I wouldn't know. Princesses have more important things to do, after all.

[ Says the princess with clear bullet scars and an apparent, casual familiarity with hand to hand combat. In fairness she doesn't consider herself a soldier, though, and she definitely doesn't fucking believe in orders when she's the one who's supposed to be following them.

The important thing here is that South's obeying her - teasing, sure, but she does get the bra unclasped. Sombra shrugs out of it, tossing it to the side and humming softly as she tips her head back and breathes in, arching into the touch that follows - god she fucking likes attention on her nipples - and shifting atop her dominant, squeezing her thighs together just a little, inviting in that familiar little feeling of want when she feels it come knocking. ]

Hm, what orders should I give you next, then? [ The soft ends of her hair brush South's hand when she tilts her head to look down again, that smirk of hers ever-present as she does. ] Would it be skipping a few steps to just tell you to fuck me?