A Little Chat | By : firebat Category: M through R > Matrix, The (All) > Matrix, The (All) Views: 2181 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
(Disclaimer.
I don’t own Smith. I just wish I did! But Miranda Singer is totally my
creation! Nyahhh!)
/Login
name: Smith
/Begin
viewing Agency Activities
/Report:
anomalous activity---Clerical Officer Miranda Singer
/Querying
Mainframe---Request background information regarding activities of Miranda
Singer //--Request accepted. Sending data…
Behind the
image of cold black glasses, blue eyes blinked once, twice, and an eyebrow
raised quizzically as the figure holding a file folder stood staring at it, as though
coming upon a great revelation. After a still moment, he sighed, released from
the hold of the Mainframe, able to sort out the information he’d been sent. Icy
eyes lingered over the name of the Agent’s clerical officer upon the
unobtrusive brown folder. Miranda Singer…
Downstairs
from him, in the polished halls of the Agency Headquarters, fingers flew over a
keyboard with amazing speed; delicate in their touch, if not quite in their
appearance. The young woman was strong in build; well muscled from years of
combat training, yet there was an air about her, a sense of childlike wonder
that kept her face young; her eyes wider than most twentysomethings. She worked
diligently now, setting up and logging the activities of her-she smiled-her
Agent. He was scheduled for downtime in exactly twenty-five minutes, during
which she would assess his needs for updating, defragmentation; system
cleaning. Of course, afterward, he would go to field duty for another forty-eight
hours…
He smiled,
shoes clicking the cold stone floor as he made for a chair. Exactly twenty-five
minutes, and his human would have him prepared for another forty-eight hours of
field duty… If he could, he would have dreaded it. Hours among hours he would
spend chasing Resistants; filthy humans in their raggedy clothes, half educated
in the ways of the Real world, attempting to ‘free minds’ based on their
prefabricated “truths”… As his systems shut down to basic file functions, his
‘eyes’ wandered. Now that was interesting…
‘An angel…
He looks like an angel with his eyes closed!’ As she scanned the inflow of
data; lazy in its downtime pace, she could see nothing out of the ordinary,
until a minor piece of information made the skin at the nape of her neck
tingle. ‘His…human?’ She blushed when she cross-referenced and saw that yes, he
had been referring to her. A hand reached up to toy with silky bronze hair as
she suppressed a smile, eyes still scanning the flowing green code… A voice
broke her reverie, musical and male…and sounding far too highly amused, even
for an Agent. “Miss Singer, hard at work I see.” The voice’s source turned to
its taller counterpart, who raised an eyebrow. “If our clerical officers took
the same level of care over us as she takes of Smith…” She mock-glared up at
the Agent teasing her, a rather loud ‘harrumph’ emitting from her lips. But
mortified, she glanced down at her monitor. Twenty three minutes had passed!
“Relax, Miss Singer! No need to work with such expedience! You have all of two
minutes to-” But Brown was cut off; and in less than thirty seconds, by a growl
from the other end of the hall.
He was
surprised somewhat at finding himself awakened in the elevator, standing ready,
to see Brown and Jones already conversing with Her. He let a soft growl carry
over the air, as the other two Agents turned to face him. “Are you going to
spend your time teasing my clerical officer, Mister Brown? Or shall we set to
business?” As he walked briskly towards them, he placed his glasses back on, a
useless gesture of hiding, even for the female at her desk. But even while he
herded the other two Agents out the door, he spared Singer a glance, an almost
imperceptible smile lifting the corner of his mouth at her thankful expression.
Now why couldn’t more humans behave like her? So precise, and predictable.
Neat, clean, prepared for work, at her desk twenty minutes early every morning.
Illness never touched her, and it seemed, neither did emotion; except for that
flicker he’d felt before…what had his human pondered…? He smiled inwardly, bemused
at the thought. So he was her Agent, was he?
It w
go
good time for the matrix; little Resistant activity had been detected, and what
the Agents did find was easily subdued. Smith left his colleagues out in the
field after twenty-four hours, returning to the Agency.
7:40 AM
came the next morning with Miranda already at her seat, in her desk slightly
behind the main front greeting area. Her lip curled in disgust at the bubbly
blonde seated perkily in her chair, cheerfully hello-ing anyone who meandered
through the door. Shaking her brunette head, she donned her reading glasses,
taking just enough time to open two work windows… ‘Or maybe it should be one
work and one play, since the Cat won’t return for another day!’ Silly singsongs
flitted through her mind as she worked, half her attention on her ‘research’.
