Chapter Text
Agatha did not particularly care for social gatherings, let alone those that required her to make idle chatter with the far intellectually inferior.
What she did care for was presenting her findings from her latest paper, the one that earned her tenure at forty years old, and rubbing her genius in everyone's face. Because despite the fact that she had published many, many papers, this one made her noteworthy. It made her the keynote speaker at the International Conference on Multidisciplinary Studies, Anthropology, History, and Archaeology in Copenhagen this year.
Hundreds of professors, students, and doctors flying in from different universities all over the world to listen to Agatha. Praise her and her work at U-Mass’ history department. Hear her speak and sit back in awe that they were too fucking stupid to do the work and make the connections themselves.
Her body thrummed with anticipation as she stormed through the conference center, simply moving from point A to point B. She refused to get involved in pleasantries, it was the worst part of academia. The small talk, the pretentious bullshit, the playing of devil's advocate.
Agatha’s loafers carried her farther down the hall, her loose braid swishing with every step. Her glasses clung to the tip of her nose, black slacks and matching belt sitting on her waist, wrinkled white button up with the sleeves rolled beneath her navy sweater vest. A messily scribbled ‘Dr. Agatha Harkness’ nametag on the cashmere of her top, leather messenger bag slung on her shoulder. Some have said she presents herself as too intimidating, but clearly those people had never met a butch lesbian. More than that, Agatha liked being intimidating, it kept the dumbasses from arguing with her.
She’d gone the entire first day of the conference going from lecture hall to lecture hall, enduring the torture of listening to others drone on. Finally, with day one coming to a close, it was her turn to present, stalking past a group of twenty-something PhD students on her way into the largest auditorium the center had.
“There’s a pub like three blocks over, I think we should take advantage of Denmark’s nightlife.” One of the students said, the others agreeing.
“Rhodes?” Another one asked for confirmation.
Agatha’s eyes flickered over, for no reason in particular.
The student in question, Rhodes, smiled. Hair down, dressed in baggy jeans and long sleeved button up, along with very chunky boots that screamed dyke. She was leaning against the wall nonchalantly, hands in her pockets, the small gap in her two front teeth appearing through curled lips. The warmest brown eyes made the briefest contact with Agatha’s before she answered.
“Gotta stay warm somehow…” Rhodes replied, gaze lingering on Agatha’s back even after she had passed by the group of probable morons.
Agatha paid no mind to it, getting checked out by someone who might as well be a fetus. She stood confidently at the front of the auditorium, laptop queued with visual aids. Speaking to a room of mostly Gen Z and millennials meant she had to keep showing them different pictures to keep their attention. Like fish with shiny, reflective surfaces.
Once everyone had filed in and settled, she began, idly noting that one brunette from the hall all the way in the back.
“Hello everyone, I’m Dr. Agatha Harkness. I am a tenured professor from the University of Massachusetts’ history department, and I’m here to discuss my paper on the Tesseract. Also known colloquially as ‘the space stone’ due to its celestial appearance, the Tesseract has had few brave enough to track its origin.” She smiled almost to herself, leisurely holding the clicker in her hand as she stood behind the podium. “I could bore you with previous attempts, but I prefer mine…for obvious reasons.”
The crowd let out soft murmurs of laughter, that one brunette included.
Fuck, why did Agatha’s eyes keep landing on her?
Her being hot might have something to do with it, Agatha’s brain helpfully supplied.
And no older than twenty fucking five.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” She clapped her hands together, microphone clipped to her collar making her voice reverberate throughout the auditorium.
It went off without a hitch, Agatha’s work spoke for itself. She had painstakingly tracked this stupid cube from the big bang all the way to the present day. Nobody had done that before, well not accurately at least.
An hour later, she concluded her findings, wrapping everything in a nice little bow for these nitwits.
“We can track the Tesseract through roughly the last thousand years.” Agatha declared. “From the very creation of life to Norway. From Norway to the middle of the ocean only to be recovered years later. Where it now stays today, under lock and key for observation by the U.S. government.”
With one last click of the remote, she was done, letting the applause of the crowd wash over her.
“Any questions?” She asked, though it was rhetorical. This shit was so airtight, there was no way fucking way someone could find a flaw–
“I have one.” A familiar voice from the back row called out.
“Fucking hell.” She mumbled, hoping the microphone didn’t pick it up.
