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Hisa had known the touch of many men, but even she had to admit that none seemed as reverent as that of the young LSF agent whose fingers crept over her and, with their touch, fired every nerve ending in her body. She shivered, goose flesh rising to mirror Tracer's everywhere he touched. She willingly allowed his hand on her back to manipulate her, tilting or shifting her neck and upper body to rest them comfortably against Tracer wherever he led her.

In her own willingness to put all of her assets to work on Tracer, she had not expected him to be so bold in his return of her gestures. His willingness to do so, especially in so public a place, further solidified her success. A mental note of her triumph was made, along with a conviction to see this through. This invitation had been the right choice. She would have this man, and he would be hers, and she would never, ever let him escape her grasp.

Entirely confident in Tracer's submission to desire for her, Hisa was emboldened. She took advantage of her position and both of her arms being out of Tracer's view to explore his jacket on the bar behind him. Using the pressure of her chest against his own to distract him further, the slender digits of one hand slipped inside his nearest jacket pocket. She felt photograph paper, but she couldn't risk looking at the image right now. It would have to remain further ammunition for her cause to be loaded, cocked and fired at another time.

She slipped it out of the jacket and, trailing the points of her nails down his back hard enough to be felt through his shirt, all the way down Tracer's spine, she eventually slipped it into a masked pocket in the back of her corset. "I will figure out that little mystery later," she thought, unwilling to separate herself further from Tracer's attentions. There was no use denying her own physical pleasure just because he was a mark.

Whether it was natural feminine instinct or simply a desire to play into Tracer's expectations, Hisa shifted her head from side to side to make her hair fall more evenly when he pulled it free. Loose, the delicate tips brushed the shoulders of her jacket. Tracer's fingers through it made Hisa's eyelids flutter, before they fell completely closed. The slight brush of the back of Tracer's fingers against the stomach panel of her corset when he stored the bamboo rod caused her to rock toward him, her knees visibly shaking as she moved both hands to Tracer's thighs. She squeezed them and let out an involuntary gasp of breath at the sheer intimacy of what was happening. "I certainly underestimated this side of him...," she mentally repeated to herself.

When Hisa's eyes were locked to Tracer's once more, she had to bring her tongue from between her teeth to moisten her lips. It made her lipstick shine in the barely-lit bar. She took in every word. Her familiarity with the space served her again as she caught the tug at his lips, too, and her own expression mirrored his, an adoringly sympathetic gaze. Those final words, though, lit Hisa's face into a brilliant, attractive smile. Her right hand let go of Tracer's thigh, moving instead to his cheek. She let her fingers linger there, the soft tips instead of her nails, as she refused to break his gaze.

Despite her physical state, Hisa's mind still was able to focus enough to remember her purpose. Acknowledging Tracer's worries about the past could bring him down, but ignoring them outright could offend him. She knew she had to be delicate - and distracting. "Tracer...," the Kusari woman whispered, in a breathless exhale that even she wasn't sure was intentional, "...you continue to surprise me. Let me return the favor." And with that, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, eliminating any space left between their bodies. Her arms found their way around his sides, her nails digging into his back once more, and she would not release any part of the man until he decided to withdraw.

The darkness of the bar no longer felt as intimidating as it had before. It wrapped around the pair like a blanket, hiding the tender display of weakness from one of the most feared men in the criminal underbelly of Liberty. Unioners, Rogues, Rheinlanders, Kusarians, Gallics, even the odd Bretonian had felt the wrath of hot plasma and explosive-tipped rockets from the LSF Battlecruiser under his command. Here, though, in the arms of this woman, Tracer was no longer an Agent of the Security Force. He was Fox Luxley, a man, a human, with all the desires and needs that accompanied such a position.

With those needs came inattentiveness, unfitting for someone of his station. Hisa's tender ministrations wholly occupied his mind, the theft of one of his most prized belongings going entirely unnoticed. Though, in this moment, whether or not it truly was as valuable as before was up for debate. The drag of nails down his spine caused him to draw a quick gasp of breath, head rocking back slightly. The motion was all Hisa needed to complete the theft, his photograph disappearing into some unseen pocket.

