Victor sighed softly as Katherine's lips descended around him, the flat sensation of her lipstick soon fading in favor of the wet drag of her tongue across his glans and down, engulfing his cock is slippery heat. Carefully, the man reached down and draped his hand into her hair, and as she began to move slowly up and down, he tethered himself to the sensation of her red curls threading through his fingers, and the pleasant buzz of pleasure radiating through his groin and up his spine. Carefully, so as to not disturb her, he began unbuttoning his shirt, but Katherine's hand came up and halted him, her green eyes sparkling playfully in the half-light of the living room as she withdrew from him.

"Don't... I like it like this."

A pearly of spit clung to her lower lip, and with a shrug, Victor leaned back and allowed her to take charge, her hands roaming gently over his clothed stomach and thighs as she pleasured him with her mouth. And glancing down, Victor couldn't help but agree with her; something at the gorgeous redhead on her knees before a suit-clad man really spoke to his libido, and as she peeked up at him in between slow, careful strokes of her lips around his cock, he thought that he might come undone right then and there. He didn't, but instead groaned and threw his head back, closing his eyes to savor the full sensation of being orally serviced by the Irish beauty.

"Mmh," she purred, and Victor felt her tongue drag up along the underside of his shaft, her warm breath tickling the spit-slick member as she kissed his tip and lashed her tongue against it. "I missed you, Darling. Why don't you tell me about your day while I help you relax a little down here..?"

Victor nodded, breathlessly, and released her hair to give her back her full reign of movement. His cock throbbed as it disappeared back into her mouth, and not for the first time in the past six months, he thanked his lucky star that he had met her when he had. Not many men in his line of work had the luxury of a woman as faithful and, frankly, straightforward as her. Her evident delight in using her mouth on him only solidified that notion. Victor shivered slightly under her tender ministrations and licked his dry lips to speak.

"Mh.. alright. Although you make it hard to concentrate, I have to admit..."

Katherine giggled, her lips leaving his manhood momentarily. "Sorry, love."

Victor smiled. "Never apologize for doing that. Or.. mmh..! Or that. But.. today was fairly dull, really. Paperwork, mostly, proofreading old articles for the anthology project. I had lunch with Jenkins and the boys, they're still-- ah! Aahh, yess, good girl. Mh. Yes, they're still very eager to meet you. I said I might invite you next time there is a function at the Editor's, but..."

Katherine giggles and repeated the circular motion of her tongue that had made him squirm seconds before. She was rewarded with a pearly bead of pre-cum, which she lapped up like a hungry kitten before returning to the long, slow strokes of her mouth along his thrumming shaft. Victor's fingers clenched gently against the arm rests of the chair, and he gave a soft grunt of pleasure.

"Oh.." The athletic man shifted slightly in his seat and reached down to brush his fingertips against her shoulder. "The Editor also asked me to do a bit of digging on someone. An investigative article or some such..."

He felt Katherine's suction increase slightly, and grinned; for some reason, she always enjoyed hearing about his job as an investigative journalist, especially when it had to do with people of interest. More than once during their budding relationship, he had found her enraptured by seemingly insignificant stories about East End slumlords, the scandals of the dock-worker strikes or the various sordid escapades of certain minor-league politicians. It was as if this politically-tinged gossip caught her imagination in a way that little else did, and somewhere along the line, she had begun to initiate various acts of sexual gratification during these low-key lectures, often leading to full-blown sex when he was done. It had become part of the dynamic between them, and if Victor had ever worried that there was something wrong with it, he had never addressed it for fear of losing out on the busty redhead's magnificent skills in bed. Of course, Victor also had yet to tell her that the journalism job was merely a front for his real work as a British Intelligence counter-spy, but that seemed par for the course; you couldn't exactly be a spy if you went around telling the world what you did for a living, could you?

"Mmyeah," he continued, allowing himself to buck gently against the vacuum seal of her lips. Pleasure shot through him like liquid heat. "The man seems to think that a certain woman might be pulling some major strings in the criminal underground. Wants me to do digging for her..."

"Oh?" Sensually, Katherine slipped her lips from around Victor's crown, grabbed a firm hold of the slick shaft, and began to slowly stroke him. "What's her name, then, this mystery woman?"

But the heat in Victor's groin was too great, now, and with a gentle but firm hand he grabbed Katherine's head and pulled her mouth back down around him, twining his fingers in her hair as he began to fuck into her throat with quick, shallow thrusts. The wet sounds of her gagging gasps spurred him on, and despite the flecks of drool raining down over his suit pants, Victor continued to thrust deeper and harder against Katherine's uvula until he was sloppily using her mouth as his personal fuck-toy. Grunting and groaning with pleasure and strain, Victor clenched his fingers around Katherine's head, and with a final push he felt himself tip over the edge, the thick cum-vein beneath his cock swelling and spasming as he began to unleash a day's worth of pent-up cum into her mouth. Dutifully, Katherine fought to swallow it all down, and after pulsing jet after jet of warm cum into the gorgeous redhead's throat and stomach, Victor finally let go of her head and allowed himself to relax against the comfortable armchair. He could feel his heartbeat race in his chest, and the pleasant, throbbing tingle of pleasure as Katherine carefully cleaned his cock with her mouth.