“What’s up, I’m Rio. PhD student. Berkeley.” She introduced herself before standing. “You started your timeline with the big bang before concluding that the Tesseract turned up in Tønsberg, Norway.”
Agatha blinked. “There a question in there somewhere?”
“You didn’t account for how it got to Norway to begin with.”
“If the previous studies done by planetary geologists are to be believed,” She held back from rolling her eyes. “The Tesseract landed there after several thousand years of floating through space.”
“But–”
Fuck.
“Did you even take into account the theory of a cult or other race coming into contact with the Tesseract before the Germans or Hydra in 1942?”
“Of course, but there’s no academic backing to any of those claims.”
“Well–” Rio pressed. “There have been other papers that propose the stone was in the Asgardian’s protection.”
Oh, this woman wasn’t hot.
She was driving Agatha up a fucking wall.
She clenched her jaw, forehead vein popping as she kept her composure. “I am aware, and to reiterate, those have little to no academic evidence.”
“I’d disagree.”
“Asgardians are a fictional race that have never proven to exist, let alone care for a stone that the U.S. military keeps in a vault under twenty-four-hour surveillance.”
Rio was undeterred. “There’s been several–”
“Rio, was it?”
She grinned. “Yeah.”
“Well,Rio, I have researched the validity of those claims multiple times.” She kept her voice soft before letting it go cold. “Over the past three years I have spent creating this timeline. There is no substantial evidence that a made-up group of people ever came into contact with the Tesseract. If there was, I would have taken it into account before submitting.”
Agatha waited, staring the younger woman down. Almost challenging her to keep pushing.
Push the respected keynote doctor, Rio.
After a beat of silence, Agatha relaxed. Satisfied that she had wrangled this student into submission.
“I disagree.” Rio shrugged. “The notion that a civilization didn’t exist simply because you didn’t research thoroughly enough is, frankly, reckless.”
Agatha cocked her hip in cadence with her head. “The opinion of one pretentious PhD student does not detract from the fact that my timeline is airtight. Frankly, that is.”
“I meant no offense.”
“I wouldn’t be offended by someone who goes to Berkeley.”
“You should tell your face that.” Rio deadpanned, causing snickers to erupt from the crowd.
Agatha let out a deep exhale, mostly because mauling this woman in the middle of a panel would be frowned upon. She gave a bitter smile before moving on.
“Any other questions?”
Rio stayed standing. “Yeah, I have a few–”
“Anyone at all?” Agatha asked through gritted teeth.
Another from the crowd stood, a man, old. Definitely a professor. “What was the inspiration behind choosing to research the Tesseract?”
Oh, thank fucking god.
“Now that is an excellent question.” She smirked.
Once the keynote had come to an end, Agatha fled. She burrowed into her long coat, pulling it tight around her as she stepped out onto the street. Whoever's idea it was to host a conference in Denmark in late January had a special place in hell reserved, she decided as the bone-chilling air enveloped her.
Her hotel was a short walk from the center, passing by shops and restaurants. Agatha couldn’t actually feel the cold through her broiling rage. The fucking audacity of that student to go toe-to-toe with a respected doctor.
What did Rio even know?
Agatha sulked as she made it another block.
Rio wasn’t a doctor.
Rio wasn’t anything.
Why is she still thinking about Rio?
Rio motherfucking Rhodes.
It was one mouthy dumbass. Agatha dealt with those every day.
So why was this one throwing her off?
Her stride broke as she passed a pub, The Black Dog, and she could think of no better time where alcohol was warranted. Agatha recoiled at the sheer amount of people in the bar, pushing through and finding a stool. She dropped her bag on the floor, letting her head slump into her hands, taking a breath before she fucking lost it.
“Dr. Harkness?”
Oh, she was going to fucking lose it.
Agatha looked up, and sure enough–
“Not you.”
Rio chuckled, “Is this seat taken?” Not even waiting for an answer before perching on the stool next to Agatha.
The younger woman had a Polaroid camera slung around her neck, hastily raising it in her arm and taking a picture of herself with Agatha in the background, scowling. The flash was blinding, the pretentious fucker.
She set her glass down on the bar top next to Agatha’s elbow, pocketing the photo printed from the camera. “Are you stalking me?”
Rio fidgeted with the plastic toothpick in her drink, turning her body to face Agatha’s. She noted MORS tattooed across Rio’s knuckles of her right hand. “This is the closest bar to the convention center.”