As the young Kusarian brought her fingers to his face, Fox couldn't help but lean into them just slightly. It had been years, if not longer, since he'd found himself in the arms of a woman. So busy with his duties, he'd neglected the most base instincts and desires of humanity: companionship. Now, though, in this bar, in this run-down neighborhood in some slum on Manhattan, companionship was all that occupied his mind. The world outside ceased to exist, the patrons, the barkeep, the music. None of it was visible, none of it could be heard. Tracer's heart throbbed in his throat, feeling fit to burst. It was an alien sensation, so foreign as to be jarring. The Blood Dragon invasion of Galileo, the continued assaults of Tutashkhia and his gang of ne'er-do-wells on New York, all paled in comparison to the intensity and trepidation he felt.

That intensity only grew stronger as the young man felt hot, wet lips press against his own, the barest hint of tongue slipping between them. His eyes shut once more, returning the gesture as the pair's tongues sparred and wrestled in the throes of passion. His hands moved with a mind of their own, one traveling upwards to cradle the back of Hisa's head. The other had a more nefarious purpose, sliding down the Kusarian's back. His palm rested gingerly on one of her perfectly-formed cheeks, giving a gentle squeeze. The leather pulled taut over her soft flesh, refusing to give way. It felt as if it was poured over her flesh, leaving nothing to his imagination as he pulled the woman in closer, her bust pressing against his chest.

Fox held the kiss for far, far, far longer than was appropriate, even for a seedy bar like this, staunchly refusing to let go until the pair ran short on air. Hisa's lips were strangely sweet, the flavor cascading over his tastebuds. For the first time in years, his mind was free of sour memories, of regrets. All that mattered was this moment, this woman in his arms. Tracer's fingers left her buttock, traveling a touch further down her legs, feeling the gentle crease in the leather where her cheeks met her upper leg. He traced the tiny valley over to a larger one, formed by a pair of thighs pressed together. His fingertips were dangerously close to places they shouldn't be resting, not in public, but the thought was quickly shoved from his mind as the Kusarian spread her legs just slightly.

It was all the space he needed, tracing his digits back around Hisa's butt, cupping it for a short second before continuing on. His palm slid deftly over the shiny surface of her pants, fingertips rhythmically tapping against her hips as they ventured forward. His hand settled atop the buckle of her belt, fingers barely pressed against the valley below. Finally, after what felt like hours, Tracer pulled away from Hisa's lips, feeling her hot breath splash against his face. This time, the blush adorning Tracer's cheeks was brutally obvious, remaining in place as he drew a few long, deep breaths. Fingers worked in tiny circles, teasing and massaging Hisa's womanhood. It was a sight that was sure to draw prying eyes, and Tracer couldn't care less, letting the Kusarian rest her forehead against his. The scent of jasmine, the sweet flavor of her lipstick, it was entirely too much to bear. He didn't care who saw, who was watching. All that mattered was her.

Even in a Kusari-themed establishment where laws were broken every day, there were still standards of behavior. Erik, the heavy bartender who had been patiently keeping an eye on Hisa from the far end of the bar the entire time her and Tracer had been interacting, began walking down its length as they got more touchy with one another. When he got three quarters of the way to them and saw Tracer's fingers on Hisa's backside, he cleared his throat. When their kiss broke, he called out Hisa's name. "Hisa," he said, his voice echoing enough to get the attention of half the patrons at the bar - though the undercurrent of his tone showed that even he might be affected by the scene.

Still, Hisa and Tracer didn't stop. The Kusari woman, despite her objectives, had completely given into the sensations coursing through her, brought on by the LSF agent she had clearly underestimated. Now they had an audience, though, thanks to Erik's voice. It was unfortunate that Erik had to pound his fist on the bar, raise his voice to maximum and call at her a second time, "Woman! Stop that in my bar!" he yelled out. That, finally, was enough to pull Hisa's attention back out from the fog of arousal that was slamming through her, and she had to shake her head, her eyes fluttering as she tried to clear her thoughts. "He is a mark...," she had to remind herself in her head.

