Some nights, Meryl laid on the bed of her small, claustrophobic cell, listening to the few sounds that emanated from the adjacent corridor. She usually squished her nose to keep out the smell coming from her toilet, that no matter how many times she flushed, it seemed to forever have the smell of shit and death. Those days (nights?) she stared at the ceiling, pretending not to hear the sounds of various prisoners, few that lasted more then several hours to a day, crying out in pain and agony as they were beaten and abused in their cells by guards and on rare occasions, members of FOXHOUND, before being taken away for interrogations or executions. Meryl, young and supple, spent her fair share of nights crying out in pain and disgust. The pain from trying to fight off the guards who wanted to 'check in' on her. The disgust from being held down by one or two guards as another did with her as he pleased.
Other nights, the corridor was eerily silent and absent of guards and the other cells seemingly of prisoners. Those nights Meryl either rested comfortably, unafraid, or she spent them in anticipation, her body shivering as goosebumps ran up her arms. Those nights of anticipation, Meryl waited to hear the tap of boots against the metallic floor of the corridor, the PAL key already safely hid somewhere in her cell. When she did, she scooted up on her bed to where the walls met in a corner, her legs pulled up to her chest. It wasn't fear, not one bit. It was a feeling of unworthiness. Meryl was convinced she did not deserve the attention of the lone wolf of the FOXHOUND unit.
When the door to Meryl's cell slid opened to reveal a gray military style outfit and pale skin of an exposed neckline and face, the redhead's heart would literally skip several beats. Sniper Wolf was beautiful, even when she only stood there in silence for several moments, gazing sorrowfully at the prisoner, before finally stepping in. Her PSG-1 was always at hand but not for protection, not when she came to pay Meryl these kinds of visits. The weapon was not armed, the ammo clip empty, and it was always wiped clean. Partially from Wolf's own care and love for her weapon, much as her care and love for the dogs on the island, and partially for what was to come.
A small fold up chair was usually in the blonde's other hand and she would set it up by the door to the cell, closing the cell door once she was done. Meryl, silent and unmoving the whole while, waited until Wolf was seated, the sniper rifle settled upright on the floor between the blonde's legs, barrel pointing toward the ceiling, before she would move. Sitting at the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor and her fingers gripping the end of the cheap excuse for a mattress, Meryl met eyes with Sniper Wolf. Yes, she had gone through extensive psychotherapy to keep from being attracted to the opposite sex, but the psychotherapy did nothing for attraction to the same sex, though it was very likely there was a special psychotherapy for that too.
Blue eyes, eyes that had witnessed more death than any person alive should ever know of, lured Meryl to her feet. Several steps toward Wolf before Meryl sank down to her knees at the blonde's feet. This wasn't Meryl, she was not this type of person - weak and needy - but something between idol worship and... Well the redhead didn't want to admit it was lust, but it definitely had the taste of it - made her kneel there before the sniper. A gloved hand, fingernails surprisingly well manicured, would reach out to touch the redhead's cheek. Pale fingers glided over soft skin, memorizing it with each stroke. Then the same fingers pulled away and slid down along the top half of the PSG-1 and Meryl knew what was expected of her. One pale hand gripped the rifle at the end of the exposed barrel and tilted it forward as Meryl licked her lips and slid her mouth slowly over the barrel.
Fear and arousal flooded throughout Meryl as her mouth worked up and down on the barrel. It tasted of oil and grease and battle and fire and death and everything and nothing. Her green eyes kept an eye out to make sure that the other woman's hand didn't slip down to the trigger, but that was more from her training than actual worry. Meryl knew Wolf did not want to harm her, much less kill her (besides, the there was no ammo in the clip... right?). Yet the fear and alertness remained, so while her eyes were trained on the single pale hand holding the gun (she wasn't allowed to touch the rifle with her own hands), Meryl risked a glance from time to time up at the patch of skin between the blonde's breasts and sometimes even up as far as those sad blue eyes that watched her with silent pleasure.
Once Wolf was satisfied, her nipples hard beneath her uniform and between her legs dripped desire, she would whisper, "Enough," her voice huskier than normal, making her accent more pronounced. Meryl, her body almost on fire by this point, would shiver at the sound of the blonde's voice as she stopped sucking on the end of the rifle barrel. There was no kissing between them, it was too intimate and Wolf was not comfortable being that close with anyone other than the dogs that howled into the night even at that moment, seeking the kind hand of the blonde woman that had saved them from death. Meryl simply stood, leaning forward as she did so to lightly lick the taunting exposed flesh from the zipper of the jacket to Wolf's neck, making Wolf shiver lightly, her body quite resilient to involuntarily muscle reactions.