“Not an answer.” She muttered, waving down the bartender. “Whiskey, Macallan, neat. Three fingers.”
“If I had a nickel for every time I heard that one…” Rio murmured over the rim of what looked to be some fruity monstrosity in her tumbler.
Agatha whipped her head and body towards the student. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“No problem,” She shook her head, smirking. “I like talking to you.”
“You like pissing me off.” Agatha sniped, plucking her glass off the bar when it arrived.
“Those two seem to be one in the same.”
“Just tell me something.” She said after letting a sip burn down her throat. “Where do you get off speaking to a respected professor like that?”
“Like what?”
“You were argumentative, disrespectful, dismissive–”
“No, Agatha, that was you.”
“Dr. Harkness.” Agatha corrected. “Only people I like can call me Agatha and I don’t like you.”
“Now, that’s not true.” Rio tilted her head. “You’re talking to me, aren’t you?”
“You commandeered the seat next to me.”
“You didn’t tell me not to.”
Agatha scoffed, tightening her grip around her glass. “And it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life, I’m sure.”
“How’d you get this far without being able to take criticism?”
“I can take valid criticism. The type with actual merit.”
“Okay,” Rio leaned in. “Then let me walk you through it.”
And Agatha wasn’t dumb, it was obvious what Rio wanted. The flirtatious jokes, the close proximity, the snarky comments. And yes, knowing a PhD student wanted to fuck her was flattering. But Agatha would also rather chew glass than admit to being wrong, admit that Rio’s rebuttal wasn’t completely out of left field. So, she leaned in too, her free hand dropping to Rio’s knee.
Agatha furrowed her brows in mock confusion. “Oh, please do.”
Brown eyes flickered to Agatha’s hand, her breath catching. “Uh, the existence of a third party or outside race being in possession of the Tesseract has been studied–”
Agatha let her hand drift up further, keeping her eyes on Rio’s face like she was listening. “Mmhm.”
Rio’s tongue quickly licked her bottom lip, but didn’t address how Agatha’s fingers were steadily reaching her thigh. “There’s- there’s a great journal from 2012 on h-how Asgardians felt a sense of duty to the stone.”
“I’ll look it up.” Agatha spoke casually, her hand reaching its final destination at the apex of Rio’s thighs. “Do you remember the name of the university that published it?”
Rio’s face faltered, eyes fluttering. “Um…”
“Or the author?”
The younger woman flushed, her hand choking her drink. “I’m- I’m forgetting.”
The pub was dark and packed, nobody giving a second thought to the way Agatha and Rio were huddled by the bar. As Agatha cupped Rio’s crotch through her jeans, she felt a semi-hard length almost twitch.
Her pulse spiked at the realization, at the effect she had on her. She had barely done anything and Rio was already so willing, so reactive.
“How are you going to give criticism without having the citations to back it up?” Agatha innocently asked, letting her palm give the softest amount of friction possible.
Rio canted her hips fractionally, trying to get more. “Y-yeah…” She incorrectly responded.
Agatha curled her lips, lifting her hand completely. “Well if you’re not even going to try–”
“No. Wait.” Rio grabbed her wrist with the hand that had VITA inked across the knuckles, attempting to put it back where it had just been.
Agatha’s traitorous mind flashed with the thought of that hand wrapped around her neck, VITA grasping her windpipe. The irony of life choking her.
“Uh-uh.” She scolded, her hand hovering. “Ask nicely.”
And just like she knew Rio would–
“Please,” Rio spoke so earnestly, pupils blown wide.
Agatha let her hand rest against Rio again, but didn’t apply any pressure. “Please, what?”
“Please, Dr. Harkness, touch me.”
Agatha sympathetically pouted, fingers wrapping around Rio’s cock as much as possible through the loose denim. “You desperate for it?”
“Yes.” Rio’s jaw slackened, grasp on Agatha’s wrist growing loose.
Agatha licked her lips like a predator about to pounce, palming and feeling her become even harder. “You’re pathetic, aren’t you.”
It wasn’t a question and Rio didn’t even try to give a response, instead pressing her lips together to smother a moan. “Mmhmm.”
“Say it.” Agatha pawed at the younger woman with a renewed intensity. “Tell me, Rio.”
“I-I’m pathetic.” She choked out, her torso going rigid.
Agatha leaned in further until her lips brushed the shell of Rio’s ear, adorned with a million piercings. “Good girl.”