"Yes, of course. Sorry, Erik," she whispered, her own soft, porcelain visage taking on a hint of crimson. She didn't take her hands from Tracer, even as he withdrew his. Her eyes darted around the room, but she kept it subtle. Half the establishment was staring at them now, and she knew that if Tracer felt embarrassed, it would not go well for her. She moved both hands to his shoulders, fingers tracing the collar of his shirt or along the side of his neck, as she kept eye contact to try to prevent him from looking around. "Perhaps we should go back to my ship? I have quite comfortable quarters there...," Hisa let sadness slip into her voice a little as she continued speaking, to tug at Tracer's emotions. "...unless, of course, you're in a hurry to return to duty?"

Tracer was seeing stars. The bartender's fist slamming against the bartop blew away the clouds of desire just as quickly as they had arrived, jarring him back to the real world. His eyes took a few moments to readjust, having kept them closed for so long. The darkness had done some measure of good, though, and the Agent found his pupils dilated to a degree that afforded him much better vision.

With that vision, his eyes shot daggers at the heavyset man, cocking his head slightly to the side as if to ask 'what the hell?' The realization soon dawned, though. Tracer was still in the bar, still in public, and now with a dozen sets of prying eyes glaring at the uniformed LSF officer, locked in the throes of passion with a gorgeous Kusarian.

Before thoughts of embarrassment could spread in his mind, however, the touch of Hisa's fingers brought his gaze back to her. The softness of her expression was comforting, a reminder that the young woman was there for him, hands resting on his shoulders. Tracer rolled them slightly, straightening his posture as a genuine smile tugged the corners of his mouth. "No hurry at all." He replied, ushering the young woman back slightly so there was room to stand. Fox's legs felt weak, and it took a moment for the young man to find his footing. A credit chit was produced from his uniform pocket and unceremoniously slapped to the bartop, no mind paid to the actual amount.

As the pair strolled to the heavy doors, the sound of rain became louder and louder. It was only once the top button of his greatcoat had been done up that Tracer realized the extent of the deluge. A torrential downpour, undoubtedly brought on by an approaching tropical storm. He tugged Hisa back gently, pulling the cap from his head. "Just a second." The door swung shut once more, the storm just outside now echoing through the foyer of the bar.

Tracer grinned as he placed his hat on Hisa's head, letting it rest at a jaunty angle, the golden emblem and black visor shining in the relatively-bright light of the entryway. His coat soon found it's way onto the Kusarian's slim frame as well, sleeves hanging empty by her sides. Another grin crossed his cheeks as he pushed the brim of Hisa's new headpiece upwards, revealing those gorgeous eyes once more. "Wouldn't want to ruin that hair of yours, Agent." The statement was almost forced, though there was a tinge of sincerity to it. Technically speaking, Hisa could be cited for impersonating an officer of the Security Force, if any cop on the beat could be bothered to deal with the paperwork. With a Senior Agent present, though, it was doubtful there were any members of the LPI willing to write out such a citation.

Hisa, on the other hand, was far too motivated by profit to not notice the credit chit's value - more than enough to buy out the entire bar, let alone the few drinks they'd actually had. She took mental note of the level of distraction she'd caused, confident that Tracer wasn't trying to be nice to the bartender who was essentially telling them to get out. The Kusarian woman wrapped her arm around Tracer's, letting him lead the way to the foyer and then the door. She giggled when he pulled her back, fully expecting him to kiss her again. When he actually gave her his coat and hat, though, she broke out into a genuine smile.

"Aren't you just the sweetest...," Hisa said, her vocal tone a combination of disbelief and appreciation. She'd seduced men before. It was one of her areas of expertise. In all those instances, however, she had never been subject to such chivalrous behavior - not once. Then again, she spent most of her time seducing Hogosha and Blood Dragons and Rogues, not the senior agents of the LSF. Tracer was different, and even the experienced smuggler extraordinaire was having trouble staying in her mental element.