Sitting back on the bed, Meryl undid her boots and set them to the side. Standing, she undid her pants and folded them up (all that basic training still embedded freshly within her young mind), setting them beside her boots on the floor. Moving up on the bed, she settled in place, head propped up on the pillow against the wall, tank top scrunched up high enough to expose her taunt stomach, and legs left open to show her arousal seeping through her gray issued boy shorts (for better movement they had said). Sniper Wolf took in the sight before her, wishing that this was all happening under different terms. That her life had been normal and she had found this young, strong woman somewhere less dangerous (and that she could even be allowed to love her). However, this was the midst of battle and war - her lifelong pastimes. Hobbies she could not rid herself of, no matter how much she wanted to try and forget them.
Standing, Wolf's rifle, an extra limb she seemed permanently attached to, remained gripped in her hands (the weight of all the deaths in her life always seemed to make it heavier than it should be). Standing at the end of Meryl's bed, she twirled the gun in her hands, releasing the ammo clip to show the redhead it was empty, quelling any uncertainties, and quickly replacing it before lowering the gun down so the tip of the barrel pressed against the growing damp spot. Biting her lip to keep from pressing against the metal, Meryl clawed at her stomach with her fingertips, leaving behind red claw marks. Harder, Wolf pressed the gun forward, watching it sink into the fabric, spreading the damp spot and making Meryl groan softly. Stroking the length of her rifle from stock to barrel, Wolf offered a small smile to the prisoner as she pressed her fingers into the dampness. Her thumb finding Meryl's clit and teasing it until the redhead's hips arched and her eyes squeezed shut for a brief second.
"Remove your undergarment," Wolf said, her voice making Meryl's body want to explode in pleasure, as she moved the rifle away.
Complying quickly, Meryl hooked her thumbs into her boy shorts' elastic band and quickly pushed them off, disposing of them off the side of the bed in her haste. Leaning forward again once Meryl was comfortable, Wolf spread open wet lips eager for her and slid the barrel of the now upside-down rifle into the redhead. Breath hitching, Meryl clung to the thin bedsheet that provided little comfort from the scratchy mattress beneath it. Wolf observed with a small smile, how far she pushed the barrel in to prevent hurting the young woman. Once it was settled a few inches in, Wolf pressed her crotch against the butt of the rifle, shifting until she felt it press against her clit through her pants. Keeping a careful hold on the grip of the rifle, Wolf rocked forward, impaling the redhead and making her cry out.
Meryl wished the hard steel was the strong fingers and the slippery tongue of the Kurd as the blonde rocked out, pulling the gun as she went, and rocked back into her. They both fantasied about different lives, different places, different thems - fantasies that helped hide away gray walls and itchy mattresses and death and the bruises that were in various stages of healing all over Meryl's body. The redhead trembles and pants as the rocking increases, always amazed that Wolf never pushes in too deeply no matter how quickly she's thrusting, Trembling hands reached up to rub at stiff nipples through the cotton of the tank top still on, as the redhead's body bucked against the PSG-1. Slipping a hand down to her own clit, the redhead moaned and whimpered as she flicked the sensitive flesh, pushing her body closer to the edge as she watches the blonde's face. Then, in a crescendo, body suddenly tight and rigid, Meryl screamed her release. Wolf kept thrusting into her until her body tingled as she let out a breathy sigh. One hand moving up to release a barely covered breast, pinching the pink nipple to help herself cross her own finish line.
"Come for me," Meryl whispered in a tired, breathy voice, her body still tingling from her orgasm and the rifle still being thrust into her.
The sound of the redhead's voice, so soft and vulnerable at the moment, made Wolf's hips buck against the rifle's butt, her head falling back as she came and cried out something incomprehensible in her native tongue. Knees weak, Wolf moved the rifle out of the way and knelt on the floor of the cell, reality crashing harshly back on her. One arm on the bed, fingertips only millimeters from her most prized possession, Wolf caught her breath, looking up only when Meryl groaned. Smiling softly, the blonde removed her weapon from the prisoner and slowly got to her feet.
"Until next time...," Wolf said, licking the barrel of her gun slowly before turning and leaving.
Closing her eyes, Meryl dozed off lightly until she heard the heavy footsteps of a guard, the one Wolf sent to escort Meryl to the shower room so she could clean up and change. Under the hot water of a shower, Meryl knew that she would always remember these nights for as long as she lived (however long that was these days).