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kiruuuuu · 1 year

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Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 12📏

Today is one of the ships I've always wanted to write, one for which I've inexplicably not seen any content whatsoever (and I don't understand, to me they seem perfect). Also please note that according to Siege, 'Kaid' means commander - Oryx isn't in some delusional one-sided relationship 😆 (Kaid/Oryx, Rating E, smut/spanking, ~2.1k words)

Never before has Saif been in a room that disclosed its usual occupant so readily: every piece of furniture is placed with great deliberation, there is no speck of dust visible, and the chamber carries itself with a grave solemnity so befitting its owner. Dark wood is finely ornamented, the mosaics are precise things of beauty, the pillars elegant and free of decoration. It is an office fit for a leader, functional yet impressive, made to instil a sense of awe while not unnecessarily drawing the eye.

Though Saif wishes for something to rest his gaze on, anything to distract his mind from the scrutiny of the one person whose favour he seeks. His feet are half-sunken into the atypical thick rug right in front of the heavy desk from which he’s been welcomed a minute ago, ordered to stand where he now stands. He stares straight ahead though his hairs strain upwards, outwards in the direction of the threat circling him. He’s too aware of the other man’s presence despite his nearly soundless pacing.

“Tell me, how long have you been with us?”

Sharp words cause his ears to twitch. A rhetorical question, no doubt his Kaid knows every detail about all the students he oversees. “Seven months, one week and three days”, Saif replies evenly. He’s counted the days ever since the Fortress doors finally swallowed him, counted them in anticipation of being spat out again, deemed unpalatable. So far, he’s been lucky, but every visit to this very office causes his stomach to sink. A small voice prophesies this time, he’ll throw you out whenever he climbs the stairs, his feet heavy as rocks.

Jalal El Fassi steps into his field of vision, a tall, imposing figure. His gaze, too, is unwavering and bores a hole into Saif’s skull with disapproval. This time, it’s serious. “And how many days did you starve yourself to be accepted? Knelt outside, let your body rust, let your mind wither, let your reflexes decay? How long did you beg, like a desperate lover, how much time did you waste?”

He barely raises his voice, doesn’t need to. Saif resists the urge to shrink away from the harsh judgement and lies: “I don’t know.” He knows exactly how many hours it was. As of yet, he cannot ascertain how many of those have been in vain.

His Kaid is silent, straightens a pen on the polished surface of his desk, rights a paperweight before closing his fingers around a long, wooden ruler. Saif catches himself watching his fingers but quickly reverts back to his indifferent stare, worried El Fassi might notice. Not that he requested Saif doesn’t look at him, but… it seems appropriate. It feels like the respectful thing to do.

“You broke how many of his bones?” The other man slips out of his cone of vision once more, like a tiger. Just as dangerous.

Saif’s breaths turn shallower. Some idiotic, unfounded hope had remained that he wouldn’t have to answer for his actions, that he’d be commended for his outstanding performance instead. He’s suddenly cold, almost shivers as he recalls the familiar sound of having gone too far. “Three”, he says quietly. When something brushes against his naked arm, he jumps, sharply sucks in some air but it’s just the ruler, its edge an unmistakeable message. His Kaid wants precision, not euphemisms, so he amends: “Three broken bones, two fractures.”

The object disappears again, apparently satisfied. El Fassi is behind him and must sense his discomfort yet neither of them move. Around them, the air is perfectly still.

When he opens his mouth once more, begins to justify himself, the flat side is touched to his flesh, silencing him in favour of El Fassi’s probing: “Did he deserve it?”

It’s deliberate, Saif understands immediately, instinctively, his mind latching on to what little common sense he has left when recalling the event – yet there’s a fire too, flames licking at his thoughts, singeing them and tarnishing them with soot. He did, they spell out, and more. Fingers twitching, he opens his mouth in defiance as long as the white hot rage hasn’t had a chance to settle in yet, expects his lips to form the answer capable of saving his soul, of preserving what he worked so hard to achieve, and what comes out instead, to his horror, is an emotionally laden: “He shouldn’t have -”

With a loud thwack, the ruler is brought down on his upper arm, making him yelp in surprise and shy away. It stings without really hurting, the surprise worse than the brief pain. But what’s worse is the following rush of adrenaline, the brief surge of blood racing through his entire body, the rise in temperature. His heart is suddenly pounding hard enough to render him light-headed and instant shame colours his cheeks.

What sort of reaction is this?

Regardless, he refuses to learn his lesson, face burning with the injustice of it all, and he tries again: “He did not deserve the broken bones, no. But what he said, when he insulted -”

This time, his throat fails to contain the pitiful choked noise his body aches to release when he’s hit again, on the other arm. He wishes the ground would swallow him up, not just because he seems unable to forgive against which he already retaliated disproportionately, but also because he’s noticing more and more misplaced excitement bubbling up in him, utterly inappropriate and deeply shameful. This is his Kaid, the one person he respects the most on this entire earth, his mentor, teacher, commander, the one deciding his future. He shouldn’t have this kind of reaction to him, let alone around him, and yet he can’t help the rising arousal.

“I value your presence”, El Fassi seeks to soothe the injury, oblivious to Saif’s misfortune, “and I see great potential in you. Many lack your determination, though it is notable they make up for it in discipline. An aspect you have yet to master.”

His hands are balled into fists and he prays to his God that the other man remain where he is as to not discover the state he’s in. “I’m sorry, Kaid”, he grits out, defiance defeated by an overwhelming abundance of emotions. “I will try.”