A pained whimper left Rio’s mouth, the hot air caressing Agatha’s cheek. “Agatha.”
“Are you going to come in your pants from just a few touches?” Agatha’s tone dripped with condescension.
Rio didn’t answer, her right hand almost clawing at the bar top while Agatha stroked her.
“Where’d all that cockiness go?”
No answer, Rio writhing in her seat.
Agatha felt the strain in Rio’s jeans and found herself wanting to know exactly how big Rio was, how long. From what she could feel, Rio sure as hell wasn’t fucking small. Agatha wanted to feel Rio somewhere else, specifically inside her.
Clenching her own thighs together, her panties utterly ruined by now, she kept going. “Where’s that confidence?”
“Please.”
“No rebuttal?”
Rio shook her head, her eyes fighting to stay open.
“Aww,” Agatha t’sked. “Sweetheart...poor little slut can’t think.”
A staggered breath exited Rio’s throat, her body hunching over slightly, her hand atop the bar relaxing. Agatha’s hand felt a warm sensation pool beneath the fabric, the strain no longer there.
“Yikes.” Agatha blew out a breath. “Quick trigger, huh?”
It was too dim to see much, but if she really focused, she could make out the outline where the denim was darker than the rest. She dragged her hand back down Rio’s thigh, giving her knee a quick squeeze before pulling away.
“You should really improve on your argumentation if you’re going to have a shot at that PhD.” She picked her drink back up, swallowing the rest of the whiskey. “Because I remain unconvinced.”
The younger woman sat there for a beat, seemingly trying to catch her breath.
Agatha laughed at the almost catatonic student in front of her. “You might want to head back to your hotel and change before your pants get stiff.”
Rio finally looked at her, face flushed. “Are you coming back with me?”
Agatha grinned, pushing her empty glass towards the bar mat. “I don’t think a twenty year old could handle me.”
“I’m twenty-three.”
As if that made it better.
Agatha picked her bag up off the floor, throwing some money down, standing and whispering in Rio’s ear before she left. “Good luck with your studies, darling. You’re going to need it.”
With that Agatha turned on her heel and made her escape. She stepped back out into the freezing streets of Copenhagen, now warm because of the whiskey and arousal rather than fury. Because she had won, reduced that smug prick into a whining mess and all it took was ten minutes and her hand making indirect contact.
Not that Agatha ever gave without getting off herself, as soon as she got to her room she whipped off her clothes. Laying back on the bed and working that same hand between her own thighs, her cunt dripping from thoughts of the twenty-three year old. She plunged two fingers into herself wishing they were Rio, she fucked herself picturing Rio fucking her. Wondering what Rio would do and say, how she’d taste.
It took half the time to get herself off as it did Rio, arching her back off the bed with her eyes screwed shut as a single word spilled from her lips.
“Rio!”
She got in the shower immediately after and got ready for bed, falling asleep that night with a victory under her belt and the satisfaction that she’d most likely never see that woman ever again.
Yeah, that satisfaction didn’t last long.
It was around 9AM when Agatha sat down for the first panel of the second day, grabbing a seat in the last row of the lecture hall. She slung her cerulean winter coat in the chair next to her, unbuttoning her gingham blazer before sitting down and pushing her braid off her shoulder. She flipped through the pamphlet of the day's itinerary, glasses on her nose.The Witches Road: fact or fiction?Agatha quietly chuckled to herself, that road does not exist. It was an old wives tale based on a song that had been warped throughout the centuries.
“This seat taken?” The soft timber of a voice Agatha hadn’t anticipated hearing again hit her eardrums.
She peered up over the pamphlet. “Now where have I heard that one before?”
Rio smiled, moving her coat and flopping down next to her. “If you had a nickel?”
“Where’s the rest of the dumbasses? I seem to remember more of you yesterday.”
“Oh, they’re all sleeping off their hangovers.” Rio cocked her head. “Lucky for me, I had to tap out early last night so I got here bright and early this morning.”
“Yes…” Agatha hissed, “How are your pants? Have they cracked in half yet?”
“It's going to be interesting trying to fold them back into my suitcase, but oh so worth it.”
Agatha rolled her eyes, sighing as the speaker began the presentation.
The first forty-five minutes were fine if not slightly dull, until Rio shifted in her seat, grabbing Agatha’s long coat and placing it over their laps.
“Chilly in here, right?” She said as she adjusted it over Agatha’s hips.
“No.” Agatha scrunched her face.