When Tracer called her by his title, she giggled and her cheeks turned red again. She reached out, one hand's fingers slipping between the buttons of Tracer's shirt to graze against any undershirt or bare skin, whichever she might find, and the second hand's digits curling around his tie. She pulled Tracer close, exhibiting some of her martial strength as her own back slammed into the wall which made up one of the archways outside the bar's door. They were still both protected from the rain when her lips found his again, more intense now than before, her own aggressiveness seeping out as her tongue forced its way past the softness of his lips and into his mouth.

This kiss lasted even longer than the first one. When it broke, Hisa let out a growl both feminine and feral at the same time, using her grip on Tracer's shirt to spin him around, and pinning him against that same wall where she'd been a moment before. "If you keep this up, Agent...," she whispered, matching his playful tone from moments before, "...it may be quite some time before you return to duty." It was time for her to start showing her own authority, and that she could stand toe to toe with Tracer, not just be a delicate flower for him to molest. She had the feeling he'd appreciate that aspect of her personality - it was part of why he was interested in the first place, after all.

Giggling lightly, she let Tracer's clothes go, dropping one hand while the other gripped his, and she entwined their fingers. "Let's go. I want you alone," she whispered, a moment later letting out a girlish laugh and splashing water all over her boots and the tight leather of her pants as she dragged Tracer from the protection of the building and out into the storm, heading back toward the landing platform.

The touch of Hisa's fingers on his undershirt brought back fond memories of the event just moments before, enticing Tracer to let out a slow, calm breath. His eyes shut for a fraction of a second, until they cracked open in response to the tug on his tie. That gentle tug turned into a yank, surprising the operative with the strength exhibited by his partner.

It didn't take long before his hands snuck under Hisa's new coat, pulling the Kusarian close as they locked lips once more. His tongue sparred with the woman's, tasting the warm, sweet flavor of her saliva. That same unsteadiness returned to his legs, and the twisting motion Hisa forced upon him nearly brought the Agent to the floor. Luckily for both, the wall provided half the support Tracer needed to remain on his feet, hands on the her shapely rear providing the other.

The thought of spending more time than he'd anticipated with the platinum-haired goddess was certainly an appealing one, and he set a mental reminder for himself to contact the Willow Grove at some point. They'd need to know the captain would be gone for longer than expected, lest a search effort be mounted to locate the AWOL Agent. That could be taken care of another time, though. For now, Tracer still had more than a day to spend planetside. Long enough to get into enough trouble, surely.

Unlike when he'd first arrived, Tracer seemed to care little for the state of his boots and uniform now. Hisa's tug at his hand brought with it another grin, following the woman even as the torrential downpour spoiled the starched creases of his shirt and pants. Why worry, though, there were more uniforms back on his ship. The thought concerned him ever so slightly. Tracer had always been meticulous with his uniforms, having them pressed and washed every evening. His boots were kept in similar fashion, always polished to a deep shine. This woman was working some kind of magic on him, and the thought of spending even a few minutes totally alone with her fought back any concerns he might've harbored.

A few minutes later and the pair reached the relative safety of the landing pad, a few shaky, hole-filled tarps still allowing some of the rain to filter through. Tracer kept Hisa's hand tight in his own as the lovebirds huddled together under one of the drier portions. It wasn't a possessive grip, more one borne out of some imagined fear that if he let go, the woman would vanish into thin air. Just when it seemed another session of voracious kisses would break out, an automated shuttle arrived, the computerized "pilot" having detected a pair of humans waiting on the pad. One of the doors swung open as the boxy vessel settled onto a quartet of spindly legs, a ceiling light coming on to illuminate the interior. This time it was Tracer that tugged first, encouraging his partner to keep up.

A crack in the otherwise even concrete pad caught one of Fox's boots, sending him hurtling onto the floor of the cab. In the fall, he'd neglected to let go of Hisa's hand, bringing the young woman down right on top of him. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant situation, and despite a bit of pain in his foot and back, Tracer found himself grinning at the woman laying atop him. "Sorry..." Was all he could make out, Hisa's hair now hanging around his face, cap dislodged by the fall. "Does this count as alone?" The young man quipped, beaming up at the Kusarian.

