Where Justin is sly and seductive, Olivia is able to charm people into doing most anything. They are the perfect combination. A lethal mix of attraction and allure, one that can have the public fearful but still deeply fascinated. From there, their plans take shape.

----

Despite the relative notoriety their work brings them, foregoing their usual visits to nightclubs is out of the question. There is something about sitting quietly amidst the countless round tables on the floor that calms Olivia. It seems as though only though the blare of the band and the haze of cigarette smoke is she able to hear her own thoughts clearly. Her thoughts, which currently, have been on nothing else but how to execute the next part of their plan. They’ve robbed a total of six banks since they started, each one relatively uneventful, some close calls, but never anything they couldn’t handle, and briefly, as Olivia takes a sip of her martini, she wonders when their luck will run out.

Justin slips back into his seat, adjusting his tie before sliding an arm around Olivia’s chair and reaching for his glass.

“He’s here.” He says, his voice echoing strangely from deep within his tumbler.

Olivia holds her neck still but her eyes flick through the crowd, looking for their mark until she finds him…Adam Fischer.

Adam Fischer is a handsome young man who works at the next bank, and whose sole responsibility is to create and keep track of each code for the vaults and their surrounding doors. The next bank on their list is the most secure yet, and Justin and Olivia both know in order to get the job done with enough time for their escape they need the codes before they enter the bank, and that means they need Fischer.

Adam Fischer sits alone at a table about twenty feet away, and they watch him carefully as he tosses back bourbon after bourbon carelessly. They wait until he’s good and drunk before standing together and making their way to his table. Olivia clutches the last dregs of her martini in one hand, the other arm wrapped loosely in the crook of Justin’s arm. They stumble their way towards his table, her fake giggles ringing through the air like bells. Finally they reach two empty chairs at his table, and with a sigh, Olivia falls into the one right next to him.

She spills a bit of her martini as Justin pulls up the chair next to her before sitting down.

“You don’t mind, do you?” She asks, her normally slight southern accent turning strong and pronounced. Olivia smiles lightly, keeping her eyes a little unfocused for good measure.

Fischer shakes his head with a grin and takes another sip of his bourbon. “Not at all, not at all.”

“You’ll have to excuse my darling Margaret.” Justin says, leaning forward to address Fischer, who eyes the way Justin’s hands seem to inch their way up Olivia’s thigh. “I believe she’s had one too many martini’s and well, she doesn’t really drink very often.” Justin gives him a wry smile.

“Don’t be silly, Don,” Olivia says, leaning towards Fischer, her hand slipping past his smoking jacket to finger a button on his dress shirt where she gives him a nice pat. “He doesn’t mind…do you?” Her finger slips in between the bit exposed by the space between buttons and strokes what bare skin she finds before turning slowly to Justin, a small smile on her face. “See?”

Justin’s eyes are locked on Fischer and is not surprised to see a look of loss flit past his eyes when Olivia let’s her hand slide out from his shirt and back to Justin’s lap. “Come on, baby,” Olivia whispers to Justin, loud enough for Fischer to hear, even facing away from him.

Justin regards Fischer with faux suspicion before nodding his head once, his eyes falling onto Olivia’s face, as he watches her wink once before turning to Fischer again, a predatory glint in her eyes when she says, “Come to our room with us, won’t you?”

Even in his drunken state Fischer sputters and looks from Olivia to Justin and back again.

“Excuse me?” He asks, finishing the last of his bourbon in an attempt to calm the nervous tremor in his hands when she speaks.  

“You heard her.” Justin says, his voice calm yet cajoling, sliding his calloused palms down Olivia’s shoulders and arms before clasping her hands in his. “Or do you want her to say it again?” He asks, and Olivia can hear the smirk in his voice.

“N-No, that’s not necessary.” Fischer answers, standing on shaky legs and gestures to the door. “Lead the way.”