“Weird.” Rio’s hand disappeared under the jacket, coming to splay on Agatha’s upper thigh. “I’m cold. You cold?”
Agatha sharply inhaled.
You cold? Translated to You game?
And she so fucking was.
Fine, she’d let the annoying PhD student finger her in the back of a lecture hall, at least it would make this presentation interesting.
“Freezing, actually.” Agatha turned her head toward the front of the room, placing her chin in her hand, pinky finger resting on her bottom lip.
Rio turned her head forward too, fingers deftly undoing the buckle of Agatha’s belt and the button of her trousers. Agatha held her breath, anticipation flooding her veins. She didn’t exactly have high hopes, it’d be a miracle if this twenty-three year old could actually make her come. Between the cockiness and the age, Agatha was almost certain Rio was too green to fuck her correctly.
Long fingers sheathed themselves beneath her pants, then the waistband of her underwear.
“Lace, huh?” Rio snarked, keeping her eyes on the speaker.
Agatha steeled her jaw. “I like to treat myself to nice things. You should be on your fuckin’ knees right now thanking god you get to know what kind of panties I wear.”
Rio’s nails dragged through her bush, sending shivers down her spine.
“Spread your legs.” She murmured.
“Fuck off.” Agatha snorted, primarily out of spite.
Rio casually leaned over, fingers curling and giving Agatha’s bush a harsh tug. “Spread. Your. Fucking. Legs.”
Agatha opened her mouth in a silent moan, the pain going straight to her clit. She slouched in her chair, lazily letting her thighs part.
And though she wasn’t looking at her, she could hear the smirk as Rio echoed a version of Agatha’s words last night. “Good boy.”
Agatha’s eyes nearly rolled back, but she fought it, bringing her pinky between her teeth as an outlet for her increasing frustration.
“Thought you’d like that one.” Rio spoke as her hand drifted further down, fingers cupping Agatha and stopping at the sensation of metal against the pad of her finger.
Agatha peeked through her peripheral, a razor sharp grin covering Rio’s face as she stuck her tongue against her cheek. Two fingers pinched the clit piercing that she’d gotten as a rebellious undergrad, quickly tugging that too and forcing Agatha to hold onto the arm of her chair with her free hand.
“Sensitive, baby?” Rio whispered though not directly to Agatha, her fingers dipping through Agatha’s lips and collecting the ever-growing amount slick before bringing it back up to her clit.
Agatha felt her neck and face go rosy with arousal, the vein in her forehead popping out as she struggled to stay silent. Her teeth had sunken further into her pinky, her bottom row baring down on the flesh.
“Fucking dripping for someone who doesn’t like me.” Rio said as she essentially toyed with Agatha’s clit in a public place.
Agatha opened her mouth to refute that statement, but the second she did so, Rio’s digits came to her entrance. Two fingers, only to the first knuckle. A tease at best.
“Fuck you.” Agatha settled for, tone hushed and hips canting as much as possible without drawing suspicion.
“I’d bet you’d love to.” Rio’s fingers sank to the second knuckle and Agatha almost keened. “Tell me, sweetheart, were your panties this soaked at the bar last night?”
“No more than yours.” She bit out, causing Rio to push until her fingers had bottomed out. The faintest whine left her throat, only audible unless sat right next to her.
Agatha involuntarily clenched around the first pump of the lithe digits, hearing Rio chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?” Agatha’s eyes fluttered at the way Rio’s fingers curled on the next return.
“Your needy cunt swallowing me.” She responded through deep, restrained strokes. “I can only imagine how you’d take something else.”
“Mmhph.” Agatha moaned around the nail of her pinky.
“I bet you’d be loud, right?”
She didn’t respond, the feeling of Rio’s palm resting against her clit was distracting her.
“And greedy.” Rio added, the way she was rubbing at her piercing was too good and Agatha didn’t trust herself not to moan aloud during this presentation.
“Shit, you’d probably fucking ache for it. Me inside you, feeling me stretch you. Ruin you.”
The pace Rio had set was nowhere near as brutal as Agatha would have liked, but the outside stimuli was drawing her closer and closer to her peak.
“And god,” Rio sighed. “I can only imagine how’d you feel with your mouth on me, I’d make you choke on it, love.”
She suddenly found her mouth watering at the image. Rio’s MORS hand fisted in her hair, pulling her closer while her mouth eagerly awaited its reward.
