to pull out at this point, but you had made the executive decision to soldier on, besides, HQ hadn't been that much use anyway.

Civilian casualties in Auckland had mostly been avoided but deaths were as common as mud-filled puddles, bodies of indeterminate gender strewn throughout the empty streets.

"Stag! It's good to see you," said an out of breath Zofia as she crouched behind a makeshift bit of cover. "I do not think we can be here much longer without being detected."

"We'll stay until we find Artemis!" you shouted, maybe a little too aggressively as it caused the Polish woman to flinch slightly. "I'm not repeating what happened in Christchurch, we are sticking this one out until it ends!"

Zofia was clearly quite taken aback by your outburst. She opened her mouth to say something but instead pulled you down out of sight of an enemy, the dust from the anti-material round they had fired at you making you cough a considerable amount.

"Sorry," you apologised, a little guilty for your actions.

"It's okay but keep your voice down, we do not want anyone getting shot. Apart from the White Masks." She peeked her head over the toppled car that you were using as cover and fired two bursts at the sniper with her M762. His body fell limply from the balcony he was perched on a landed with a squelch on the concrete pavement.

"What's the plan?" you asked, slapping a clip into your rifle and turning the safety off. Zofia had a blank look on her face. "There has to be a plan, right?"

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