Justin let’s go of Olivia’s hands somewhat begrudgingly, and allows her to slip her palm in Fischer’s, pulling him along out into the open March air until they finally reach their hotel room.

Olivia glances towards Fischer and giggles as she fumbles with the key, he grins back at her drunkenly, seeming to forget that there is another man behind him who’s a part of the party just as much as he is. Justin stands sentinel behind Fischer, making sure no one sees him as they all make their way into the hotel room.

Fischer’s hands find Olivia’s bare shoulders as she fiddles with her clutch for something and Justin feels the burn of jealousy tight in his chest. That is, until she turns, that coy smile having left her lips and the barrel of her gun sliding to the center of his chest, where her fingers were moments before.

Fischer falls back onto the bed in his shock and the springs squeak as if mimicking his own outrage. Both his hands are behind his back, spread wide on the comforter, slipping farther backward in his attempt at escaping her gun.

Olivia walks towards the bed, and Justin follows her lead, pulling the pistol from inside his slacks out and aiming directly at Fischer’s head.

“Surprise.” Justin says, coming to stand hip to hip with Olivia.

It seems the fear has sobered Fischer up, because his next words are less slurred, though the sharp point of trepidation after each word isn’t lost.

“The two of you…together…and me…”

“Yes, darling, work it out. It’s all there, in your head.” Olivia drawls with a condescending smile.

“What do you want from me?!” Fischer asks.

“We know who you work for. And what you do for him,” Olivia answers.

“We want the codes to the vault, Fischer.” Justin continues as if talking to a child, “You give us the codes – the right codes – we go to work with you tomorrow morning, and you can leave the bank tomorrow alive.”

With a swallow and a final glance down the barrel of their guns, Fischer nods his head reluctantly. “Okay.”

----

The bank in the morning would be eerie to Olivia, if she was ever scared of anything. The empty atrium is silent and the air feels almost thick but it does nothing but confirm their safety to her. After the slight hiccup two jobs ago, Olivia and Justin decide the less obvious the better, so they follow Fischer into the bank when it opens. Their guns are kept hidden, but they’ve made it clear to Fischer one wrong move will guarantee the loss of his life. Justin watches as he pulls the key from the gold-framed door and turns back to them, keeping his eyes on the ground.

 “Follow me,” he says, and this time, with no hostages to keep an eye on, they both go.

It seems like a maze as they walk through corridor after corridor, all seemingly identical, but at the end of each, a different five-digit code is needed. When the next door opens there isn’t another hallway, instead, a large metal door greets them less than a foot away from their faces.

Justin’s heartbeat quickens, this is always the best part of any job. Opening vault doors gives him the exactly the same rush as when he unzips Olivia’s dresses. And briefly, as Fischer walks towards the vault, all Justin sees is the smooth expanse of Olivia’s back flanked by the deep burgundy of her dress. A small click brings Justin back from his daydream as Fischer swings the heavy door open and allows Olivia to step inside.

The gathering of the money is quick; she stuffs it into their black leather bags while Justin stands at the entrance, watching Fischer and making sure no one comes looking for them. By the time they get back to the atrium, a few customers have entered the bank, and as their weapons, now drawn from their jackets, come into view scattered screams echo through the building. Justin has one hand on the door handle when a little boy’s voice echoes through the atrium.

“Are you bank robbers?” the kid asks curiously as his little hands cling to his mother’s skirt.

Olivia stops in her tracks and turns slowly to look at the child. She nods her head once, and leans down to the child’s level.

“What’s your name?” He asks, moving out a little from behind his mother.

“Olivia,” she says with that pied piper smile. “What’s yours?”

“Billy,” he answers all big eyes and a dusting of freckles on his nose.

“Pleasure to meet you, Billy.” Justin finishes and they walk out of the bank with their bags.   

