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With a dry chuckle she began to lower herself down, in no rush as she stopped off to collect her Widows Kiss Rifle and waiting until the last massage of the pink smoke had drifted away before she allowed herself down the rest of the way, watching as the yellow jumpsuit-clad figure of Tracer, sat slumped against a wall, breathing hard and coughing. “Ahh petite fille, how does it feel, to finally lose?” She said in a calm cadence, her faux panic gone now, replaced instead by a smug look, her usually stoic expression now a sly smirk that suited her beautiful, albeit altered features. “W-what did you do to me!” Tracer coughed out, the fear and disorientation in her bright vibrant voice music to Widowmaker's ears. Widowmaker sensual let out a dry chuckle, “I beat you.” She stepped slowly over to Tracer, squatting down and reaching out, using a gloved hand to raise the girl's chin even as she winced, forcing her to look into Widowmakers unnatural yellow eyes, “Now sleep, things will be different when you wake up… Fais de beaux rêves, ha, though I doubt it.” “W-what? W-... Uhh..” Tracer whimpered slightly as Widowmaker released her head, letting it fall against her chest as sleep took its hold on her. Tracer’s dreams were less than pleasant, confusion and pain, fear and terror, all mixed in with the persistent vision of, bizarrely, a flower slowly losing its petals and wilting away. A few times she thought she had awoken, but the nightmare she awoke to those times had been too dark to be real. Movement, pain, music? Flowers? Tracer let out a low moan and felt her body stretch out, her muscles aching and her head throbbing, though at the very least the pain seemed to be slowly melting away, her entire body comfortably spread out over a soft supportive mattress. “I-I’m alive…” she whispered to herself amazed to have woken up at all, “Where… Where am I… Who's there?...” she asked, her eyes opening to narrow slits, the bright light of the room blinding, her vision blurred as she tried to pull herself from whatever deep sleep she had been in, seeing the vague outline of a person. “Welcome home, mon amour.” Came a far too familiar voice, the rich French accent soft and unconcerned. Tracer gasped at the effort of quickly pushing herself into a sitting position, wanting desperately to defend herself, to flee, to fight, but just not finding the energy in her tired body, stripped of weapons, armours and accelerators, to do more than sit up. After the brief struggle that left her in an upright position, panting from the exertion, she spoke, her usually bright voice small tits sounding worn out, “What… What did you do to me?” “Nothing I won't regret. Tea?” Came the voice, oddly… Casual. Tracer raised a hand as her mind cleared itself of the fog of sleep, surprised to find that she wasn’t restrained in any way. She held the hand over her eyes, trying to rub the sleep from them as she crossed her legs underneath her, a thick duvet resting on her lap, warm from her own body. “What’re… Ah… My head…” Tracer whimpered, raising both her hands to her head as she squeezed her eyes shut, the pain passing quicker now. “Do not worry, that’ll pass. I know.” Tracer felt the mattress beneath her dip slightly to one side and she forced herself to open her eyes, seeing her more clearly now, Widowmaker, her foe and enemy sitting beside her, delicate eyebrows raised, a cup in one hand held out towards Tracer, the liquid inside dark and steaming. “Widowmaker… You’re… Wearing a T-shirt?” Tracer asked, incredulous, not taking the cup, as if out of everything in this situation Widowmakers attire was the most baffling aspect to her, a T-shirt and what looked to be sweatpants. Widowmaker scoffed and set the cup down on the nightstand beside the bed at Tracers arm, “What? You thought I wore that skin-tight suit everywhere I go? And my name is Amélie, you might as well use it.” “Why?...” “Because that is who I am when I’m not in interracial the suit, Lena,” Amélie said flatly, rising once again to her feet and stepping away towards the window, glancing out and around, the light reflecting on her amber eyes. “No, I mean, why am I alive? Why aren’t you trying to kill me? Why are you…” Lena glanced down at the cup, her voice regaining a little more of its girlish vibe, “Making tea?” Amélie let out a soft little sigh and leaned on the windowsill, silent for a moment as Lena observed the woman's slender profile. Their fights were always so incredibly fast paced with her chronal accelerator and Widowmakers ballet trained pace that she seldom got to view her without either of them moving at some speed. After a moment of staring at the svelte figure and before Amélie replied, Lena looked away, an almost imperceptible hue colouring her cheeks. “Because, Lena, I was getting sick, sick of our little game.” “What game?” Amélie shot Lena a glance and raised an eyebrow again, asian her ponytail still intact as it wound down her back, “The endless game of cat and mouse that you and I play but neither of us ever seem to win.” “Not for a lack of trying, love,” Lena said, matter of factly. Amélie smirked slightly, “Mm, I do like it when you call me that…” The entire time Lindsey hung on my arm, telling me all about her job, some of the friends she met in college. Bye honey.” I said as I tap the earpiece. Obnoxious cretins.” She pointedly stared towards Mike and Will and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Father and son could not help their moans as their gorgeous small tits daughter and sister jerked their manhoods. I smiled, my tie whisking off as the busty schoolgirl reached massage behind her. Her moans become louder as I lift her hips so she is on all fours and I pull her knickers down. We'd not skimp on the value of our lives." Dad blinked twice, looked at mom, then back at me. I sensual couldn’t any longer be unreadable – I’m sure my face was a projection of just how uncomfortable I was. Impaled, she felt incredible in me. Shortly I felt my pleasure rise and groaned in ecstasy, as my whole dick area throbbed and I pumped my semen into Larry’s mouth. By the time I had got to “40 - thank you Master” I could feel his dick getting hard. I felt like I was on a stage in front of a thousand people as I looked down at the scantily clad beauty in front of me. “Um…I just wanted to say thank you for the breakfast this morning. What is happening to me?” Accommodating the girth and length asian of the ribbed shaft wasn't easy, but somehow Arianna managed. She however looked me right into the eye and now knelt down before me. Oh my god, was she actually doing this? He interracial considered for an instant to get more aggressive, but lost his nerve moving quickly away from her vagina.