Per Vindicta Ad Astra

"Took you long enough," she said, raising her hands.

Fiona fumed. "Nightingale. I should have known."

"You are the least subtle woman alive, Shrike darlin'."

Magmatic rage boiled up inside Fiona. She'd been played. This whole time was some sick joke at her expense. Impossible pressure built in her head until it felt like her skull was going to burst as the mixed emotions of shame and hurt made her unsure whether to castigate Jenna for being so conniving or herself for being such a fool.

"What is your game?"

"I was curious why you seem to be dead set on killing me," she replied with a half-hearted shrug. "I didn't think we'd get this far, truth be told. I ended up enjoying liking your company."

"You make it sound like my life revolves around you! Like I said, it's-"

"'Just business', yeah, sure," she said, her voice bleeding derision, "There's no way you'd end up mirroring my schedule if you weren't following me around. You always go for my plane out of my wing with uncanny accuracy, and you, well, the taunting over the radio kinda gives it away. So what did I do to you? Did I kill someone you care about? Is this a Peninsular blood vendetta for some kinda slight?"

"You don't get it. Of course you don't. When have you ever lived in the shadow of someone?"

"It's jealousy? You've been trying to kill me because you're jealous?" she asked, and broke under the strain. Her peel of laughter turned to an uncontrollable giggle, and Fiona's finger tightened on the trigger guard.

"I have you at gunpoint and you're laughing at me?!"

"Relax, darlin'. I doubt you're planning to use that. How can you prove you're better than me by shooting me on the ground? That's like shivving a prize fighter with his back turned."

Her whole body vibrated as she tried to reconcile the truth of that statement with her desire to win, to get one over on the bane of her existence. In the end, she swore and stowed the pistol in her holster, then removed the belt and tossed it to the ground. At that point, she realized they were both in various states of undress. Jenna's jacket had been concealing an ample chest and full figure, curved but there was no mistaking the muscle she could bring to bear. Her hands, calloused and creased in a dozen places, told of a woman who did a lot of her own maintenance. Her tank top and shorts also revealed several deeper wounds, long scarred over, that implied her time in the cockpit had been her only brushes with death.

In the mirror opposite the bed she saw herself. Her sharp, angular features often evoked comparison to a bird of prey, hence her callsign. Not conventionally attractive, she was at the very least striking, with deep set eyes and strong cheekbones. She'd never needed a bra, so her chest was already exposed, from her slender shoulders to her toned stomach. She had her own marks and scars, though less than Jenna sported. The place where an Ironmonger bullet had gone through her shoulder, the burn on her leg from when her first plane went up on the tarmac just before she was about to leap aboard. As much a record of their history as skin, bared proudly to someone else who had earned that right.

"So what now?" Jenna asked. "You can leave if you want."

Part of her did want to leave. Shuffle back to the bar and get absolutely blitzed. But another part saw the woman underneath the reputation, the real human woman.

There was more than one way to assert dominance, after all.

"You want to quit? That's fine. I doubted you'd have been any good in the first place," Fiona ventured, but didn't make a move to pick up her things. An initial gambit to see if she'd take the bait.

Jenna's head jerked back. "What?"

"You heard me," Fiona said, folding her arms. "Never thought the Nightingale would be afraid of a fight. I'm here, you're here, we're both in our skivvies. No point backing down now. Show me what you-"

Before she could finish, Jenna's mouth was shoved into her's. It was a short kiss, more a challenge than the amorous act. Emotions clashed on Fiona's face. The violent desires she'd felt to her rival transmogrified into a need to take, a need to claim. Fiona retaliated with a kiss of her own. Her mouth opened wide into Jenna's, their tongues meeting on the field of battle.

They drifted over to the bed, the last of their clothing falling to their feet. Both were hard or well on their way as adrenaline and hormones pumped through their system and their instinctual competitive drive tangled inextricably from their desire to be on top.