----

Justin slips through their hotel room door with his fedora pulled down low over his brow and a newspaper folded under his arm. Olivia is caught off guard by the domesticity of his movements; the tired removal of his wool coat and the subtle adjustment of his suspenders have her reeling. But before she has time to fully contemplate the funny fluttering in her stomach, his smile, bright, white and incredibly guilty dazzles the thought away.

He hands her the newspaper, his bicep brushing against her breasts as he walks by and falls into the plush velvet armchair in the corner. The paper, still warm as if it was just off the press, feels heavy in her hands. Olivia looks down, and starring back at her on the front page of the Cincinnati Post is a photo of the bank they robbed not two days before. She scans the article frantically, feeling tendrils of fear and adrenaline mixed with the tiniest bit of pride weave through her system. As quick as it comes, the fear disappears, and her shaky laugh is the only sound in the room. Thankfully, she finds no pictures, only a hilariously inaccurate description of Justin, and a not so inaccurate one of herself.

“Fischer.” Olivia declares, “I think he may just be a little embarrassed.” she says with a smirk and tosses the newspaper into the trash without a second glance.

Justin scowls as he folds his arms across his chest. His deep green oxford pulls tight across his shoulders silhouetting the muscles of his chest. “I don’t know what idiot said that I was 5’6. You’re taller than that.”

Olivia smiles and hums in agreement, enjoying his pout as she straddles his waist, nestling her thighs in between his and the armrests of the chair. She stretches her arms behind his head, letting her nails drag through the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

“You having second thoughts, baby?” She coos, enjoying the quiet sigh that he breathes onto her collarbone when she seats herself fully on his lap.

His hands reach to cup her ass, the cotton of her skirt rests around them like a circus tent as she settles, and he growls a little when she shifts, rolling her hips forward.

He speaks with half-lidded eyes, admiring the bow of her lips and contrast of the course fabric of her jacket to the smoothness of her skin. “Never. We’re now famous, Liv. How could I back out?”

She laughs again, and it’s deep and sultry – the exact female equivalent of Justin’s.

“No, Justin – we’re infamous. There’s a difference.” And she captures his lips the same way she steals all that money – deliberate and forceful, with just a little bit of improvisation.

She gasps into his mouth when their lips meet – she’s always a little shocked at how well he seems to know her and what she wants. His lips enclose on her bottom one briefly, and when he pulls back, his hands find their way into her jacket, shucking it off her shoulders and onto the carpet below them.  He holds her neck in his hands, keeping her still as his lips navigate their way from her chin to her jaw and back again. She can feel him hardening beneath her with every rock of her hips, every gasp breathed across his skin and she doesn’t want to wait any longer.

His shirt is warm when she pulls it from his slacks, the bottom button popping undone in her haste.

“Anxious?” he whispers, tonguing the shell of her ear, letting his hands run up and down her back.

Olivia says nothing but rolls her hips onto his hardening cock, and when he hisses into her ear, there are no words needed. She chuckles again and pushes the straps of his suspenders off his shoulders before grazing her palm down his still covered chest to cup him through his slacks. He’s fully hard now, straining against his zipper, taught against the right side of his pants. Their eyes meet as she rubs him and it seems like the world has gone silent except for their labored breathing.

Justin almost rips the zipper out of Olivia’s dress in his attempt at removal, but when it falls forward and he undoes her bra with a simple flick, nothing else matters. Her nipples are rosebud pink and stiff as the cool hotel air hits them, but when Justin cups her left breast in his hand slips her nipple into his mouth they seem to harden even more. There is something exquisite, Olivia decides, in the contrast of Justin’s cool callused hand and the warm smoothness of his mouth, and it does nothing but make her roll her hips into his again in anticipation.

Somehow, Olivia manages to release Justin’s cock from inside his slacks and briefs, and he’s already leaking precum when she thumbs the head of his cock. His mouth leaves her breast with a pop and for a few minutes he rests his head back in the chair and watches Olivia stroke his cock. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth when he groans, her hand moving in time with his sighs, twisting at the head before each down stroke. He’s almost purple with want when she licks her lips and glances up into his eyes as her thumb flicks the little bead of skin on the head. She swipes the slit once more with her thumb before bringing it up to her mouth to lick away the moisture.

