uhhhh idk if anyone has discussed this before but⊠miguel likes to eat pussy from the back!!!
like idk, every once in a while, his brain goes brrrr and something short circuits. idk chalk it up to stress but itâs more like some feral, animalistic urge. he canât really explain it. itâs almost as if someone flips a switch, his mind goes blank except for the thought of needing to be with you, under you, in you. he has to stop whatever heâs doing and go find you.
âł tags ;; afab!reader, rough sex, vague masochist dom!sukuna, sukuna being a little obsessed with you, fearplay (?), a little degradation, mostly taunting?, hate sex lowkey, reader consents but wishes they didnât but im gonna tag w dubcon anyways, unprotected sex and the briefest mention of childbearing 18+
âł wc ;; 2.4k
âł a/n ;; wow i canât get him off my mind. sorry guys :/ for being this irredeemably horny </3Â i literally wrote this in like. 2 fucking hours. bye.Â
Sukuna believes heâs above most beings.Â
This is something him and Gojo have in common, that blue-eyed, shit-talking bastard. Sukuna will always be above most beings - the king of curses, a living sin. Heâs righteously evil as it would be. A being that brushes godliness is capable of such a thing, a virtuous curse. As much as he loves being drunk off of power, he isnât the king for nothing.Â
What separates Sukuna from most is awareness. Heâs smart - has a brain in his head and enough free will to do what he pleases. It could be argued thatâs the worst thing about him. He always knows, always plays the long con when trying to achieve the upperhand.Â
It means that he doesnât often succumb to the interests of mortal beings. He feeds off of them but he himself never indulges and he doesnât need to. Whatever acts of treason human commit, more often than not, feel petty. Drinking, gambling, stealing. Theyâre thoughtless at best. Worthless to him in value other than fueling the existence of curses.Â
As it would be, Sukuna rarely commits many human sins. Murder, maybe - but he could argue thatâs a sin that that transcends being. Whatever Sukuna does in his true form tends to be basking in the glory of flesh. The feeling of delicate skin, his body almost becomes holy. Thereâs something abnormally frail about the human form that heâs fascinated by in itself - like even in the brief moment he ripped Itadoris heart from his chest and it felt like something. Itâs a pain that didnât even feel like a prick but he couldnât image what it would feel like for a human. A true human.Â
Sukuna is enamored by some of them. He can count them on his hands. Heâs fascinated by the overwhelming softness and delicacy of their body and how inconceivably pathetic they feel in comparison. And this human body he gets the pleasure of taking, he gets to feel things that he just canât in his cursed form.Â
A sin of the mortal flesh - sex. When Sukuna was alive proper, it was the only thing he did to pass the time other than kill. The addiction is the same, just as riveting. The same pulsing nerves, same exercise of dominance, same rapid heart-rate. Sukuna has fucked more living beings than he can remember - hundreds knelt at his feet for a chance of his mercy. It was the first thing he found himself wanting again after all those years of cold dormancy.Â
In the years that Sukuna has existed, and in all of the pretty humans heâs speared on his cock - he believe in earnest that you are his favorite.Â
It fascinates him. Heâs met your type before but none quite like you - he likes your spitfire. Your disgust and your sin and your desire - all of it fills him with sickly need. Sukuna can read these things in little mortals like you like how he reads the newspaper. You always give it away in your face. The frustration in your eyebrows and the feathered jaw - your anger is nothing but a speck of dust. It loses meaning because Sukuna knows what you want.Â
âWhat was it you told me?â he asks you, unfazed. His fingers graze underneath your chest as your body lays naked and bare. You can feel his hands, all of his hands - on different parts of your body. He watches the way your eyes grow heavy, prickly with tears.Â
âDonât you find me.. disgusting?ââ  He laughs cruelly, gravelly tone sending a chill through your entire bodyâ âRevolting? This must be humiliating for you.. to desire me,âÂ
You want to say something. To spit in his face for his cruelty. Heâs evil, nasty to the core.Â
But his hands.. his nails drag across your skin and his breath is warm against your neck. One set of hands handle your waist, massaging the skin with interest and inquiry. Everywhere he touches you feels like a probe - under the microscope of his desire. He doesnât treat you delicately, lets his nails dig into you whenever he pleases. But his want is so hot itâs molten, pours of your skin like an acidic rain.Â
And you donât want to want it. You resent yourself for doing it anyway. His hands coming around your tits and groping - squeezing with an unpleasant laugh. His fingers twisted and pinching your nipples until you let out a pathetic little whine that makes him laugh a little harder.Â
âYouâre so frail,â â he tells you with interest â âWhen I fuck you I fear youâll split in half,âÂ
ââ content ! fem! reader , nerd/tutor! reader , virgin! reader , degrading petnames (slut, bitch in heat, etc.) , slight descriptions of pronography , female masturbation , spitting , recording , missionary/mating press , dumbification, ruined orgasm , faking an orgasm , baby trapping , unprotected sex , creampie , little to no aftercare :( , lmk if i miss any.
"f-fuuh... fuck! ohmygoddd.." a long, needy moan leaves your plump 'n rosy lips which was now swollen into an angry red color, the sheen shine of saliva coating your bottom lip like a lip gloss as your glasses slipped half way to the bridge of your nose. fingers pumping in and out of your greedy hole as the computer laid flat against your perky tits, lewd moans were paired with yours, skin smacking against skin erupting loudly through the speakers of your macbook.
"daddydaddydaddy! hnn!- gonnaa- gonna cummm!"
"yeah baby c'mon, cum for daddy, fuuuuck-"
the video played along, a cute girl getting her brains fucked out into oblivion by her mean boyfriend while she wears a cute little mrs. claus outfit. shit that turned you on so much, your lewd fantasies took over your silly little brain, wishing that the girl in the video was you that was getting fucked like a onahole in doggy style.
your brain turned into mush, finger fucking yourself like a desperate whore and completely forgetting that you have a tutoring session with some dude later.
as the video played through, you were so close to reaching your sweet sweet release. legs shaking, middle and ring finger slowly starting to cramp up, back arching occasionally, and moans growing more high-pitched.
just as you released your high the door of your dormitory suddenly swung open, why the fuck didn't they knock first?! you gasped, closing your legs immediately and shutting off your computer quickly, but that only made it worse because he already saw it before you knew it.
shit, you were supposed to be tutoring.
"the fuck are you doing?" he cocked a brow, and you didn't even know how you were going to explain this whole thing. but he doesn't need an explanation because he already got an answer, at this point you felt mentally and physically humiliated by clearly exposing your submissive and vulnerable side to someone who you barely even know. you stared at him across the room like a deer in the headlights.
pursing your lips into a thin line, he sneered amusingly, unexpectedly closing the door behind him and locking it with a faint click, he took his time coming up to you, "this is the kinda shit you do after tutoring?" you gulped nervously, lowering your chin down to avoid his gaze but he refuses you to do so, taking a hold of your chin and lifting your head up to meet his eyes, "you run your mouth during our morning classes all the fuckin' time..." he taunts, a little scowl crossing his facial features as he slowly climbs to your bed, a faint little creak being heard, " 's no surprise you're so fucking loud." he whispered those last words to the shell of your ear, goosebumps were left to its wake against your soft skin, a shiver running through your spine and nipples hardening up from the sense of arousal washing through you.
a blob of spit tickled down your spread out pussy, the foamy and translucent saliva glistening at your sensitive nub as his thumb rubs your puffy clit in tight circles. squeaky moans and shaky whimpers leave your pretty, kissable lips as the camera lens capture every single cute expression that you make.
adorable.
that's how he sees you.
"smile for the camera, slut." he coos, thumb applying more pressure against your clit, making your body shift and writhe beneath him. a little smile quirked up at your lips, smiling just like he asked, and god... he fucking loves seeing you this way. even though he barely even knows you, he just might turn you into his personal fuck toy for his own pleasure.
his cock twitches and throbs, pre cum pearling through the slit of his angry red tip, the creamy white cum dribbling down the head of his cock. with a strained groan, his thumb leaves your overly sensitive clit, positioning his tip against your dampened hole.
"wh-what about the condom..?" you panted breathlessly, flinching at the feeling of his cock lightly slapping against your hole. he chuckled, almost mockingly, "better be on the pill, 'm doing it raw."
shitshitshit.
"aah... about thaâ ah!" the feeling of pain and pleasure outstretched in your entire body, a loud moan leaving past your lips as his cock already filled you full. it was intense. too much pleasure that sent you to the brink of ecstasy.
damn, dick was too good huh?
even though your first time should've been more consensual and at ease, this man decided to do the opposite, and you absolutely love every second of it. being fucked and recorded, getting called a slut and a whore every minute at a time, was something that you secretly enjoyed... but now it wasn't much of a secret anymore to his eyes.
his hips stuttered and jerked with each thrust, the tightness of your gummy walls enveloping his cock felt like giving him a bone crushing hug, "s-such a tight little pussy, shiiit. don't move, don't move... gonna cum if ya do." he hissed, the camera slightly shaking as he tried to keep himself at balance and not drop the damn camera. a pathetic little whine fill in his ears, seeing you already becoming fucked out ignited something within him, "i-it kinda hurts..." a little sob elicits from your lips, eyebrows pinched together from how overwhelming this feels, "i know it does. j-just shut the fuck up and take it..." he groaned, slowly getting the hang of your tight cunt and finally taking the manage on fucking you properly.
"ugh.. ngh!- fuckin' look at me.." he growled, keeping a tight grip on the camera as he already feels a tight knot forming on his lower abdomen. stifled whimpers leaving through his gritted teeth, jaw locking tightly as his thrusts grew rougher and more meaner. "feels s'goood! s'warmm.." you slurred out, cupping the back of your knees and lifting your legs up higher, his cock slipping through further and hitting your spongy spot.
you gasped, toes curling as you pathetically babbled nonsense, telling him how good it feels 'n that how you want him to stuff you full. he looked pleased on how easily he could make a virgin so dumb by just a few thrusts.
"you love this dick huh? love gettin' fucked like a bitch in heat?" he huffed out, pelvis repeatedly smacking against your sopping pussy, sloppy and wet noises filling in the room as a ring of cum forms and smears around his cock. all you could respond was with 'yesyesyes' and 'moremoremore' , and that only made his cock throb.
surprisingly, his orgasm reached out quickly, thrusts going sloppy and his body was slowly able to lose composure, "fu-fuuck, m'gonna cum... gonna fill you full yeah? y'want that slut?" he leaned closer, the camera only showing the way your boobs bounced together and the way your hands balled into tight fists. a few sobs and sniffles were clearly heard, salty tears running through the sides of your face, "want me to show this around campus? post it on the hub, baby?" he giggled mockingly, "y'know, i-if we- shit... post this, you could be a superstar, y'wanna be a superstar baby? huh?" his words were punctuated with each thrust, leaving you completely in shambles and at loss for words (even though he couldn't understand shit you were saying).
his lips brushed through your temple, muttering a one last 'gonna cum'. but before you were even about to protest, telling him that you weren't ready, thick ropes of his seed already spills from his aching cock straight towards your womb. filling you full with his baby making nectar as he gutturally groans out your name, his body shaking and trembling by the fact that your pussy made him feel this good that he even dropped the camera. your orgasm wasn't even close to being done, so to bring him the pleasure that he needs, you faked it. shamelessly moaning loudly as your gummy walls milked his cock without losing a drop.
with a grunt, he wimply pulled out with ease but also with hurry. leaving a little gaping hole in your pussy stuffed with cum, and you were a complete mess to his view. thighs shaking, glasses fogged up and to the brink of slipping off, body sheen with glistening sweat, pussy prettily pearled with beads of cum that your clit could even be shown. he was proud of himself, even if he could make multiple girls cum like this, you were specifically different, more innocent and naĂŻve in the beginning that he so easily ruined.
what a cute virgin (whore).
"wh-where are you going..?" you whined, voice hoarse and raspy as he started to dress himself up, wiping away the excess cum and slipping up his boxers and pants. he didn't respond to your question but he did say, "get my grades up for this semester and i won't show this around campus." he turned his head over his shoulder, a smug expression crossing his face.
wow, what an asshole.
an inaudible 'okay' leave your lips with a sigh of disappointment, looking down at the mess he created. with another faint click, he unlocks the door and leaves your dormitory, acting as if nothing happened. a pout tugs at your lips, now having to release your own orgasm your way.
first times really are the worst to experience with the wrong person.
đ° ââ RYĆMEN SUKUNA, naoya zenin, TOJI FUSHIGURO, let's just add gojo satoru mhm, geto suguru, hanma shuji, sanzu haruchiyo, eren yeager, childe (ajax, tartaglia or wtv), any other character.
note: i couldn't possibly think of any other character so these are the only one's i could brainstorm teehee, this was kinda rushed buuuuutttt idgaf
So I wrote this fic for a collab back in early November and this person has decided to steal not only the entire thing, but my requests and drabbles too. I havenât had a proper look but I am SHAKING with anger. The only thing they changed is the characters involved. Iâm not sure if theyâve stolen anyone elseâs work, but you know people like this are too lazy and in creative to write their own stuff so please make sure to see if anything of yours has been stolen.
I am FUMING I have no idea what to do in this situation.
Summary: Briefings can be so boring. Luckily, Quaritch has his favorite little lap warmer with him to make to whole thing so much more entertaining.
Warnings: explicit smut, no plot at all just porn, in public, age difference, size difference, cockwarming but with toys, authority kink, voyeurism, sex toys (anal plug, vibrator/dildo), public humiliation, everyone kinda thirsts over reader because this is my dirty little fantasy hehe
Notes: i wrote this back in august and then totally forgot about it until now so here it is, not proofread at all and not my best work either lol
Thereâs a long, polished table that stretches across the center of the room. The table's sleek design exudes elegance, and the smooth surface reflects the room's cold, overhead lighting. It makes you feel even more out of place than you already were.
You canât help the tremble of you knees once your eyes fall to Dr. Garvin and Mick Scoresby, both of them considered big fish in their area of ââexpertise. You swallow dryly, nervousness slowly creeping up under your skin.
A gentle push to your lower back signals you to move, and then your feet automatically carry you further into the conference room. Most seats are already taken up, each person exuding an air of authority and importance, and a hushed silence falls over them as you near the table.
Glancing to the handful of free seats and based on their ridiculous size, you could only assume who they were reserved for.
The recoms act like a bunch of rowdy teenagers. Pushing each other in a fight for the seats in the far back, snickering and cursing, and you want nothing more than to hide your face in your hands for all the attention they draw on themselves and ultimately on you, too.
Thankfully, they all fall silent once the Colonel clears his throat and takes the first seat, thighs spread like he owns the place. Again, you feel so out of place, frantically looking around to find a place to sit and make yourself even smaller than you already were, next to those trees of blue soldiers.
But before you can even do as much as blink, all chairs seem to be occupied and you find yourself standing, nervously fiddling with the seam of your skirt, before two big hands grab your hips and pull you down to sit on a warm lap.
In all honesty, you were already expecting him to pull a stunt like this. Obviously there had to be a reason for him to bring you here, and not just because he thought you were oh, so interested in a meeting that had absolutely nothing to do with you or your work at all.
Quaritch grins and pulls you closer by your waist, a huff of breath fanning over the top of your head at your little whine of discomfort.
Sitting down makes you hyperaware of the round little silicon toy, the plug thatâs sitting snug inside your ass since he himself had placed it there a couple of hours before.
"Be good while I work and Iâll reward you later", he reminds you quietly, squeezing your hips in a warning grip and you nod, blushing. But the faint rosy color on your cheeks soon turns into a deep flush of red that spreads all the way to the tip of your ears, once Miles pulls a little, pink remote, barely the size of your thumb, out of his pocket and places it on the table right in front of your face. You know what this is for. Not for the plug, no, but for the other toy thatâs spreading your pussy open, the one youâre currently clamping down on.
For a moment, all your attention is fixed on staying still, not moving too much like that would remind him to turn the switch on andâ
"With all respect, Colonel", a voice suddenly speaks up, then a finger is pointed at you and your breath hitches in your throat. "What is she doing here?"
Scoresby looks at you, then back up at Quaritch, and while he doesnât speak to you directly, the message is clear. It seems Miles feels the way you tense up, because his hands begin to run up and down your thighs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over your skin.
"Keeping my lap warm", he grins and shrugs in an act of fake innocence, and Scoresbys jaw clenches so tight at the sound of snickering coming from the other recoms, that youâre sure you just heard something crack.
He actually looks a little relieved at the voice of Dr. Garvins as he politely chimes in, "Sheâs from the scientific department, sir. That means sheâs certainly not qualified enough to bâ"
"I- I can leave, itâs okay", you cut him off, causing all present pair of eyes to fall onto your smaller frame. Your attempt to stand up however, is quickly interrupted by Quaritchs arm around your middle, pulling you back down and keeping you there, firm and secured. No chance to flee.
"No, you wonât."
The tension in the air is thick enough, you could probably cut it with scissors. Thereâs a uncomfortable silence, before the Colonel opens his mouth again, smug as ever, "Her qualifications are none of your concerns, doctor. In fact, I am her qualification to be here. Now if you would please move on and wrap this up so we can all go on with our days? I have other businesses to attend to."
Dr. Garvin, in no mood to argue with the recom thatâs over twice his size, straightens up, clears his throat, nods, and moves to the center of the room to stand in front of a big holographic map.
His voice is still a little shaky, a thin layer of nervous sweat sitting on his forehead as he starts the briefing like nothingâs ever happened. The recoms sitting to your left and right instantly scoot back in their seats, settling into more comfortable positions like theyâve been through enough meetings like these to know this could take an awful while.
You allow yourself to finally exhale the breath you didnât even realize you were holding, shoulders hunching a little as you try to listen to what was being said in front of you.
Something about naâvi clans, metkayina, the ocean, weapons, their relations to something they call Tulkun and then over time, it flows into all that war talk you can barely keep up with.
Not that you could actually focus, really focus, on anything other than the pair of hands roaming up and down your thighs the whole time and the feeling of being so full, so on edge, but not being able to do anything about it. His palms are warm and rough on the soft of your skin, squeezing the flesh of your inner thigh from time to time, which causes you to clamp down on the toys inside you. You close your eyes briefly- inhale, exhale.
When you open them again, you desperately try to find something else to put your focus on. Next to you sits Lyle, the Corporal plays with a pen, flicks it around in skilled fingers, looking just as bored as the rest of team deja blue. Itâs actually quite interesting to look at, you think. That is, until he catches you staring. Your eyes meet and he winks at you. Straightening up, you glance in the other direction, trying to hide to blush spreading over your cheeks.
Lyle may be an exception when it came to Quaritchâs possessiveness, but that doesnât mean the Colonel wonât tease you for this.
Your whole body tenses when suddenly, a low vibrating buzz shoots through your core, putting your nerves on fire. The suddenness of it all gives you barely any time to stifle the gasp that falls from your parted lips, quieting down the whole room. Your ears are ringing, pleasure surging through you in pulsating waves, before Quaritch switches the toy off again. Well, not entirely off, but at least to the lowest setting. Enough for you to calm down again.
Blinking away the stars behind your eyelids, you realize, to your absolute horror, that Dr. Garvin has stopped talking. And he is staring right at you, mouth slightly agape. And so are some of the other humans. The other half thatâs not looking at you, is trying their absolute most to keep it that way, staring at the papers in front of them or counting the tiles on the ceiling.
"Excuse her. Normally she knows how to behave", Quaritch breaks the nerve wrecking silence with a chuckle, "Please, move on."
Garvin clears his throat, sweat now beading at his temples as he stutters to continue where he had left off.
"Corporal Weinfleet here is trying to concentrate, darlin'", Miles hums lowly into your ear, hands gripping your waist to pull you down harder against his lap. "And youâre being very distractive."
His hands hold you down, and then he makes your waist circle on his crotch, hard enough to feel the plugs heart shaped handle grind against his cock.
"S-Sorry, Iâm sorry", you whimper quietly, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from making any more noise.
"Donât tell that to me", he grins. One of his hands then tips your chin up and gently turns you to look over to his right hand man, whoâs grinning back at you like this is the most fun heâs had in weeks.
"Sorry, Lyle", you mutter, big doe eyes looking up at the recom.
You know there are important words being said. Things about trade, unions, Tulkun, hunting, Sully and all the work that still needed to be done to catch this guy youâve heard so much of. Over an hour has passed of nothing but strategizing and thinly veiled arguments and itâs safe to stay, youâre slowly loosing the battle against your own bodyâs desires.
The vibrator still weakly buzzes inside you, and you struggle not to squirm on Quaritchâs lap, you really do. But itâs just so difficult.
Your breathing has started to come out in shallow pants, nerves being on edge for way too long now, and then Quaritch leans forward, curling a piece of hair behind your ear so that he can murmur into it.
"Relax, princess", Quaritch whispers. "Just trying to take the edge off for youâŠ" Your lace panties are absolutely soaked with arousal by now, and your teeth scrape over your bottom lip as you inhale sharply through your nose when he flicks the switch and the vibrations turn more intense. Your toes curl. But you donât move. "Good girl, doing so good for me. That feel good, hm?"
Motherfâ "Yes, sir", you shakily exhale. Just a little more, you think. A little more and you could⊠if only you werenât in a room full of people.
Miles fingertips stroke gently up your thigh, causing little goosebumps to appear and your entire body to shiver at his caress. Itâs a battle not to tighten every muscle against it, to let it roll through you for everyone to see, because the alternative is far more dangerous. You know for certain that he wouldnât have even the teeny tiny littlest bit of a problem with bending you over this table and fucking you raw for the whole conference room to see, if you wouldnât behave and sit still. You swallow thickly at the thought and fuck, you wished you didnât bought that mental image up because you clench around the plug, around the vibrator, feeling both toys rub against each other through the thin wall thatâs separating them.
Someone coughs at the other side of the table and your eyes flicker up to Scoresby, sitting three down at the head of the table. Heâs watching you with a cocked eyebrow and a barely concealed glint in his eye.Â
He knows, you think. You can see it in the way he looks at you, filthy and creepy andâ Another wave of pleasure shoots through you like lightning, the vibrations picking up and it causes your entire body, including the walls of your aching holes, to tighten even more, and the tiniest little whimper to escape from the hollow of your throat before you can swallow it down.
Your cheeks flush, the tips of your ears heat, and you quickly turn your attention back to Quaritch just as he opens his mouth.
"You like having that nasty fucker look at you, huh?"
You try your very best not to keen from the feel of your sticky underwear clinging to your pussy, pushing the toys deeper in as he pulls them up a little, giving you a mean wedgie under the table.
"N-No, sir", you whisper.
"But youâre putting on quite the show." Miles grins, sharp toothed and mischievously, his eyes boring into Scoresby until he finally adverts his gaze, his nervousness covered by yet another cough.
"Iâmâ Iâm n-notâŠ", is all you manage to force out, panting heavily.
