Chapter 550 | Performance Review

Chapter 550: 550 | Performance Review

Misato wanted the version of me that didn’t hold back, and nine weeks of her drills had taught me that ignoring a direct order ended in laps nobody survived.

I pulled out until only the tip stayed inside her, set both palms on the mattress beside her ribs, and drove back in hard enough to shove the whole twin bed an inch across the floor. Her mouth fell open around a sound that never made it out. Her heels locked against the backs of my thighs, and her nails found the scratches Addison had left on my shoulders and tore them open for a second round.

Euphoric Feedback grabbed the sting and turned it into a hot line straight down my spine, so I did it again.

The headboard cracked against the concrete. A framed training certificate rattled on its nail above us, and Misato’s head tipped back into her flat little pillow while her throat fought a moan she’d been swallowing for nine years.

"Do that again, Monroe, and do it harder this time."

That was the drill voice she used on Jordan at six in the morning whenever he tried to nap through burpees. Right now it shook at the edges, and her hips were already rising off the sheets to meet me.

I gave her harder. I gave her the full weight of a body Vale had broken and rebuilt three times this week. My brain shut off everything except the slick grip of her around me and the noises she couldn’t stop making.

Misato held out against the sounds for four more strokes before her discipline gave up and walked off the field. The first real moan tore out of her loud enough to bounce off the walls, and she sounded furious about letting it happen.

I’ve heard plenty of women make plenty of noise across two lifetimes. Misato moaned exactly how she gave orders, so anyone within three rooms was going to understand the assignment.

"Concrete walls, Captain, remember those?"

"Shut up and keep moving, or I swear I’ll double your laps until graduation."

Her breasts bounced hard on every thrust now that no compression top pinned them flat. Milk spilled from both nipples in thin streams that ran down her ribs and soaked the sheet beneath her. Two hours ago I watched a monster the size of a bus rise out of the ocean, and this hit me harder.

I dropped onto one elbow and caught her left nipple in my mouth without slowing my hips. The buttermilk taste flooded my tongue again, thicker now, carrying a sweetness that hid at the back of it until I swallowed.

\[Silver-tier target consumed for twenty-five points.\]

\[Essence routed to Vault, current storage at eight of twelve cups.\]

Her hand slammed onto the back of my skull and pinned me there. Her other palm slapped flat against the wall over the headboard for leverage, and she started shoving her hips up into me in short desperate bursts that wrecked any pace I’d planned.

"Is that going straight into your stupid vault right now?"

I pulled off her nipple long enough to answer, which she punished by yanking my hair.

"Cup number eight is filling as we speak, Captain."

"I hate that I think that’s hot."

"You’ll get used to it eventually, everybody does."

She laughed at that. It broke in the middle because I picked that second to roll my hips into a deep grind. The laugh snapped into a gasp that arched her spine clean off the mattress.

I kept grinding in slow circles, buried as deep as her body allowed, my pelvis pressing over her clit on every pass. Her thighs started shaking against my ribs. The lamp on her nightstand threw yellow light across her stomach, catching every ridge of muscle she’d built through a decade of carrying other people, and the milk running over those ridges turned them glossy.

I pushed Euphoric Feedback up to six and threaded it through every point where our skin touched.

Misato’s eyes lost focus. Her face crumpled into an expression I’d never seen on her before, the look of someone getting ambushed by her own body and choosing to lose the fight.

"Jace, I’m going to, I’m about to..."

"Then do it, and don’t you dare hold any of it back from me."

She came apart around me. Her inner walls clamped down so tight I saw white at the edges of my vision, milk jetted from both breasts across my chest, and she screamed my name at the ceiling.

Then a wet pop went off at the foot of the bed in a flash of lime green light, and suddenly there were two Misatos in the room.

The second one knelt on the floor at the end of the mattress, completely naked, ponytail half collapsed and face flushed red from her hairline down to her chest. She was gasping too. Her hands gripped the bed frame and her thighs pressed together, and her green eyes rolled up while she rode out the exact same orgasm as the original.

Legion Split came packaged with shared senses, so every clone felt whatever the original felt and the original felt every clone right back.

I froze mid-thrust, which made both of them whine at once.

That stereo whine went straight into long-term storage, filed right next to the black sand beach and the cow bells.

The original Misato’s eyes snapped open. She looked down the length of the bed at herself, and every drop of blood in her body rushed to her face so fast I worried about her heart.

"No, absolutely not, dismiss, get out of here right now."

The clone looked up at her, still trembling, and mouthed a tiny apology before it burst into green sparks that drifted down and vanished over the carpet.

Neither of us moved for a long second.

"So that’s a thing that happens now."

Misato slapped both hands over her face. Her whole body shook underneath me, half aftershock and half humiliation, and she clenched around me on every shudder hard enough to make my eyes water.

"That has never happened to me, Jace, not once in nine years."

"Not even once, Captain?"

"Not even when Cassandra slapped me in front of Blair, and I wanted to put six of me through her teeth."

I tried very hard not to grin. I failed spectacularly. I had just made Misato Ayame lose her grip on an A-rank ability by fucking a clone loose from her, which counts as the best performance review a man can receive.

Somewhere in Santa Barbara, Yumi’s crystal plate had just flashed lime green, and I was going to get a text about it at four in the morning.

"Stop smiling at me like that, Monroe."

"I’m not smiling, Captain, this is my focused face."

She peeked through her fingers. Whatever she found on my face made her lips twitch before they gave up entirely.

Misato started laughing. Real laughing, the helpless kind that shook her stomach and squeezed me tight inside her. She dropped her hands and dragged me down by the jaw to kiss me through it, her mouth tasting like salt and the dregs of the ferry coffee.

"You are the worst thing that has ever happened to me."

"Says the woman who spawned a second naked captain to watch."

She bit my lip for that one. Then she planted her heel on the mattress, hooked her other leg around my hip, and rolled us.

The twin bed did not approve. My right shoulder hung half off the edge, my feet poked past the frame into open air, and Misato settled on top of me with her chin up, smug about taking the high ground.

"Captain’s prerogative, field lead, look it up."

"Pretty sure the regulation handbook doesn’t cover this position."

"I wrote half the regulation handbook for this squad, so it covers whatever I say."