She pulled up her secondary window from the taskbar on her screen, happily
surprised to see more footage of her Agent at work, never erring, flawless in
the execution of his tasks. Heat crept up her, and her hand wandered into the
neckline of her suit jacket. A ragged sigh escaped her, only to be replaced by
a sharp intake of air as a heavy hand laid itself upon her shoulder.
“Enjoying a
little morning reading before your day starts, Miss Singer?” The voice
enunciated each syllable, lingering over her name. Too well did she know it,
and with a mixture of shock, titillation, relief, and a mite of fear, she
turned her head upwards to see Smith staring down at her. If there had ever
been one to catch her at her…extracurricular activities… he was both the best
and worst one to do the catching. She swallowed as he raised an eyebrow.
“Smith! Sir! Err… you’re early!” Her errant hand drifted back to the keyboard,
exiting the browser program just before Smith caught her hand. He leaned down;
his lips close to her ear. “This is a concern I’ve had about you for some time,
Miss Singer… this fascination of yours with our activities. When you’re
available, I’d like to have a little chat with you… privately.” His voice
dipped an octave as he finished, standing up again. She knew that ‘when she was
available’ meant ‘Now.’ Nodding, unsure whether to let fear grip her, she
quickly sent her data and work requests to a clerk nearby; slightly less
efficient, but equally thorough in her work. The other worker nodded nearly
imperceptibly to Singer, but she sensed something about the Agent’s demeanor
that didn’t feel entirely like trouble…
Wordlessly
Smith led her to the elevator, and up to a sparsely furnished room; no windows,
and only a table with two chairs, seated in what she deemed a rather
adversarial manner. She bit her lip as Smith sat her down in the one furthest
from the door. For a moment he left the room; a moment of eternity to her. What
had she done? Had her little… liking for Smith turned into something she would
later regret? She searched her mind methodically for some file she’d
accidentally seen, or opened; something that she must have done…
When Smith
returned, Singer’s eyes were fear itself; and with a sense of irony, Smith
realized the wrongness of the ‘joke’ about the female. The smell of fear
permeated the room, and he sighed, quelling the disgust within. This was
Miranda Singer, for Mainframe’s sake! “Miranda.” Her name echoed in the room,
even as he clicked the door shut and locked. “You have done nothing wrong that
I can see, but I wanted to speak with you privately about your… little hobby.”
He opened the same folder he’d been holding a day before; now not so
unassuming, rather stocked with… should he be sickened? Shocked? Should he feel
a mite… violated, even afraid himself… from this woman?
Better to
open the file, let the pages speak for themselves. Pictures all but spilled
forth across the table towards Miranda, whose fear had subsided… into red-faced
embarrassment. Her hands shook as she took them up, one by one, preferring to
gaze at the stills of… him.
…Smith
gunning down a Resistant, a camera had managed to capture the breadth of his
chest, the full extension of a strong arm, the steely determination of his
face…
…Smith
standing next to a black Agency vehicle, sleek as himself in his perfectly
tailored suit. Arrogance was in his stance, and he seemed to stare the camera
down…
…And again,
more stills of Smith, complete with press clippings, Agency reports… nothing
sensitive, but enough to suggest that perhaps the human female had a rather
unhealthy habit… a fixation perhaps…
He folded
his hands in front of him, waiting for her to lift her gaze. She wouldn’t. She
couldn’t. Did this mean the end…? Of her job with the Agency; where she’d
worked so hard to get to… She did not see the Agent, swifter than human eyes
could see, move from across the table to next to her- shit, was he kneeling?
Fingers gently moved under her chin, turning her head just so. She would look
at him one way or another. She fought inwardly to control her breathing, trying
to subdue the lust threatening to rise… dammit.
They were
blue. Colder than ice, harder than steel in their gaze. She could drown forever
in his eyes, so steadily holding her captive.