Your back arches and just like that, the vibrator is at the perfect position. Just up against your g-spot, the silicon tip rubbing so slightly against the oversensitive ridges.
Your fingers grasp at his forearms, blunt nails dig deep into the thick blue skin, as you focus more on clinging to him than how full you feel, how each breath you take makes the toys move ever so slightly to tease you deep inside and how the vibrations are on their highest level, ruining you from the inside out and causing your whole body to physically shudder.
Youâre so ridiculously wet, natural lubricant squeezing around the toys, drenching your panties and now soaking a small patch onto his pants where youâre seated. It feels good. So good, and youâre so close and everyone can probably hear how heavy youâre breathing, so you think fuck it and rock forward with the smallest âmmhâ and a bolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. Quaritch can feel his cock twitch with the growth of his own impatience.
"Look whoâs getting bold", he chuckles quietly, and you dare to roll your hips forward. "You want to come, huh? So close, ainât ya?"
You feel eyes on you. Prager as he dares to put a hand over his cargos and squeeze his aching cock. Mansk staring so shamelessly at you, like his sunglasses make him invisible. Feel Lyle next to you tilt his head to try and catch a glimpse of whatâs underneath your skirt.
Feel Miles hands on your hips, tight enough they might bruise your skin as he rocks you back and forth on his crotch, clit dragging over the wet fabric of your panties.
"Please", you whine softly, eyes fluttering close as you let pleasure overtake all your senses, not even caring for the fact that youâre in a room full of people.
"Mânot holding you back, darlin'", he speaks lowly into your ear, bouncing his leg a few times to push those toys just an inch deeper inside you. "Come, if you can keep it down."
Your brain had completely checked out sometime around when your abdomen began to clench with your exasperated breathing and the throbbing between your thighs became so unbearable, you slumped forward. The cold table top against the burning hot skin of your forehead felt like a relief and you had to bite your tongue hard, to not moan out loud.
The vibrations inside your core felt like they were shaking and stimulating ever single nerve there was, to the point all you could do was let it happen. Your whole body felt hot, sticky with sweat and other body fluids as you clamped down on both toys for the final time, before you fell apart with a choked little gasp, followed by silent whimpers of, "Hnghâ fuck, f-fuck!"
"There you go, buttercup", you heard Lyle snicker next to you, only adding further to the humiliation you tried so hard to ignore. "About time."
Your whole body locked up, thighs squeezing shut and muscles tensing, as you tried your absolute most to hold back all those pathetic little noises.
"You owe me twenty bucks, Mansk. Told yaâ she canât hold it in", came as a whisper from your left, yet you couldnât put your focus on that voice enough to figure out who was speaking. Ja maybe, or, or⊠fuuck, fucking hell.
The vibrations inside you went on and on for as long as Quaritch doomed you were capable of, and it felt like you were still coming, until he finally, mercifully, decided to shut the toy off.
It was almost comically how you instantly went slack on his lap, the moment the vibrator inside you stopped working. The content little sigh that left your parted lips was all you could hear, as the room had turned awkwardly silent over the past few minutes.
Then, a dark chuckle sent a chill down your spine, as Quaritch looked over at Garvins stunned frame and said, "You were saying, doc?"
ăi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!
đ pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader
đ tags: nsfw, size kink, virgin!reader, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, some mild second-hand embarrassment perhaps, sex toys, edging, failed masturbation attempts, ghost takes your virginity and also maybe ruins you for literally anybody else ever again
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
The ceiling over your head is drab grey and water-stained, the old paint peeling away in strips. Itâs an ugly sight, but you barely see it; youâre too busy trying to catch your breath.
The sheets beneath you are uncomfortably damp with your sweat, but you donât have the energy to roll over just yet. You feel hot and itchy with frustration, and you scowl up at the ceiling above you as your fingers curl into fists. But even though you feel like laying in your now grubby-bedding for the rest of the evening, you canât let yourself wallow. Thereâs going to be a knock on your door any minute, and this is not a position you want to be found in.
With an irritable groan, you haul yourself off the bed and to your feet. Your muscles ache and you feel too warm, but you reach for your clothes anyway. The worn cotton of your shirt feels scratchy against your skin, but maybe thatâs just because youâre still over-sensitive and irritable.
You can never quite bear to look at the aftermath of what youâd been doing, so you avert your eyes as you gather up the bright silicone and plastic devices littering your mattress. Itâs embarrassing now that the adrenaline has worn off and disappointment is beginning to set in, so you end up gathering them all up more roughly than necessary.
The term âtoyâ seems incongruous to you. It sounds too childish, too immature. It makes you sound like a stupid kid, as though you arenât a young adult past twenty fumbling your way through sexual self-exploration. Itâs embarrassing, and much more frustrating than you ever would have predicted â despite all of your clumsy, desperate attempts at pleasuring yourself, youâve never quite managed to reach that peak of pleasure youâve heard other people talking about.
You grumble quietly to yourself as you try to wipe away the sticky lube thatâs still coating your thighs. Your muscles are a little achy from all the tensing youâd been doing trying to come with that stupid vibrator, not even accompanied by the satisfaction you had been hoping for.
Itâs not as though youâve never gotten the opportunity to experiment with others; youâre not unforgivably ugly, you donât think you have a bad personality, and for the past few years youâve been surrounded by military men that certainly arenât known for being picky. And it certainly isnât like you havenât received your fair share of offers.Â
It just never seemed right. Youâre not overly concerned about âsavingâ your virginity or anything like that; itâs just that putting yourself into such a vulnerable position is scary. Youâre aware of the irony, of course, that youâd trust many of these people with saving your ass from catching a bullet in the field, but allowing someone to see you so intimately feels like a step too far.
Youâre still sweaty and flustered and naked when a knock sounds from your door, and you freeze. The doorknob turns, but doesnât open; in that moment, youâre deliriously grateful that you had turned the lock â itâs something that youâve forgotten to do on far too many occasions.
âLass, you in there?â Oh god, itâs Soap.Â
Cursing quietly to yourself, you jolt into action. Your pants are crumpled at the bottom of your bed where you had shed them, and you hurriedly gather them up and struggle your way back into them.
âGimme a minute!â You yell, praying he doesnât notice the somewhat frantic edge to your voice.
You stagger slightly as you worm your way into your pants, and then lunge to grab the stupid dildo youâd just been trying to use. You feel your skin prickle with humiliation as you try to force the stupidly large silicone cock into your already full underwear drawer, jamming it shut roughly to hide it from sight. You donât want to even imagine what Soap might have to say if he were to see what you had been doing; you think you might have to go full deserter mode and abscond into the wilderness.
âDid ye forget about drinks?â Soapâs drawl carries through the thickness of the door. He doesnât sound even slightly put out â if anything, he sounds a little amused.
You pause, close your eyes, sigh. Fuck. You had not, in fact, forgotten about drinks, you just thought you had more time.
âNo, Iâ just a minute!â You yell back, shoving your shoes on and trying to fix your hair.
You had completely lost track of time, and now you donât even have time to rinse your sweat-damp skin off â youâre going to have to sit through drinks with the squad all grimy, like a physical reminder of what you had been up to for the last two hours.
When you finally unlock the door and wrench it open, Soap is standing on the other side tapping a staccato rhythm on his thighs with his open palms. Heâs dressed casually in just blue jeans and a black muscle shirt, and he gives you a look of semi-disbelief.
âWhat the hell were youââ
âGym.â You interrupt, landing on the only explanation you can think of for your sweaty skin and messy hair.
Soap blinks, but apparently decides itâs not worth the effort to continue that line of conversation. He just shrugs, then turns and starts making his way down the hall, slowing his pace for you to catch up.
You exhale; Soap can be like a bloodhound when he suspects thereâs gossip to be had, and youâre relieved to have dodged a round of his relentless questioning. You suppose he can be surprisingly tactful sometimes, and he knows you well enough not to press you. Or, perhaps itâs because you come across as such a non-sexual being that it doesnât even occur to him that there may be another explanation.
Thereâs an unofficial tradition that when the squad is on base, everyone gathers in the sparsely decorated recreation room for drinks and card games on Thursday evenings. It usually makes for an enjoyable night; Gaz and Soap can always be trusted to supply whatever bottles of alcohol theyâve managed to get their grubby little hands on, and itâs always amusing to watch Captain Price get increasingly more irate as Soap pretends not to understand the rules of whatever card game theyâre playing. The whole illicitness of having contraband on base only makes the whole thing more exciting; the COâs on base often turn a blind eye to the activity, so long as itâs kept under control.
But tonight, youâre distracted.
The others had offered a bit of good-natured ribbing when you and Soap had turned up late, but before long youâre all settled in a loose circle on the poorly-stuffed couches in the corner of the room. Gaz has already unstoppered a bottle of bourbon, and is attempting to convince a visibly unimpressed Price to play a game of Kings with them. You curl up on one of the worn-out couches opposite them, watching with a small if slightly stiff smile.
The atmosphere is relaxed and pleasant, almost enough to make you forget about the irritating buzz of unfulfilled arousal under your skin. You shift, trying to keep your movements small, subtle, to avoid the notice of your team. Your denim jeans are nowhere near as comfortable as usual, and you wonder briefly if you should have simply worn your cargo pants just to avoid the harsh friction of the denim.
You sit there feeling⊠unmoored. You fidget, drink your smooth bourbon in sips in an attempt to avoid wincing, and try not to look as obviously out of place as you feel. Itâs been like this, recently. Joining the task force has been an accomplishment for you, a source of immense pride â youâre the youngest member (just narrowly beating Gaz for the title) and a woman to boot, and though the squad has never treated you any differently itâs hard to kick the belief that you have something to prove.Â
You engage in conversations the best you can, but youâre distracted and you know it must be obvious. Your preoccupation gets you a couple of furrowed brows and glances, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement to give you some space.
You donât even realise the extent of your distraction until a big body settles down on the loveseat next to you, and you jolt. True to his name, Ghost had appeared near silently, escaping your notice until he lowers himself down to sit next to you.
And damn, you forget how big he is sometimes. Itâs an average sized loveseat, but the lieutenant takes up over half of it. Heâs obviously being mindful not to consciously crush you, but heâs not being overly cautious when it comes to avoiding touching you. Heâs dressed unusually casually, and his thick, muscled thigh is wrapped in blue denim as it presses carelessly against yours.Â
âYou alright?â He asks, his voice low and smooth as he nudges your knee with one of his big knuckles.
You havenât been a member of the task force for long, but you would know Simon Riley by his hands alone, by the earthy salt-spice in your nose as he leans a little closer to peer at your face. You tilt your head up, unable to stop the small reflexive smile that breaks over your face at the sight of him.
âYeah.â You breathe, hurriedly straightening up where youâre sitting. âYeah, sorry. Just thinking.â
His sudden proximity isnât doing your current state any favours, and you take a quick sip of your drink in an effort to collect yourself. Itâs taking a herculean effort not to stare at the way his biceps are bulging against the straining material of his black cotton t-shirt.
âWhatâre you thinking about?â Ghost asks as he stretches out his legs with a tired groan. The sound is gruff and gravelly, and you feel blood rush uncomfortably to your cheeks.Â
âNothing.â You say quickly.
He doesnât believe you, that much is obvious, but Ghost never pushes and he rarely speaks more than he has to. He just gives you a glance, brief and knowing and far more penetrating than it should be, before turning his head back so he can watch the boys playing their card game. Heâs holding a crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquid, but he hasnât yet pulled his mask up to drink from it.
Your eyes drop to the thick, pale scars that mar the backs of his hands. You trace the path of the scar tissue, eyes lingering around the thick knuckles and broad palms, the way that he holds the glass so casually confidently. Heâs got nice hands, probably made all the more attractive by the fact that you hardly ever get to see them. Seeing Ghost without his usual long sleeves and gloves makes you feel like a Victorian pervert snatching stolen glances at a passing ladyâs ankles.
A quiet snicker causes your eyes to dart back to his face, and youâre mortified to find that heâs caught you staring.
âWhatâs got you in such a mood?â He asks. Even through the mask you can tell that heâs smirking, though it doesnât feel as though heâs making fun of you.
âJust one of those days, I guess.â You say without meeting his eyes.
Itâs an evasion at best, but Ghost nods ponderously as though heâs giving this great thought. His stare is penetrating, those big brown eyes watching you as though he can see right through you. Maybe he can. You try not to get too caught up staring at his pale eyelashes, darkened by smears of eyeblack.
âDid something happen?â He asks. The question is casual enough, asked as he lazily swirls his whiskey around in his glass, but his gaze is sharp and assessing.
âNo.â You sigh, finally looking properly at him.
Itâs a little frustrating, but the squad has been like this with you from the start â protective. Your whole military career has consisted of you veritably clawing your way up through the ranks, and youâve been surrounded by coarse, gruff men that have underestimated you all your life. 141 is different â they donât baby you, but the way they treat you is unmistakably softer than how they typically treat each other. The concern can be touching, if a little tiring sometimes.
And maybe itâs because heâs your lieutenant, but Ghostâs attention has always been just this side of overwhelming. It feels like youâre pinned beneath his dark eyes, his gaze somehow sharpened as he watches you from beneath his more casual balaclava, the skull pattern printed on his jaw adding another layer of intimidation. But his shoulders are relaxed as he sits next to you on the small couch, settling the weight of his attention over you like a blanket.
Youâve always respected him, admired him. How could you not? Heâs practically a living legend, his reputation larger than life, and heâs scary as fuck. But heâs also softer than you had expected, gentle when he needs to be. He still rides you hard in training, pushing you to your limits and taking no quarter, but you canât begrudge that. Not when you know heâs working to keep you alive. Perhaps thatâs how the attraction had first bloomed; once it started, it was hard to stifle.
Ghost hooks one finger into his balaclava and pulls it up just high enough to expose his mouth, and he presses his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink. You struggle not to stare like a moron, but he makes it so difficult. His lips are full and pink, and thereâs a rugged scar bisecting his top lip. His stubble is dark blond and short, and it doesnât hide the various scars and marks that decorate his strong jawline.Â
You almost jolt when he pulls the mask back down, hurriedly averting your eyes and forcing yourself to look out across the room. Itâs not just the 141 thatâs decided to take up in the rec room this evening; there are soldiers from other units littered all around the room, laughing and joking, playing lazy games of pool on the table in the corner and smoking. The smoke alarm has been jimmied off the ceiling and the window is open, and even Price is turning a temporary blind eye to the blatant disregard for regulations in favour of puffing on one of his cigars.Â
Ghost shifts on the worn-out fabric of the couch, and lays an arm over the back of the headrest behind you. Itâs a casual, thoughtless movement, but it ends up pushing his body slightly closer to you in a way that makes you feel as though youâre about to catch fire.
You cross your legs, but the seam of your jeans presses into your pussy in a way that sends a frisson of heat up your spine. You hurriedly uncross your legs, and attempt to school your expression into casual neutrality as you force yourself to tune back into the conversation.
ââach, câmon, Captain,â Soap is saying in a wheedling tone that he probably thinks is endearing. âOne round of strip poker wonât kill yaââ
âNo.â Price says in a voice like thunder, brooking no argument as thick cigar smoke pours from his nose. It gives the impression of an enraged bull.
Soap either is ignorant to the warning, or is choosing to wilfully ignore it. Judging by the sly gleam in his eyes, you can guess which. He turns to you then, and waggles his eyebrows.
âCâmon, lassie, youâll play, wonât ya?â He asks with a grin that promises trouble. âI guarantee youâll be a sight better than any oâ these louts.â
âSpeak for yourself,â Gaz pipes up, already grinning. âI was looking forward to seeing the Captain in his jocksââ
Price promptly knocks his drink back, before pushing himself up to his feet with a grim groan. âRight. Thatâs enough of you lot for one night.â
Gaz and Soap break into peals of laughter, settling back into their seats as they watch their captain march away.
âOfferâs still open, love,â Soap says, still snickering when he looks over to you. âWanna play?â
Ghost shifts, his wide thigh knocking into yours as his arm stretches behind your shoulders. He lets out a short exhale through his nose, but when you glance up at him you find him as stoic and hard to read as always.
You just roll your eyes. Itâs not the first time that theyâve tried to rope you into strip poker, and youâre sure it wonât be the last. You can always trust Soap to start stripping his clothes off when heâs three drinks in, whether heâs playing a game or not, so itâs not surprising that he tries to involve other people in his bad decision making.
And itâs not a big deal, really. Thereâs been countless missions and operations that have ended up with all of you staying in uncomfortably close quarters with each other. Youâve seen them naked countless times, and the same with them for you. Itâs never meant anything, and you know that Soapâs teasing is exactly that â you donât think theyâve ever once looked at you through any sexual lens at all.
But even still, the joke flusters you more than it should.
âThink Iâll be joining Cap in going to bed, actually.â You say, clearing your throat and setting your glass down on the low table in front of the couch.
The playful booing from Soap doesnât do much to change your mind, and you stick out your tongue at him and Gaz as you push yourself up from the couch. You try to ignore the loss of heat at your side when you move away from Ghost, though you canât help but glance back at the lieutenant. Heâs not looking at you, his gaze directed into his glass. You try not to feel disappointed about that.
You say your goodnights, and retreat from the rec room.
By the time you make it back to your dorm however, youâre already playing the conversation back over in your head and wondering if you had made the wrong decision.
Perhaps you should have just played the damn game. Despite your inexperience with all things sexual, youâre not actually all that shy about your body. On missions, you and the squad are often forced into tight quarters, and they've all seen you in various stages of undress before. It's hard to be self-conscious around a group of people that have seen you at your worst, whether thatâs soaked in blood, unshowered, sleep-deprived, or injured.
But you were so keyed up from your earlier failed attempts at masturbation that the thought of being so physically exposed in front of your squad is mortifying. It feels as though your unresolved arousal is still simmering through your veins, turning your thoughts slow and soupy and stupid.Â
Itâs not so surprising. Your preferred method of dealing with stress is coming back to your private bunk and messing around with your vibrator until youâve forgotten all of your problems. The problem is, youâve never quite been able to reach that climax youâve heard so many talk about.
Itâs not for lack of trying, and itâs not as though you havenât come close to that toe-curling finish you crave so much. But itâs like thereâs some sort of block, something that always holds you back before you can go plummeting over that edge. Something that makes the buzzing pleasure dissipate before your eyes like smoke, leaving you worked up and so frustrated. Itâs probably inevitable that all those ruined finishes have built up like sludge in your veins, leaving you slow and distracted and irritable.
You eye your underwear drawer thoughtfully as you perch on your bed, before reaching inside and drawing out the same dildo you had been using earlier. You wonder if it would be too much to try again tonight â the muscles in your calves still feel a little bit over-worked from training all day, and you have a feeling that straining in an attempt to reach an orgasm youâll likely never attain will only make it worse.
But the thought of Ghost in that stupid tight cotton shirt stays firmly stuck in your mind, and that really makes the decision for you. Before you can think too much about it, youâre sliding your jeans off and climbing atop your mattress. The sheets are dirty anyway, after all. May as well have some fun before you change them.
You slide your panties off next, then kick them to the side. Itâs difficult not to feel a little pathetic, but you push those feelings aside. So what if you have an embarrassing little crush on a superior officer? Itâs not like thatâs unusual within the military, and youâre quite certain that dealing with all that unresolved attraction like this is the most sensible thing you can do.
You fish out the bottle of lube you had been using earlier, and drizzle it liberally along the dildoâs length before setting it aside on the blanket. While youâve used your dildo plenty of times, you still struggle to grow accustomed to the stretch of it. Itâs a good dildo â a vibrating one in the rabbit style, designed to stimulate your g-spot and clit at the same time. It was damn expensive too, but itâs one luxury youâre willing to indulge in.
You close your eyes, slide it between your legs, and hit the power button. A low bzzz emanates from between your thighs; you jerk at the immediate barrage of pleasure, your abs tightening and your legs twitching apart, creating more room between them.
Your body is quick to react, sweat prickling under your armpits and your heart thudding quickly in your chest. You can feel electric pleasure coursing through you as you press it against your clit, your toes curling into your sheets.
You bring the vibrator lower, your clit throbbing a little at its sudden absence before you press it inside, sighing. It slips inside much too easily â youâre almost embarrassed by the easy slide. Youâre so wet, both from your failed attempt at masturbation earlier and from sitting beside Simon fucking Riley all evening. Itâs a deeper, subtler pleasure now, and you clench around it with a quiet moan.Â
You cycle through the vibratorâs different settings, making it buzz at odd intervals or lower intensities in your usual attempt to build up an orgasm. You wish, with sudden and mortifying clarity, that it could be replaced with a person. More specifically, a person with big hands and firm muscles that still have some soft give to them, and a toe-curlingly gravelly voice.
You squirm, shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrator inside you. Without meaning to, you imagine Ghost. Itâs hard not to, considering your close proximity to him all evening. Your cheeks heat as you imagine Ghost actually being here, watching you all still and silent with that penetrating dark-eyed stare of his.Â
You huff out a breath, arching off your bed. This is always the best part. You have to ensure that you relish the build up, before it all fizzles out from between your fingers. You whimper, soft and quiet, clenching around the stiff silicone as it buzzes away inside of you.
Right as you press the soft little vibrating bunny ears to your clit, thereâs a knock on the door. Then, horrifically, like a scene from your fucking nightmares, your door opens.
âKid, youââ
Ghost is already half-way through the door when he lays eyes on you, and then he goes completely still in your doorway.
âFuck.â You hiss, scrambling to knock the stupid thing off.Â
You fumble for it, panicking. The end is slippery and you can barely manage to grip it. When you finally do, itâs difficult to pull out, your body still attempting to hold it inside. Itâs another agonising few seconds to turn it off, the vibrator unfortunately featuring one of those awfully thought-out designs that makes you have to cycle through every single one of the settings rather than hit an off-switch.
And then, finally, silence.
Ghost is living up to his name right now; heâs as stock still and silent as a dead man, stiff as a board as he stares unblinkingly at you. Youâre not even sure that heâs breathing, but you can see the whites of his eyes as he gapes at you, frozen.
You stare back at him blankly, hoping that your bed comes to life and swallows you whole just to put an end to your mortification.
At last, Ghost blinks, then finishes his sentence. âYou left your phone.â
He lifts his arm. In his large, thick fist, is your stupid goddamn phone. You must have left it on the couch when you had gotten up to leave. You might have wondered at the lieutenant voluntarily bringing it to your dorm for you, but youâre hit with a wave of humiliation so strong that it wipes your brain completely blank.
âAh.â You say, and your voice cracks. âThanks.â
Thereâs a moment of mortifying silence, and then Ghost steps into your room. Your heart jolts right up into the base of your throat as he closes your door behind him. The click of the door is as loud as a gunshot in the silence thatâs settled over the room.
