He was five minutes late to the shooting range because he stopped by Max’s house to drop off the camera and other equipment, not wanting to walk into a shooting range with them. When he arrived, Max and Robin were already there, chatting. “I’m not late, am I?” he asked.
“No,” Max said. “I was just explaining to Robin here that she shouldn’t expect her friend to respond for a few hours,” she said smugly. “Because Caroline was two hours late for work.”
Robin looked at him questioningly, but he just gave a knowing smile. “Modeling can be exhausting,” he said. “And, as for the rest, I’m not in the habit of blabbing. If you’re curious, ask Lily.”
“Fine,” Robin said, playing it cool despite her curiosity.
Meanwhile, Max poked his side. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you’re rich?” she said. “Rich enough to book expensive hotel rooms for photo shoots, even. What are you doing, slumming in Williamsburg?”
He sighed. “Max, I literally told you that I was working on a lucrative project, and once the payment comes, it’ll be very generous.”
Max paused, remembering it. “Oh, you told that,” she said. “My bad. We have a lot of artist types in our diner, and whenever they talk about their work, they mention amazing future income. Also, men often lie about their income when facing me.”
He smirked as he leaned to whisper her, just loud enough for Robin to barely hear. “But I wasn’t facing you. I distinctly remember that I was behind you.”
Max giggled in amusement. Then, she paused, her expression falling comically. “Does that mean you can actually use a gun instead of bragging?”
“Yeah,” he said, using a teasing tone. “Otherwise, why do you think I would use it as a challenge? I don’t like losing.”
Robin interjected. “Just because you’re competent doesn’t mean you can win,” she said. “Not against Max, and certainly not against me. Let’s start with something simple. Twenty-five yards, ten bullets, standard-issue glock from the range.”
“Works for me,” Max said. “So, what’s the bet?”
“Well, you owe me an unspecified favor each. Either we can put another favor on the line, and winning clears the slate. Or, we can put two favors, and if you win, you can call a favor instead, and if I win, I can call three favors.”
“I go for the second option,” Max said, then smirked. “Always bet big, and I have a feeling that I will enjoy losing as much as winning.”
Robin looked at him. “Works for me as well. As long as the favors will not be sexual—“
‘They won’t?” Max interjected.
“Unless there’s mutual agreement, of course,” he corrected.
“Better,” Max smiled.
Robin looked hesitant, but nodded. “An unspecified non-sexual favor works for me. It’s not like you’re going to win,” she said. “You might be good, but I have been trained since my childhood.”
“I will go first,” Max said excitedly. For all her playful attitude, she didn’t point the gun at them, kept her finger away from the trigger, and checked the chamber with surprising smoothness.
It was one of the reasons he warmed up to Max even more than her onscreen persona. She was surprisingly competent in too many things.
"Where did you learn to handle a weapon?" Robin asked, watching Max's chamber check with professional interest.
"A few friends on the street. The place I lived before, it was a handy skill,” Max said, her tone suggesting she had no intention of delving deeper. Robin, someone just a private, let that slide.
However, while her checking was perfect, her stance was less so. Functional, but not perfect for pinpoint accuracy.
Still, all of them were on target, four of them at the center, and the worst score was a six out of ten. It was an excellent performance for an amateur, especially one lacking the basic stance.
“Not bad, right?” Max said.
“It is good,” Robin admitted.
“You have potential,” he admitted.
Max started cursing. “Damn it. I know that. It’s how my buddies talked to me when I proudly told them I got a C minus back in high school.”
He shrugged. “Robin, would you like to do the honors, or should I go first?”
“Only if you want to lose all hope,” she said.
“Stab a dagger through my hopes, then,” he teased, enjoying her flash of annoyance, especially since she couldn’t respond to that without explaining why she was that annoyed at the mention of a dagger.
Robin took a perfect stance, and delivered a rapid show. Ten shoots. All right to the center. Impressive.
"Lady, that was amazing," Max gasped happily. “Ten out of ten, all center. And, you’re born in Canada!"