If the fear
he’d sensed before had nearly overwhelmed him with its smell, he was certainly
unprepared for Miranda’s reaction to his touch. Oh, she didn’t recoil; she
seemed to revel in it; he could feel the heat emanating from her body, her
temperature was rising rapidly. Her skin flushed a pleasant pink, and the
scent! Slightly musky with desire, sweat and heat mingling with lust… He spoke,
willing his voice to retain normal modulation. “Do you know why it’s dangerous
to feel the way you do, Miranda?” She did; and oh how she hated herself for it-
the Agent could not love her back, and even were this just lust…Never had she
felt so stupid-so unthinking, so foolish… “So human.” His hand caressed her
cheek thoughtfully, unwittingly she moved into his hands, her face rubbing into
his hands… So she was attracted to him… What to make of this… She finally
responded, her voice husky. “I do, sir… such feelings lead to foolish actions…
I’m sorry.” He raised an eyebrow, gracefully lifting her out of her chair,
standing her upon her feet, and pressing her lightly against the wall. “Very
foolish indeed, Miss Singer…” A hand lazily trailed to her left breast, the
favored place of her hand that morning. “There is no predicting how the object
of your desires might respond…” He pushed her more firmly into the wall, his
hand still clasping her breast over the silk of her clothes.
Unable to
keep her dignity, she moaned softly. He smirked, leaning down to nibble on her
ear. “And that response was…? I did not quite hear you.” He slipped his roving
hand under her blouse, teasing her bare nipple, squeezing lightly, flicking
over it almost casually. His waist moved with hers, she could feel his erection
through both their clothing; she was giddy with desire. He steadied her,
pulling at the collar of her shirt, revealing a smooth pale neck; unblemished
by any sun. She realized his deep breaths were him sniffing her skin, and just
as she let loose another moan, he dipped his head down to hew exw exposed neck,
licking delicately a circle, tasting the scent of her lust before kissing the
soft flesh. She let her breath out in a hiss. “Ssmith…” She gasped as swift
hands removed her jacket and blouse before she could react. His tongue trailed
up her neck, tracing along her jawline, before his kisses; soft on her skin,
fluttered her stomach. Her voice raised in pitch. “Smith… please…” He stopped.
Dammit!
Of course,
he had to retain his perfect appearance, even at her… “Miranda. Tell me what
you … need.” Before she could speak, he lowered his head briefly for a
lingering kiss on her mouth, his tongue dipping into the minty warmth. Her head
spun as she struggled to speak. “I need you.” But that wasn’t sufficient for
Smith, who lifted her easily, she could almost feel code swirling about her as
he stood over her now prostrate form upon the table; glory in nudity. “You need
me… to help you, Miranda.” His voice lowered as it had before as he slid a
finger into the wet warmth of her sex unclothed. “You need me to help you control
this… habit of yours…” His eyes shone brightly, another finger easily slipped
into the folds of her warmth, gently stroking her within.
His free
hand steadying him, he maneuvered atop her, still stimulating her as he bent
down to kiss her. Tongues met again, he dominated the kiss with his own. When
he came up to let her have air, she unleashed an amorous moan as his hand moved
again, slick fingers teasing her clitoris, then trailing their sensual juices
up her body. He held his hand just in front of her mouth, and she tilted her
head towards him, lips parted. She licked away her own juices, reveling in her
scent. He smirked as he let her finish tasting herself, before pulling his hand
away, only now to grip her hips quite firmly. Her eyes widened at seeing him;
she sat up with some effort, giddy at his length and girth. He was going to
penetrate her with… that? But… He moved too quickly for her to yea or nay.
Towards him
he pulled her weakened form, his voice gravelly. “Now your response
is…sufficient…” Easily he joined to her, his length stretching her inside. Eyes
half-lidded, she smiled as she wrapped her arms around Smith, leaning closer as
he moved within her. Strong hands squeezed her waist, and as he continued his
rhythmic thrusting, his lips found new ways to tease the human into complete
submission. He kissed the flesh at the base of her neck softly, licking,
tasting her wanton desire. “I want you to implore my name, Miranda. I want it
firmly in your memory; who is doing this to you. Right now.” He moved back just
enough to gaze into her wide emerald eyes, meeting them with steel. Another
thrust rocked her body, he let her lean backwards, allowing him deeper access.
He picked up his tempo, still controlling her body movements to a degree, dipping
his head towards her bouncing breasts for a quick kiss of her flesh, eliciting
moans of lust. The walls of her vagina clenched as he pushed her over the edge
of orgasm; she reached for him, voice unleashed in ecstasy. “Smith! Please,
ohhh…” With one final thrust, he shuddered; intense pleasure shutting his
systems down to basic functions, and he found himself holding onto her as much
as she to him. He reveled in their fragrance; she whispered his name softly,
eyes closed as she ran her fingers through his hair. He kissed her.
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