Ghost still hasnât blinked. Heâs watching you with eyes that look almost black in the dim light of your room, intense as a predator.Â
âIââ You attempt to speak, and your throat clicks dryly. âI didnâtââ
Far too late, you realise that your legs are still splayed open. You snap them shut, inhaling a choked breath through your nose.
âI thought I locked the door.â You finish lamely.Â
Ghost apparently decides to simply disregard that, which youâre honestly a little grateful for. Instead he steps towards you â the enormous bulk of him feels as though heâs completely filling every bit of space in the room, sucking out all the damn oxygen.
â...âS this why you were so distracted this evening, hm?â He says as he approaches the bed. âYou were in a mood âcause you wanted to get back to playing with yourself?â
Itâs not a question, exactly. At least, itâs not phrased like one. Ghostâs tone is knowing, with an undertone of gruff amusement. Youâre certain that youâre not imagining the rough, breathless quality to his voice either, though the thought sends nerves fizzing through your bloodstream.
âNo.â You deny uselessy; itâs plainly obvious what you were doing, after all. âNo, I justââ
He doesnât wait for you to finish. His eyes are still glued to you, even though your thighs are now pressed together. Before you can stop him, he reaches down and takes a hold of your hot pink vibrator where you had been trying to hide it beneath your thigh.
âCute little thing.â He comments, tilting his head to look at the dildo hanging between his thick fingers.
Mortification burns through you. A panicked sort of screech escapes you and you yank it back out of Ghostâs stupid big hand, shoving it under the blankets.Â
Perhaps if it had been anyone else, your humiliation wouldnât be burning quite so intensely. But this is Ghost â your lieutenant, the gruff man that youâve looked up to ever since you joined the task force. Heâs not a man famed for his patience, nor for his eloquence, which is making this situation all the more unbearable.
âLt,â You wheeze, scrambling to sit up and cover your pussy with your hands as you squeeze your legs closed. âI swear I didnâtâ Iâm sorryââ
But Ghost doesnât seem interested in your apologies. Heâs still watching you as though he can see right through the damn blanket, as though heâs measuring you up and trying to come to a decision about something. In that moment, you hate your reaction to him â no matter how humiliating this situation is, you want him to approve of you, even now.
âDidnât mean to interrupt.â He grunts, and then he sits down on your bed.
You gape at him. It feels as though your brain has stalled; youâre pretty sure youâre not reacting correctly right now. You probably should have screamed when the lieutenant walked right into your room without knocking. That surely would have sent him straight back out again. And even now, you should probably be ordering him out, telling him to leave.Â
But you donât.
âI was.. um.. finished anyway.â You manage to croak out. You sound so pathetic that you nearly make yourself cringe.
Ghost doesnât answer immediately. He just watches you, his eyes as dark as ever beneath the mask. For a moment, you think heâs not going to answer at all.
But then he says, âDidnât look like you finished to me.â
Blood rushes to your face so quickly that it makes you light-headed as you catch his meaning. Oh, what the fuck. This is just adding salt to the wound now.
âI wasnât trying toââ You start, then cut yourself off. âThatâs not why I wasâ I was just trying to relax.â
In the ensuing silence, you realise how silly you sound. At the very least, Ghost doesnât laugh; he just tilts his head to the side, consideringly.
âLet me see.â
You gape at him. âIâ sirââ
âLet me see, sergeant.â
Itâs not an order. Not quite. Ghostâs voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You have room to refuse. You could tell him to get out of your dorm right now, and heâd do it. Knowing the lieutenant, heâd never bring it up again, either.
You drop your knees apart, spreading your thighs in an unpracticed, self-conscious sort of motion.Â
Under the lieutenantâs sharp gaze, your skin prickles and your nerves strain. Even sitting down on your bed, heâs a veritable behemoth of broad shoulders and thick corded muscle. His hulking form towers over you even now, and you feel so damn small as you lay there propped up against your pillows in nothing but a t-shirt.
Ghost has seen you naked before, obviously. You canât afford to be prudish in the military, where you never know when youâll next have true privacy, and youâve changed out and showered with the squad countless times. Itâs never meant anything, and the men in 141 have never made you feel anything less than comfortable with them.
This, however, is different. This isnât just a case of catching a quick glimpse of your nude form as you shower in the group shower rooms when youâre out on missions â your whole damn pussy is out on display for him, still glistening wet and sticky from your ministrations and the lube youâd used.
Ghostâs inhale is as loud as a thunderclap. Youâve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in another personâs presence. You feel a little ridiculous laying like this as he watches you, but another part of you feels so humiliatingly desperate for some kind of approval from your lieutenant.Â
At first, that approval is nowhere to be found. Ghost is notoriously difficult to read, and youâre beginning to sweat as you lay there waiting for a response â any response.
At last, he makes a noise. Itâs part grunt, part hum, and part groan.
âYouâre still wet, sergeant.â
Are you imagining it, or is his voice an octave deeper than usual?Â
Your eyes trace his face, trying to imagine what he looks like beneath the mask. You can see the suggestion of his nose, the square curve of his jaw. His darkened eyes are watching you so carefully that you feel as though youâre physically being pinned in place.
You swallow. âItâs justâ Iââ
âYou didnât get to finish.â Ghost interrupts, with the air of completing your sentence for you.Â
You try to speak, but nothing more than a strangled sort of murmur escapes. You swallow hastily, then try again.
âI wasnât going to. Sir.â You tack on the title at the end as an afterthought, but this whole situation is so far beyond professional that you probably neednât have bothered. âFinish, I mean. I⊠I never do.â
Youâve admitted it before you can really think about it, and then you regret it wildly. You canât help but wonder if youâve overstepped a boundary, but then again the boundaries are currently so blurred that theyâre virtually impossible to discern.
âYou never finish.â Ghost repeats it. Slowly, staring right at your face, as though heâs confirming what youâve just said.Â
It sounds so much worse in his deep, gravelly voice.
Embarrassment blooms, thick and sickly in your stomach. Your legs start to twitch closed, too embarrassed to be having this conversation with your cunt bared like this, but then Ghostâs big paw of a hand reaches out to settle over your knee, keeping you open and exposed. Itâs so rare to see his hands ungloved, and the bare skin of his callous-roughened hand feels almost scorching hot against your inner knee.
âI donâtâ Iâve tried,â You say, and you canât help but feel as though youâre just digging yourself further into a hole, here. âBut I donâtâ Iâm not able to. I mean, Iâve come close, Iâm just not able to⊠you know.â
You trail off lamely, feeling like the biggest fucking loser ever. Why are you telling him this? Why the fuck havenât you reacted properly, and kicked him the hell out of your room?
Deep down, a shameful little part of you already knows the answer to that. Youâre feeling awfully, sickeningly hopeful. Having Lieutenant Riley in your dorm, sitting on your bed and staring so hungrily at the wet, swollen parts between your legs feels like something out of your wildest wet dreams.
His eyes flick towards your pink silicone rabbit dildo, half-hidden under your blanket, and he grunts consideringly before reaching out and taking it into his hands again. Itâs standard-size, but it looks small in his big hands.
âYou ainât doinâ it right, then.â He says, so bluntly that you just blink at him. âShow me how you use it.â
For a brief, wild moment, you wonder if youâre experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations right now. Surely you canât really be experiencing this right now â and yet the lieutenant is still watching you, and youâve never disobeyed a direct order before.Â
He hands you the vibrator, then waits expectantly.
And⊠well. All you ever try to do is impress him.Â
You shuffle your legs open a little wider, ignoring the flustered heat that scalds your cheeks. Youâve never been all exposed like this in front of another person, and the weight of Ghostâs eyes on you is reminiscent of being under a spotlight.
You swear his eyes darken even further when you press the stiff silicone rabbit dildo to your cunt, if itâs even possible for that gaze to get darker beneath the thick balaclava and eyeblack smeared over the narrow strip of skin thatâs visible.
The dildo sinks in so easily that itâs almost embarrassing, and your breath catches both from the stretch and the way Ghost leans in a little closer to see. Far from turning you off, you feel your body throb in response to his proximity, and your cunt flutters pathetically around the plastic toy. You shift, attempting to get a little more comfortable, but you canât dispel the nerves fizzing in your blood as you attempt to push the dildo a little deeper under Ghostâs sharp gaze.
His big, hulking body is so perfectly still as he watches you that itâs making you a little nervous. The only reaction that you get from him is a small, considering hum, but even then you canât figure out what it means. Your movements are a little clumsy, so hyper-conscious that heâs watching every single thing you do that you end up fumbling a little. Heâs looking at you in the same way he assesses threats, his intense dark eyes examining every movement and reaction you make. It makes you feel small and jittery, especially when you realise that heâs judging you by what youâre doing.
âYou gonna turn it on?â He asks, and oh god his voice has definitely dropped lower and huskier. You know youâre not imagining it.Â
You canât even bring yourself to respond with words. You just make a strangled sort of sound of agreement, then clumsily hit the on button. The toy buzzes to life once more, and your toes curl absent-mindedly into the sheets as the soft silicone bunny ears pulse against your clit.
It feels nice, but you canât manage to concentrate on the feeling. Hyper-aware of Ghostâs attention, you let out a quiet moan as you shift the vibrator inside you. Itâs a little exaggerated, but you canât help it â you feel like you should be putting on some kind of a show.Â
You glance back at Ghostâs face, trying to guess what heâs thinking; even through the mask, you can tell that heâs frowning. You feel your stomach clench anxiously. Have you done something wrong?
âThis how you usually do it?â He asks.
You swallow thickly, feeling a bit stupid. âUm.. yeah.â
Ghost grunts. He doesnât sound impressed.
âNo wonder you canât come.â He says wryly.
You go still, eyes widening. In the silence, the bzzzzt! of your stupid vibrator is louder than ever. A sudden wave of shame washes over you, and you start to close your legs again in an effort to block the sight of the toy stuffed into your pussy.
âOh,â You snap sourly, your embarrassment making you irritable. âSo youâre the pussy expert now?â
That startles a loud bark of a laugh out of the lieutenant, a sound so rare that you find yourself desperately trying to commit it to memory.
âThink I might know a bit more than you, sweetheart.â He says. Heâs relaxed now, his wide shoulders rolling back. Heâs always so effortlessly confident, always so assured in himself and his abilities in a way that makes you feel like a silly little girl.Â
Judging by the way the corners of his eyes are just slightly wrinkled beneath the mask, Ghost is smirking at you. He finds this funny.
âWhat about when youâre with other people, hm?â He asks, and his eyes drop back down to try and get a look at you again. When he realises that your legs are clamped tight together, he reaches out to guide your thighs apart again. âNo oneâs ever impressed you?â
His hands are big and rough and hot, and your willpower crumbles like wet paper as you allow him to open your legs all over again. The vibrator is still buzzing sadly inside you, mostly forgotten about; the stimulation is nice, but itâs never been enough for you.
You huff a weak laugh. You should have known that this would come up, and now you find yourself floundering a little.
âNo oneâs ever tried.â The confession comes out like a whisper, like a secret.
You can see the moment Ghost understands; realisation settles heavy over him like a physical weight, and the whites of his eyes flash as they widen just slightly. For a moment, he says nothing at all. He doesnât move â it doesnât even look like he breathes.Â
âNo?â He says, except it doesnât really sound like a question. It sounds rough, and you can feel the almost convulsive motion of his fingers tightening around your knee.Â
You shake your head wordlessly, beyond embarrassed now.
Ghostâs wispy blond eyelashes flutter softly as his eyes dart down to your pussy, still humiliatingly stuffed with your stupid little vibrator. He takes a moment to stare, then looks back up to your face. Heâs so frustratingly confident about everything he does, not an ounce of shame in his posture even as you wilt beneath him.
âNever messed around with anybody?â
âNo.â You say, and it comes out on a wheeze. He holds your gaze without faltering, and you realise that heâs expecting you to elaborate. âNo, Iâ it just never happened. I was never⊠um, I was just always too busy, I guess.â
âToo fussy, more like.â He mutters, quiet enough that it seems like itâs a comment meant just for himself. You donât know how to take that, so you chew your lip and stay quiet.
His eyes drop down to the vibrating dildo again, and you recognise something that looks like a flash of hunger. It feels like thereâs pressure building up beneath your skin, tight and hot, and your thighs fall open a little further. You feel raw and so, so exposed, but you donât even care when Ghost is looking at you like that.
âLet me try.â He says, the words falling out sharp and harsh as though he theyâve burst out of his mouth before he can stop them. Itâs not like Ghost to speak without thinking it through, perfectly calculated, and your breath catches a little at the offer.
How could you ever say no to that? You donât really think that heâs going to succeed in making you come â at this point youâre pretty sure your body is a little bit broken and youâre just not capable of orgasming at all, and thatâs whatever â but the chance to get fucked by Ghost? To lose the lingering vestiges of your viriginity to your ridiculously hot, mysterious, massive lieutenant? Itâs like something out of a dream.
âOkay.â You choke out, nodding stupidly. âYeah.â
You want to be touched. You donât think youâve ever actually felt the yearning for physical contact this strongly in your life; youâre practically holding your breath as you wait for Ghost to make a move.
Finally, he reaches out. His first move is to pull the stupid little dildo out of you, still vibrating, and you feel yourself clench convulsively around nothing as he leaves you empty and wanting. He spares it a brief, evaluating glance, and you feel yourself burn as you realise heâs examining how youâve soaked the toy.
He tosses it to the side, barely even taking the time to switch it off first, then turns his attention back to you. Heâs got that same kind of laser-focus he usually only gets out on the field, and you take a moment to feel incredibly grateful that youâre never going to be on the receiving end of that terrifying scrutiny on the battlefield.
It feels like your skin is too tight for your body, every nerve and synapse strained and primed as you wait for him to touch you. But heâs slow about it, as though he just wants to torture you a little bit.Â
When he finally reaches out to lay his hands on you, he doesnât touch where you want him to.
His callous-roughened hands land on your hips, and pull you down the bed towards him. In the same move, he half-climbs up on the mattress, his huge form practically dwarfing you. Your head and shoulders are still cushioned by your pillows, but your legs are splayed open around Ghost where he kneels on your bed.
You glance down, unable to help yourself, unable to resist trying to catch a look at the outline of his erection pressing against his trousers, and oh. Fuck. Heâs big. You knew heâd be big, of course, heâs big all over, but Jesus Christ, maybe youâre a little out of your own depth hereâ
His thick fingers tangle in the hem of your t-shirt, stretching the fabric out. âTake this off.â
You scramble to do as he says, grabbing at your top and pulling it up clumsily. You realise a moment too late that youâre not wearing a bra, but you suppose at this point it hardly matters. You drop your shirt to the side, and try not to feel too horrifically self-conscious beneath the burning hot gaze of the lieutenant.
Though you canât see Ghostâs face, you can hear the soft exhale he blows out through his nose, just faintly muffled by the fabric of his mask. His eyes are trained on your chest, darting between each of your tits as though he canât decide which one to settle on. After a long moment, he reaches forward and cups your left tit with one of his enormous hands, thumbing absently at one of your nipples.
Itâs silly; Ghost has touched you before. Lots of times. A nudge of the elbow accompanied by a conspiratorial eye roll, a clap to the shoulder, rough hands pulling you to your feet after training or applying white-hot painful pressure to injuries. But this â youâve never been touched like this before, not by Ghost, not by anyone.
The shaky breath you let out as his big, rough thumb rolls over your firm nipple comes out as a strangled sort of moan that honestly startles you a little. The noise catches his attention, and he snorts.
âCanât be that sensitive.â He mutters, but then he reaches to thumb at your other nipple as though trying to be sure.
Itâs because youâve never been touched like this by another person before, you tell yourself. Truthfully, youâve never even touched yourself like this before. Youâve never bothered to play with your own tits; youâve always just gone straight to breaking out your vibrators. Now, with every brush of Ghostâs scarred fingers over the tight bud of your nipples, you think you must have been crazy to skip over this part of yourself. But then again, thereâs no way that your own hands on yourself would elicit the same sharp jolt that shoots from your breasts down your spine.
âSirââ You breathe, struggling not to squirm where youâre laying. You wonder, somewhat deliriously, if it might be rude to demand your lieutenant stuff his thick fingers into your pussy. You can already tell that theyâre going to feel so much better than your own.
Ghost glances up at you, his eyes unreadable as he watches you bite at your lip. God, his little wispy eyelashes are so blondâ
âWhat?â He says, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. âSay it.â
âWant to try your fingers.â You breathe before you can second-guess yourself.Â
The laugh that rumbles out of Ghostâs chest is low and smoky. Itâs probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, so big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Youâve witnessed those hands crack bones and snap necks and break down doors, and yet you canât help but wonder desperately what theyâre going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.
He adjusts himself on the bed; heâs a big man, hulking and huge as he kneels on your mattress, his weight causing it to dip. His palms wrap around your ankles with ease, and he hauls you into place with a grim efficiency that goes straight to your pussy.
âBig brute.â You say, a little breathlessly.
He ignores you, using his arms to hold your legs open and wide for him. And all you can do is just lie there as he stares, because goddamn itâs like heâs been carved from steel and you canât break out of his grip. Not that you want to break out of his grip anyway, but youâd really appreciate it if he actually got moving instead of just staring.
âFuck,â He grunts after a moment, with the air of talking to himself. âBeen hiding this all this time, huh?â
âJesus.â You breathe in response, subconsciously letting your legs drop open even more.
He makes a low noise of appreciation, and finally reaches out to touch you properly. One thick thumb swipes through the seam of your cunt, and you feel the way heâs smearing the clear sticky wetness thatâs been leaking steadily out of you. With his now slick thumb, he drags up towards your clit and circles it with agonisingly light pressure.
You let out an embarrassing choked whine, your toes curling at the sensation. Somewhat ironically, Ghost is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your attempts, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow.
âDâyou always get this wet?â
You canât even tell if heâs asking you mockingly or if heâs being genuinely curious; it feels like every inch of your focus has narrowed down to the feel of his big thumb rolling those tight little circles around your clit, his touch scorching against you.
Itâs not exactly surprising that Ghost is good with his hands. Youâve seen the way he handles weaponry, locking and loading and aiming to fire with the kind of swiftness that comes from muscle memory, working with unwavering speed and precision. Heïżœïżœs the same in hand-to-hand combat, moving with aggressive fluidity that overwhelms his opponents. Youâve caught hits from him before in training, and you know from experience that a punch from those big hands feels like getting hit by a cinder block.
But even knowing how deft and skilled his hands are, it knocks the breath out of you when he slides his middle and ring fingers inside of you, still rubbing steadily at the swollen bump of your clit.Â
When you exhale, it accidentally comes out as a moan. Your cheeks burn, but thereâs really no space in your brain right now for embarrassment to sink in. Two of Ghostâs fingers are the equivalent of at least three and a half of yours, and you feel yourself break out into an overwhelmed sweat when they twist and rub against the sensitive squishy spot in the front wall of your cunt.
Youâre so damn worked up, your arousal coiled like a knot in your lower belly from your failed attempts to get yourself off all day. Your back curves, humping yourself near mindlessly back up into his hand as he plays you like a goddamn instrument.
You barely even have time to consider how unfair it is that Ghost is so good at playing with you like this when he doesnât even have a pussy himself, because then he pulls his fingers out of you.
âOh, no, donât stopââ You start to protest breathlessly, your chest still heaving, but the quick glance the lieutenant sends you has you falling silent.
Ghost glances down at his fingers. Theyâre all glossy from fingering you, and he takes a moment to eye up the way they glisten in the dim light of your bunk. You might have felt self-conscious about it, if you couldnât see the unmistakable gleam of hungry interest in Ghostâs dark brown eyes.
He wipes his hand on the crease of your hip, but you donât even get the chance to protest before he reaches up to hook his fingers into his mask. You go still, holding your breath in surprise as he pulls the material up until it bunches up around the bridge of his nose.
And thatâsâ well. Youâve seen his jaw before, and his mouth (Jesus, you had seen it earlier that evening, when he had been sipping on his smooth whiskey of choice), but the sight of his strong jawline and blond stubble and corded scars on his pale skin always manages to knock the breath out of you. And this time, heâs rolled his mask up even further than before, revealing a nose thatâs clearly been broken at least once before.
You probably shouldnât stare so blatantly, especially knowing that Ghost always takes such pains to keep his face covered. Youâre not even sure if the other guys on the team have seen his uncovered face, except for Price, and you know that theyâve developed a habit of averting their eyes when he pulls his mask up for whatever reason. Itâs a habit that you never quite managed to develop yourself; youâre never able to stop yourself from gaping at him like a moron, drinking in all of the minutest details. Heâs never said a thing about your penchant for staring, so you can only hope that heâs chosen to ignore it.
Youâre so busy staring that it takes you by surprise when he grips your jaw with one massive hand and pulls you into a rough kiss.
The sound you make is small and startled, but itâs swallowed by Ghostâs demanding mouth. His lips are dry and a little chapped, but they feel scorching hot against yours. You reach up to grab at his arms â mostly just to ground yourself â but you find yourself almost immediately distracted by the firm bulge of his biceps beneath your hands.
Listen, youâve kissed people before, plenty times. Youâre in your early twenties, and just because youâre inexperienced sexually it doesnât mean that youâre inexperienced full stop. But this, right now, kissing with Ghost, makes you feel as though youâve been doing nothing but fumbling your way through all of those encounters, like youâve been kissing wrong all this time.
Itâs slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body until you find your fingers grasping desperately at the short cotton sleeves of Ghostâs t-shirt where itâs stretched over his thickly muscled arm.
Ghost doesnât just kiss with his mouth, either. Itâs like a full-body experience with him; he puts his hands, his whole damn body into the kiss. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backwards into the pillows beneath you. At the same time, itâs all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Ghostâs hands running over you, stroking you sides and squeezing at your breasts and groping at the soft flesh of your hips and ass.Â
 âHah,â You gasp out when Ghostâs lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you feel yourself grow embarrassingly wetter, just from a little kissing.
âYou good?â Ghost grunts into your throat as he nips at the base of your jaw.
âUh huh.â You manage to get out, still clutching at his meaty arms like theyâre a lifeline. âSo good.â
His breath is hot on your throat when he rumbles out a deep chuckle, and then his tongue flicks out against your earlobe. It makes you forget how to breathe for a second, and youâre distracted when Ghostâs hand changes course, easing beneath your legs so he can press his fingers against your clit again.
Then he pauses, and his fingers slide lower, lazily hooking back and inside you. You tremble, horny and humiliated as you realise that your arousal is glistening all over your damn thighs, impossible to miss.
âFuck,â Ghost mutters. âAll this for me, sweetheart?â
âHnng,â You whimper like an idiot as his fingers return to your clit, now slick and slippery. âIâm justââ
He doesnât wait for you to explain. Instead, he pulls his fingers out of you again and kisses you hard. The soft breathy noises you make are muffled into his mouth, and you wrap your legs around his waist automatically. Heâs built like a damn mountain, your thighs stretched wide to accommodate the bulk of him as he settles against the core of you.
