Grab her

With tears streaming down her cheeks, the girl tries to pull out her weapon. It's lodged deep inside your flesh, it barely budge. She grabs it with both hands. She's rather pretty, and you can't help thinking how good it would be to sit on her face.

You grab onto her wrist, and she stops breathing. Her eyes flutter wildly as she tries to find a way out. You can both hear shuffling outside the room as the residents of the nest patrol the hallways. She knows she can't make a sound, that she had to dispatch you in silence if she wants to get out of this alive and un-fucked. Sadly for her, you really, really want to fuck.

With only one arm to work with, you make use of your legs, wrapping them around hers. Destabilized by your weight, she's pulled forward, until your butt hits the dusty old desk.

"Please, please, I don't want to die," she whispers. You don't know if she's talking to you or praying.

"Sssshhhhh," you whisper back. Her eyes open wide upon hearing your voice. You gaze back into those gorgeous brown mirrors, and then lift your eyebrows to try and look more sympathetic.

Your nose acts up on its own, huffing the delicious stench of her days-old (or maybe even weeks-old) musk. You move your head forward towards her, and then surprise her by dropping a tender kiss on her cheek.

She seems to calm down, but she's still trembling.

There are no signs of the buff blonde, who probably hid in a different room.