"Canadians are excellent marksmen. We have more wilderness. Shooting is how we negotiate with bears."
“My turn,” he said as he took the gun, took a one-handed stance, and Robin scoffed … which only lasted until he finished the delivery. “Ten out of ten,” he said smugly.
Max was already looking excited.
Robin looked just as impressed. “That was actually good. Tight grouping, especially for such a rapid delivery. Do you do competitions?”
He shook his head. “Not really. I don’t like being on camera.” As he played it cool, he could see Robin’s attitude getting even warmer. He wasn’t surprised. Robin had some very specific expectations of men, and Ted was the only exception to those rules due to spending a year proving himself.
All that remained was to see just how determined she was about loyalty.
“So, what do we do?” Max asked. “Repeat until one of you fails, or extend the range.”
“We do fifty yards,” Robin said, excited. “A proper competition.”
The second set was close. Robin hit eight at the center, and two at the nine-ring. He thought about deliberately aiming for a tie, but he had a feeling that Robin would hate it. She was too competitive to take that as a favor.
Instead, he took it lightly in a different way. He actually took a proper stance before firing, even though he could have succeeded in a more relaxed pose. All ten shots were at the center once again, his increased Perception made things even easier.
"Well, that concludes it. Our pretty boy here can shoot as well," Max said with the particular gesture of someone conceding defeat without using the word.
"Pretty boy shoots very well," Robin corrected, and the correction contained both competitive frustration and genuine admiration. A combination that good competitors felt when they were beaten by someone who was simply, undeniably, better. “Usually, I would insist on a rematch, but this time, I’ll just accept my defeat. It was that good.”
“He’s annoyingly good at too many things,” Max muttered.
Robin paused. “I know he’s an amazing photographer, but what else can he do?”
“Well, he’s also a surprisingly good baker. And, since he lugs around a cello even for a quick trip, I’m assuming he’s at least a decent musician.”
“I dabble,” he said, not bothering to hide his smirk. Cheating or not, it was fun to be admired.
"Show-off, that’s exactly what you said about shooting and photography,” Max said. “As a punishment, dinner is on you," Max said, then turned to Robin. "Where do you want to eat?"
"Anywhere quick. I still have about an hour until I need to be in the studio."
They cleaned up, gave back the guns, and left the place. Unfortunately, Robin’s phone buzzed as they walked to the parking lot. She checked it, her face telling the story. "I have to go," she said, her tone resigned.
“Breaking news?” Max asked.
“Worse. My producer has an idea about tomorrow’s segment, and wants to discuss the color scheme. But…"
“He’s the boss, and you can’t call him an idiot without getting fired,” Max said.
Robin chuckled. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.” Then, she paused. “Hey, would you like to do this again? I don’t have any friends here who are interested in guns. It’s a fun change.”
“I can’t promise a timeline, mostly because I don’t know where I’ll be,” he admitted. “But, I’ll be traveling between LA and here frequently, so we can definitely arrange.”
“I’m game. It’s a fun change, but you’ll have to teach me,” Max said. “Also, not too frequently, because it’s expensive.”
Robin smiled, which was a softer, more interesting smile.
Ethan realized that it was not for nothing. Robin’s life had revolved around a single friend group for a while, and it wasn’t the healthiest social life. Having other friends would be good for her.
Robin departed, leaving them alone.
“You were good,” he whispered as he hugged Max from behind.
“I was, but apparently I’m fighting against army snipers. Who the hell shoots perfectly from fifty yards in a friendly competition? She lost because of two nines. Compared to that, I was terrible.”
"You're a better shot than the competition shows. If there’s a fight, I would prefer you laying covering fire," Ethan said.
Max's expression flickered. "What makes you say that?"
"Your attitude. You actually had to use it to defend yourself, right?"
Max sighed. “You’re too observant for a pretty boy. I told you I grew up in a rough neighborhood.”
“Want to tell?”