He likes that â he presses in close, and you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing up against you through the roughness of his jeans. Youâre so sensitive that the coarseness of the fabric is almost unbearable, but youâre able to ignore it because youâre so distracted by the sensation of his erection because holy fucking shit that canât really be how big he is.
You gasp, the sound high and breathy, and you try to grind against Ghost, but itâs impossible because heâs so fucking heavy and heâs pinning you down on the mattress beneath him. Instead, all you can do is squeeze your legs and pull Ghost in even tighter, increasing the pressure between the two of you.
âIâm gonna ruin you,â Ghost whispers, and it sounds like a promise. He drags his lips up your throat, then talks against the corner of your mouth. âYou wonât be able to touch yourself again without wishing it was me.â
The wave of desire that rocks through you almost pulls you under, and you swear you might have actually gotten so horny that you blacked out for a second, because from one second to the next Ghost has somehow managed to muscle his way back down between your thighs so that heâs eye-level with your cunt.
âWhat are youââ You start to say, but then he loops his forearms under your knees to tug your legs wider, and you realise just how close his face is to your pussy. You swear youâre actually pulsing with arousal, and you wonder a little wildly if he can see that.
âOh, fuck, yes â please,â You blurt out, before Ghost has even gotten his mouth on you. He chuckles, low and amused. His grin looks predatory, but in this moment you really donât mind being the prey â not if it means youâll be devoured by that mouth.
Then Ghostâs mouth is against you, wet and burning hot. You cry out, barely noticing as Ghost throws one of your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open.
Itâs just the right side of overwhelming. Ghostâs mouth feels like itâs going to swallow you whole â his tongue is huge and flat and firm as he licks over your clit, making your thighs quake on either side of his head. Itâs entirely unlike any of the fumbling masturbatory attempts youâve ever made â you always enjoy messing around with your various little sex toys, but youâre swiftly beginning to realise that it could never compare to real human contact. Or at least, contact with Ghost.
His hands move from your waist to your asscheeks, his big palms squeezing the plump flesh there before using his grip to pull your body closer so that he can bury his whole face between your legs. The rougher material of his mask presses harshly into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but you hardly even notice it.
Your pussy has never been this wet before; it feels like youâve sprung a goddamn leak. You might have felt embarrassed about it if it werenât for the way Ghost groans against you, his wide tongue laving flat and rough against the seam of your cunt as he practically gulps down all the sticky arousal you have to give him.
âOh godâ fuck! SirâŠâ You sigh, spreading your knees farther apart so that Ghost can wedge his head further between your thighs.
Your ears burn as your room is filled with sounds of him tonguing at your cunt, the lewd wet squish of him working you over until youâre keening, your hips twitching clumsily until his hands tighten where heâs gripping the plump flesh of your ass to keep you still. Then all you can do is twitch as he licks over your clit in repetitive lapping motions, working in circles and then dipping down to shove his searingly hot tongue inside you. You can feel his teeth press against your labia even as he sucks at your clit, and the sensation sends hot bolts of pleasure rocketing down your spine.
Though you donât mean to, youâre pretty sure that you make his job harder. You canât stop wriggling, tossing your head back against your pillows and squirming on Ghostâs tongue in a wild overstimulated dance, like a fish caught in a net.
Finally, Ghost seems to have enough of your unco-ordinated flailing attempts to grind against his face. He reaches around your thigh with one arm to reach your clit so he can keep it stimulated as he gulps at the sticky sweetness of your cunt like a man possessed â the action also works to keep your hips pinned down and still. You stop your frantic moving, but your spasms and sounds increase tenfold.
You can hardly believe it, but you feel something coming. A sweet, torturous build up starts in your belly, and you sweat and gasp as he licks and suckles at you relentlessly. Youâve never found yourself in this state so quickly before, with your legs trembling and your breathing heavy and shaky.Â
âOh.. ohâŠâ You breathe, beginning to arch your back.
You know this feeling â this is where that sweet climax builds and builds, only to dissipate at the last agonisingly close moment. But this time, with Ghostâs big head between your thighs as his mouth moves against you, sucking, tasting, eating up everything you have to offer, the breath-taking pleasure doesnât show any sign of slipping out of reach. It feels like for once you might actually reach that peak.
But then, right as youâre certain that youâre about to tip over that long-awaited coveted release, the bastard pulls away.
âNo!â You practically shriek, attempting to sit up. âNo, I was so closeâ!â
âLie back.â Ghost orders, his voice like the crack of a whip.Â
You drop back obediently before you can even register that youâre moving, so conditioned to react instantly to that tone of voice coming from Ghostâs deep rumbling baritone. Your eyes are wide and betrayed as you stare at him, admittedly a little baleful.
God, but itâs hard to stay annoyed when heâs staring up at you from between your legs like that. His eyes are dark and hungry beneath the mask, and since itâs all pushed up and rumpled around his nose you get a toe-curlingly good look at his lower face. His chin is wet and smeared with your slick, and his lips are plump and pink and swollen from all the kissing and suckling heâs done to you. In a moment of near-delirium, you think that you understand now why he covers his face â his mouth is pretty in a way that shocks you, in a way that needs to be hidden for decencyâs sake.
âYouâre gettinâ greedy,â He grunts, turning his head and sinking his teeth into the crease of your thigh just to make you yelp. âWait for it, love. Itâll be worth the wait.â
You donât think you have much of a choice, so all you can do is lay back and hold on for the ride. He presses his mouth to you again, and you whimper softly as he tongues at your clit.Â
âNo oneâs ever eaten you out like this?â He asks, the words muffled into the damp curve of your thigh. Itâs stupid, because you know he knows the answer to that is a resounding no, but it seems like he just wants to hear you say it out loud.
âNo.â You say, your breaths sawing their way out of your chest.
âHnn.â He makes some kind of grunting sound against you, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. âThatâs why youâve been so tense, huh? So fuckinâ desperate for someone to touch you?â
âThatâs notâ âm not tense,â You manage to get out, your breasts heaving as your thighs tense up where theyâre thrown over his shoulders. âMaybe.. Maybe youâre too relaxed.â
Ghost huffs a hot little laugh at your hip because you both know that couldnât be further from the truth. You doubt anyone has ever accused Ghost of being too relaxed before, but you donât have time to feel stupid for it â not when Ghost is devoting the full force of his attention on you, deep breaths huffing against the wet skin of your pussy and making you shudder.
âThatâs it,â He croons, his voice uncharacteristically soft and lilting. The rumble of it ripples through your limbs like lapping waves, his battle-roughened palm stroking and smoothing down your ass and thigh as he hauls you closer. âRelax, sweetheart. Fuck, such a pretty pussy. Fuckinâ criminal of you to keep this hidden away all to yourself.â And then, quieter, âFuckinâ Christ, youâre wet.â
Youâre not even sure that heâs talking to you. It seems more as though heâs talking to himself, and it just happens to be you heâs talking about. Your cheeks burn as the feeling of vulnerability sets in, but you keep your legs spread wide as he kisses your clit with his swollen pink lips. You want so badly to be good, for him to be pleased with you, that you push past your embarrassment as best you can.
Thereâs a budding anxiety in your belly that Ghost is wasting his time here. As much as you crave his touch and the build up, you worry that heâs going to get frustrated with you and your inability to actually orgasm.
But Ghost doesnât seem to be in a rush. He seems perfectly fucking happy between your legs, and even with his mask all clumsily rucked up around his nose he presses his face into your pussy with his eyes heavy-lidded and hazy. Even when you shift a little in an effort to get him to go a little harder or faster, he just pins you still and continues at his own leisurely pace.
When he reintroduces his fingers, pressing inside and stretching you out with a light sting, you hiss and try to lift your hips again. His rough calloused knuckles brush against the inside of your soft inner thighs, making them quiver as he goes three fingers deep.
âShhh, atta girl.â He mumbles into you, his words coming out wetly muffled since he doesnât even both pulling his face back. âFuckinââ shit, so good.â
The praise shoots liquid and molten through you, and you have to bite back a pathetic keen as you pulse around his fingers. Youâre sure he must feel it, because he lets out an answering rumble and laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks.
âOh godââ
âShhh.â Ghost scoots forward so your knee can hoist over his shoulder. Then he angles his chin to kiss the skin on the inside curve of your knee as he pumps into you with slow, slippery fingers and ungodly squelching noises that only sparks you hotter. You canât even tell if itâs sweat or tears dotting your face anymore.
Though Ghostâs eyes are heavy-lidded and a little fogged over, he hasnât looked away from you once. The focused intensity of his gaze spears you through, because youâve never been looked at like that. No one has ever seen you like this, no one has ever put effort into you like this, no one has ever been so determined to please you before. You donât know how youâre ever going to recover from this; you have a terrifyingly distinct impression that heâs going to live up to his promise to ruin you for anyone else.
It feels as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin, and you nearly sob when Ghost pulls back. Youâve never been so close, and you want to scream when he takes his gorgeous fucking mouth away from your clit.
âFuck.â You wet your lips, realising you were panting like a dog and your mouth is bone dry. âFuck, Ghost, justââ
âQuiet, lovie.â His reply is hoarse and firm, his throat working hard to swallow as he peered down between you, his clever thumb delving slick circles over the taut bump of your clit, his other three fingers fucking with easy rhythm and purpose. Itâs maddening, itâs infuriating, it makes you feel as though youâre about to break apart.
His fingers are pulled out, and then you feel firm pressure pressing into you yet again. Your head lolls as you attempt to sit up, your eyelids fluttering as you realise that heâs pressing your stupid dildo into you again.
âOh, you bastardââ You start to complain, but Ghost doesnât give you the opportunity to speak properly.
The dildo slides into you so easily, your sticky slick mixing with his spit making the slide almost effortless. You sigh, a build-up of pressure making your whole body feel as though youâve been stretched out and pulled tight.Â
Now that youâve been pushed to the edge, you linger by it. Ghost keeps you on that edge for what feels like hours, until your breaths are burning in your chest and the ligaments in your calves are screaming from all the straining youâve been doing. Every roll of Ghostâs thumb over your clit sends sparks racing through your nerves, and your breathing is harsh and uneven as Ghost starts fucking you with the stupid vibrating dildo. The rhythm he sets is firm and unrelenting, pushing the silicone toy in and out and visibly relishing the wet squish of your cunt as it takes it deep.
Ghost huffs against the wet skin of your inner thigh, making you shudder. It seems like heâs enjoying this as much as you are, judging by the subtle roll of his hips against your mattress as he absorbs himself in fucking you with the dildo.Â
He experiments with the angle, adjusting the dildo until you cry out, jerking against the bedding, and whining âThere!â. You neednât bother telling him, though; Ghost has a sharp eye, and heâs so goddamn attentive. Heâs already repeating the stroke, pushing the dildo in and bumping it against the same sensitive spot he had hit before.
It feels good, but itâs not enough. Now that youâve felt the firm hot pressure of his fingers spreading you wide and the wet hunger of his mouth devouring you, you donât think anything else will do.
He shifts, you catch the rolls of his hips against your mattress again, and you feel as though youâve caught fire. You think of the glimpse you had caught of his hard cock, pressing against his jeans and making the fabric stretch taut, and you find yourself speaking without thinking.
Ghost pushes the dildo in once more, and you reach down to grab at his wrist as you ask breathlessly, âCan I try yours?â
He pauses; goes so still that itâs honestly uncanny, his eyes practically boring holes into you as he stares at your face. You grow flustered, your own eyes widening in response to your own words. Just because heâs deigning to touch you with his fingers and his mouth, doesnât mean heâs actually planning to fuck you. Jesus, heâs your fucking superior officer. What were you thinking?
âIâm sorry,â You squeak. âThat wasnât appropriate. Fuck, forget I said thatââ
Even beneath the mask, you can see the bob of Ghostâs Adam's apple as he swallows thickly.
âYou sure?â He interrupts your rambling before you can get started. âI donât... âm not good with virgins.â
Thereâs⊠thereâs so much you could say in response to that. Namely, he certainly doesnât seem like heâs bad with virgins, as evidenced by the throb of arousal still pulsing through your soaked cunt. Heâs just had you sobbing at the mercy of his fingers and mouth, and all he has to say when you ask for more is that heâs not good with virgins?
Instead, what you say is a rather lame, âIâm not technically a virgin.â
Which is true. Sort of. Based on a technicality â you had bullied your damn vibrator through your stupid hymen years ago, and youâve always thought the idea of virginity was a stupid one, anyway.Â
âPlastic cocks donât count, darlinâ.â
Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed as humiliation burns through you. Jesus, okay. Thatâs just mortifying.Â
âOh, you think your cock is special, then?â You scoff, attempting nonchalance.
Ghost shifts, letting your legs drop from his shoulders, and kneels up on the mattress so that heâs looming over you. Fuck, every time you get a visceral reminder of how big he is, you feel a little faint. Itâs like having a veritable wall of muscle caging you into your bed. Your thighs are spread wide to accommodate the size of him, and you find yourself absolutely captivated by the sight of him with his muscles straining against that stupid tight t-shirt, still panting lightly from his greedy gorging on your cunt.
He reaches out and drags a hand slowly from your cunt up over your belly, between your breasts, up over your sternum, to rest over your collarbones. Itâs gentle â he doesnât put an iota of pressure against your throat â but all you can fucking see is the swell of his bicep and the dark ink of his tattoo and the prominent veins running down the chiselled muscle of his forearm.
Good fucking lord.
âYouâll find out.â He says.
And oh. Okay then. Yeah, you sure fucking will.
He reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, and you canât help but strain to try and watch. He pushes them down carelessly around his thighs, but doesnât make any move to strip them off any further. Youâre suddenly aware of the fact that youâre laying on the bed completely nude and exposed, while Ghost has only pushed his jeans down far enough to pull his cock out, but you donât have any time to feel self-conscious about it.
His cock curves up against his belly, red and twitching. Heâs fucking rock hard, and bigger than you had been expecting, bigger than any of your stupid little toys. Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen comically. Fuck. No wonder heâs confident. Heâs not lacking in any way.
âDâyouâve a johnny?â He asks, one big paw of a hand taking his cock and stroking lazily at it until a bead of pearly precum oozes from the angry red head.
Youâre distracted for a moment, staring at the way he fists his cock, before you blink back to yourself. âWhat?â
âA condom.â He enunciates slowly, as though speaking to someone he thinks is a bit thick.
âI know what you meant,â You snap, embarrassed. âButâ no. Why would I? Iâve neverâŠâ
You can see the way his eyes crease and realise that heâs frowning beneath the mask, and youâre hit with a sudden bolt of panic â is he going to change his mind now? You can see the hesitation in the lines of his shoulders, but you think if he changes his mind about fucking you, you might just die.
âIt doesnât matter,â You blurt, âYou donât need one. Iâm on the pill. Iâm clean.â
Ghost cocks his head, but remains still. Itâs almost unnerving, and you feel your toes curl into the bedsheets as you wait for an answer. He looks fucking predatory, hulking over you like a fucking behemoth as he watches you assessingly. You try your best to look confident, but you have a feeling that you just look desperately hungry.
He reaches up and hooks his fingers into the fabric of his mask and pulls it back down to cover his still slick-shiny mouth and jaw, and youâre gripped with sudden overwhelming panic and dismay that heâs changed his mind, that heâs about to leave you here wet and empty and wanting. In that moment, you throw your dignity into the wind.
âPlease,â You beg pathetically, wriggling a little bit against your sweat-damp bedding in an effort to grind yourself against him. âPlease, please, itâs fine, I swear, you donât need oneââ
âFuckinâ hell.â Ghost grinds out, his voice rough and a little hoarse. âHow can a virgin be such a fuckinâ slut?â
Some part of you wonders if you should be offended by that, but instead a frisson of heat runs down your spine. You know youâre not a slut â youâve never searched for any sexual attention, and youâve never even experienced someone elseâs touch â but goddamn you want to be a slut for your lieutenant right now.
Despite his harsh words, when Ghost hooks your legs over his hips and aligns himself with you, heâs gentle. Heâs acting like youâre something fragile; heâs so big that your legs are spread wide around his waist, his shoulders so broad that heâs blocking out the dim light from your lamp, and yet his touch is light against you as though heâs afraid to break you.
Heâs still gripping his cock hard, and he slides the tip of it against your slick heat. You have a brief moment of alarm; even through the haze of arousal, you can recognise that this is going to be a tight fit. You breathe deeply, then begin to wiggle your hips in an effort to take him inside you.
He hisses, then one of his big hands grabs at your hip. âFuck, stay still.â
âPut it in.â You beg, your voice coming out thick and stupid-sounding. âFuck, please, câmon, câmonââ
âKid,â Ghost bites out through clenched teeth, his voice low and gritty. âNeed you to shut the fuck up for me.â
You manage to bite down on your lip, but you canât stop yourself from pouting mopily at him with wide, wet eyes. You donât understand why heâs making you wait â canât he see how mean heâs being? Youâre so fucking wet, so empty as you clench down on nothing, and your clit is so desperate for any kind of stimulation that itâs throbbing needily. The head of his cock catches at your opening, dipping in for a second before resuming its maddening slide up and down.
Ghost is still watching you closely, his brown eyes flickering from where the head of his cock drags through your sodden folds up to your pleading pouting expression. You can only imagine what kind of a sight you make, because his chest growls with a choked sort of groan.
âI know,â He murmurs, almost mockingly soft with you. âI know, you want it. Gotta give it to you slowly.â
You want to tell him that he doesnât have to give it to you slowly, that he can go as fast and hard as he wants to, but some sense of self-preservation shuts you up. Instead, you nod clumsily as he rubs his cock over the slick folds of your cunt, lubing himself up with your own arousal. The feeling of his cock dragging over you, iron hard and velvety soft, so close to where you want it, is enough to have your head spinning dizzily.
You want to beg again, but youâre still trying to follow his order to be silent. You shift restlessly, biting back a whimper when he taps his cock thoughtfully against your clit.
Finally, he decides to put you out of your misery.Â
The thick crown of his cock pushes against the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of your cunt, and the gasp you let out is positively punched out of you. He goes slow, just like he promised, but you can still hardly believe it. He goes in and in and in, and yet heâs somehow not even halfway inside.Â
âFuck,â You wheeze, punctuated by a strange little yowl. âOh god, waitââ
You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the quiet little grunts heâs making. The stretch and the sting and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him and you canât even decide if itâs good or if itâs too much. Your eyes are hot and wet as overwhelmed tears begin to overflow, and you find yourself arching in a weak attempt to flex away from him and the devastating stretch.
God, heâs massive. You knew he would be, of course, but his size seems so much more significant when youâre being impaled on the end of his cock. Fuck, you can feel your vision go blurry as your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears. Youâre mortified when a sob is ripped from your chest, harsh and thick.
âShh, shh.â Ghost coos, his deep voice syrupy thick as he leans over you, the enormous bulk of him caging you into the mattress until your whole world consists only of him. âJust a little bit more.â
âFuck,â You choke out, trying to arch away again but failing because heâs so big that thereâs nowhere to go. âItâs not gonna fit!â
âShh, lovie,â He rumbles, ducking his face down so that the rough cotton of his mask is pressed against the sweaty skin of your neck. âRelaxân let me in.â
âIâ âm tryingââ You whine, clutching at his biceps. âJesusââ
You blink your eyes open, vision blurry from the tears clumping your lashes together, only to be met with the sight of Ghostâs deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath the black mask. Heâs looming above you, his gaze made all the more intense by the fact that itâs the only part of his face you can really see.
âAll that messinâ around with those plastic cocks, but youâre still this tight for me,â He says, his voice so deep that you feel it reverberate into your bones. âDeep breath.â
The breath you inhale at his instruction is rough and ragged, and he snorts a low breathless laugh in response.
When he finally drives his cock all the way in with one smooth stroke, all the breath is driven from your lungs. It feels as though his cock has been pressed all the way up into your chest, and the noise you make when you squirm on it is utterly pathetic.Â
Ghostâs hands are like steel clamps when they close around the plump flesh of your thighs, holding them up and pressing them back until theyâre pressed against your belly. He looms over you, still almost entirely clothed as sweat beads over his thickly muscled neck. Itâs like getting pinned down by a mountain, and you whimper as youâre speared open and prone by the weight of Ghost pressing down upon you.
He hasnât even started to move yet, but you still feel overfull and raw.
âToo big,â You mumble, struggling to catch your breath. You choke on a sob and feel your eyes burn with unshed tears as your back arches. âGhostâ!â
âShh.â He grunts. âCall me Simon when I fuck you.â
That⊠that does something to you. Molten heat rockets up your spine and pools in your belly, and you swear your pussy floods. Itâs stupid, how being granted permission to call your lieutenant by his first name is somehow so much hotter than anything else heâs done so far.
âSimon,â You try it out. It comes out a little shaky, your voice little more than a weak whisper, but you swear you can see his eyes sharpen.Â
Apparently having come to the decision that youâve adjusted enough, Ghost pulls his hips back only to drive back in.Â
âOh!â You yelp, hips jumping, but thereâs nowhere to go.Â
All you can do is lie there as he slides out, out, out, slow and careful and long, and then his hips snap forward and he impales you, pressing all the way into him. He does it again, and again, and you try to bite down on your tongue, try to not sound so pathetically wrecked, but you canât. Itâs like Ghost is puncturing your lungs and every time he fucks into you, you let out the most pathetic little mewling ah ah ah sounds.
Youâre not quite prepared for how different this feels; itâs nothing like your stupid plastic dildo. Ghostâs cock is bigger, but itâs also hotter and with more give than you expected, and youâve never been able to fuck yourself like this. Your plastic toys could never compare to the sensation of being pinned by your giant of a lieutenant as he ruts into you.
Ghost reaches up and roughly pushes his mask up so his mouth is exposed again before he leans in deeper, almost folding you cleanly in half, stretching in to claim your mouth in a kiss thatâs not quite a kiss, but rather a fierce mash of lips and tongue as his rhythm picks up, riding you down into the mattress until you realised the screaming noise isnât coming from either one of you, but the cheap standard issue bed frame.
All you can do is gasp with each deep, raw fuck. There are tears tracking lazily down your cheeks, having overflowed from your burning eyes, and you honestly think your lungs might collapse. Youâre bent like a fucking pretzel, in a way thatâs making the muscles in your thighs scream, as Ghost pounds into you.Â
Heâs fucking relentless, but also shockingly aware of you beneath him. He doesnât put too much pressure on you when he holds you, he never goes hard enough to hurt, and he knows just the right amount of weight to pin you down without being too much.
Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishing noises getting louder and louder as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls. Your whole world of awareness has been narrowed down to Ghost and Ghost only; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours.Â
Heâs holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. Heâs keeping all his dangerous muscles at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just enough to make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.
