Work Text:
This first out take was from Prisoner of Peace part two/Perils of Amelie Lacroix. I started my Prisoner series to be a MercyMaker story, but it sort of drifted away from that. For the MercyMaker fans, here was the chapter bit that was up for just an eye wink, before I decided it didn't work for me. I will lead into the out take with previous scene where Brigitte has her kiss with Widowmaker, and Angela's response. People are kissing Amelie/Widowmaker so Angela can set up some base data on what will trigger Widowmaker's kill switch.
Brigitte Lindholm
Brigitte wiped her hands on the legs of her coveralls and stood up, her stance one of quiet determination. If it were to be done, then best it be done quickly, and to the utmost of her ability. She walked over to the blue skinned woman who watched her with wary, golden eyes. Widowmaker would have seemed composed, stoic almost, with no readable expression on her face, but there was the most minute, betraying tremble of her lower lip, still soft and swollen from the kisses Hana and Lucio had, from Brigitte’s observation, enjoyed with the assassin. Despite her reputation of a worldly sophistication that rivaled her deadly skills, Amelie Lacroix had been curiously… shaken.
Something about those heated kisses had noticeably alarmed the former Talon agent. Brigitte didn’t know what, but she knew it was her duty to press onward, and discover what she could about the woman Reinhardt had warned her against, and yet was giving the benefit of the doubt to the extent that he was accepting, provisionally, into Overwatch’s ranks. His precious Overwatch, which because of his great love and respect for the organization, Brigitte had thrown herself into with her complete heart. It was her grave responsibility to protect them from the possible threat Widowmaker presented. To do so, Brigitte needed to understand the former Talon agent’s intentions. As well as her weaknesses, if need came that Brigitte would have to put Widowmaker down.
Brigitte knew her duty. Yet, her heart gave an odd stutter when she reached out to pull the more slender woman into her arms. The former ballerina had a delicate seeming body, and the more solidly built Brigitte was surprised to find she was taller than the other woman. A blush rose hot under her skin. She felt… oddly massive, next to the French woman. Not exactly hulking, but more like a lion with a gazelle. She felt the physical strength of herself with a heightened sensibility. Brigitte had the notion that if she pressed, the more tender woman would submit to her will, yield to whatever the younger, Swedish woman desired…
A small bleat escaped Widowmaker as without warning, Brigitte crushed the sniper against the smooth hard surface of the med bay wall. The younger woman kissed ruthlessly. The shield maiden kissed with a deep, steady strength that she put into everything she did, from wielding a blow torch in her workshop, to bashing in a weapon’s target, be it training dummy or Talon trooper. Instinctively Amelie squirmed, trying to escape by reflex, only to be denied as Brigitte’s strength easily subdued her. The former ballerina was strong. Far stronger than she looked even before Talon’s enhancements, Amelie was still no match for the younger woman, whose physical presence radiated pure, unadulterated health and power. The force of her kiss conquered.
Brigitte's tongue pressed into Widowmaker's mouth, sliding curiously against the agile strength of the other woman’s tongue. Amelie fought against the intimate invasion to no avail. Their duel came to an inevitable end with Brigitte claiming domination. Amelie pressed her hands to The younger woman's shoulders in an attempt to push back. Without even thinking, Brigitte captured the delicate blue wrists and pulled them high and tight to the wall, just above Widowmaker's head.
There were voices, sounds of vocal alarm… Brigitte was focused completely on the task at hand, she knew there were others in the room with them, but she didn't have attention to spare. All that mattered right now was the soft, slender body she was claiming, the wet submission of the mouth she was taking…
The short dress skirt with the interesting high side slits was riding up over Brigitte's denim clad knee as she pressed it between Widowmaker's soft, supple thighs. A growl rumbled deep in the younger woman's throat. Even through the thick, sturdy fabric of her work clothes, she felt the flood of wetness from Amelie's unprotected sex. No wonder Hana's hand had gleamed so provocatively. The wench was ripe for taking…
Pain! Then a bright flash of gold light that soothed the intense crack of force that left Brigitte's skull throbbing…
“whuuut…?” Brigitte's head felt like someone had used it for batting practice… “ooooooow!”
“I said enough!” Mercy's breath heaved in her chest as she tried to keep her voice within the scope of speech instead of a scream.
The doctor's cadaecus was glowing in her hands, held ready to smite again if needed.
