Charlize Theron Imagines

Recording (2) - Lorraine Broughton

I say nothing as she pushes off the counter and walks towards me. "It really is a shame Peter gave you away. I am quite impressed with the recording device." she tells. A sense of pride washes over me. "Too bad your plan didn't last long enough to get any important information." she taunts.

I keep my eyes fixed on her. "Put the gun down, Y/n." she says. "No." I reply. She chuckles. "Finally standing in your own power. I like it." she says, oddly enthusiastic. I frown. She reaches her arm out to grab the weapon off me. I step back and place my finger on the trigger. She lowers her arm.

"Put it down. You can trust me." she tells. My eyebrows raise. "Can I? What happened last time you said I could trust you? Oh, right, I almost fucking died." I reply, a slight laugh mixing with the last sentence. Lorraine's gaze drops to the floor. "That was out of our control." she tells. "Then why promise I'd be safe? Why drag me into your shit?"

She doesn't reply. "Why are you here in Berlin?" I ask, although I know the answer. She's here for the exact same reason I am. "You know I can't tell you that." she replies. "Right, right. Top secret information."

"Put the gun down, Y/n." she says again. I don't reply. She steps forward. I step back. "Y/n, please." she pushes. Every time she steps forward, I step back, until I'm backed against the table. She grabs the gun and tries pulling it from my grasp. "Let go of the weapon." she whispers. I don't. "I don't have any weapons on me. You don't need it." "Prove it."

She pats herself down, proving she's not armed. I hesitate, but lower the gun. "Will you put it down now?" she questions. I pull up my dress and put it back in the thigh holster. Lorraine watches me. "Better?" I ask. I pull the dress back down and she nods.

She walks forward, slowly, and touches my hair that is now cascading over my shoulders. "I love the brown. So different from the blonde, I didn't recognize you." she tells. I don't reply. She grips the hair behind my head and pulls it down, tilting my head back. With her other hand she grips my throat. "You're here for the list, aren't you?" she asks.

My right arm flies up and my hand wraps around her throat. "You know I can't tell you that." I say, repeating what she said to me. She tightens her grip, as do I. We stand like that for a while, waiting for the other to crack. Eventually, she does. She lets go of my hair and throat. I shove her back with a gasp. She stumbles. I rub my neck.

"If you're here for the list, why are you spying on Percival and I?" she questions, regaining balance. "I'm just doing my job." I reply. "What are the recordings for?" she asks. "My job." I answer. She rolls her eyes. A satisfied smile tugs at my lips. "You're a dick." she mutters. I say nothing.

I watch her. "What?" she asks. I don't reply. She walks towards me again. "You're staring." she tells. I stay silent. My eyes drop to her lips. She notices. Her lips pull into a small smile. "What do you want?" she questions, her voice a seductive whisper. "What do you think I want?" I ask in response, my eyes back on hers.

I feel her hand trail up the side of my thigh. Then, the feeling of the holster and gun disappears. Lorraine places the holster on the table behind me. She lifts me and sits me on the table as she steps even closer. I cup the back of her neck, roughly pulling her in. She looks at my lips. "Our superiors won't like this." she voices. "They can get over it." I whisper in return.

Our lips connect. Her tongue brushes over my lips as they open. She sinks her teeth into my bottom lip. A moan escape my throat. She lifts me off the table and carries me towards the bed. As she lays me down, she removes her shirt. Her lips are instantly back on mine. "Let's hope there's no devices recording in here. I'd hate for others to hear our fun."

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A.N: Has anyone else been sick for like 2 weeks straight?