âYeah, you needed this,â Ghost grunts, his uncovered mouth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. âThisâs why you were so fuckinâ distracted earlier, hm? You thinkinâ about how much you needed to cream around a real cock?â
âUh huh, yeah,â You slur out, not even sure what youâre agreeing with. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth, every nerve in your body raw and sparking. You must sound so pathetic, but Ghost seems to like it.
âAinât gonna be distracted anymore, are ya?â He rumbles, laving his tongue over your jaw in a way that feels filthy. âJust needed your little pussy filled, thatâs all.â
You cry out for him because you canât help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges into you. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving slick trails along his shaft. But gradually he gets bolder, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.
You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You swear you even feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.
Then he leans back, lifting his weight off of you so you can breathe properly. He leaves his hand on your collarbones like a placeholder, his palm spread over the base of your throat like a reminder, a way to keep your attention on him.Â
âFuck,â He grits out, âThatâs it, doll.â
Youâre vaguely aware of the fact that Ghostâs gaze has shifted, no longer focused on your face but now instead fixed firmly between your legs as he watches the thick shaft of his cock sink into you. He obviously likes how you feel inside; you can hear him cursing and grunting quietly as his free hand grips your hip for leverage.Â
With his mask rumpled up around his nose, youâre gifted with an incredible view of the way his teeth are sunk into his lower lip. Each time he sinks his cock into you again, he makes a raspy little groan, eyes fluttering briefly shut. Itâs so painfully endearing that your heart quivers in your chest.
Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist â any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless, your legs slipping everytime his ass flexes with his thrusts. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time he ruts into you. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. Part of you marvels how youâre even able to fit him inside you.
âNever seen you look like this,â he grunts. âAll fucked-out and perfect.â
Ghost leans in again, grips your legs so he can rearrange them over his shoulders, and you think you might die. The angle is different and somehow, impossibly, Ghost is fucking into you even deeper. You think you might actually be crying. Thereâs no question as to whether youâre drooling.
Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life. He doesnât even seem to notice the sting of your nails scratching him; or perhaps it only urges him on, because his movements take on an edge of desperation.
âGorgeous girl,â He grits out, jaw clenched. âSqueezinâ so tight. Fuck. Gonna make you cream.â
 You had forgotten about his promise to make you come, too lost in the hazy pleasure of his cock. But now it seems as though heâs been seized by the compulsion to fuck you to the edge; he reaches a hand down so that his thumb can join the fray, and it startles you into moaning breathlessly aloud.Â
His thumb is merciless against your clit. Youâre vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you, and he takes full advantage. His fingers are thick and blistering hot as he rubs at you, and you choke as your toes curl.
âSimonââ You manage to eke out before you lose the weak thread of your thoughts, scattering into nothing as he stimulates the stiff bead of your clit.Â
He grunts to show that heâs heard you, but he doesnât seem any more capable of words than you are as he rocks into the cradle of your hips. Youâre practically blinded by your wet eyes, blinking frantically to try and clear your vision as you reach out clumsily to throw your arms around Ghostâs blisteringly hot neck.
It feels as though your skin is stretched too tight over your body, hot and prickly and too much. Youâre trembling, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as agonising pressure builds in your lower belly.Â
âFuck, love.â Ghost says, his voice little more than a snarl. âYou gonna come?â
No, You think hazily. No, you never come. But even as you think it, part of you recognises that itâs never felt like this before. Your stomach tightens, toes curling, your lungs burning, your eyes rolling. You hardly even know whatâs happening.
You recognise that something is building, but it almost seems secondary to the way that Ghost is rutting into you like a man possessed, hitting that spongey spot in the back of your pussy that youâve never managed to reach yourself and making your legs spasm every time even as his thick thumb rubs frantic circles around the bump of your clit.
âFuck, fuckââ You wheeze, bucking your hips against him.
It doesnât grow and dissipate in the way youâre used to. Rather, it creeps up on you almost without you noticing, until youâre whimpering and clinging to Ghost like heâs a lifeline. Your bottom lip trembles as you sob weakly, practically on the brink of diving into an oncoming tidal wave of desire. Then that coil in your stomach snaps like a rubber band, sudden and sharp as a slap to the face.Â
Your back arches, your vision whites out, and you cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Your cunts sucks tight around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. It feels so sweet, that white-hot buzzing pleasure rushing over you and wiping your brain completely clean.Â
Youâre a little delirious from being stuffed with such a fat cock; every thrust just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your very first orgasm out right away. Itâs mindless ecstasy, your nails burrowing into the skin of his biceps as you desperately clutch at him for some kind of leverage. Ghost doesnât falter, his hips continuing to work into you, wringing your orgasm out until you feel as though your brain is melting.
You sob â an actual, genuine, wet-sounding sob as your chest heaves for air and your eyes burn with overwhelmed, rapturous tears. Your head is spinning even as your climax subsides, leaving you limp-limbed and weak as Ghost continues rocking into you.
âLook so lovely when you come, sweetheart,â Ghost grunts into your ear, his bulky chest weighing you down as you clutch feebly at his shoulders. âGod, thatâs a sight. All for me, yeah?â
His praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes sting until thereâs tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids. He sounds so smug, but you canât deny that he has reason to be. Heâs the first man to ever touch you, first man to ever fuck you, the first person to ever tip you over the edge and wring an orgasm out of you. Fuck, you think your brain might have been reduced to mush permanently; you wonder wildly if youâll ever be the same after this.
Despite the sting of Ghostâs punishing thrusts into your already oversensitive cunt, your body sings for him. The rhythm of his hips is getting gradually sloppier, as though he doesnât care as much for precision now that heâs succeeded in making you come. Soft, guttural little grunts fall from his mouth, and his arms wrap around your waist to reposition you so that he can fuck quick and shallow. Itâs almost tender, as though heâs aware of your growing sensitivity as you mewl under him.
Thereâs a profound, instinctual pleasure in seeing Ghost lose himself in your embrace. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded and his mask is still all rucked up, revealing the way his mouth is lolled softly open as he pants. You find yourself wishing feverishly that he had taken off his clothes too, because you think you would give anything to watch the roiling muscles of his chest and shoulders as he ruts into you.
Then just when you think youâre beginning to recover from the shattering, mind-numbing oversensitivity, Ghost comes inside of you.
He stops rutting to ride out his orgasm, his cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than youâve ever felt. And he comes a lot.Â
Youâre stuffed so tightly with his cock that his cum has nowhere to go, and ends up leaking thickly from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he groans, blissed out as he finds release in your cunt.Â
The minutes afterwards are a blur.Â
You close your eyes for what feels like only a second, but the next time you blink your eyes open you find yourself feeling miserably, uncomfortably empty and sticky as all that oozy cum leaks out of you. You somehow missed Ghost pulling out of you, and your thoughts are muzzy and embarrassingly slow.
For a moment, you think youâre alone. Youâre becoming more aware of yourself, and you realise that youâre shivering weakly alone in your sweat-damp sheets. Where did Ghost go? Part of you, still a little hazy, wonders if he had left you alone as soon as he had come, and you feel your lower lip tremble at the thought.Â
God, you feel pathetic. You shift feebly on the sheets, and suck in a sharp breath when you feel the ache inside you, proof that youâre going to feel the shadow of Ghostâs cock for days. You feel drunk off the afterglow, yet youâre swiftly becoming more and more aware of yourself and all the aches and pains that are coming to the fore now.
It feels like youâre too big for your body, and youâre clumsy when you try to sit up. Pushing yourself up makes a whole new set of aches light up, and you let out a quiet keening grumble.
Youâre so caught up with trying to ground yourself that you jolt in surprise when big, paw-like hands land on you, pushing you back down onto the bed.
âShh, hey, lay down.â Ghost says, the rough edges of his accent softened. To your bewilderment, he has a damp cloth in his hand; he went to the bathroom, you realise hazily.
Maybe itâs just because you feel raw after your experience with him, pulsing like an open nerve, but you sniffle and blink and then suddenly there are tears dripping down your face.
âThought you left.â You mumble, trying not to sound like a needy little idiot.
Ghost glances up at you, unblinkingly. His mask is fixed firmly back in place, and he looks annoyingly put-together; itâs an embarrassingly stark contrast to the way youâre still nude and shivery and teary-eyed.
âNo.â He says simply.
The damp cloth is warm when it makes contact with your skin, and you relax as he drags it along your sweaty back and over your legs. Heâs a little rough about it, but you donât think itâs on purpose. Gentleness doesnât come naturally to Simon Riley, and yet you can feel that heâs trying and that makes a warm glow settle in your stomach, replacing the cold anxiety that had settled in when you thought that he had left you alone.
When the cloth reaches the tender skin of your pussy, you hiss and try to pull away. It all feels too sensitive, and you feel your face crumple up as he wipes away the mess of slick and cum between your thighs. He gentles his touch as much as he can, but you still mewl at the electric zaps of oversensitivity that jolt up your spine.
When Ghost pauses and pulls the cloth away from you, you blink your eyes awake. Your vision is still all wet and blurry from tears, but you can still see the shape of Ghost as he stares down at you. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, even after having been cleaned up, and Ghostâs stare is burning.
You wonder if heâs about to leave now â you can recognise this whole thing had gotten out of hand, and you just about manage to stifle the panic at the creeping realisation that youâve just fucked your superior officer. Ghost must have realised at this point that the two of you had just ripped through all those fraternisation rules, though itâs always been difficult to tell what heâs thinking. But you trust him â you have to, in your line of work. You have to trust that heâll handle things.
Ghost tosses aside the cloth, and his big overbearing body climbs back into bed beside you. Itâs a standard-issue bunk, and yet it feels comically tiny when Ghost has been added to the mix. Heâs surprisingly agile, even despite his big size, and you barely have time to realise that heâs joining you in bed before heâs wrapped a thick arm around your middle, hauling you closer.
Youâd love to act chill and cool about the fact that heâs now essentially cuddling you, but you miss the mark by a long mile. You take a breath, and allow yourself to relax into his big burly chest. Heâs still fully clothed, and the rough texture of his jeans against your tender bare skin makes you shiver lightly from oversensitivity.
Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, your joints weak and watery, and youâre perfectly content to close your eyes and forcibly ignore all your concerns about fraternisation or how youâre going to face Ghost in training. Itâs a problem for another time.
âYou still alive?â Ghost grunts, and his palm coasts down over your back to settle at your ass, his fingers squeezing absent-mindedly into the soft flesh there.
He sounds amused, which makes you grumble in irritation. He takes up so much space, his big body filling up all the free space on the bed and making you feel so fucking small as he holds you so that your back is pressed against his stomach.
âI dunno,â You mumble, words a little garbled. âThink⊠think you might have fucked me stupid, Lt.â
Lying like this, with his front pressed against your back, you can feel his laugh rumble into you. Heâs touchy too in a way that surprises you; his hands are constantly moving, swiping over your sides and groping at any part of you thatâs squishy-soft.
âThink I might have,â He agrees, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even if you canât see it. âBut I think you needed it, sweetheart. You were practically cryinâ out for it all day.â
You feel your face heat at the insinuation that he had noticed the arousal you thought you had hidden so well. But you still feel so fuzzy inside, and you canât manage to drum up any genuine reaction.
Ghostâs roaming hand slips down between your legs, and you hold your breath as he reaches your swollen, tender pussy. His fingers are so big, but heâs aware of his strength and keeps his touch light, cupping rather than groping, his calloused palm catching on your puffy clit.
âTold you a real cock would be better,â He rumbles, and you feel the soft material of his mask rubbing against the back of your sweaty neck. âYouâve got a fussy little cunt â âs only gonna be satisfied by the real thing.â
Youâd love to jab back at him, but the feeling of him rough palm against your oversensitive clit has your thoughts fizzing out into nothingness. All you can do is let out a quiet little whimper, and rock your hips into his touch. To your utter bewilderment, you feel your arousal, which you had previously considered entirely sated, pulse back to life.
As if Ghost can feel your cunt throb beneath his hand, he snickers. âYeah. Fussy and greedy.â
He leans down, and you feel his lips brush against the back of your neck through the cotton of his balaclava. You quiver, and part your legs without conscious thought to give his thick fingers more room to work. Despite your exhaustion, and your soreness, and your sensitivity, you find yourself wanting. You wonder, with an edge of hysteria, if your body has somehow managed to rewire itself to only accept pleasure from your commanding officerâs hand.
âGhostâ Simonââ You breathe, your hips jumping as you grind into his palm.
âYeah,â He says again, as though he knows exactly what you need and want. âOne little orgasm wasnât enough, was it?â
âNo.â You choke out, throwing your head back so that itâs resting against Ghostâs broad chest. âNo, ât wasnât.â
You can hardly believe that your body is winding up for more, but Ghostâs touch is searing hot against your tender skin, and you can already taste the pleasure heâs going to bring you. This time, without the edge of urgency, you think you might even enjoy it more.
âGimme five minutes,â He drawls, his voice low and muffled in your ear. âAnd Iâll give you your second.â
ahaha yeah Iâve been kinda dead to the world đ and regarding Revenant I have no idea - Iâm going to reread over everything and see the kinda vibe I wanna end it on
Originally it was going to be a sad/cliffhanger ending but I decided that no body deserves that (including me) đđ
đ pairing: recom miles quaritch x human fem reader
đ tags: nsfw, daddy kink, size kink, alien genitalia, human x na'vi, oral sex, vaginal sex, q gets a v messy blowjob and repays u by blowing ur back out, brief voyeurism, quaritch's pov turned out so filthy?
đ wordcount: 19k
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
Recently, youâve had to come to terms with a number of things.
Number one, the food rationing system on Pandora means that you have to go without some of your favourite foods for months, years, or even for the rest of your rotation planet-side. Fresh fruit, chocolate, pizza, any food that gives you joy, is practically impossible to get here. And even if there is a delivery, itâs always the assholes in upper management and leadership roles that get all the good stuff anyway.
Number two, military men are absolute pigs. If you thought the ones on Earth were bad, you werenât prepared for the ones on Pandora. Theyâre cocky, arrogant, rude, and seem to have come to Pandora for the big paycheck and the chance to cause absolute havoc among the native Naâvi populations. You avoid them as much as possible, but Bridgehead is absolutely crawling with a military presence, and your job makes it difficult to avoid them anyway.
And number three⊠well. Number three is a little more embarrassing.
ââand if you wanna survive out there, you gotta be alert. First things first, weâre headed out to this area in the⊠shit.â Colonel Quaritch pauses in the middle of his sentence, then turns to you with a scowl.
Youâve only been half listening, a little too distracted by the Colonelâs enormous frame and big biceps and the way his cute little ears flick back as he debriefs his Recom team.
âHey kid, how do Iââ He gestures irritably at the slide presentation behind him.
Thatâs your cue to jolt forward and help him change slides. Itâs really so easy to do; just a simple click of a button.
âAh.â Quaritch mutters when you change the slide for him, before clapping you on the shoulder in thanks before getting right back to his debrief.
The clap to your shoulder is almost strong enough to nearly send you stumbling, his wide palm and long fingers almost spanning the whole width of your back. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and your face burns as you hurriedly step back into the corner youâve been standing in this whole time.
And thatâs the third thing youâve had to come to terms with â the unnerving tingles that start up between your legs every time Colonel Quaritchâs enormous blue ass needs help with technological problems that are so damn easy to solve.
You clear your throat a little self-consciously, praying that you donât look as flustered as you feel. Youâve already noticed the way the rest of the Recoms are sending each other little smirking glances and elbowing each other in the sides.
Itâs humiliating. Not the crush itself â that, you feel, is fairly understandable. Heâs nearly ten-feet of smooth blue skin and intimidating muscle, with a condescending sharp fanged smile and sharp, cold eyes. Youâre only human, and heâs hot as hell. You can hardly be blamed for developing a crush, the man is built like a god.
No, the part thatâs humiliating is the way you react over his little technical difficulties. The way he squints at the data pads that look so small in his huge hands, the way he pokes uncertainly at screens that donât even have touch-screen capacity, the way his tongue clicks in frustration when he canât get something working for him. It all just gets you going in a way thatâs actually a little bit unnerving.
You sit through the rest of the debriefing, but youâre distracted. Thereâs no real reason for you to be there, so you donât bother listening. Literally nothing about this debriefing has anything to do with you; itâs all aimed at the Recoms for their upcoming scouting missions into the lowland forest region.
The only reason youâre here is because Quaritch had instructed you to sit in the corner, and your knees had promptly gone weak and you had sunk down into the rickety chair at the edge of the room. The reaction stems partially from Quaritchâs sexy authoritative voice and partially from the fact that youâre exhausted.
Youâre pretty much glorified tech support, but thatâs alright. If anything, youâre eager for it â itâs a stimulating change from the monotony of your usual duties. Youâre watching him closely, pulse leaping every time you see that cute little furrow to his brow, or the way his mouth turns down as he grapples with the clicker thatâs much too small for his hands.
His tail lashes in agitation, his mouth pressing together as he glares at the presentation behind him, attempting to bend the Powerpoint to his will as he continues talking.
ââso weâre gonna be actinâ like we got eyes in the back of our heads, âcause if we get caught unawares by these bastards then weâre gonna end up with arrows cominâ out of our skullsâshit.â Cutting himself off yet again, Quaritch turns to you with a scowl.
Youâre up before he can even verbalise the need for assistance (not that heâd ever ask for help, more like heâd just grunt at you until you got up to sort out the problem). The buttons are obviously much too small for his big-ass fingers. You take the clicker, and press the button yourself.
The slide changes, displaying a collage of dangerous Pandoran wildlife; thanators, viperwolves, banshees, titanotheres. It looks good, very professional â because you were the one that had made it, revising Quaritchâs ugly, half-assed attempt at just pasting a whole load of grainy jpegs on a word document.
Quaritch grunts in satisfaction, nodding as his tail curls. âNow, I know weâve gone through this a hundred times, but weâre gonna go through it a hundred times more till Iâm confident you knuckleheads ainât gonna get yourselves kill the second we get out there.â
Thereâs a chorus of groans at that, but none of them seem brave enough to complain outright. Quaritch fields the groans easily by electing to simply ignore them, turning to give them an in-depth run-down on the threats out there in the Pandoran wildnerness.
You hover near his side, uncertain if youâve been dismissed just yet. You figure itâs best to just wait. Knowing the old man, heâll need help again with something else in a minute or too anyway.
âCâmon, sir, we know this.â One of the men complains. You think it might be Fike. âWeâve gone over this a ton of times.â
âYeah, well, if the information had all stuck then we wouldnât have ended with Walker nearly gutted on our last outing, would we?â Quaritch barks, his tone so sharp and acerbic that it shoots down your spine with an electric jolt.
The other Recoms roll their eyes, apparently used to his authoritative tone, but it nearly knocks you flat. You have to breathe through your nose and fight to keep your expression neutral, trying to pretend like you havenât just soaked your panties at the sound of it. God, this dry spell youâve been going through is going to be the end of you.
Huffing out an irritated breath, Quaritch turns to you and makes an irritated sort of gesture with his hand. âJust go to the next slide, kid. Iâll cut this short.â
You sigh, and click to the final slide. You cross your arms over your chest as you shift on your feet, jutting your hip out to try and distribute your weight. Youâre seriously hoping that he picks up the pace and finishes soon so that you can get back to your own work. Or maybe a nap â you canât remember the last time youâve slept for more than three hours at a time.
Quaritch gets back to his debriefing, and you tune out. Itâs not like what heâs saying has any importance to you at all. Youâve been a good little employee at the RDA for going on two years now, working hard in the tech sector of the colony at Bridgehead, and not once have you actually left the compound. So all these stupid safety precautions for the Recoms going out into the forest are boring to you.
You tap your fingers absent-mindedly against your arms as you wait, trying not to get antsy. You know your work is probably piling up back on your desk, but you canât leave until youâve been dismissed. As you wait, you allow your eyes to trail back to Quaritch so you can watch him idly.
The attraction to him has bloomed so oddly. In the beginning, you hadnât been any more interested in him than in any of the Recoms, and even that was just natural curiosity about the enormous new blue soldiers. Part of your rules for living on Pandora was to avoid military men after all, and the nine-feet-tall Recom soldiers definitely fall into that category.
And listen, hereâs the thing. You donât even like him. Heâs rough, rude, abrasive, and entirely dismissive of you even when youâre actually helping him. Besides, like youâve said, the military men on Pandora are pigs. You avoid them whenever possible, for the preservation of your mental health.
And yet â that first day he had come into the tech hub with a handful of new RDA-issued tech and a frustrated, bewildered frown on his face, you had felt the weirdest tightening in your stomach. It had only gotten worse from there, when he came in for help with the most basic of things. It seems like technology has progressed a lot in the fourteen years heâs been dead, and heâs obviously irritated by being outpaced by it all.
âAlright, get outta here.â
Quaritchâs voice jolts you out of your daydreaming, and you glance around to see that the Recoms are all beginning to stand, preparing to move out. You have to suffer a moment of claustrophobia as youâre quite abruptly hit with the fact that all of a sudden you are by far the smallest person in the room.
You shift, uneasy as you crane your neck back to watch them all file out. They positively tower over you, your head reaching under their navels, and you step back a little nervously. Youâre sure they wouldnât step on you, but you donât want to take that chance.
As the others leave the room, Quaritch turns back to the little monitor on the desk and starts swearing quietly at it.
âDamn thing,â He mutters, prodding roughly at it. âHow do I turn this off?â
You step up alongside him, frowning. âHey, donât be so rough. Youâll break it.â
âIâm not being rough.â Quaritch snaps back, though he pulls his hand away.
You switch off the display, then begin powering down the digital projector. Itâs quick work, and easy to do despite Quaritchâs impatient confusion, and you slot the clicker back into place on the desk.
âThis shitâs a waste of time,â He grumbles as he watches you fiddle with the equipment. âDonât see why I canât just tell them what I need to tell them without all these crap visuals behind me.â
Itâs not the first little diatribe heâs gone on about the uselessness of technology, so you just roll your eyes and let him rant.
âYou need to make the buttons on those things bigger.â He continues, stepping after you as you gather your things.
âI donât actually manufacture the equipment, I only keep it working.â You point out, keeping your tone even.
âWell, figure it out.â
And thereâs the downside of having a crush on Colonel Quaritch. Heâs an absolute asshole.
The attraction you feel towards him is entirely physical, and itâs hard not to think about sex when you look at him. He ticks every primitive mating box: incredibly tall, handsome, the strongest of any pack heâs in. Everywhere he goes, he brings an air of authority with him. Making people cower is almost part of his charm.
But god, he can be such a dick sometimes.
âIs that all, sir?â You ask, your voice a little sardonic.
Quaritch grunts, but you can feel his wide yellow eyes watching you. Itâs unnervingly akin to being under the sharp stare of a predator, and you try to ignore the way your hair is standing on end.
âThatâll be it, kid.â He drawls, though heâs still watching you.
You wait for a beat, but no thank you comes. You wonder why you bothered waiting in the first place, considering youâve never received anything of the sort.
With an eyeroll, you gather up your stuff and head out.