“Angela?” Brigitte's disbelief was fathomless. Angela had struck her down?
to be continued
Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker
She could hear voices, angry melodies with harsh crashing notes, like painful back ground music. Amelie couldn’t tell who was saying what, and it hurt too much to focus on it, so she blocked it out and curled in on herself. She slid down the wall and sat there while the others argued. The place between her legs throbbed where Brigitte had pressed her knee, and she wanted to rub there, and find some sort of relief. Instead she wrapped her arms around her drawn up legs and rested her forehead against her knees. She ached… all over. How had this come to be? Normally she was cool and emotionally numb. She had long suspected that the food and drink that Talon provided her through the years was loaded with a little more than nutrients and protein. A little lace of mood dampeners and other chemical cocktails that kept the pet assassin docile when not deployed. She hadn’t really minded, sometimes she even welcomed the calming.
Now… she was anything but calm. Her mind felt fevered with taste of Hana’s mouth, the bite of Lucio’s teeth at the nape of her neck, the ruthless press of Brigitte’s knee against her wet, ready entrance. Widowmaker bit her lower lip and squirmed. Was she really that needy? Was she willing prey to anyone hungry enough, anyone ready to press her down and feast on her flesh? At Talon the lechery of the rank and file had disgusted her. It was only days ago that the thought of bodily contact, much less sex, had filled her with mild revulsion and at best, the simple resignation that a contemptible chore brought. Now she was craving things she had not craved since before Moira had… fixed her.
Golden eyes glared behind her tightly shut lids. Moira! What had that red haired, witch of a doctor done to her? What lattice of bindings had Talon’s mad scientist netted her in, and why were they loosening so dreadfully now? Mon dieu, j'ai besoin de baiser. Amelie kept from whining in need, barely. She knew it was a losing battle. The next person who touched her could have her. Anyone... Any way…
Angela Ziegler - Mercy
The good doctor wasn’t feeling so good. She should feel bad for smacking Brigitte so hard, from behind, with her caduceus of all things… but she didn’t. In fact, there was a smug little smile in her heart from that act. However, dealing with these… these… children! Was trying her last nerve. Kissing. How simple a concept. Yet they couldn’t keep it simple if their lives depended on it.
“I was just doing what you told me to do!” Brigitte’s voice still indignant, rose again, “I tested Lacroix’s tolerance! And let me tell you it’s pretty darn low! She seriously needs a good hard f…”
“Stop right there Lindholm!” Angela’s snap made the Swedish girl flinch back, “Really? Can’t any of you JUST kiss? It’s easy! Small children can do it! You big children should have more control than a school grader!”
“If it’s so easy, you show us how it’s done!” Hana added her two cents.
The younger, Korean meka pilot was pointing to Amelie, who was almost visibly shivering, high ponytail coming loose, and stray strands dampened by sweat were framing her now wide eyed face with kiss curls. Golden eyes were like saucers, staring up at Angela with… need?
“We’ve all had a taste! You can’t fault us for wanting more when she’s just so delicious! Show us you can do better, and maybe then you’d have call to come down on any of us for pushing the limits!”
There was challenge, pure and potent behind Hana’s words, and she flung them in Angela’s face like a gauntlet. The little tramp had the gall to sneer at the Swiss doctor’s sputter about ethics and drawl out, low and insulting,
“Coward.”
Angela Ziegler had taken enough. They wanted to be shown how a proper kiss was done?! Then by the gods she would show them!”
Angela went to her desk and sat on the front edge. If she were to do this, she’d do it her way. Her way would not be on the floor, like an animal. The Swiss doctor put her authority into her voice and ordered Amelie to approach with a simple, curt, “Come here!”
The French assassin froze for a moment, looking up, and meeting the incandescent blue of the Overwatch Chief Medical Officer’s eyes. The stern look brooked no refusal, and Amelie felt a shock flow through her like a chill wind. In a moment the former Talon agent went from statue still, to flowing forward like liquid, on hands and knees she went to Angela with the sinuous sway of a serpent. Golden eyes still wide, still staring, Amelie didn’t trust herself to speak as she halted at the doctor’s ankles.
Angela contemplated the woman kneeling before her. How strange. The doctor knew she should feel… uncomfortable. Perhaps revulsed? But… Having Amelie LaCroix, the Widowmaker, here at her feet. It felt right. It felt… good. She crooked her finger and placed the tip under Amelie’s chin, tilting the other woman’s head up. The French woman rose as Angela pressed upwards, and soon it was Amelie’s face that hovered above the blonde doctor’s satisfied smile. So responsive! Angela felt the flush of power that curled like a banked fire at the base of her spine, lick up and through her body like brush catching flame. She was cool calm outside, but inside she was immolation! Still with nothing more than a fingertip beneath the beautiful, azure skinned woman’s chin, Angela drew Amelie’s darker blue lips to her own parted pink ones.
Soft. Had she ever kissed lips so very soft before? Open, they parted for her like flower petals, giving Angela access without resistance. Hers.