Justin groans, loud and appreciative, and that’s enough. “Lift,” he says, adding a small sigh when Olivia goes right back to stroking his cock as she rises. He pushes her panties to the side, and he can feel they’re soaked. With his free hand he reaches under her skirt and slips a finger into her wetness. She moans when he adds another finger, releasing his cock and bracing her hands on the back of the armchair. The air fills with her whimpers as he plunges his fingers in and out. She’s wet and so, so hot, and the way her fingernails grip his shoulders, digging half moon divots into his skin, send him into overdrive. He pulls his fingers out, making Olivia’s brow furrow in confusion at the loss. Justin strokes himself once, giving a small sound of appreciation before teasing her clit with his cock. He slips easily between her lips, sliding from her clit to her entrance and back again. Her eyelids flutter closed each time he swipes at her clit, and when he finally positions his cock at her entrance he pulls her chin towards him and captures her lips.

Olivia moans into his mouth when he slides the head of his cock into her, and when he presses her hips down so she seats herself on him fully, her back arches tight as a bowstring. She throws her head back in ecstasy, the loose curls of her once neat hairdo cascade down her back and do nothing to cover her chest.

He decides she looks beautiful then, her breasts are pink and swollen from the attention he gave them earlier, and the way they sway when she lifts back onto her knees is almost hypnotizing. She starts riding him in earnest then, working her hips in a maddening rhythm, her thighs squeezing tight around his hips, her inner muscles clenching at his cock. She’s warm and tight and so beautiful to watch, but when she starts moving faster he can’t help but close his eyes. The light slapping sound of skin on skin and their breathless gasps are the only sounds in the room.

Olivia grabs for Justin’s hair, holding the curls at the nape of his neck as she rides him. She sits herself on him fully, again, enjoying the fullness and the shock of pleasure when she grinds her clit against his pelvic bone. When she rises again she lets out a hushed yes and revels in the tight, white-hot stretched feeling of his cock sliding in and out, the steady pressure of his hips against her as she rides him, the little thumping vibrations sending sparks through her entire pelvic bone, forcing moans from her throat on impact.

Justin meets her, thrust for thrust, alternating between pressing her breasts together and grabbing her ass through the fabric of her dress. Olivia slams down onto his cock and he lets out a moan so strangled, filled with so much need that her rhythm falters. His eyes are open, now, watching her face and she stills completely to catch his mouth with her own for a moment. His tongue in her mouth is aggressive and his teeth on her lip are rough.

Her legs began to shake as she starts again, and when Justin slides a hand under her skirt, finding her clit instantly it is too much. She comes with a moan high in her throat, spasming against his chest, and suddenly Justin is out of the chair and through her orgasm he’s pushing her against the softness of the bed. She throws her legs around his back, and locks her ankles, both of them moaning loud enough to cover the sound of the bed squeaking with the power of his thrusts. He fucks her fast and hard, sending jolts of exhausted pleasure to the tips of her fingers and toes, making her hips buck against his as he comes, resting his forehead against her collarbone with a final moan.

“I love you,” he breathes against her neck, kissing his way from her collarbone to her lips, and she shivers.

A thief is never supposed to make a home anywhere. They should always be ready to pick up and leave, no regrets, no looking back. No permanent addresses, no pets, no creature comforts. It’s the trade thieves have to make, her dad used to say. It’s what they get after all their stealing, what they deserve. But when the last trace of Justin’s declaration – one that has been said many times before – leaves his lips, Olivia realizes she has broken this rule. And when he pulls out of her before quickly tucking her against his chest, their breaths rising and falling in sync instantly, she realizes – her home is Justin and there would be no leaving him.