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
Your head is pounding as you work, the fluorescent light of your blue screen making your eyes throb. The screen blinks, an underscore slashing across impatiently, erasing the authorisation and the past day-shifts requests. Thousands of malfunctions are listed in a matter of seconds, logged at the top right-hand corner in a series of white 8-bit texts. The centre terminal lists a series of errors of accompanied by steady beeping.
The abrupt diagnosis comes with a high-pitched ring, signalling its potential danger/damage at a level six on the twelve-notch risk scale. You swear.
âTodd, have you been keeping on top of the atmosphere composition readouts in the Recom sector?â You ask, glancing briefly over your shoulder.
Your co-worker glances up, bleary-eyed behind his wire-rimmed glasses. His chin has a bit of dried sauce on it from the overly-processed dried noodles heâd been eating earlier, and you feel your nose wrinkle a little at the sight of it.
âUh..â He says, and the pause is long enough for you to purse your lips and raise your eyebrows. âYeah.â
âWell, itâs saying the nitrogen levels are too low.â
Todd blinks owlishly at you, and you feel your temper flare. Swearing lowly, you push yourself out of your swivel chair, feeling your spine crack ominously as you straighten up, lower back aching.
âRight, Iâll fix it myself.â You say grimly.
âYou donât have to.â Todd says unconvincingly. âI can do it.â
He doesnât even twitch, making no effort to stand, so his offer falls flat.
Lazy shit.
You grimace at him, and donât even bother replying as you stalk out of the tiny shared office that you do most of your work in. Having to shoulder your own workload can be challenging enough, but the weight of Toddâs added work can be stifling sometimes.
The brightness of the fluorescent lighting in the corridors hurts your head, and you squint as you scurry your way through the halls. Your headache is throbbing, your neck is aching, and youâre so goddamn tired.
The last thing you need is the added responsibility of having to fix Toddâs negligence before it turns into an actual problem, but you already know that Toddâs mistakes look like your mistakes too, given that you share the same shitty little office terminal.
The sector the Recom soldiers live in is no larger than any of the other sectors, though everything is almost comically over-sized. You fit an exo-pack carefully over your face as you enter the sector, making your way towards the maintenance terminal. Itâs hidden behind a large grate, and you struggle with the heavy metal for a moment before you finally manage to get it removed, letting it drop to the lino floor with a heavy clang.
Your tiredness is making you lethargic and a little clumsy, and your eyes are dry and a little itchy as you turn your attention to the monitor on the terminal. The computer to the immediate left shows readings that atmosphere stability is down by 10%. You grit your teeth; Todd, you lazy bastard.
You grumble and swear to yourself as you jab at the screen and keyboard roughly. God, all you want to do is take a fucking nap.
Youâre so tired that you donât even look up when you hear footsteps heading your way in the corridor, though some part of your brain distantly recognises that theyâre much too heavy to be human.
âWell hey, if it isnât tech support!â A voice crows, way too enthusiastic for you to deal with right now.
You close your eyes, briefly praying for patience, before slowing swivelling your head around. Then you have to tilt your head back, because you somehow keep forgetting how tall these motherfuckers are.
Itâs Wainfleet, accompanied by the quiet one that always wears those stupid shades (Mansk, maybe? You canât remember). Wainfleet is grinning, as though running into you is just the most entertaining thing thatâs happened to him all day.
âYeah?â You ask, a little more aggressively than you had intended.
Lyleâs grin just widens, as though your aggravation is amusing. âOh, someoneâs grumpy. Whatâs wrong, kitty cat?â
Your teeth grind together hard enough to hurt, and you turn your attention back to the terminal. With one nail-bitten finger, you press the system's recovery code. It takes a couple of seconds to bring the generatorâs core back up to its acceptable 99.9% after manually inputting the proper chemical levels - switching two filters to output .2 more of one oxide mineral and .8 less of methane.
Your sight of the terminal is blotted out by the shadow of Wainfleetâs looming body over your head.
âWhat?â You bite out.
âWhatâs all that?â Wainfleet asks. He doesnât seem particularly curious; if anything, it seems like heâs only asking to annoy you.
You huff a sigh, but turn your attention back to the monitor. âIâm keeping the air in your sector breathable for you.â
âHow kind of you.â Wainfleet drawls lazily, leaning over to get a better look.
You squint at the screen. It looks like the filtering system is gradually getting back to normal, and you click out of a couple of error warnings as theyâre thrown up onscreen.
The big looming shadows of the two recoms behind you are distracting, and you find yourself feeling irritably on edge while you work.
âGo away.â You grumble without looking away from your screen. âLet me work.â
Mansk, at least, has the decency to step back even if he doesnât actually leave. But Wainfleet just snickers, as though your bad mood is amusing.
âJeez, youâre such a pissy little thing.â He drawls, leaning closer just to annoy you. âWhyâre you so much nicer to the Colonel, huh?â
You choke at that, your fingers spasming where youâre inputting strings of code on the keyboard. You have to bite your tongue hard to avoid snapping back, wanting to avoid escalating the situation. Before you can say a thing, another set of footsteps start coming your way up the hall. You drop your head, sighing explosively behind your mask. Why canât everyone just leave you alone to work?
âWhatâre you two loitering here for?â The Colonelâs barking voice rings out through the hallway.
Despite your exhaustion, you feel your aching spine straighten out at the sound of his voice and you lift your head. Blinking your stinging eyes, you watch as Quaritch approaches, casting disapproving looks at his soldiers. It doesnât seem like heâs noticed your presence yet; itâs like youâre too short, and he never bothers glancing down.
Wainfleet and Mansk both straighten up, though they still look fairly relaxed even with the arrival of their superior officer. Wainfleet offers him a crooked grin, and finally steps away from you.
âSorry, sir. Just watching the little nerd fix whatever the hell that thing is.â He says, gesturing carelessly at you.
You grumble quietly to yourself at that particular form of address, but donât bother looking up again. Youâre obviously busy, and you have no idea why these big blue bastards canât just leave you be to work.
âRight, get lost.â Quaritch grunts.
You glance up for a second, startled, wondering if Quaritch was talking to you. But then Wainfleet and Mansk are stepping away, smirking, and going on their way down the hall.
You exhale in relief, then turn back to the terminal. Thereâs a new error flickering in the upper corner of the screen, and you blink at it tiredly before dismissing it. You almost think that Quaritch has left too, but then you hear the sound of him shifting behind you.
 âYour men are morons.â You mutter irritably, jabbing at the screen.
âManskâs not so bad.â Quaritch says with a one-shouldered shrug.
Your mouth twitches at the conspicuous lack of mention of Wainfleet. âMm. What are you doing here?â
âI was gonna ask you the same thing.â He says. A shadow falls over you again as he leans against the wall next you, dwarfing you as he looms overhead. âThis ainât your usual haunt.â
âOh, and you know my usual haunts now, do you?â You ask wryly.
He hums, but doesnât reply. The terminal beeps loudly, a grating screechy sort of noise, and you grumble a sour curse under your breath as you work. The readouts are improving, but they could still be better. You feel irritation flare yet again; if Todd had been pulling his goddamn weight, all of this could have been sorted out from the central console in the main control room.
âI need you to look at this.â
Your brows twitch, but you donât take your eyes off your screen. âIâm very busy, Colonel.â
âItâll only take a sec.â
You exhale through your nose, frustrated. The terminal emits another screechy beep at you, and you resist the urge to smack it. The filtration system is struggling to synthesise xenon, which is throwing off the ideal atmospheric pressure across the whole Recom sector.
Quaritch is mercifully quiet for a couple of moments as you work, though you have to deal with him peering over your shoulder. You ignore him to the best of your ability, inputting strings of code with quick strikes of your fingers against the keyboard.
âYou writinâ that code yourself?â Quaritch asks, and you wonder if youâre imagining the undertone of surprise in his voice. âThought the system did all that automatically.â
Itâs a little surprising that he can recognise thatâs what youâre doing, considering his frustration with other elements of technology (he had asked you to reset the password to his RDA-issued email account, like, three times already). You guess he must be more familiar with the compoundâs frameworks than most of the everyday technology, given his years spent as head of Sec-Ops.
âUh, yeah..â You mutter, distracted. âItâs faster. Todd fucked the system up earlier, so itâs faster for me to just manually override whatever shit he plugged into the mainframe.â
After another few moments of tampering, the screen display shifts. The numbers, levels, and bars read fine, and the readouts are showing normal to good â the air stasis is flickering between 99.9% and 100%.
You finally lean back, groaning quietly to yourself as the vertebrae in your back crack brutally. God, youâre tired.
You had almost â almost â forgotten that Quaritch was standing right next to you, until he shifts expectantly on his feet. Heâs not a patient man, and to be honest heâs already waited for you longer than you thought he would.
You look up â and up and upâat him. And maybe you allow your eyes to linger appreciatively around his tiny little waist and big muscly chest, because youâre tired and youâve worked hard today and you think you deserve a little treat.
âYeah?â You sigh, finally giving him your attention. âWhat is it?â
Wordlessly, Quaritch holds out a datapad. A big error screen blinks up at you. It seems like heâs entered the wrong password three times into the RDA-staff portal, and itâs now locked him out.
You sigh again. You kiss the chances of getting your nap goodbye.
âFine.â You grumble. âBut youâre buying me a coffee.â
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
The night shift was surely invented by a total fucking sadist.
You sit at your computer terminal in the early hours of the morning, staring blearily at your screen. Your eyes are burning, strained from the harsh blue light of the monitor as you mindlessly input strings of code. Youâve spent your whole damn shift trying to fix all of Toddâs stupid goddamned mistakes, and youâre tired and crabby and hungry and so fucking irritated.
It feels sometimes like your whole job just revolves around fixing the mistakes made by your incompetent co-workers, and youâre so tired. You and Todd are responsible for only two sectors, but itâs overwhelming when youâre doing most of the work by yourself.
Most of the levels and readings are back to almost perfect levels by the time the rest of Bridgehead begins waking up, and youâve finally begun to work away at the technical maintenance requests that have been racking up and waiting for your attention. Â
By the time Todd finally clocks in to take over for you (fifteen minutes late, as always), you can only imagine what you look like.
The nightshift always has the same effect on you; your eyes are puffy with dark circles in hollow sockets, your skin is dull from the lack of natural lighting in your shabby little tech hub, and the big baggy sweatshirt youâre wearing has stains from the salty freeze-dried noodles that youâve boiled and are slurping on as a poor excuse for breakfast.
âMorning.â Todd says, irritatingly chipper.
You grunt, slurping on your overstarchy, flavourless noodles.
Todd settles into his own swivel chair on the other side of the room, looking frustratingly well-rested. He stretches his hands overhead and sighs happily, then takes a look at his own terminal.
âOh! Wow, the readings look good!â He notes, sounding rather pleased.
Your grip tightens around your fork as you grit your teeth. No doubt all your hard work will be undone by him in no time.
âMm.â You say, stabbing at the somewhat gloopy mess of your overprocessed starch. âThere are a lot of maintenance requests that need to be filled for theââ
âYeah, donât worry, Iâm on it.â Todd says, without waiting for you to finish.
You purse your lips, irritated, but youâre too tired to start fighting this losing battle. Youâre used to the thankless nature of your job, even if it exhausts you. You just sigh, and finish up on one of the last server maintenance requests you had been working on.
Thereâs a brief moment of blissful silence, but those never last long when Todd is around.
âSo, busy shift?â He asks, and you can feel his stupid eyes staring at you.
âObviously.â You grunt, shovelling another fork full of noodles into your mouth.
Todd laughs as if you had told a joke, and you feel your brow twitch in aggravation. God, heâs so annoying. You wish he would just work in silence.
âYou work too hard.â Todd speaks with the air of someone imparting great wisdom. Insufferable moron. âYou should take a break.â
It takes superhuman levels of strength not to roll your eyes. You can actually feel yourself straining not to.
âYeah, well, my shift is over now.â You say with your mouth full, manners abandoned. âIâm going to take a nap now.â
Todd laughs gratingly, again acting as if youâve said something very funny. You glance at him out of the corner of your eyes, irritated.
âOh, I didnât mean just a nap.â He says with what he probably thinks is a charming grin. âI just meanâyouâre always so⊠wound up. Donât you want to let loose?â
You have a feeling that saying youâre wound up is just another way of calling you uptight. The worst part is, you canât even necessarily protest that. Your workload on Pandora has always been challenging, but since being paired with the most useless co-worker on the planet it has been damn near overwhelming. It feels like all you do is sleep, eat, and work, and sometimes those activities cross over â you barely even have time to shower anymore. Some days you barely feel human.
âNot really.â You say shortly, unwilling to be drawn into this conversation with him.
âOh, come on.â He wheedles. âYou deserve a bit of fun, donât you think?â
You donât even bother to reply, too busy trying to slurp at the briny liquid left over at the bottom of your Styrofoam noodle container.
âI was thinking, weâve been working together for ages now and we spend hardly any time together outside of work.â Todd continues. âWe shouldâoh, I donât know, go for a drink or something sometime.â
What a bizarre idea. You send a look his way, hoping that your face expresses your disbelief.
âToo busy for that.â You say, wiping the noodle juice roughly off your chin.
Todd nods, as though he had been expecting that. âSure, sure. But just one evening. Could be⊠you know, could be nice. Just the two of us.â
And⊠oh god. Your shoulders stiffen, your eyes growing wide and horrified as you stare into the bottom of your Styrofoam container. No, no, no. Thereâs no way that he means what it sounds like he means.
You feel yourself seize up with nerves, anxiety blooming in your belly. Fuck, why is this happening? All these months of working together, Todd has never attempted to cross the boundary of co-workers, so youâre completely blindsided by this offer.
You could have guessed that Todd was desperate, but this desperate? You hardly look like a catch right now, with your unwashed hair and coffee-stained sweater, yet Todd is blinking expectantly at you for your answer.
âOh, umâŠâ You hedge, staring blankly at your monitor as you scramble for an answer. âI donât think so, Todd. I donât think it would beâuh, you know. Appropriate. With work, and all.â
Todd is leaning forward now, and itâs taking a significant amount of energy to not look at him. âBilly and Gina from the North-East sector server maintenance team have been going out together for months now, and HR has no issues with it.â
You forcibly unclench your teeth, and instead start chewing at your cheek. Fuck â if this was just some guy at a bar, you could turn him down as harshly as possible. But youâre still on the damn clock, and this is a co-worker.
âI donât want to.â You say, trying to keep your tone as polite as possible while also being blunt.
âOh, come on.â Todd says, trying for another charming grin. âJust one or two drinks. Itâll be fun, honestly. We get on so well at work!â
 You realise with a sinking feeling that heâs not going to take no for an answer. Goddamnit Todd.
And you hate playing this card. You seriously hate that this is the only way to end the conversation, but you donât want things to be awkward â you have to work with this guy for the foreseeable future.
âI have a boyfriend.â You blurt, and try not to wince.
Itâs kind of infuriating, but you can actually see Todd deflate at this. Typical. You should have known he was the kind of guy that would be persistent despite your clear no, yet back off at the mention of a boyfriend.
âOh.â Todd says, his mouth twisting in a disappointed frown. âI- shit, sorry. I didnât know that.â
âMm.â You say. Your shoulders relax a little bit now as you turn back to your monitor, relieved that the matter is resolved. You think youâve handled that well, and with minimum awkwardness, but you donât think youâre going to be able to look at Todd in the same way for a long time.
âSo, who is it?â
You pause. Blink at the screen.
âWhat?â
âYour boyfriend.â Todd says, still looking your way. Heâs barely looked at his own monitor even once since he clocked in, his attention focused all on you. âWho is it?â
It takes everything you have not to freeze up. You hadnât thought this far ahead, and now your thoughts have gone slow and jittery with panic.
âOh.â You say slowly, swallowing. âHeâsâŠâ
Todd just looks back, waiting.
And shit, but your mind has gone blank. You canât come up with a single name. You canât even come up with a made-up name, because Todd is staring at you and youâre already so damn sleep-deprived that your brain is barely even working at half-capacity.
A brief knock sounds on the door, and you seize on the distraction. You whirl around with far more zeal than youâve displayed your whole shift, impossibly relieved that someone is interrupting this godforsaken conversation.
Itâs hardly even a surprise to see the big blue form of Colonel Quaritch ducking through the door, jabbing at the screen of a datapad with a huge finger. In that moment, youâve never been so happy about his complete inability to work all the new technology that the Recom squad has been given.
Todd straightens up in his seat, visibly intimidated by the sheer size of Quaritchâs Naâvi body, but Quaritch doesnât even glance his way.
âHey kid, you gotta minute?â Quaritch says, but itâs not really a question. Itâs perfectly clear that he expects you to make a minute for him.
Usually youâd be irritated by that. But now you jump to your feet, accidentally splashing a little bit of noodle juice all over your already stained sweater. You swipe distractedly at it, but donât pay it too much mind as you push your swivel chair back.
âYou need help?â You ask, your voice coming out much too loud.
Quaritch glances up at you with him brow furrowed. You must sound off, because his ears twitch and his tail curls as he eyes you â a little hint of shame blooms in your stomach as you watch his sharp golden eyes take in your unwashed hair, dirty sweater, and no-doubt frantic expression.
âJesus, kid.â He says, âWhenâs the last time you showered?â
Okay, that just adds salt to the wound. You wince.
âIâve been busy.â You say lamely, trying not to feel like a big crusty loser. âDo you need help or not?â
Quaritch is still eyeing you doubtfully, but his ears are still twitching in a way that honestly looks a little adorable. Itâs body language that youâre quite certain means something, but youâve never looked into Naâvi anthropology before.
âThis needs fixinâ.â He says bluntly, holding a datapad up.
You blink at it. The screen has been absolutely decimated. The glass is smashed in spider-webbed patterns, little shards of the screen falling off of it, and the metal back of it is all bent out of shape.
âWhat happened?â You ask, staring at it in disbelief; it looks like someone had driven over it with a tank.
âWainfleet.â Quaritch says simply. He lifts and drops a single shoulder, as though heâs not bothered to commit to the full movement.
âRight,â You breathe, shooting what you hope is a surreptitious glance towards Todd. Heâs still watching, with wide eyes. âUmâŠâ
Quaritch is watching you too, his tail swishing impatiently behind him as he waits for your answer. Their dual stares are making you feel shifty, and you shove your hands nervously into your pockets as you try your best to avoid eye contact. Fuck, you want to sink through the floor right now.
You need to get out of here, your skin itchy with aggravation and embarrassment. You reach out to grab the broken datapad out of Quaritchâs hand. Itâs even worse up close, and you give him another look of faint disbelief; you donât even think fixing it is possible. Youâll just have to commission him a new one.
You glance up to tell him this, and accidentally make eye contact with Todd.
His eyes are darting between you and the Colonel, and he mouths âHim?â at you with a look of astonishment.
It takes you a moment to realise what Todd is asking â he thinks the Colonel is the boyfriend you lied about? Is fucking stupid?
And yetâŠ
In a moment of thoughtless panic, you give a jerky nod. Youâll regret the lie later, maybe, but for now you just need to get out of here.
Todd turns his head and stares up at the Colonel with a slightly dumbstruck expression, and you can feel yourself flush as you realise that heâs trying to picture how that might work.
âIâm finished my shift, Iâll fix it in the commissary if you buy me another coffee.â You mutter, already pushing past Quaritch with the datapad in hand.
His eyebrows raise, obviously confused about where youâre going since you almost always fix his shit here, but you can hear his big footsteps following along behind you as you head for the door.
You hardly even breathe until youâre out in the corridor, and then you cover your face with your hands and let out a muffled shriek into your palms. Fuck, you handled that so badly. Youâre undernourished and sleep deprived, and you swear your brain isnât working properly, because what were you thinking?
The door slides shut, and you can hear Quaritchâs footsteps, but he says nothing as you have your silent little breakdown by the wall.
âDamn, sweetheart.â He says at last, his tone mixed with disbelief and amusement. âYou are just one hot mess, arenâtcha? Whatâs the matter with you?â
âDonât wanna talk about it.â You mumble into your palms.
Thereâs a moment of silence, then Quaritch clicks his tongue. Youâre afraid to look up and see his face; youâre sure that youâll see a look of mingled disgust and horror.
God, you wish you had least showered before he saw you, but youâve just worked a near 20-hour shift and you feel half-dead, so showering is way down on your to-do list. The first thing you need to do is sleep, but before you can do that you need to sort out Quaritchâs stupid data-pad.
âAlright.â Quaritch says, reaching out to push at your shoulder with his big index finger. âCome on, kid. Letâs get you that goddamn coffee.â
You grumble into your hands but donât protest as Quaritch pushes you into motion, using that index finger pressing into your back to guide you towards the canteen. He doesnât say a word, and youâre too afraid to look at his face.
The canteen is mostly empty when you enter, and the very few people who are lingering around take one look at the looming figure of Quaritch before promptly hurrying their way out of the room.
Youâre left almost entirely alone with the Colonel, and youâre shifty and grumpy and embarrassed as you settle into one of the plastic tables. Quaritch taps on the tables once with his knuckles before leaving you sitting there as he goes to get coffee.
God, you want to sink into the ground and die. You wonder if you should take this moment while Quaritch is gone to run back to your work room just to tell Todd that there had been a little mix-up, that you hadnât really intended to insinuate that you and Quaritch were involved in any way.
But then Quaritch returns, and you lose your chance. Not that you were seriously considering going back to explain things to Todd, but still.
âSo, can you fix it?â Quaritch asks in a drawl, plopping a styrofoam cup of steaming coffee down on the table in front of you.
âWhat?â You ask distractedly.
âThe datapad.â He gestures at the wrecked piece of technology. You had almost forgotten you were holding it, and you place it down on the table beside you.
âOh. No, obviously not.â You say, glancing at the smashed datapad. âYouâve totally wrecked it. Iâll get another one commissioned for you tomorrow.â
Quaritch hums, satisfied with that. âSo, what, you just wanted to spend some time with me, is that it?â
You choke, surprised. You almost knock the coffee over, your fingers going clumsy with embarrassment.
âNo,â You snap. âI justâhigh rank officers get better coffee. You should see the shit served to us tech grunts; itâs gross.â
The stupid bastard looks amused. Heâs watching you with his big golden eyes, and his ears twitch every couple of minutes. To your great irritation, you think he looks adorable â like a big blue cat. The illusion only lasts for as long as he doesnât speak, which of course means that it doesnât last long at all.
âMhm.â He rests his chin in the palm of his hand, his tail coiling coyly as he watches you. âWhatever you say, sweetheart. I think you just like being alone with me.â
âIâI do not!â You protest, mortified. âItâs not my fault that you practically harass me with all your stupid broken tech!â
He snickers, as if he finds your outrage funny.