"Good Lord, girl.." Victor grinned down at her, and stroked a hand across her cheek. "You really know how to give your man a warm welcome home!"

Katherine giggled and shrugged, licking her lips with pure, pornographic glee. "I suppose! Although it really was you giving me a warm something..!"

He laughed and closed his eyes. The post-orgasmic drowsiness was always a welcome guest in his otherwise stressful life, and he already knew that he would never find someone like Katherine to give him that golden afterglow of languid pleasure. Thus, he had to fight not to frown as her voice cut through his reverie and pulled him back to the real world.

"Victor.. who is the woman you are investigating?"

He opened one eye and glanced at her. Then he shrugged.

"She is a spy, I suppose. Russian. Goes under many names. The Red Rose. The Fabergee Vixen. The Soviet Honey Pot. Supposedly, she is responsible for the eradication of seven of the CIA's top men, including two internationally acclaimed assassins and one master forger who was helping set up a coup in Poland. And now rumor has it that she is here in England. Possibly even here in London."

He noticed the soft smile freeze momentarily on Katherine's face, and then she got to her feet and stared down at him with a confused frown.

"But... how do you know all that? I mean, as a journalist-- these things must be classified..!"

Victor opened his other eye and gazed up at his lover. Her green eyes were filled with worry.

"There's always a way to find out about these sorts of things, sweetheart. And not just for journalists, either. They say every man has a price, right? So it's just a matter of finding the right man, and the right price. There are very few secrets when you look at the world that way. Too few, perhaps."

Katherine frowned, and perched herself on a nearby chair. "What are you saying? Who is this woman?"

"Her name is Екатерина Петровна." He said it with perfect pronunciation and a soft smile, and then he got to his feet, tucked his cock away in his pants and buttoned them up. Katherine was staring at him now, her green eyes narrowed into slits. He could see her breast rising and falling rapidly, and he felt that she was undoubtedly waging an inner war to refrain from acting out of turn.

"She is a spy, a saboteur, a raconteur, a blackmailer and an enemy of the British government. She has been trying for nine months to infiltrate the inner circle of the MI5, first via the co-director, whose unfortunate proclivities towards young, fit, twenty-something men kept her fruitlessly occupied for three months, and then via the top-ranking field agent for the past six. Her tactics include bribery, false flag campaigns, misdirection ops, arson, murder... and seduction."

Katherine rose. Her eyes were cold now, and despite her best efforts, her fists were clenched into tight, white-knuckled balls. Despite her height-disadvantage of almost a foot, she glared at Victor as if she was two breaths away from going for his throat.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said, but her face told a different story, and Victor merely stared at her with a slightly mournful look on his face.

"I'm afraid you do." He picked off a speck of dust from his sleeve and sighed softly. "And I really think we should just drop the pretenses, Ms. Petrovna. It would be in everybody's best interest."

She scoffed, but Victor saw her eyes dart towards the kitchen, and towards the block of knives sitting on the kitchen counter. Any one of them, he knew, would be a deadly weapon in her trained hands, but he wasn't worried. He had an ace up his sleeve. Then again, he always did.

"You are," he went one, "Yekaterina Petrovna, the famous honey pot of the KGB. You're not from Ireland, but from Irkutsk in Siberia. Your mother was Yelena, your father, Pjotr. You had a brother, now deceased. You have a sister who works as a prostitute in Leningrad, although the reports of her whereabouts are 18 months out of date. Last year, you were responsible for the deaths of CIA agents Jason Mullaney, Jack Donger, Fenris Hargrave--"

"Stop," she spat, and Victor fell silent, staring plainly at her with his hands in his pocket. Her voice was bitter now, and full of spite as she hissed the words at him. To his chagrin, Victor watched the facade of the woman he loved fall away, and the bare face of a stone cold killer emerge.

"Fine. You win. You caught me. Although you're wrong; I never had a brother. He died in the womb. Mother merely wrote his name in the books to remember him; all we got was a stillborn tragedy!"

Victor pursed his lips. "I'll make a note of that for the records, I guess. But it's hardly relevant to what is going to happen to you."

Katherine - Katerina - grimaced. "You will kill me, I expect. No doubt you already have your people covering every exit, in the eventuality that I manage to kill you first. And to think that you made me suck you off before this..!"

She spat and cursed in Russian, and Victor noticed how she used the movement to inch another half step closer to the kitchen. He clutched the thing in his pocket feverishly, and shook his head.

"No. I'm not going to kill you. Although, technically, you are right, of course. I ought to. You are the most dangerous woman on the planet... aside from our esteemed PM perhaps. But I'm not going to."

"Oh?" Katherine glared at him, unconvinced. "You intend to interrogate me, then? Maybe rape the information out of me? That seems right up your alley."

