Something sexy

"I ain't no whore!" was what Tracer'd meant to say, well, shout really. Instead she'd gotten as far as the in-drawn breath when Widowmaker's lips caught hers in a fierce lip lock. She immediately tries to free herself from the unwanted kiss, but Widowmaker is suddenly holding both of her cheeks firmly. For a few seconds she cannot break the connection. Finally though, after overcoming shock, a firmer shake of her head dislodges the full purple lips.

"Hey hey, knock it... knock it off!" she says, breathier than she'd meant to. It sounds panicked even to her ears. She can feel her arousal rising, seemingly without limit. She can feel her nipples stiffing against her flight-suit. Soon Widowmaker learns in and recaptures Tracer's lips in another kiss. The spunky Brit shakes free again, but it doesn't do any good. Widowmaker just grips Tracer's chin in hand and tilts the heroine's lips back into the kiss. Tracer finds herself resisting less and less with each kiss, to the point where Widowmaker's grip on her cheeks become a caress instead. The tide has become a great wave and crashes down on the Brit's self control. Now it is Widowmaker breaking the kisses whenever she chooses to. Tracer is too pleasure drunk to even want to break away now. The hapless captive gulps in breath when the French assassin breaks their kisses.

Without Tracer realizing it, Widowmaker's hands move downwards to the top of the heroine's flight jacket. Talented hands work the zipper on the flight jacket downward, passing it under each strap of her chronal accelerator. The first time Tracer is aware of the action is when Widowmaker tugs sharply to unzip the jacket entirely. She breaks the kiss and gasps involuntarily as both hands reach into her jacket to caress her breasts. Her flight suit isn't particularly thin, but being as it was skin tight there is little there to defend against the firm pressure of Widowmaker's hands. The purple woman's slow squeezes feel wonderful even through the material. Occasionally one of the Frenchwoman's palms will press just right to transfer the pressure through the material to the sensitive area of Tracer's nipples. Gasps and other small noises escape her lips at regular intervals.

Tracer's head is spinning. A numbing fog is spreading through her body, sapping her strength until she despairs of ever being able to escape the situation. Widowmaker leans into her captive for another kiss. When she breaks contact Tracer is panting from more than just a lack of oxygen.