“Or–” Rio casually ascertained, digits dragging along her walls again and again. “I could always eat you out ‘til your legs shake. Leave you a pathetic mess.”
Agatha’s breath was ragged by this point, her lungs burning from holding her breath just so she didn’t miss a single word Rio was saying.
“You could use my mouth to get yourself off, I’m sure it does a better job than your own hand.”
Yeah, Agatha was sure of it too as she fluttered around Rio’s fingers.
“You’re leaking for me, Dr. Harkness.”
She needed to get out and go back to the hotel and change immediately after this, because this pair of underwear had also been fucking ruined by the same student.
Rio turned her head, as if to comment on something the lecturer just said. “Now who’s desperate?”
Rio applied more pressure to her clit and Agatha’s back bowed off the back of her chair.
“Aww,” She tsk’d an inch or two from Agatha’s ear. “The scary doctor turns into a whimpering whore with a couple of fingers up her cunt?”
Agatha’s fingers wrapped around the arm of her chair in a white-knuckle grip, her eyes momentarily closing as her pussy clamped around Rio’s fingers. Her clit pulsed in sync, causing her whole body to go static as she came.
Agatha felt the sweat on the nape of her neck as she damn near bit off the tip of her pinky as though it were a carrot. The overwhelming pleasure unable to bubble up from her throat.
Rio turned her attention back to the presentation, her fingers stilling and staying there as Agatha pulsed. Even once the shockwaves had subsided, Rio’s hand didn’t retract. She stayed there, purposely keeping Agatha sensitive and twitching around her. She wouldn’t put it past the smug fucker to try for another orgasm.
But Rio didn’t thrust again, content to keep her fingers warm and wet, safely nestled inside Agatha’s cunt. It was when the lecturer concluded her presentation, asking if anyone had questions. Rio slipped out of her, out of her pants, and shot her hand up in the air. Agatha could literally see her own slick coating Rio’s middle and ring finger, and she prayed to god the speaker couldn’t.
“Yes, you in the back.” She smiled.
Rio smiled back, immediately pointing to Agatha. “Yeah, I think Dr. Harkness had one.”
The professor's eyes shifted to look at Agatha expectantly. “Yes?”
And Agatha, brain still fuzzy with oxytocin, cleared her throat. She’d find a way to make Rio fucking pay for that one. She caught her breath as she recycled her question.
“What was the inspiration behind the research?” Her voice wavered as she tried to project from the back of the hall.
Rio snickered next to her, waiting until the professor had her back turned to show something on the monitor up front. When she knew she was in the clear, she looked to Agatha before popping those same shiny fingers in her mouth, moaning quietly at the taste.
“You’re delicious, cariño.”
Fuck, she was not expecting the Spanish. Especially how it rolled so perfectly off Rio’s tongue.
“I know.” Agatha zipped her fly and redid the buckle of her belt, storming off as soon as the lecture had concluded. Her legs still tingled as she stampeded down the hall of the conference center, not giving Rio another look or word as she did so.
Sure, she could’ve said bye as a courtesy, but she needed to get out of here. A twenty-three year old calling her ‘good boy’ knuckle deep? And her getting off to it? Agatha needed to spiral in solitude. Because now Rio had the fucking upperhand again, and even worse, Agatha couldn’t wait to get it back.
Her thoughts were muddled with the fantasies of Rio fucking her, like really fucking her. No more of these public quickies. Somewhere with a bed, where she could throw around that insufferable pain in the ass.
Shit, she should’ve packed her strap-on, then she could be Rio’s pain in the ass. She subconsciously bit her lip at the idea of Rio naked on the bed, back arching as Agatha fucked her from behind.
Agatha made it back to her hotel room in record time, quite literally peeling her underwear from herself. A thin, glistening string of slick connecting the fabric of the gusset to her pussy before finally snapping.
She told her colleagues that the complimentary hotel breakfast gave her food poisoning before spending the rest of the day barricaded in her room. Once changed, she dumped out her satchel onto the bed, pawing through the clutter to reach her laptop. As she did so, batting away crumpled old papers and empty tubes of chapstick, her fingers grazed a small rectangle.
She flipped it over–
The Polaroid from the bar.
Rio must’ve slipped it into her bag when she wasn’t looking.
Her thumb ran over the glossy coating of the photograph.
Copper eyes, crooked grin, smile lines already forming.
Agatha stared for a beat before dropping it into the wastebasket next to the desk.