“You will do”, booms El Fassi and somehow this, too, exacerbates the situation, awakens a beast inside Saif thirsting to be tamed, ready to roll over at every command.

And yet there’s a part of him refusing to comply, a part responsible for a mere repetition of his assertion: “… I will try.”

An audible gasp escapes him on the next impact of wood on skin, his lower abs twitching in response. Why must he tempt the demon so, why does he risk exposure? When his Kaid lets him hear quiet footsteps, he begins trembling, endeavours to hide his excitement by shifting his legs though he fears to draw even more attention. He cannot meet El Fassi’s gaze, not filled with impure thoughts like this. He barely dares to blink. The blood beneath his skin is roaring, leaving him dizzy.

There is a prolonged silence which itches underneath his skin, causes it to prickle uncomfortably. No doubt, he must have seen.

“Perhaps you require a refresher on what discipline entails. I would be happy to oblige.” His voice betrays nothing.

Did he notice? Did he see?

“Pull down your trousers and your underwear.”

Saif nearly chokes on nothing, his eyes flick over to an impassive face still wearing a stoic expression as if it’d been an ordinary request, but his body is set aflame. This can’t be. Anticipation constricts his chest and fills the space between his legs.

“You may refuse, of course, if you deem such measures unnecessary.”

His shaky hands move on their own, the disbelief over his Kaid’s words not yet processed in the slightest though where his brain limps, the rest of him soars. Humiliation burns low in his belly, dread about possible consequences yet somehow the negative roiling merely brightens the excitement. He dares not speak a word for fear of breaking this spell, interrupting whatever has taken hold of the other man.

“Brace on my desk, Saif.”

Though it’s been in many mouths, hearing his name spoken in this context bestows it with more significance than ever. Makes it personal. This is about him, his Kaid is doing this to him and no second after he’s leaned forward and pressed his palms to the smooth surface does the first proper hit land.

It’s sharp, radiant, spreads through every cell in his body for less than a heartbeat and then he’s left with nothing but a dull ache. El Fassi’s precision is unmatched, he hit the centre of his behind directly, struck one buttock right in the middle. The sensation is terrifying in its intensity and Saif does not know whether he hopes for this to continue till eternity or to cease immediately.

Thwack.

His Kaid is not holding back. The force is remarkable, the pain it awards cumulative the more he maltreats one and the same spot. The tears gathering in the corners of Saif’s eyes feel like pinpricks, the act of crying as much of a punishment as the rest is. As if presenting his bare arse wasn’t demeaning enough.

Thwack.

Saif lets out a shuddering breath. When he holds the air in, each hit does not hurt as much.

Thwack.

He’s losing count on the eighth hit (or the ninth?). Focusing on anything but the throbbing ache, the aching lust coupled with an overbearing, deep-rooted shame is getting impossible, his mind is filled with nothing but the wish to survive. His nails are scraping over polished wood. One tear has rolled down his nose and dropped onto the ornate rug, being absorbed and disappearing immediately.

Thwack.

Noises are inevitable. He whimpers on every impact, attempts to squirm away from the merciless hits abusing sensitive skin without moving his hands or feet. They are glued to their respective spots. He feels hot, unbearably hot, his entire upper body must be flushed.

Thwack.

Helplessly, he stares down at the root of all evil, hanging swollen and heavy between his legs. Not once does the thought enter his mind to touch himself, it somehow seems a line he will not cross unprompted and yet the pleasure increases, despite lack of direct stimulation. He’s betrayed by his own body, this pulsing, throbbing piece of flesh craving every little bit of pain. He’s certain he could finish within seconds if he used his hand.

Thwack.

Grasp on reality waning, he bites his cheek to try and hold on to something. He’s in blind agony, legs threatening to give in, throat hoarse from badly suppressing groans. His posture has suffered, forehead almost resting on clenched fists, allowing him to witness as one clear, sticky droplet breaks off and falls to the ground. His face is wet from all the tears he’s shed and yet this drop is of a different kind, a testament to his perversion.

A loud voice yanks him back into the present, forcing him to sober up enough to remember where he is: “You’ve had enough.”

Light-headed, he attempts to right himself and stumbles, appreciates the hand grabbing his to ensure his balance before it lets go again. After his eyes are able to focus again, he dresses, wincing as fabric is pulled over sore skin. Bright pain remains at the forefront of his mind and still he recognises the darkness in El Fassi’s gaze as a reflection of his own desire – a piece of information he is unable to process for now.

“Do not harm another student again. Or this will be the last private conversation between us, Saif. …I trust you understand the implications.”

His head is swimming and all he manages is a dumb nod. He understands, yes. Understands that he might have a new incentive to practice self control. Something his Kaid might be able to assist him with.

Disregarding his apparent inability to speak, El Fassi steps much closer to place a surprisingly warm hand on top of his head, the gesture accompanied by a thumb brushing over his scalp in an almost affectionate gesture, something Saif has never before seen him perform. “Do not disappoint me”, comes the gentle reminder right before he’s ushered out of the office, ending up disorientated, pining for release of any kind and grimacing in pain in the hallway outside.

He’s not sure why his heart is pounding so keenly, whether it is overwhelming relief over getting another chance or something else entirely. What he does know is that he needs to get his unbridled rage under control, and soon.

#rainbow six siege #fanfic #oneshot #kac #kaid #oryx #kaid/oryx #oryx' ass so flat cos kaid keeps slapping it down #please prove me wrong about there being no content for them I'd love that #been basically obsessing about this ever since I read oryx' bio

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