Fiona's heel clipped the edge of the bed and she tumbled back. Seizing the initiative, Jenna pounced. Pressing Fiona's wrists to the mattress, the Nightingale grinned with a feral intensity.

"That's wasn't hard." She looked down between her legs. "Well, not difficult at least."

"Not like you aren't desperate for it. You wouldn't last five minutes," Fiona said, baring her teeth as she struggled against the restraining hands. Her grip was rough, but not painful. Merely meant to be immobilising. Jenna stole another long, drawn out kiss before replying.

"We'll see about that." Jenna spun around, clamping her hands around Fiona's ankles instead while pushing her throbbing cock down into Fiona's face. "Well? Get to work, slut. Last one to cum wins."

She didn't have to be told twice. She captured Jenna's tip between her lips and tongued the foreskin back and forth, tasting sweat and just a bit of premature excitement on her rival. The first volley cast, Fiona felt her own cock teased with a talented tongue, Jenna going with a licking-based stratagem that had her shuddering.

"Might as well give up now," Fiona taunted before easing more cock into her mouth. It had been too long since she'd worked a proper joystick like this, and the little shudders and twitches that her efforts elicited were plenty of payment for a job well done. Jenna was no slouch, of course, and Fiona's own involuntary abstinence was catching up with her. A long, languid lick caused a spurt of precum to flood out of her. She'd need to take drastic action if she was going to win this.

"Good girl. Won't be long now until you bu-ah!~" Jenna's words melted into a moan as a single finger found its way into her tight hole. Curled up and aimed with a sniper's precision, the digit sought out and found the place inside her body that could cause impossible levels of pleasure: the patch of skin just opposite her cock from the inside. Gently rubbing a finger pad against it caused a helpless dribble of pre to slide out of Jenna. This was eagerly swallowed up, or disappeared into the film of saliva coating the cock already.

"Oh that does it!" Jenna said and went down on Fiona's shaft with rapid bobs. Trapped by a talented mouth, it was all Fiona do to hold back and focus on the task at hand. She kept slurping, kept fingering, and hoped that it would be enough to win.

"You're gonna cum? You're gonna cum already?" Jenna said, chased with mocking laughter while she pumped the prick in her hand. "Not surprising, considering how you jump your shots. The fearsome Shrike is going to pop like a cherry for me again. How flattering~" Jenna went back on the attack, doing something with a twist of her throat that was enough to make Fiona's eyes roll back in her head. She was close...so, so close!

Marshalling her reserves, Fiona held herself back. She wasn't about to let the Nightingale beat her that easily. She redoubled her efforts to please the cock clasped to her lips, grabbing onto Jenna's hips and pulling the shaft deeper into her throat. Her tongue danced with prodigious dexterity, trailing and teasing points of vulnerability and receiving a moan from Jenna as reward. This somewhat backfired, as the vibration from the moan transferred to Fiona's own dick.

Fiona was losing the battle. For a moment, all those feelings from before came back. Fear of not being good enough. Shame at being second best. But this time, instead of being a wound, it became inspiration. A drive. A wild conflagration that lit under her and spurred her forward. She yanked Jenna down onto her, deepthroating her rival til her lips kissed the base. Long, slow bobbing motions that rendered the quick flashy movements of her opponent futile.

"Oh fuck. That's...right there, aah!~" Jenna cried. Fiona pressed the advantage, feeling the head glide down her throat again and again until she was rewarded with a gush of wetness. She pulled back and let the bitter, salty taste of seed splash against her tongue, tasting like sweetest victory. Relaxing in that moment, her own control collapsed and she burst into Jenna's own mouth with a groan of unrestrained pleasure. For one blessed moment, both women flooded each other with spunk in mutual pleasure, until one ended and Fiona got to enjoy her singular success alone. She was still basking when Jenna's face came back into view, her mouth still slathered in leftover cum.

"To the victor..." she said, then slid down for a deep, lingering kiss. Each woman's flavour mingling in the moment. The cheeky pilot held onto some of Fiona's own seed, but she let it slide down her throat regardless. When the seed in their mouths depleted, they licked the residue up from their lips and chins, gulping it down in a mini rematch to get the last drop.