Even with Tracer's hat and coat, by the time they got to the landing pad, Hisa was soaked through. In her teenage years on rain-drenched New Tokyo, she'd learned to adapt to being caught in unexpected storms, so it wasn't a big concern for her. She was more focused on the beat of her heart and the tingle that ran up the inside of her arm from where her and Tracer's fingers were intertwined. "Good lord woman, get a damn grip," she thought to herself. Discipline had been natural to Hisa for a very long time, and the several slips that had occurred in the young agent's presence had been filed away for later examination in her mind. She would not let him get the better of her.

She was also accustomed to running in heels, and had no trouble keeping up. When Tracer fell, though, her distracted mental state prevented her from stopping her fall - something she would have been able to manage if she had all her faculties. Advantages aside, her body melted down onto Tracer's lightly-muscled form as she lay atop him, staring down into his eyes, her tongue grazing over her lip again. Her chest heaved from exertion. Her hands had landed on the metal deck plates on either side of his chest. She pulled her head back, shifting it enough to move her hair and expose one side of her face as she held his gaze.

"Enough words," was the last thing that Hisa thought as the slight buzz of the automated transport's doors closing reached her ears. The Kusari woman spread her legs, anchoring her knees against the floor as she straddled Tracer's hips. She could feel the pressure of her body rubbing against his groin, and every shift of her weight increased the friction. She didn't care as she snaked her nails between the buttons of his uniform shirt again, gripping the fabric skillfully and then tearing it apart. There was a repetitive popping sound as the threads holding the buttons in place gave way, followed immediately by a light tinking sound as they hit the metal flooring.

Tracer's undershirt exposed, Hisa was determined to feel his body directly. Her nails and then the soft tips of her fingers slipped under his undershirt, grazing the ridges of his stomach muscles as she brought her chest against his and found his lips again. Aggression and lust poured from her, her small frame radiating an abnormal amount of heat. Beginning to rock her hips, the middle of her body moved back and forth in a taunting assault on Tracer's senses, alternating between pressing up against his hands on her butt and the growing bulge she felt in his soaked pants.

Tracer's nimble fingers crept around Hisa's hips, towards the buckle holding her sash around their shapely form. A bit of toying exploration and it soon fell to the floor, the rattling of her sidearm against the deck going almost unnoticed. His digits found their way upwards, slowly, gingerly uncoupling the clasps of Hisa's corset, exposing her toned stomach to the warm air of the shuttle.

The pair's kisses grew even more vicious and lusty, occasionally sucking one another's tongue or biting a lip, tugging it gently with bared teeth. The grinding pressure on his groin grew with every passing moment, eliciting a moan of pleasure from the young Agent. It was a noise he'd not often made, and he couldn't recall the last time it was forced from his lips by a woman. Still, though, there it was, melding with similar sounds from the woman grinding atop him.

Soon, Tracer found himself shirtless, writhing in pleasure beneath his partner. Her nails danced over his wet skin, teasing and probing. The assault was not one sided, and it was not long before Hisa found herself stripped of her corset, the now-useless article of clothing falling to the floor. One finger traced a line up Hisa's stomach, teasing and tickling, before beginning to draw little circles around the Kusarian's sensitive nipples. His other hand was hard at work kneading and massaging Hisa's shapely rear, fingernails digging into the taut leather still covering it.

"Mnfuh, god, woman..." Fox groaned out between kisses, trails of saliva tugging between their lips whenever the woman pulled away for a breath. Hisa's ruby-red lipstick smeared over Tracer's face as well as her own, showcasing just how voracious the pair had become. It took a few minutes for the Agent to notice the shuttle hadn't departed the pad yet, awaiting a destination. "Huff, driver... The, uhh..." Fox's mind was blank, the name of Hisa's ship completely lost to him. It hardly seemed important, either, as the pair groped at teased one another in the relative privacy of the shuttle.