“Of course not. Do you think telling that I grew up learning to shoot because the neighborhood I lived in had more gunshots than streetlights, and my mother kept two guns in the kitchen just in case, and the first time I held it, I was eleven."
"Eleven."
"Eleven. And the reason I held it was—“ she continued, then paused. “Alright. The sad sack hour with Max has come to an end,” she declared.
"Max—"
"Don't. I lived. I survived. I’m bitter but amazing for it, like bitter chocolate."
“Fine,” he said as he tightened his hug. “How about I distract you with some very naughty and ill-advised public sex?” he said.
Max chuckled, which was a touch forced, but he let that slide. “Now, you’re talking the language of white-trash, right up my alley,” she said. She twisted slightly, pulled him down, and kissed him.
He let her, as it was clear she was trying to establish control. Interestingly, he enjoyed it even more. It was nothing like the truth-or-dare kiss, or even the kitchen kiss. Those had been fun and playful.
This was different. Max kissed him with the aggressive intensity, trying to make a point. His back hit the wall. She pressed against him, her hands gripping his collar, his shirt, the back of his neck.
He responded in kind. He never liked surrendering, and Max was happy for the battle. They broke apart for air, and Max's eyes were wide and dark and absolutely certain.
"Corner," she said, nodding toward the building's side, where the wall met some kind of dumping area for a construction project, which meant no smell. Good.
“We can go to a nearby hotel,” he suggested.
"I don't need romance. I need immediate privacy. Well, almost private," she added as she pulled him by the shirt, walking backward toward the shadow with the particular navigation of someone whose spatial awareness included dark corners and escape routes.
His mouth found her neck, and she moaned beautifully.
"Try to hold it in, or we’ll end up in lockup," he said against her skin.
"Don’t tell me what to do, you suspiciously perfect bastard that somehow ended up as a part of my life."
"I won't," he teased, then he kissed the spot where her neck met her jaw, and her body arched against him.
His hands moved under her jacket, finding the warm skin beneath her shirt, and she gasped against his mouth, desperate and suppressed.
Then, he noticed they had an observer, someone who had heard the sound, and approached.
Max froze.
“That’s Robin,” he whispered, recognizing her gait and her heels, once again Perception and Tactical Awareness giving him what he needed.
“Anyone else?” Max whispered.
“No,” he said.
That made her relax. She didn’t want to show off to random onlookers, but she was clearly willing to make an exception to a sexy reporter. “Then, let’s give her a show,” Max said as she pulled her shirt up and bra down, revealing her spectacular breasts. He pulled out his cock as well.
“Impress her, then,” he whispered as he pushed her to her knees, and Max took him into her throat greedily, her gags and gasps just loud enough to draw a curious reporter. The footsteps got closer … then they froze.
Officially, they had a voyeur.
Max worked, and Robin watched.
Ethan wished that he could turn back and see her expression, maybe that way he could understand her drive. Was she curious, horny … or was she looking for an excitement her fairy tale romance was unable to give her?
Ted was a nice guy, but Ethan doubted that he was able to match Robin’s energy in bed, especially since her kinkiness had been an ongoing joke on the show.
Regardless, since Max was okay, so was he. "Damn, you're so hot," he whispered, making her shiver involuntarily despite her occupied mouth. But, as much as he loved the way her throat tightened around, he decided Robin deserved a better show. He pulled Max up. She leaned on the wall, her hands pressing for balance while she spread her thighs, and he pulled her pants down.
“Yes,” she whispered as his hands trailed her naked thigh, while his shaft, already wet with her spit, slid into her core
Max moaned, while he could hear Robin flinching at the sound, afraid she was caught. Yet, she stayed in place, watching as he impaled Max again and again, who just moaned.
He pushed deeper. Max closed her thighs, but that only made the pressure more intense, which was clearly her aim, considering her beautiful moans.
“I can feel you getting wet,” he whispered as he spanked her, and Max moaned happily, her tits dangling with each push. Robin was truly getting a nice show, he decided, even as he leaned forward to bite Max’s shoulder playfully.