âSure, kid.â He leans back in his chair, and even sitting down you feel as though the sheer bulk of his body is dwarfing you. âNow, you gonna tell me what crawled up your ass?â
Youâre certain your face must be making your mortification perfectly clear, but you struggle to control your expression all the same. There is nothing on this planet that could convince you to explain that you had inferred to your co-worker that you and Quaritch were in some sort of relationship, and so you end up curling up awkwardly on your rickety chair like a child, tucking your knees up against your chest.
âNo.â You grumble.
He snorts, and his ears flick again. âTry that one again.â
You fiddle with the over-long sleeves of your stupidly big sweater, flustered and clumsy under his gaze. Youâre mortifyingly aware of the stains on your clothes, and your unwashed and messy hair, and the dark bags under your eyes. You half-wish that you looked better, but then again you know that heâs definitely seen you looking worse.
âI had a long night-shift.â You mutter, hugging your knees. âSpent the whole night fixing all of the stupid mistakes Todd made during the day-shift. I havenât slept in like three days.â
Quaritch doesnât look particularly sympathetic, but at least he doesnât mock you. Maybe he can sense your exhaustion, but his amusement doesnât falter and his fingers continuously drum an uneven rhythm on the tabletop.
âYeah, I mightâve guessed that.â He murmurs, his big eyes tracking over your face critically. âBut thatâs not all, is it? Câmon, kid, out with it.â
You fiddle with the cuff of your sleeve, avoiding his eyes. âMmâŠâ
âCâmon, you look even worse than usual,â He points out, and you scratch self-consciously at a noodle broth stain on your chest. âAnd you looked as spooked when I walked in on you. I take it that it wasnât me that startled you like that, huh?â
You chew on the inside of your cheek, growing all hot and prickly with embarrassment. Maybe if you give him just enough of the truth to be convincing, but not enough to be humiliating, heâll let this go and you can sort this whole misunderstanding out with Todd tomorrow.
âTodd, umâŠâ You start haltingly. âTook me by surprise, is all.â
Quaritchâs fingers go still on the tabletop, and his eyebrows raise incrementally. â⊠Oh yeah? Howâs that?â
Oh, his judgemental tone is even worse than you had been expecting. You have to fight a wince. God, why couldnât the conversation have just stuck to technology?
âHe, uh, he asked me out for drinks.â You say, keeping your eyes fixed on a couple of loose threads on your sweater sleeve, âAnd I said no, because Todd is kind of a jackass, but now I think things are gonna be awkwardââ
Quaritch raises his eyebrows, an odd sort of expression on his face as he lifts his mask to his face to take a quick sip of air before dropping it to hang around his neck again.
âSo what, he wouldnât take no for an answer?â He drawls, sounding half bored and half amused. âThe nerdâs some kinda pervert?â
Ugh, you feel all hot and prickly with embarrassment right now. It feels a little surreal to be having a conversation about your romantic life (or severe lack of it) with Quaritch, and youâre only telling him part of the story.
âHeâs not that bad, heâs just useless.â You mutter. âBut, um⊠thatâs all.
His gaze is so intense it feels like itâs burning right through you. âAnything else?â
âNo.â You mumble, avoiding his stare. It feels like heâs looking right through you.
A long moment of silence. And then a careless shrug.
âAlright.â
âââ  ïœĄïŸâ: .✠. :âïŸ
Quaritch jabs his finger at the screen of his shiny new datapad. Itâs a sturdy thing, he notes with amusement. Seems like you had gone out and found a reinforced one, just for him.
Sweet, He thinks, his mouth curling a little.
Youâre such a thorny little thing, always so aggravated and grumpy, and he always gets a kick out of seeing your reactions when he comes to you with any problems for you to sort. You always look as though youâre barely awake, under-nourished and surviving solely off of bad coffee and vacuum-packed instant noodles, and you always mutter so grouchily under your breath when he arrives with the pieces of tech he needs you to fix.
Youâve got such a foul mouth, too â most of the time you donât seem to realise that he can hear you when you grumble insults under your breath thanks to his new big-ass Naâvi ears.
Shouting draws his attention, and he raises his head to see Fike and Wainfleet wrestling as they both try to get the other into a headlock. Quaritch purses his lips as he watches them, debating with himself whether or not to interrupt them. He eventually decides to let them be, though he watches them to make sure they donât get too rowdy.
He clicks his way into his emails, and wonders absently how irritated youâd get if he showed up in your little tech lair to ask you to reset his password again. He always gets a little kick out of your eye rolls and annoyed little frowns.
He checks the time; 8.37pm. Heâs not ever going to admit it to anyone, but he knows your schedule well by now. Youâre on the day-shift today, no doubt tired and crabby from your long hours, but the night-shift will soon be underway. Youâll be alone in that tiny little office all by yourself. His lips quirk at the thought.
He gives into the temptation, and pushes himself to his feet. Heâs pretty sure that his impulse control has gotten far worse since he had woken up in this stupid blue body, but itâs not as though heâs actually trying to stay away from you anyway.
He likes a woman with a bit of bite, and you smell good, and he gets a kick out of antagonising you until your face is all screwed up into that annoyed little grimace you do. So why not indulge a little?
His squad glance up at him as he stalks towards the door, but theyâre wise enough to keep their comments to themselves. At least, mostly.
âGoing to see your little girlfriend, boss?â Z-Dog drawls, a smug grin growing across her face.
Quaritch shoots her a look, but doesnât bother to make any kind of reprimand. He hasnât been particularly subtle about his interest in you, after all, and he doesnât mind a bit of friendly ribbing from his team so long as they donât cross any lines.
âWatch it.â He says without heat. Thereâs no point making any pretences when everyone knows where heâs headed.
The short exchange has caught the attention of Walker, who is already grinning.
âRumour has it youâve made it official.â She says, leaning forward and waggling her eyebrows like a jackass. âDidnât take you for a romantic, sir.â
And⊠that gives Quaritch pause.
âRumour?â He repeats. Though his voice remains level, he is certain that the twitch of his ears reveals his interest.
There is some deep, strange part of him that preens at the insinuation. Itâs definitely the result of some stupid deep-seated instinct built into this goddamn big alien body â he can feel his tail swish with the satisfaction of knowing that others recognise that he has some sort of claim on you.
Both women are laughing now, snickering and sending each other knowing little glances that irritate him. His tail lashes, waiting with diminishing patience for an explanation.
âSure,â Z-Dog drawls, popping that damn gum. âApparently, that sleazy little guy that works with her was telling the guys in mechanics that your nerd told him that youâre her boyfriend.â
Quaritchâs expression may remain impassive, but his tail lashes out of his control behind him. You had said that? That doesnât sound like you at all.
The memory of you sitting in front of him in the canteen only a few mornings ago comes back to him; you were so small and grumpy and irritated, but anyone could have seen that you were also spooked about something. He had taken your explanation at face value; that the little creep you work with had asked you out. But now it seems there was something more to it.
âThat so.â He says slowly, rolling his shoulders.
A slow, pleased smile of his own is beginning to grow on his face. Such a sweet little thing, deep down, he thinks smugly to himself. Shouldâa known.
âIâll be back later.â He says, stepping away.
He can hear the quiet snickers heâs leaving behind him, but theyâre wise enough to keep their comments to themselves until heâs out of earshot.
He canât help the smug sway of his tail as he shoulders his way out of the Recom sector, nor the way his damn ears keep twitching. This body is still unfamiliar to him â while he relishes the strength and agility that his new body provides, the absolute inability to conceal what heâs thinking because of these new appendages is infuriating.
Your little work room is almost hidden, all tucked away down a narrow corridor that hardly anyone ever frequents. This means that Quaritch is able to slip down the hall unseen, which is a rarity these days now that heâs near ten feet tall.
Your shitty little room is empty when he pushes his way in, and Quaritch feels a momentary flash of satisfaction. You must have gone to get yourself a cup of coffee to wake yourself up before the end of your shift; this gives him enough time to position himself for your return.
Heâll admit that heâs always had a flare for the dramatic. He chooses the low, drab-looking couch thatâs all set up in the corner of the room, and settles himself in on it. The springs creak ominously beneath his weight and the worn couch cushions dip right down, but it holds. He allows his legs to spread wide as he makes himself comfortable, his eyes fixed on the door as his ears prick up alertly.
It doesnât take long for you to return, and when the door finally slides open Quaritch notes with immense satisfaction that youâre holding a chipped mug filled with coffee in your hand.
You freeze at the sight of him, your eyes flaring wide, before you visibly force yourself to relax.
âColonel?â You say, and you almost sound calm but for the slight tremble in your voice.
âHello, sweetheart.â He says, drawing the nickname out. âLong day?â
You gape, and Quaritch enjoys the look of bewildered surprise on your face before you manage to cover it up. Your fingers are twitching around your cup of coffee, and you swallow in a compulsive sort of motion.
Quaritch lets his eyes wander over you, lazily perusing your body. Youâre wearing one of those stupid baggy hoodies you favour and a pair of soft baggy sweatpants, your body shapeless beneath your over-sized clothes. You look tired, your eyes a little bloodshot from staring into your screen all day, but your fingers drum nervously on the chipped ceramic of your mug.
âWhat are youâwhat are you doing here?â You ask, taking a slow uncertain step into the room.
Quaritch watches you move, and he canât stop his tail from coiling in anticipation. Youâre usually so crabby and grouchy, to see you all wide-eyed and uncertain like this sends a little bolt of excitement right between his legs.
He reaches out an arm to gesture you forward. ââCâmere.â
For a moment you donât move, and Quaritch wonders if heâs going to have to stand and get you. But then you shuffle forward, if a little hesitantly, and he feels a smug smile begin to tug at his lips. Under all that bite youâre a good girl when it matters, though he can tell your obedience comes reluctantly.
âIf you need help resetting your password orâor unlocking your datapad or something, come back tomorrow. IâmâIâm finished my shift soon, I donât have timeââ
Quaritch isnât listening. That sweet scent of yours has just hit his nose, and he feels his ears twitch in response. Fuck, you smell so good. What the fuck is that about?
It doesnât have the artificial acridity of a perfume, which means that the syrupy headiness is all you, all natural. Goddamn. He wants to bury his whole face in your hair â heâs pleased to note that youâve showered since the last time heâs seen you, too.
âThought youâd be happy to see me,â He says smugly, interrupting whatever the hell you had been rambling about. âThought youâd wanna spend a little private time with your boyfriend.â
And oh, the way you freeze is just perfect. You look so startled, like a rabbit caught in a trap. Your breath catches, your eyes widen, your mouth drops open. He could just eat you right up.
And then youâre scrambling, your eyes all wild and horrified.
âOh my god, listen, I can explainââ
Quaritch raises a finger lazily, and feels a thrill of slow satisfaction when you choke into silence at the quelling gesture. He reaches over and pats the threadbare couch cushion next to him, raising a brow as he waits for you to come closer.
And though youâre visibly hesitant and mortified, you do approach slowly like a skittish animal, as though you canât help it. Thereâs really not much space left on the couch; heâs man-spreading hard, his knees splayed out wide as he stretches out, but you still approach and hover nervously near his left knee.
His senses are dialled up to a hundred in this new body, and he can practically feel the way your throat bobs as you swallow nervously.
âSit beside me, kid.â He says, and his voice comes out in an unintentionally low purr.
Youâre still clutching that damn coffee like a lifeline, holding the chipped ceramic mug to your chest even as you lower yourself to perch nervously at the edge of the couch beside him. You look delightfully nervous, and he grins lecherously at the sight. Cute.
âListen, I didnât mean toâit was a big misunderstanding.â You say. Your usually grumpy voice is missing, replaced with an uncertain wavering tone. âI was so, so sleep deprived, and I hadnât eaten properly in so long, and Todd was justâhe wasnât taking no for an answer, so I lied and said that I had a boyfriend, and I thought that we could just leave it at that but then you walked in to annoy me like you always do, and then Todd thought that I had been talking about youââ
Quaritch listens with a crooked smile, making no effort to hide his amusement. You appear so frazzled, practically swallowed up by your over-sized hoodie as you bluster your way through a panicked explanation.
He reaches out and lays his arm against the back of the couch, resting it around your little form. You twitch, tilting your head back to stare up at him with wide eyes, but you donât actually pull away from him.
Quaritch doesnât actually give a shit about your explanation. He doesnât need to hear it. Even if it was unintentional, youâve been spreading around a rumour that youâre his little girlfriend.
âYou been sleeping?â He asks, interrupting you mid-blabber.
You blink at him, clearly trying to stifle your irritation at being interrupted. Heâs tickled by the little flash of fire in your eyes.
âHave I beenâwhat?â You snap, clearly thrown off.
Quaritch doesnât normally like repeating himself, but he enjoys the way you look when youâre floundering.
âI asked if youâve been sleeping, kid.â He repeats, making a show of slowing his words right down. âYou look a mess.â
Your hand twitches, as though youâre moving to try and touch your hair before you quickly redirect and bury your hands in the long sleeves of your hoodie. Your eyes dart away, as though youâre embarrassed.
âI⊠Iâve been working some overtime.â You mutter, fidgeting. âTodd fucked up some of the systems I coded, so Iâve had to pull some long hours to try and fix it.â
Itâs far from the first time youâve mentioned your limp-dick, useless puke of a co-worker, and he feels his brows pull together in a frown. He canât help but wonder how the hell someone so useless has held down a job for so long, but then he supposes that youâve been hauling ass trying to fix all his mistakes.
He clicks his tongue, then reaches out and settles his hand at the back of your neck. You seem so tiny under his fingers, and he has to stifle his reaction at the sight.
âYouâre just too sweet, aintâcha?â He rumbles, and feels his tail twitch. âHelpinâ that little loser out like that.â
He sees the breath stutter in your chest, sees you chewing uncertainly at your lower lip, and feels himself stiffen in his fatigues. His teeth ache; he wants to sink his canines into the squishy flesh of your thighs.
âItâs my job.â You say. Your tone is dry, but his ears twitch when he hears the slight shake in your voice.
âNah, it ainât.â He says slowly, allowing his fingers to curl around your neck as his palm rests at the top of your spine. âItâs his job youâre doing. Waste of your time, honey.â
He feels you shiver under his hand, and his grip tightens incrementally around the back of your neck.
âSomeone has to do it,â You say, and though you sound defensive your voice wavers adorably. âI donât want to get in trouble over Toddâs mistakes.â
Quaritch canât help the wolfish grin that grows on his face. Oh, you donât want to get in trouble. You might just be the cutest little thing heâs seen in his whole life â both of his damn lives.
âMhm, you wonât.â He says, a little gruffly. Heâs beginning to grow a little distracted, losing track of the conversation; you smell good, sweet and a little spicy, and he wants so badly to take a peek at what you look like under those damn baggy clothes.
You glance over at him, obviously about to say something before your eyes drop, then widen a little bit.
Ah, he thinks to himself, silently amused. Youâve noticed, then.
He keeps his legs spread wide, crowding into your space and throwing into relief the way that his hardened cock is tenting the fabric of his fatigues. The size difference between you and him only makes his erection look even bigger, and the obscenity of it gets him going even more.
He can feel the sharp breath you take, and he watches the way your eyes hastily dart away. You look bashful, and yet you donât move away. His thigh presses against you, and your gaze visibly darts down to the bulge visible in his pants. You look a little mortified, but Quaritch can see the poorly hidden interest in your eyes.
He runs his thumb over the curve of your neck and the junction of your shoulder, and watches the goosebumps that raise on your soft skin.
âTell me about this little white lie youâve told.â He murmurs, his voice coming out in a deeper rumble than he had intended.
You swallow, then take a shaky breath.
âI didnât mean to,â You breathe. âReally, it justâwhat I told you before was mostly true. Todd was asking me to go for drinks, he wouldnât take no for an answer and I justâI just panicked, and I said I was with someone, but then he asked me who it was, and then you walked in here and he just assumed before I could really say anythingââ
âMhm.â Quaritch watches your face as you speak, enjoying your flustered panic.
âAnd then it all just snowballed, and people have been asking me in the corridors if itâs true â people I donât even knowâ!â You seem genuinely horrified.
âYou told people weâve been fucking, hm?â Quaritch asks, just to watch you react.
You donât disappoint; your mouth drops open, you take a sharp little inhale, and let out a scandalised sort of gasp.
âNo, I didnâtâI didnât say thatââ
âBut thatâs what theyâre thinking, honey.â He says, his eyes darting from your pretty little face to the way the soft skin of your shoulder yields under his stroking thumb. âIs that why you said it? Because youâve been thinking of that too? Hm?â
You swallow thickly, your throat clicking, and shake your head. But youâre not meeting his eyes, and youâre fidgeting with your ridiculously long sleeves, and he swears he can see a bead of sweat forming on your temple.Â
He reaches out and lays a hand on your thigh, letting his fingers curl around your soft flesh. Your leg twitches, but you donât move away. Youâre clutching that damn cup of coffee like itâs a lifeline, darting glances at him over the rim. Youâre nervous, and the departure from your usual grumpiness is a novelty that he canât get over.
Then you shift where youâre sitting, and Quaritchâs oversensitive nose twitches, picking up on a new scent.
Oh, he knew it. Beneath your usual sweet smell is something a little spicy, like brown sugar mixed with a kick of hot rum, and he swears he feels his cock pulse as the scent fills his nose.
Youâre horny. He can smell it off you â and he canât help the cocky grin that tugs at his mouth at the realisation.
Thatâs all he needs to take the next step.
He takes the hand thatâs been resting on the back of your neck and brings it to his belt buckle, undoing it in one deft movement before unzipping his pants. Heâs confident, but he watches your face carefully all the same; youâre a jumpy little thing, and he doesnât want to scare you away at this point.
But it doesnât startle you at all. In fact, if you had ears like him then heâd put money on them being pricked up right now, because youâve turned to watch as his palm settles over the tent in his pants.
Quaritch grunts quietly as he presses the heel of his hand into his hardened cock through his pants, and the electric jolt that runs up his spine is only heightened when he sees the way your eyes have gone dark as you watch him.
His other hand squeezes lightly where itâs still resting on your thigh, and he gets to watch as you take a breath and squirm.
âCome on, kid.â He says, bending his head down so he can murmur into your ear. âWhereâs all your usual bite?â
He punctuates the word with another squeeze, this one higher up on your thigh, right at the softest part, and heâs rewarded with a little jolt.
âI donâtââ You start to say, but then you stop and start again. You look more uncertain than heâs ever seen you, all wide-eyed and nervous. âAm I in trouble?â
He has to take a breath before he can answer you â the urge to put you on your back under him is growing overwhelming.
âFor what?â He asks, nose twitching with the strength of the scent of your sweet-spicy arousal.
Youâre frowning now, and he finds himself pleased to see that little furrow in your brow again. He has to admit, he likes it when youâre irritated with him. Heâs always liked women with a little fire in them, even if youâre an awkward little recluse that hides away from society like a damn gremlin.
âFor lying.â You say, and thereâs an edge to your voice now as though youâre getting antsy. âAbout you. Being with me, I mean.â
He huffs a short laugh, and uses the opportunity to take a slow deep breath from the respirator hanging around his neck. He drops it after a beat, then reaches out to take you by the wrist instead. Youâre so small under his big hands, and heâs so aware of how fucking delicate your bones feel; he could break you in two if heâs not careful.
He keeps his grip light as he guides your hand to his crotch, but you hardly need any guidance at all â as soon as he starts to move your hand, you move of your own volition. Your palm is tiny and soft when it lands on the outline of his hard cock, the touch so light that he hardly feels it at all.
âDoes it feel like thatâs something Iâm mad about?â He rumbles, unable to disguise the amusement in his voice.
You swallow, and your hand tightens compulsively. Quaritch hums at the feeling, then rocks his hips up slightly to encourage you.
Your eyes dart up to his face, clearly trying to read him. He just raises an eyebrow; as far as he can see, this ainât a complex situation. Heâs sitting next to you with a cock as hard as a steel rod, and he can smell how wet your pussy is even through those baggy pants of yours. Thereâs surely only one natural conclusion to this situation, and itâs one that heâs hungry for.
âGo on,â He grunts. âKeep going.â
For a moment, itâs not clear what youâll do. You just watch him, brow furrowed, hand still resting over his clothed cock. Quaritch watches you right back, waiting for you to make your choice. It feels like the two of you are teetering on a precipice, just waiting for one of you to topple over the edge and drag the other down with them.
Then you make your decision.
You slide off the couch and set your cup of coffee on the floor by the couch, and for a moment Quaritch thinks that youâre going to curse at him and march right outta there. But then you surprise him; you sink to your knees, right in front of him, in between his spread thighs.
âOh?â He hums, flashing his sharp fangs at you in a grin.
âShut up.â You say defensively.
He laughs, but says nothing further. Heâs not stupid enough to ruin his chances of getting his dick wet for the first time since heâs woken up in this stupid blue body, so he just settles back and makes himself comfortable on the shitty, tiny little couch and spreads his legs wide to make room for you.
Your body is practically dwarfed by his muscled thighs, and Quaritch bites at his lip to try and suppress his smug smile as you reach clumsily into his briefs to pull his cock out. Youâre a little uncoordinated, no doubt as a result of nerves, but that just makes it all the more endearing.
Heâs big, thick in your small hand. Almost ridiculously so. You hold him in both of your soft little palms, staring at his cock with a look of blank surprise. It looks like youâre wondering as though youâve bitten off more than you can chew.
Quaritch waits a beat, then after a moment of inaction he grunts and rocks into your hand. Your fingers squeeze tight on reflex, and he revels in the momentary jolt of pleasure.
But then you pause, loosen your grip just slightly, and give him an exploratory sort of stroke before looking up to his face as though searching for approval. When he just raises an eyebrow, you appear flustered.
âI⊠I donât know what to do with this.â You confess, still holding his weighty cock in your small hand.
The nervous furrow of your brow and your tentative, uncertain touch is only making his cock throb harder. Heâs never seen you so hesitant before, so eager to please.
âNever seen a cock before, baby?â He asks, his voice a little gravelly from arousal.
You laugh, but itâs a shaky thing. âItâsâitâs been a while.â
A bit of apprehension begins to sneak through his haze of lust.
âYou a virgin, kid?â He asks. God, he hopes youâre not a virgin. Thereâs little to no chance of him being able to successfully jam his cock into you if youâre as innocent as youâre acting right now.
You roll your eyes, but he can see that youâre all embarrassed. âNo. Itâs justâlike I said, itâs been a while.â
âMhm.â He eyes you, not entirely convinced. âHow many men have you been with?â
You lower your eyes back to his cock, still holding him with both of your hands. Youâre all bashful now, your little hands flexing around the thick length of his erection.
âTwo.â You mutter self-consciously, glancing up at him again to see his reaction.
Ah. Well, arenât you just perfect. Youâve already had your little cherry popped, but youâre still inexperienced enough to look a little lost as you kneel between his legs.
âYou sucked a cock before?â He asks, schooling his expression into one of sympathy.