"Ah, now.." Victor made a pained face. "You are hardly one to talk, love. Let's not throw stones while we both live in glass houses, shall we?"

She said nothing, but merely glared at him as if staring hard enough might cause him to drop dead. Distinctly, Victor saw her make another slight movement towards the kitchen. He sighed with resigned finality.

"If you must know... I am not going to interrogate you, either. Or even apprehend you. Or even report you. When this conversation is over, I am going to go lie down in my bed, and you are free to do as you please. You can leave and slip back into your underground network of spies and greased palms. Or you can sneak into my room and stab me to death with one of the knives you are itching to get your hands on." With a hint of satisfaction, he watched her freeze, with a look on her face as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Or," he continued, "there is a third option..."

Katherine shot him a suspicious glare. "Third option? Which would be...?"

Slowly, Victor pulled out the thing he had been clutching. Carefully, he placed the envelope on the floor, and slid it across to Katherine's feet. She bent down, careful to keep her eye on him, and picked it up.

"What's this?"

He shrugged. "Open it and read."

She sneered. "A trick?"

He shrugged again. "Just open it."

She did. Swiftly, her eyes flew across the letters on the single page, the tight cursive no match for her honed skills. Katherine's eyes narrowed. She read it again. Then a third time.

"Bollocks."

Victor shook his head. "Afraid not. Believe me, I do this kind of thing for a living. Compared to some of the things I've done, this was a piece of cake."

She glared at him. "But how did you..?"

"Blood test." He smiled plaintively. "The cut on your finger, two weeks ago? My doing; with a sharp enough blade, you'll barely even feel the cut."

Katherine stared down at the brown paper, and slowly, her hand began to shake. Her voice had become very small, and very frail.

"How far...?"

"Two months, give or take." Victor stared down at his shoes and rocked slightly on the heels of his feet. "I thought you might have suspected, but..."

"No." Katherine shook her head. "I didn't. I couldn't-- I never thought..."

Slowly, Victor took a step towards her, and when he found that she didn't move, he took another.

"Look," he said softly. "I know this is a lot to take in all at once--"

"You know nothing!" Her retort stung, and he winced slightly. Still, he took another step forward and reached out for her hand.

"Kate," he whispered, and to his surprise, she looked up and met his gaze. Her green eyes were fierce, but he sensed a doubt there that he had never seen before.

"They're going to kill me." Her voice was weak. "They can't use someone who is-- someone who's..."

Victor smiled softly. "Perhaps not. But is that so bad? Maybe it's time to stop. Hang up your hat. Haven't you had enough dread for one lifetime already?"

Katherine scoffed gently. "I fear nothing. But where could I go? As soon as I defect, my networks will crumble. I'll be alone. Even if you let me go, I'll be dead before the end of the month."

He shrugged, a slight smile on his lips. "Maybe. Maybe not. I mean, you weren't alone in getting yourself in this predicament. Takes two to tango, and all that."

She stared at him. "What are you saying? Speak plainly, for Goodness sake."

Victor took her hand in earnest, and with an assertive pull dragged her close to him, until they were chest to chest. Katherine looked up at him, confusion and wonderment plainly visible on her features.

"We'll run," he said. "Together. And we'll be together. You and me, and... us."

She glanced down, and then frowned. "Where, though? Please don't say Argentina. I've sworn to kill any nazi swine I see..!"

He shook his head. "No. But Australia, maybe. Or Japan. Or Canada-- hell, or somewhere tiny and insignificant, like Iceland."

Katherine giggled. "Or Lichtenstein."

Victor nodded enthusiastically. "Or Andorra!"

"Or Belize!"

"Or Denmark!"

She laughed. "Or the Vatican City. Mh.. I suppose there are plenty of places where they won't think to look. And with our combined skills.."

He nodded, and swept her into a tight hug. "Exactly. It took MI5 nine months and their best agent to even get the scent of you. How do you think they will manage to track down both of us, when the CIA couldn't even find a bone buried in their own back yard? Hell, I suspect we could go and live in Washington, and no one would be the wiser!"

Katherine smirked. "Except for your accent. You sound like a red double decker bus doing a salute for the Queen. But I suppose we can work on that..."

Gently, she pulled him into a kiss, and Victor could not resist the temptation to melt warmly against her lips, the worry and tension of the day dissipating as their lips caressed against each other. Eventually, they pulled away, and Victor stared down at the perfect, red-headed beauty with a smile.

"I love you, Yekaterina."

"I love you too, Victor. But please, call me Katherine. Or even better, help me find a new name. The sooner we can shed our identities, the better."

Victor grinned. "Alright, fair enough. So... where to?"

Katherine pursed her lips. Slowly, her eyes crept towards the bedroom door.

"Well," she said, "now that there's no reason to be careful, I suppose we might as well take advantage of your bed one last time. Before we become international fugitives, I mean."

Victor turned and followed her gaze. His grin widened.

"As you wish... Mum..!"

Hand in hand, they disappeared into the bedroom. The door closed behind them.

The next day, they were gone.