Lena Oxton, better known to the world as Tracer, leaned against the railing of the apartment building, looking over the city with a small smile. Not even the occasional anti-omnic graffiti she could see dampened her mood; sure, things were rough, but they were getting better.
She should be getting back inside though; Emily would probably be worrying about her-
Jumping slightly when she was suddenly hugged from behind, Tracer started to relax, only to stiffen when she noticed the color of the arms around her.
“Bonjour, ma cherie,” a cool, husky voice whispered into her ear, an undertone of amusement clearly audible in her French accent.
Instinctively activating her Blink ability, Tracer quickly got out of the embrace, staring wide-eyed at the blue skinned, purple haired woman, who regarded her calmly. “You! What are you doing here?!”
“Why, I came to see you,” Amelelie Lacroix, infamously known as the assassin Widowmaker, replied, doing her best to sound innocent, though her eyes gleamed with faint, sadistic amusement. “And to admire the view; I have quite fond memories of this place, comme vous le savez.”
Tracer’s eyes widened, then narrowed into a glare as the barb hit home.
Falling through the air, seeing Widowmaker about to shoot her through the heart. Blinking out of harm’s way, only to hear the assassin comment, “Looks like the party is over,” in a faux disappointed tone.
Rushing over to the edge of the building, seeing Mondatta lying dead, inches from safety…
With a growl that was half snarl, Tracer rushed Widowmaker, slamming her against a wall. It had to have hurt her, yet the taller woman showed no signs of it; if anything, her smile broadened.
“You,” Tracer bit off the words, “are such a bloody bitch, you know that?”
Then she was kissing Widowmaker, hard enough to bruise both of their lips, feeling the woman’s abnormally slow heartbeat speed up slightly. Widowmaker’s hands roamed over her body, exploring her body underneath her jacket, groping her ass for a moment, before pulling her in even closer.
When Tracer at last broke off, panting, she was pleased to see a small flush on Widowmaker’s face. It didn’t last long though.
“I know that I am,” the sniper replied calmly, before slowly licking her lips. “And yet you keep coming back to me, cherie, and I to you.” Slowly, she stalked forward, giving Tracer plenty of time to back away, call the authorities, or try to fight her.
But Tracer did none of those things; instead, she watched Widowmaker’s approach. The sway of her hip, the bounce of her breasts, the predatory look in her eyes: Tracer shivered in equal parts lust and apprehension.
Then they were in each other’s arms again, making out and slowly stripping each other of their clothes. Widowmaker’s knee was between her legs, pressing and rubbing against her pussy, while Tracer had her hand on the assassin’s incredible ass. Their breasts pressed together, and they were moaning into each other’s mouths-
The two of them froze; in unison, Tracer and Widowmaker both looked towards the stairwell. There, in the doorway, was Emily, Tracer’s redheaded girlfriend, staring at them with wide eyes.
Widowmaker’s eyes flicked back and forth between Tracer and Emily, wondering what was going to happen next. Would Tracer have to make an excuse? Would Emily storm away in tears? The beginnings of a smirk were just starting to curl her lips when Emily did something totally unexpected.
The redhead crossed her arms and…was she pouting at Tracer? “Lena! What did I tell you to do the next time this happened?”
“Eh heh heh…” Tracer chuckled nervously, still in the same compromising position. “To let you know as soon as possible, so that you could watch?”
Widowmaker blinked, jaw falling open slightly. Had she heard that correctly? “Quoi?” she asked flatly.
Tracer glanced up her, a familiar mischievous light gleaming in her eyes. “Oh yeah, did I forget to tell you?” she asked casually. “Emily knows about us and…whatever we have going on,” she finished, waving her hand vaguely in the space between them.
“I wasn’t very happy at first,” Emily admitted, ignoring Tracer muttering “made me sleep on the couch for a week.” “But after thinking about it, I decided not to let it bother me. Besides,” she looked Widowmaker up and down, smirking, “I can’t blame her, physically speaking, and seeing her make out with you…is pretty hot.”
Widowmaker stared at her for a long moment before breaking out into soft chuckles. “Bien, mon cher, you certainly found a fascinating partner. Whatever happens in your job, you are très chanceux in your love life.”
“Don’t I bloody know it.” Tracer gave Emily her best smile. “Forgive me, luv? It’s all her fault anyway; she surprised me.”
Widowmaker narrowed her eyes at Tracer, but Emily interjected before she could retort. “Well, I think you can make it up to me.” Leaning against the wall, she grinned at the two lovely ladies. “Go ahead, continue with the show.”
“Wicked! Cheers, luv!” Tracer returned to enthusiastically making out with Widowmaker, who, while briefly caught off guard, quickly decided to play along.
What is that American saying? Plus on est de fous, plus on rit…the more the merrier? Mmm, yes: a threesome would be beaucoup de plaisir. And it seems that I won’t even have to be that persuasive. Bien.
The night was definitely looking up, for all three of them.
(Story by User: S22132)