Red Silk & War Negotiations

Shaoran had never encountered a moment like this before.

It wasn't the chaos of war, the tension of battle, or the cold, ruthless precision of a kill that sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn't the adrenaline-fueled moments when his life hung in the balance, when survival was the only option. No, this was different. It was the soft warmth of her body pressed against his, the weight of her presence, the heat of her breath.

Tanisha.

Her gloved fingers trailed down his scarred chest, and Shaoran's heart skipped a beat, though he would never admit it. Golden eyes, full of hunger and amusement, stared down at him. She was perched on top of him, her legs straddling his hips, her uniform hanging loosely off her body—an alluring mix of elegance and raw power.

"You still act like I'm a stranger," Tanisha whispered, her voice like silk, smooth and teasing, as she bent down to press a kiss against his collarbone, slow and lingering.

Shaoran exhaled sharply, his hands immediately moving to grip her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her skin beneath the thin fabric of her uniform. "You're different now," he murmured, his voice low and rough from the tension between them. He felt the warmth of her body on his, and yet, the reality of her presence was still a mystery—her position, her power, everything about her.

She smirked, the expression dangerous, a look of deep satisfaction playing at the edges of her lips. "No, Shaoran. You just forgot how I used to be." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "The things I could do, the way I could make you feel."

His chest tightened, and he reached up to trace the red insignia on her sleeve. It was a mark of power, a symbol of her status as a Martian General. She wasn't just any soldier anymore—she was a force to be reckoned with. A General.

He ran his finger along the insignia, then let it trail down her arm, feeling the firmness of her muscles, the strength that came with her position. "You're a General of MCA," he said, his voice almost a growl. "I should be careful."

Tanisha's eyes darkened with something deeper than just playful teasing. She grabbed his wrist, pulling him back against the couch. The sudden move surprised him, but he didn't resist—he never resisted her.

"You were never careful with me," she said, voice barely above a whisper, before her lips crashed down on his. There was no hesitation, no soft build-up—only the urgency of two people who had waited far too long.

And just like that, Shaoran let go.

His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her down, his mouth claiming hers with a force that left no room for gentleness. She gasped into his mouth, her body reacting instinctively, and before he knew it, he had rolled over, pinning her beneath him. He could feel the heat radiating off her, the electricity that hummed between them.

Tanisha didn't back down. Instead, she bit his lower lip, hard—enough to draw blood. The sharpness of the pain only heightened the passion between them. Shaoran growled, licking the taste of copper from his lips.

"I missed you," she admitted breathlessly, her voice raw with desire. Her chest heaved beneath him, and the vulnerability in her voice cut through the tension.

Shaoran didn't answer. He couldn't. Instead, he showed her. His actions spoke louder than words ever could. His lips traced down her neck, his hands roaming over the soft fabric of her uniform as he explored her body like it was his only mission in the universe.

Meanwhile, In the Living Room

Jerry was struggling. Not just because of his missing hand, or the ongoing war, or the sense of impending doom that had been looming for days. No, Jerry was suffering because he had been forced into the most awkward negotiation of his life.

Across from him, General Holt of Mars sat, his posture straight, his face like stone, his Martian exosuit stained with the blood of battle. Next to him was Commander Voss of the Earth Industrial Authority, who was, quite frankly, losing his patience. His hands were gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his frustration palpable.

They were supposed to be discussing the fate of City 403, but the sounds coming from the other room were anything but conducive to a serious meeting.

Jerry cleared his throat, trying to focus on the task at hand. "So… about the Fight, We are innocent—"

Before he could finish, a loud thud echoed from the room next door, followed by a breathless moan. Jerry's face immediately flushed red as Holt's eye twitched and Voss's jaw tightened.

"Did… did they just—?" Voss started, his voice laced with disbelief.

Jerry leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples in frustration. "For fuck's sake…" he muttered under his breath, pushing his chair back and standing up.

"We're supposed to be negotiating the fate of City 403, not… whatever the hell is happening in there," Jerry muttered, his voice tight with embarrassment.

Holt grunted in agreement. "Let's just take a break."

Voss didn't wait for permission. He was already at the door, storming out, needing a moment of peace away from the distraction.

When Shaoran and Tanisha finally emerged from the other room, neither of them looked remotely bothered by the sounds of chaos they had left behind.

Tanisha was grinning like a cat who had gotten the cream, her golden eyes still glowing with something that was at once familiar and dangerous. Shaoran, meanwhile, was slightly disheveled, his shirt missing and his hair wild. It was obvious what had just occurred.

She stepped behind him, her arms looping around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder as she pressed her body against his back.

"You hungry?" she asked, her voice low and inviting, like she knew exactly what her touch did to him.

Shaoran hummed in response. "What do we have?"

Her fingers traced his stomach, stopping just above his waistband, and Shaoran's body tensed at her touch. "Me," she replied, her voice dripping with seduction.

Shaoran almost choked on his breath. "What?"

Tanisha laughed, stepping back and giving him a look that was a perfect blend of mischief and confidence. "Relax. I meant actual food." She couldn't resist the playful smirk that tugged at her lips.

Shaoran wasn't sure whether he felt relieved or disappointed. He was caught somewhere between feeling completely exposed and wanting to give in to her completely.

Upstairs – Round Two

Dinner was light. Nothing too heavy. Just enough to fuel their bodies for what was about to come next.

As soon as the last bite was swallowed, Tanisha grabbed Shaoran's wrist, pulling him toward the stairs. The motion was deliberate, full of intent.

Shaoran raised a brow but didn't resist. He never did when it came to her.

"Where are we going?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her lips curling in a secret smile.

"Bedroom," she said, her voice a promise.

Jerry, who had just walked back inside, caught sight of the two of them and immediately turned on his back, walking out the door again, no doubt seeking refuge in the cold night air to clear his mind.

Shaoran didn't look back as Tanisha led him upstairs, her hand still gripping his wrist, pulling him into the next phase of their night.