Max moaned happily, but it wasn’t the aim. The real objective was to get a glimpse of their naughty voyeur … and it was good. Robin was watching them with rapt attention, and even better, her legs were pressed together, shuffling very deliberately, and her hand was right above her core.
Robin was just as naughty as some of the subtler jokes indicated.
Fun.
He decided to escalate. His hold tightened around Max’s hips and he pulled her closer, the sound of their hips colliding getting louder and louder.
She took him fully; her moans spectacular. “Yes, it’s too big. Take me,” she moaned, and he continued his deep thrusts that risked getting caught. Her breathing quickened, taking him deeper and deeper.
It was quick and spectacular … which got even more spectacular when he heard Robin climax.
[Achievement complete. Give Robin an indirect climax.
Challenge: Hard]
[+10 Attractiveness
1 Random Gold Skill
1 Random Gold Reward]
[Bonus achievement complete. Netori effect in play]
[+10 Intelligence
1 Random Gold Skill
1 Random Gold Reward]
He went with the stats even as he pulled out, turned, and acted like he had just seen Robin. Her expression, visible in the parking lot's ambient light, froze beautifully, her curiousity mixed with shame.
He let his fake surprise melt into genuine amusement and waved. Her uncharacteristic blush was amazing, though the even more amazing part was that she stayed in place. He didn’t blame her. She had just watched him radiating the right amounts of mystery, sexiness, and competence, and she had just watched him deploying the same in a new context.
And underneath, something that looked very much like want, but stopped by her loyalty.
That deserved some credit.
The look lasted five seconds. Then Robin's expression settled into something that was less complex and more decided. Shame and guilt. She took one step backward, out of the sightline. Her footsteps resumed, sharper now, hurried.
A car engine started, followed by a quick disappearance.
Max exhaled against his neck. “Well, that was fun,” she whispered. “How about a second round?”
[Achievement complete. Convince Max to push boundaries in a way she had never done before.
Challenge: Hard]
[+10 Charisma
1 Random Gold Skill
1 Random Gold Reward]
Interesting, he thought. Considering her enthusiasm, he had expected it to be something she had pulled before, but it clearly was not; meaning she was warming up to him far faster than he expected.
Cute.
“Tempting,” he said, but before they could make that decision, a flashlight hit them from a distance. Max immediately shifted behind and fixed her clothing. He did the same as he watched the approaching figure from a distance.
For one, it was a real tactical flashlight. It cut through the darkness, shouting law enforcement.
"Don't move. Police."
The voice was low, flat, and declared an expectation that her instructions were not suggestions but rather threats offering pain as relief.
Max froze beside him, her hand still on his arm, her leather jacket still slightly askew from their recent activities behind the dumpster enclosure. Her expression shifted from post-kiss warmth to the stillness of someone whose childhood had trained her never to trust the law.
He had a different perspective.
“Look, there’s a path there. Go, I’ll delay her,” he whispered.
“I won’t—“
“Look, I can afford bail, while you will lose your job and apartment. I won’t let it. Go.”
Max looked surprised at his ‘sacrifice’. “You just earned yourself an incredible weekend,” she whispered and retreated, hurriedly putting on her clothes.
The flashlight wielder stepped into view.
She was tall for a woman, and imposing. Her body reminded him halfway between Carina and Mia, perfect control, yet with a hint of threat. She was dangerous, angry, and merciless.
Rosa Diaz.
The detective who treated social interactions as hostage negotiations and emotional expressions as security vulnerabilities. A woman with a very proven taste for bad boys and inappropriate men.
Dark eyes that reflected the tactical light without blinking.
She wore a leather jacket instead of a blazer, the motorcycle boots instead of professional footwear, but he wasn’t sure whether she was working or off duty. It was difficult to tell with her.
"You’re under arrest for public indecency," Rosa declared.
Ethan smiled.
This was going to be fun.