"I'll have to admit Nightingale. You're pretty good," Fiona admitted with a dazed shrug. The other woman settled down beside her, matting her mussed hair against the pillow.

A pause.

"Want to go again?" Jenna asked, closing into snuggle distance. She booped her deflating cock against Fiona's own, kissing them together.

"In a bit, probably. The spirit is willing but, again, it's been a while," Fiona admitted, and was rewarded with another peel of musical laughter. It sounded...nice.

***

"So, where does this leave us?"

Jenna sat on the edge of the bed, chest partially covered in a blanket to stave off the evening's chill. Fiona, meanwhile, stood on the balcony wearing nothing but a pair of socks, leaning against the railing as she looked down onto the street. Not much to see this late at night. Glimpses of staggering wastrels caught in flickering neon lights that buzzed away like drunken fireflies.

"Well, I don't think I want to kill you anymore," she said, almost casually. She turned around, her nipples stiffened from the wind.

"That's a start, I guess." Jenna looked off to the side. "Did you figure out why you wanted me dead in the first place?"

Fiona took a long, quiet moment to respond. The tension returned, and suddenly she couldn't feel the cold for the boil in her blood. "It's because you let me know I wasn't the best. I have to be the best, or else I'm nothing."

Jenna threw up her hands. "What the fuck are you talking about? You're a damn good flyer, Fiona. I've seen you in the air. Plane around you and you make it look easy. I pulled manoeuvres that nearly blacked me out to throw you off, and you still drew a bead on me. If it hadn't been for Grady clipping your stabilizer, I'd have zeroed out. Or hit the silk at least."

She chewed on those words of praise like gristle, the convenience a little too tough to swallow whole. 'Was she just fucking with me,' Fiona wondered, 'second guessing herself for the dozenth that day. Is she planning to just use me and take me out when my back is turned?'

Jenna brought her knees together and leaned her forehead against them with an exasperated sigh. "Look, I don't want to kill you. I never did. Yeah I egged you on but you don't get behind a prop without some ego to burn. You got a whole tank full, darlin'. You can do whatever you want."

Fiona wanted to scream, or throw a punch, or something. Somehow the geniality was harder to handle than resentment or pity or snide derision. She was here, this actual human person, and the conception of what the Nightingale was to her melted like morning mist. Her fists unclenched, her jaw untightened, and a whole world of tension left her shoulders.

"Problem is," she began, eyes locked on the middle distance, "I don't really know who I am without this big chip on my shoulder. I didn't have a plan or anything for after I won. I just..." The words slipped from her grasp. "I don't know. I didn't know what to do with myself after the war." Fiona half expected the other woman to laugh at that. But she didn't. Instead, she gave a slow, understanding nod.

"You're not the only one who felt like that. Plenty of folks in my wing were so wrapped up in who they were fighting against that they forgot to ask what they were fighting for. The war was a pointless waste of life, but it gave us one thing: purpose. That's what we can have as Skyblades again, so long as you have people you can trust at your side."

"Don't suppose you're hiring," Fiona said, half joking. But Jenna seemed to give the idea serious thought.

"It's not often that someone who wanted me dead is asking me for a job. But...I wasn't lying, you're an excellent pilot and I'd prefer if you were pointing your guns at my enemies than me. I can ask my flight leader, see what she says. No promises though. And only, I can't believe I'm saying this, only if you promise not to keep trying to kill me."

Fiona saluted with crisp martial efficiency. "Yes ma'am." She settled down next to Jenna, their thighs touching. "Before we do anything, I should probably apologize. Y'know. For the attempted murder."

"It's fine. You're not the first person who tried to kill me that I've worked with, you won't be the last. You can make it up to me, though."

"How?"

"Well," Jenna began, shifting herself further onto the bed until she could lay down with her legs parted, "I could use someone to inspect my undercarriage..."