Eventually, the platinum-haired Kusarian spoke up with a lusty tone, and the shuttle lifted from the pad. The G-forces as it accelerated up through the atmosphere only served to push Hisa down further onto Tracer's form, increasing the pressure on his manhood. Her now-bare, ample chest squished and squeezed against his own wiry frame, a cloud of lust descending over the two lovers. It wasn't a long ride to the waiting Carrier in orbit, but Tracer was determined to make the most of it, fingers slipping into the rear of Hisa's pants to claw and squeeze the firm, toned flesh beneath.

Raw energy and desire ripped away the remnants of Hisa's self control while Tracer did the same to her corset. She echoed the sounds of pleasure he made, the shifting of sensation causing her voice to deepen and take on a far less girlish tone as her arousal increased. Every visible inch of the young man's torso became a delicacy which required sampling. Teeth, tongue and lips combined in their assault on the skin, her intent to return to him the same nerves-on-fire sensation that made her entire body tremble.

Hisa's hands worked in coordination with her skillful lips, and even in her lost state, her need to maintain some sense of authority thrived. As her mouth found new places to explore, the tips of her nails dragged themselves along Tracer's muscled arms. Behind each little point she left small indentations and a red coloration, until her hands found his wrists. She brought them together over Tracer's head, pinning him down with all her strength.

And then...she moved. Hisa pulled her upper body away from him, creating an empty space between them and leaving only their hips connected. Her gaze was half-lidded, and her middle began to move in a slow, steady and circular motion. Despite layers of fabric, the friction was intense against the most sensitive parts of her, and she could feel Tracer's reaction as well. She gave him a lazy half-grin as she licked her lips and left no doubt just how in charge she could be.

The eventual thud, click and hiss of the automated shuttle docking with the mooring fixture near her ship didn't stop her, either. She just kept going, lost in sensation. She didn't notice the door of the shuttle slide open, nor the presence of her Executive Officer, a Kusari man named Akira, standing there waiting for her. She just kept riding Tracer and holding him down, her eyes intent on his, waiting to see if he would fight her control or surrender to it.

Tracer's hips bucked gently as Hisa pinned his wrists to the deck of the shuttle, his well-defined chest rising and falling rapidly. The sensation of being held down was most assuredly foreign to the Agent, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. When he was on the bridge of his Interdictor, the LSF operative was in complete control of the situation. Regardless of how that situation may change or degrade, Fox was always in command and in a position to capitalize on some perceived weakness.

Here, now, though, Tracer was barely in control of his own body, and even that self-governance was being stripped away. For once in his career, someone else seemed to be in command. The strangest part of it all was that he liked it. It was, in a roundabout way, the most free and relaxed he'd ever felt. His partner was calling the shots, deciding what was right and wrong, where the pair should be and how they should act.

The lack of control only further encouraged the young man. "Tired of me feeling you up already?" He joked, grinning up at his captor. The opening of the hatch went unnoticed by the operative, the half-nude form above him occupying most of his field of vision. Wafting out from it came the smell of sex and sweat, thick and heavy. Inside the shuttle had become cloyingly hot, and sweat dripped from Hisa's slim frame onto the deck and Tracer's body, carrying with it the scent of her perfume. The bulge in his uniform pants was large enough to be almost uncomfortable, the size of it only accentuated by his otherwise lithe physique. It ground against Hisa's womanhood incessantly, and it wasn't long before Tracer's head was rolling back against the deck plating, biting his lip as he tried to remain somewhat coherent.

It was a losing battle, however, and soon Tracer found himself rapidly approaching his precipice, groaning in ecstasy as wave after wave of sensation crashed against his psyche. "H-Hisa, please, hnf..." Fox groaned out through rasping, heavy breaths as his torso rolled from side to side, constrained by the Kusarian's weight on his arms. Whether Hisa was stronger or heavier than she appeared, or if Tracer was subconsciously forcing himself to submit, the result was the same. "If you don't st-uh... Stop..." Try as he might, the Agent couldn't bring himself to offer even the slightest resistance to the woman driving him mad with pleasure. The throbbing warmth grinding against Hisa's pants grew more intense with every passing second, even as Tracer twisted and contorted, trying to delay his inevitable finale as long as possible.

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