Metaphorically and literally discarding the woman.
She sat down, cracking open her laptop and responding to emails in the hopes of distracting herself.
The third and final day in Copenhagen, after another day of presentations and no run-ins with Rio, Agatha got ready for the conference dinner. She opted for a tailored maroon suit, simple white top beneath, tasteful gold chain resting at the hollow of her throat. Her hair was down in all its glory, something she reserved for special occasions. She slipped on her leather loafers, giving herself a once-over before making her way to the waterfront restaurant, Alchemist.
She wouldn’t be partaking in the food, seeing as it was banquet style and she could not afford to get actual food poisoning before hopping a trans-atlantic flight tomorrow morning. Agatha ordered an old-fashioned and made the mind-numbing polite chitchat that her peers thought necessary.
She didn’t listen as the room, primarily men, all exhaled hot air on wasted words. Her eyes roamed the room in the hopes of finding someone, literally anyone–
“Old fashioned?” Rio asked from behind her.
She turned, immediately dropping her sights on Rio’s appearance.
Black trousers, boots, a matching little gay vest that covered anything that academia deemed taboo. But there was nothing underneath and Agatha's eyes went wide as she took in Rio’s arms for the first time.
The woman had tattoos, not just on her knuckles, but half sleeves that cut off at her elbow. All black and white, all shaded, all flowers or vines or foliage. And the muscles under the ink? Toned.
Shit, that was not fair because now Agatha wanted to bite those biceps.
“Excuse me?” Agatha almost squeaked.
“Your drink.” Rio spoke to Agatha, but her eyes were roving over Agatha’s body before landing on her face. “Your hair…”
Agatha lifted a hand to her locks, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah? So what?”
“No, it’s just–” She appeared to be struggling to verbalize her thoughts. “I’ve never seen it, like, fully down. Looks good.”
“Oh. Okay, thanks.”
Rio lifted that asinine polaroid camera slung around her neck. “Picture?”
“What is your obsession with this?” Agatha tilted her head. “Trying to prove how deep you are? How you wax poetic prose about life and love?”
“I just like the physical reminders of memories.” She shrugged. “Means something. To have it be tangible.”
“How romantic.” Agatha snorted.
“I find it a form of intimacy to share that with someone. A memory to keep.”
“Fuck, you’re so gay.”
“And water is wet.” Rio held up the camera. “Humor me?”
“I don’t know…”
“I don’t have one yet, I gave you the pic from the pub. Let me have something to remember you by.”
Well, when she put it like that…
“Fine.” Agatha conceded, fixing her suit jacket and fussing with her hair.
“You look hot.” Rio assured. “Seriously, you look very handsome.”
That was too genuine, too sincere.
“Shut up.” Agatha exhaled, getting closer so Rio could take the damn thing.
Rio raised her arm, positioning it a little ways above them and clicked the shutter. Momentarily blinding Agatha yet again.
The younger woman held out her hand as the photo exited the mouth of the camera. Keeping a hand over it to aid in its development.
“You have to flick it back and forth, it helps.” Agatha spoke, flicking her wrist and mimicking the motion.
“That’s a myth. It actually hurts the photo.”
“It is not a myth.”
“It is.”
“I literally lived through Polaroids, the original. It helps.”
“Good for you, doesn’t make it true.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Want me to Google it?”
“Yeah, I really fucking do.”
Rio whipped out her phone, thumbs typing. The screen buffered before the answer appeared, Rio reading it aloud.
“Shaking or waving a Polaroid photo does not help it develop faster and can damage the image.” Rio proudly said, quirking an eyebrow as she looked at Agatha. “How’s that for citations?”
“Yeah ‘cause Google is such a reputable source.” Agatha’s gaze focused past Rio, to the man currently headed to them. “Oh, fuck me.”
Rio’s posture stiffened. “I’d be happy to, but I don’t think I’ve ever gotten laid from a Google search before.”
“No,” Agatha rolled her shoulders back, preparing for battle. “The guy heading this way. I work with him at U-Mass, total fucking dickhead. I’d suckerpunch him if it wouldn’t cost me my job.”
“Why's he a dickhead?"
“You’ll see.”
“Agatha.” His tone dripped in false niceties. “I haven’t seen you all weekend.”
“John.” Agatha greeted in the fakest tone she could muster. “Rio, this is Professor Walker. John, this is Rio, PhD student.”
He held out a hand to Rio. “Good to see more women in the room. Too many prioritize frivolous pursuits rather than taking the time to educate themselves. We gave you guys the right for a reason.” John chuckled like the douchebag he was. “The ladies just have a gentler disposition it seems.”
Nothing about the way John spoke made Agatha feel gentle.
Rio didn’t take his hand, her voice cold. “Yeah, you men were so kind to take pity on us helpless women with that one.”
Agatha smirked against her better judgement. “Enjoying yourself?”
He didn’t pick up on Rio’s sarcasm, just let his hand drop. “I am. I’ve been so busy running around, I haven’t even congratulated you on landing tenure.”
“Thanks.” Agatha kept her reply curt, hoping he got the hint.
“I mean,” He raised his hands, feigning surrender. “I don’t know how you manage to get so many of your works published.”
“Hard work and dedication?” Rio sardonically questioned. “Just a thought.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” He cocked his head.
“Calling what?” Agatha raised her eyebrows, waiting for what she already knew was coming.
It most unfortunately came with the territory of being a successful woman in academia. Men assuming that because someone was a woman, she must’ve used her ‘feminine wiles’ to gain notoriety rather than her feeble, hormone-addled mind. Because that was just too foreign of a concept for their pea brains to understand.
He dropped his hands, putting them in his pockets like he wasn’t about to say what he was going to say. “Trading ‘favors’?”
Agatha fisted her hand, resisting the urge. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Hey,” He soothed in the most condescending way possible. “No shame, whatever gets you ‘ahead’, right? Who’s to say I wouldn’t give it a go if I thought it’d work.”
Agatha sighed as her blood pressure spiked, jaw clenched at his stupid little pun. “It’s 2020. Nobody is stopping you from sucking a dick, John.”
“Professor Walker?” Rio’s voice was sweet as honey, playing dumb. “Would you mind speaking to me for a moment? Alone maybe? It’d be great to pick your brain and have you walk me through a few things. My thesis paper is just so hard and I get so confused."
He grinned. “Of course.”
Agatha watched in horror as he placed a hand on the small of Rio’s back and began walking away with her.
She knocked back her drink, slamming the empty glass on the counter. Whatever Rio was about to do to that man was worrying. Because John thought he was possibly about to get laid and Rio just…let him assume so? Encouraged it, even?
She was just about to order another drink when a hand shot out of nowhere, grabbing hers and pulling. She was dragged through the restaurant, noticing the hand belonged to Rio, MORS now bloody and split open. She didn’t stop until they were outside, the chilled night air engulfing them as they padded through the street. The fog misting from the waterfront, the smooth ebb and flow of the water drowning Agatha’s ears.
“Rio.” Agatha made her body dead weight, tugging Rio’s body to hers. “What the fuck?”
“Oh,” She grinned wolfishly. “We had to get out of there.”
Agatha flickered her eyes to Rio’s hand, which she was still holding. “Why?”
Rio held up their interlocked fingers, blood now seeping out of her knuckles. “I punched that dude.”
And yeah, Agatha got that much. “Why the fuck would you do that?!”
“I didn’t appreciate the way he spoke to you.” She shrugged. “And I don’t work for U-Mass.”
“He could still report you to the fucking people in charge. Get you in trouble.”
“He doesn’t know where I live or study. He doesn’t know my last name, or my first for that matter, Rio is a nickname.”
Agatha let go of Rio’s hand, crossing her arms for warmth. “My jacket was in there.”
“My hotel is less than a block from here.” Rio pointed down the street. “If you wanna warm yourself up.”
“You think I’m going to sleep with you just because you punched someone for me?”
Rio’s face dropped in fear. “No– Agatha, I swear that's not what I was–”
She fisted a hand into Rio’s vest, tugging her into Agatha’s space. “Baby, I am absolutely going to sleep with you for punching someone for me.”
“Really?”
Yes, really, she needed Rio inside of her as soon as possible.
All of Rio.
Agatha grabbed Rio’s wrist, keeping eye contact as she dragged her tongue along the injured knuckles. Letting out a hum of approval at the metallic taste of the younger woman’s blood. Rio’s lips parted in awe, a soft moan being released.
She started leading Rio by the grasp she had on her. “C’mon, pretty girl.”
“Fuck me.” Rio whispered, gate already thrown off from a semi hard-on as she let Agatha pull her.
“That’s the idea, darling.”