âYes,â You say, a little too defensively. âIâveâonce.â
Once. Quaritch feels excitement unfurl in his belly. Youâre such a thorny and grouchy little thing, he can imagine you keeping yourself all holed up in this shitty office of yours, losing yourself in all your screens and monitors and programmes, and shying away from real meaningful human interactions. God, he wants to ruin you.
âGo on, then. Try with your mouth.â He says, leaning back and making himself comfortable as he looks down at you.
You take a breath, and your small hand grips the base of his cock firmly. Itâs as thick as a soda can, and he canât help the smug satisfaction that swells when he sees the size difference between him and you.
His equipment is all still new to him, so he can only imagine how strange it must be for you. Heâs messed around with himself a couple times, tugging at his blue cock and examining the little white dots that speckle the skin and glow and pulse as his arousal grows, but itâs different having someone else touch him like this. He feels like a raw nerve, more sensitive than heâs ever been as a human â maybe itâs because all his senses are primed, every nerve and synapse firing and alert and directed towards you.
He just â fuck â he looks so big in your hands.Â
The moment he sees this, blood rushes to his cock at almost painful speed. He didnât think he could get harder, but his new young body keeps surprising him. He watches your small mouth part with glossy lips as it keeps growing bigger and bigger in your hand, until a trace of apprehension flashes on your face.Â
âWhat, canât take it?â He drawls. After all these months of seeking you out, he knows the best way to wheedle anything out of you is by appealing to that stubborn streak in you.
And sure enough, you set your jaw and scowl. âI can!â
Then youâre leaning forward and your small pink tongue is flicking out to lick the smearing precum from his tip.
Quaritch hisses, his head tilting back.
âFuck,â He says, reaching out to lay his hand on the back of your head. His palm spans the whole back of your skull, like he can hold your whole head one-handed. âJust like that. Take it deeper.â
For the first time ever, you donât try to talk back or roll your eyes or grumble under your breath. Youâre too preoccupied with trying to fit the big head of his cock into your mouth without scraping it with your teeth, your brow furrowing in concentration.
âThatâs it, good girl, keep going.â He grunts, his stomach flexing with the effort itâs taking not to buck up and force himself down your throat.
You take the encouragement in stride, inhaling sharply through your nose as you try to do as he says. He reaches out to caress your soft cheek with his knuckles, and grins when you gargle weakly as you struggle to wrap your lips around the thick length.
You donât know what youâre doing, thatâs obvious, but goddamn if youâre not trying. Quaritch exhales through his nose as he uses his hand on the back of your head to keep you bobbing your mouth over him. Your hand lies forgotten on his shaft as you devote your whole focus to not gagging. Though inexperienced, he can see an excited sort of gleam in your eye as you suckle at the tip of his cock. Your tongue is so small and hot and wet, and the texture of it feels so damn good against him.
He feels more like a teenager than ever before when you suck the tip of his cock back into your sweet mouth, the first mouth he's ever felt on his cock in this body. He's transfixed as he watches your lips tighten around him. He can feel your tongue moving along the underside of his cock and he bites his lip.Â
When you try to swallow his cock down, the feeling of your small tongue squirming over the vein running along the underside of his length nearly has him reeling.
You choke, and spit bubbles out over your chin as it coats his cock.
âJesus, kid.â He sighs, spreading his thighs wider and laying his arms across the back of the little threadbare couch. His fingers curl into the understuffed couch cushions as he tries to repress the urge to grab onto your hair and buck his cock down your throat.
You glance up at him, your slick glossy lips stretched around the bulbous tip of his cock as your eyes water. Fuck, you make for such a pretty little sight like this. Quaritch has never had much of an imagination, but he knows that this trumps anything heâs beaten his cock to over the past several months.
You lower your head and swallow his fat cock once more, taking only a fraction of it but still struggling. Your eyelashes are all clumped together and shiny as you blink rapidly to clear the tears forming as your eyes water furiously. You barely make it a quarter of the way down before you gag and sputter.
Quaritch hisses, his lips pulling off his teeth as he feels the wet heat of your throat constrict and convulse around his dick.
You pull away coughing, spit and pre-cum cover your pretty mouth as your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath again.
âWell, shit,â He breathes, his big golden eyes darting over your messy face. âAinât you just gorgeous like this.â
Youâre still coughing a bit from gagging on his cock, but he can see the way the praise hits you â your still glossy eyes brighten as they dart up to look up at him, and you roll your reddened lower lip between your teeth.
âTreating me so well, huh?â Quaritch grins, unable to help himself from teasing you. âLike a good little girlfriend.â
You look a little mortified at that, which is what Quaritch had hoped for, but you apparently decide the best course of action is to simply ignore him by flattening your tongue against his cockhead and licking at him again.
He hums in satisfaction as he watches you explore what heâs sporting between his legs. The sight of the cranky little tech analyst heâs been admiring for months taking his cock and treating it so well with those little hands... It has him leaking right into your mouth.
Your mouth is so wet, slick, and hot, and a shiver rips through him as you suckle at the pale purple head of his cock. He reaches out and places his hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to swallow him deeper. His toes curl inside his boots as he stifles the urge to fuck deep into your throat â youâre so delicate between his big thighs, heâs never been so aware of how easy it would be to break you.
It's probably the messiest blowjob heâs ever gotten in his life â either of his lives. Youâre slobbering all over him, saliva dribbling all over your chin as you suck at him. The gagging and slurping noises pouring from you are enough to make a hooker blush, and youâre finally getting into the swing of it. Youâve started using your hands to touch him, jerking him off as you drool and suck at the head of his cock.
Your mouth is obscenely wet and hot and tight, your tongue wriggling against the underside of his cockhead, and Quaritch canât help but imagine how much better your pussy will feel around him. He feels his ear flatten back against the side of his skull and his tail whips around his thigh as he feels the tension of an orgasm build in his stomach, but itâs too soon â he doesnât want this to be over yet.
He reaches out and grips you by the back of your neck, pulling you away from his cock, and to his surprise you whine. The sound goes straight to his cock, and he feels his arousal throb.
âColonel,â You whimper, and your voice comes out hoarse and wrecked. âIââ
âYou can call me Miles when youâre sucking my cock like this, princess.â He says, before taking a grip of your arms and hauling you up onto the couch again.
Youâre so damn small under him, and pulling you around like this comes so easily to him. He tosses you on the threadbare cushions beneath him and then looms over you, enjoying the size difference between you as he bullies your thighs apart.
âYou and these goddamn clothes,â He grunts, pulling at your stupid baggy hoodie. âItâs like youâre wearing trash bags. You trying to dress like a fuckinâ nun?â
âNo,â You gasp, wriggling under him as he tugs at your clothes. âTheyâre justâtheyâre comfyââ
Quaritch just grunts, but he finally manages to pull your hoodie off and he immediately tosses it aside. Despite all the looking heâs done over the last couple of months, heâs never actually seen you without the stupid shapeless sacks you insist on wearing. And right now, heâs never felt so fucking resentful of a pile of fabric, because goddamn.
Your underwear isnât in the least bit sexy; worn cotton gone a little shapeless from being washed so many times and the colours a little faded. The elastic around the waistband of your underwear is gone loose too, and Quaritch can feel himself salivate when he sees the way the thin threadbare fabric is stuck to the outline of your slick pussy.
Thereâs something oddly endearing about seeing you like this, all laid out under him in your worn out and shapeless underwear. Itâs so unsexy that itâs obvious that you havenât planned for anyone to see you like this, which only makes him desire you more. His cock is so hard it hurts, throbbing like one great bruise between his legs.
âJust look at you, girl,â He rumbles, one of his sharp canines hooking over his lower lip as he tugs at your bra and watches your soft tits spill over the cups. âFuck. Spread those legs, let me see you.â
âOh my god,â You breathe, turning your head away from him and squeezing your eyes shut. Youâre embarrassed, which is a reaction that Quaritch doesnât have time for.
He reaches out and grips your chin, pulling your face back so he can look at you. His fingers look so big against your little face, and he leans in and presses a messy kiss to your spit-slick lips. He licks into your mouth, his wide rough tongue pulling a little shivery gasp out of your mouth.
âSpread your legs.â He repeats into your mouth, and this time you listen to him. Your thighs drop open, and he wastes no time in pulling your ill-fitting panties off of you.
He almost tosses them over his shoulder, but stops last minute. Your cotton panties are ugly, but thereâs a certain charm about the faded floral print and worn elastic waistband, and before he can think too much about it heâs tucking them into the pocket of his pants. They smell like you, and he has no doubt that heâll be using them later on when he tugs his cock to the memory of this encounter.
Next is your bra, and it falls victim to his rough grasping fingers as he grows impatient with the clasp and pulls a little too hard. The seam tears, and he pulls the scraps away and tosses it aside carelessly, ignoring your indignant gasp.
âAsshole!â You squawk, âDo you have any idea how hard it is to get bras that fit on this damn planetâ?â
You slap at his shoulder, and your little hand bounces off harmlessly. Adorable.
âNone of your damn clothes fit,â He says dismissively. Heâs not really listening to you; heâs too preoccupied staring at your soft tits, admiring the peaked nipples and the supple folds of your belly. âYou donât need to wear a bra. Canât see anything under those stupid sweaters anyway.â
His enormous calloused hand paws at the fat of your breast, testing the weight of it in his palm and admiring the feel of it. He feels so large and rough, his body so huge and powerful and yet ungainly in the frenzy of his lust.
âYouâre a fucking pervert.â You grit out through clenched teeth, though you still arch your back as he touches you.
And ah, thereâs his snarky little loser.
âNever said I ainât.â He says simply, leaning down and licking a wet stripe up the length of your breast.
You shiver, then gasp when he flicks your wet nipple afterwards.
 âYou like that?â He teases, a finger tracing the sensitive underside of your breast.
âNo.â
He laughs. âLiar. Your pretty little nipples are harder than my cock.â
You hiss at him, and itâs so similar to a Naâvi hiss that heâs actually surprised for a moment. But then he grins, and ducks down to kiss your tits again. He takes a swollen nipple between his teeth, practically taking the entire mound into his hungry mouth.
âFuck,â You breathe, reaching up and interlocking your fingers around his neck. âTouchâtouch me.â
Quaritch growls against your chest, taking his time kissing your tits. He leaves teeth marks on your delicate flesh and leaves your nipples coated with his saliva. He moved his lips back up to your panting mouth, slipping his hand between your thighs.
And Jesus fucking Christ, youâre wet. He drops his gaze to your pussy as he parts your labia with his thumb and pushes right up against you, and sheâs so, so slick already, to the point where his thumb is already glistening with it. Fuck.
Distantly, he registers that youâre making some sort of noise, and he shushes you mindlessly, feeling a little wild. Itâs hard to believe this is the same grouchy little tech analyst that heâs been eyeing up for months, here, lying in front of him, wet for him, moaning and squirming for him as he starts rubbing your clit with his index and middle fingers.
âHow does it feel?â Quaritch asks. He slows his fingers enough to give you the chance to catch your breath, and you open your eyes from where they were just screwed tightly shut to stare up at him.
It takes you a second to focus on him and a second longer for words to leave your open mouth.
âGood,â You finally say, followed by a whimper as he rubs right over your clit. âItâs - itâs good.â
He hums at that, but heâs too preoccupied by the way his fingers are coated in your sticky slick to really pay much attention to your answer. He slips one of his big fingers inside of you, and his stomach clenches when he feels how tight you are around his single digit. Youâre wet enough to make it a smooth slide, and god, but his patience is running out.
He hardly waits before sliding a second in; you squeeze your eyes shut and your nose scrunches, but you tolerate the stretch well.
That sweet-spicy scent of your arousal intensifies as you wriggle on his fingers, and heâs unable to stop himself from ducking his head down so that he can lean in and lap his tongue over your swollen clit. The tart taste of you bursts over his tongue, just to the side of sweet, and he rumbles out a pleased noise before licking at you again.
He knows that his tongue is different now, textured and rougher than it used to be as a human, and your legs jerk as he swirls his tongue around your clit again.
Heâs been catching hints of this scent for months now, and he feels his erection strain at the idea that it was your slick pussy that heâs been scenting all this time. He drinks in your noises just as much as your taste; both are intoxicating, addictive, and if it wasnât for the persistent arousal thrumming through his own body, heâd think he could do this forever. Â
âOh god,â You breathe, reaching down and tentatively running your fingers through his buzzcut. âQuaâMiles.â
The sound of first name falling from your tongue is better than he could have imagined. Youâre starting to writhe, your hips trying to rut against his mouth even as he pins you down with his big hands. The noises that youâre making just from a little bit of licking to your clit are bordering on frantic, and he barely manages to keep from grinning as he sucks at your clit and works his tongue around your labia.
Unbelievably, it feels like youâre winding up to come already. It seems incredible that you, whoâs always so sleep-deprived and tense and repressed, is currently humping your pussy against his tongue like a little fucking whore.
He slides a third big blue finger in, though it takes a bit of effort this time. You grunt and try to twist your hips to the side, but with the way Quaritchâs body is caging you in, thereâs nowhere for you to move.
âWait,â You gasp, your hips twitching, âOh god, shit, wait, Miles, Iâm gonnaâ fuck!â
Youâre so sensitive and horny that it only takes a couple more strokes of his wide tongue for you to unravel. You let out a sob, shaking and quivering; your thighs tense around his head, pressing against his skull as your body goes rigid with the strength of your orgasm.
Your pussy squeezes tight around his fingers, growing impossibly wetter from the fluids of your release, and this tastes good too.
He groans as he laps you up, his much larger mouth almost swallowing you whole.
âThat was quick, darlinâ.â He murmurs, his slick lips sliding over your damp flesh.
You donât even seem to hear him. Your gaze is unfocused, and there are faint tear tracks on your cheeks - a sight Quaritch never realized he would like as much as he does.
He chuckles at the dazed expression on your face, and pulls his wet fingers out of your cunt before letting them rest on his own tongue. You let out a soft sound of loss, though you watch him suck the taste of you off his fingers with wide, avid eyes as your gaze sharpens.
âWhenâs the last time you came, huh?â He asks, leaning in to murmur the words against the delicate shell of your ear. ââCause that was a little too easy. You were too wound up, kid.â
Youâre still trying to catch your breath from your orgasm, but you avert your eyes in embarrassment at the question. His interest piques.
âHow often do you touch yourself?â He asks, stroking his hand down over your hip and squeezing lightly. âHm?â
âIââ You say defensively, âIâve been busy. I donât have time forâfor that!â
Good god, itâs like everything you say is specifically engineered just to make his cock pulse. Youâre so disgruntled about the question, your little face all embarrassed and irritated even though your brow is smooth and your eyes are still a little hazy after your orgasm.
âWell then,â He murmurs, amused. âWeâll have to give you another couple to make up for that.â
You squeak when his thumb lands on the swollen flesh of your clit and rolls over it in confident little circles. âWait, wait, I donâtâIâve never come more than once in one go.â
âYou will this time.â
His plan, as much as there is any plan left in his brain, is to get you off one more time before getting his cock into you. But now that heâs felt you around him, now that the slide of his fingers seems to be as easy as itâs going to get, heâs finding it difficult to wait.
But he curbs his impatience as well as heâs able to, and keeps rubbing at your clit. Your pussy has gone all puffy and creamy from your first orgasm, and the way you squeeze so tight around his fingers is sending him insane. At first you mewl and try to push at his wrist, but heâs bigger and stronger and doesnât budge until you relax into him, overstimulation melting into pleasure all over again.
He loses track of time as he fucks you with his fingers, enamoured with the feeling of your velvet-soft walls. A thin film of sweat lays over your skin like a gloss, leaving you glowing in the unforgiving light of your little tech hub. You look so pretty like this, too young and too lovely for a dirty old man like him. It seems hard to believe youâre letting him do this, never mind reacting so positively.
When you start to let out those sweet little gasping breaths again, he leans in and swirls his tongue around your clit. Your legs jerk, one thigh splaying over his shoulder as your hips buck. Quaritch doesnât let up, the movements of his tongue lazy and languid.
He pulls back, then spits on your pussy, watching your little body jerk under him.
He grins. âOh, you like that?â
âNo.â You choke out, but itâs unconvincing considering the way your eyes are practically rolling back in your head.
He laughs indulgently, letting his tongue loll against your clit. Despite your bratty attitude, heâs still set on making sure you come again. Heâs feeling generous tonight.
âF-faster.â You demand, your voice coming out a little thready as you rock your hips back on his fingers.
He snickers again, his own breath coming out fast and a little ragged. âFuck. You want me so bad, donât you, kid?â
Your second orgasm creeps up on you faster than even Quaritch had expected. It washes over you in a shivery haze; your muscles convulse and you whine as your legs kick out.
He pulls back, licking his lips and grinning at the tart taste of you. He feels an immense sense of satisfaction, intense enough that it surprises him. Heâs always felt a sense of pride when heâs succeeded in pleasuring his partners, but this is different. Your scent is thick in his nose, blocking out all his other senses, and it feels like heâs got tunnel vision right now. All he can focus on is you and your reactions to him, and what he sees soothes the jagged edges of his arousal for a brief moment.
He's never been so desperate to bury his cock into anyone in his living memory, but heâs careful to hold back. Youâre still shivering and gasping, reeling as you twitch away from his insistent fingers.
âHowâre we feelinâ, mama?â He asks in a low voice, finally pulling back from you.
The distance allows him to regain a little clarity, but it also makes him aware of the painful strain of his erection as it hangs between his legs. His pants are still laying wide open and hanging low on his thighs, but the scratchy fabric of his clothes is beginning to feel unbearable on his overheated skin. He shoves the trousers down further, practically kicking his boots off so he can shed his pants completely, before turning his attention back to you.
âI feel..â You start to say, and your voice comes out pleasantly throaty in a way that makes his toes curl. âI feel like my muscles have turned to water.â
He chuckles, feeling his ego inflate yet again. âThat good, huh?â
You roll your eyes, then push yourself up onto your knees on the couch beside him. Youâre still breathing heavily, but youâve lost some of the mistiness that had clouded your eyes. Now, youâre looking at him with an expression thatâs a little wild, and hungrier than heâd expected considering heâd already given you two orgasms.
âI want you to fuck me.â You whisper, as bold as heâs heard you.
Heâs not able to keep himself from wrapping a hand around his cock, squeezing lightly at the base. But despite the bass beat throbbing in his cock, he holds himself back. Youâre so small, with your fragile bones and soft skin, and he really doesnât want to accidentally kill you with his dick. Heâs got to take this slow.
âMhm.â He grunts. âWhen Iâm ready to.â
A flash of irritation crosses your face. Youâve never liked being told ânoâ, and your lips twist into a pout. But that only lasts a second before itâs replaced by something a little more calculating, your eyes darting down to his cock.
His erection is as big as your forearm, and iridescent precome dribbles down the swollen lilac head. Heâs expecting to see a flash of fear or apprehension at the idea of him fucking you considering the size difference, but your expression is pleased.
You reach out to touch it, much more confident and coy than earlier, and itâs shameful how the relief of your hand on him nearly knocks him flat.
âOh, all this for me?â You coo, false sweetly. âPoor baby. You want me so badly.â
The mocking mirroring of his own words is his last straw. He moves, throwing you on your back on the couch under him so quickly heâs sure your head must be spinning. Oh, heâs going to make you regret that comment.
You squeak at the sudden movement, but your thighs are already spreading eagerly as he settles between your legs. That inexperienced nervousness from before is beginning to melt away, leaving you all breathless and restless as you wait for him to make another move.
âHands and knees.â He directs you, and the order comes out with the same iron edge he usually uses for his squad. He watches as the words sink in, your breath hitching as a shiver runs through you.
You begin to roll over, and he reaches out to take your hips in his hands. He guides you over onto your stomach, then pulls your hips up so that you settle onto your knees with your ass in the air, your pussy visibly wet where it peeks from between your thighs.
âJesus.â He mutters to himself. âAinât that a pretty sight.â
He shifts closer, putting his knees down on either side of your calves, and when he drapes himself over your back â or, really, over your whole body, with the way that the top of your head only reaches his chest â and slides his cock up against you, the helpless little sound that you make is nearly buried by his own groan.
He presses his cock against you, but doesnât push in yet. He just lets himself relish the contact, the heat between your legs.
âInâput it inââ You gasp, your words muffled by the way your face is pressed into couch cushions.
âShh, shut up. Just take a deep breath.â
He waits until he feels you obey, then plants one hand firmly on the couch, just next to your head, and the other on your back, and starts to push inâ
â And it doesnât work.
âYou have to go slow.â You say, your voice small as Quaritch tries again to push inside.
âI am going slowâ fuck.â He hisses, using his hand to position himself so he can try again, but you arenât budging. âToo fucking tightâ"
You make a noise like a wounded little animal, dropping your forehead down between your hands on the couch cushions as the tip of his cock presses into the tight ring of resistance at the entrance of your cunt.
To say the absolute least, itâs slow going. By the time that just the head of his cock is in, the edges of Quaritchâs vision is going black and your arms are starting to get shaky. Youâre making soft, pained noises, but youâre not telling him to stop.
âUngh.. Miles..â You croak, your fingers curling into the ratty couch cushions.
âGood girl,â He says mindlessly, hardly even aware of what heâs saying. âTake it, just like that.â
He rocks out, eases back in, rocks out, eases back in, back and forth and back and forth and moving a little further forward each time, until finally, finally, heâs pressed as deep inside you as heâs going to get. Youâre gasping like youâre coming up from a long swim underwater. Even if he wanted to take it slow, Quaritch doesnât know if heâd be able to.
You try to turn towards him, your mouth falling open with a silent gasp when your hips twist. Youâre looking back over your shoulder at him with your eyes hooded and your jaw slack, your breathing pattern growing uneven and strained as he splits you open on his enormous cock.
âTooâtoo bigââ You wheeze, your head dropping down between your folded arms.
He knows itâs mean of him, but he barely gives you a moment to adjust. Youâre trembling, your back arched so perfectly as you practically present yourself to him, ass high in the air as he rocks himself inside of you inch by inch.
âSh, shh⊠youâre doing fine.â He coaxes, pressing down on your shoulders to increase the angle of your arch for his own viewing pleasure.
Youâre so warm and wet and if he thinks about the fact that the same little loser heâs been idly watching for months is currently crying out on his big new dick, his head starts to spin. Youâre the tightest thing heâs ever stuck his cock in, and it feels like heâs cleaving his way through hot velvet.
âJust like that..â He groans, sinking a canine into his lower lip.
It takes a humiliating amount of effort not to come immediately upon feeling the slick hot grip of you around him â heâs reminded somewhat uncomfortably that heâs as good as a virgin in this new Recombinant body. Heâs got his memories, alright, and theyâre enough that he knows what heâs doing, but when it comes to the physical sensations theyâre so much more intense than he remembers. He feels like a damn teenager again.
His ears are tucked flat against the sides of his head as he grinds into you, breathless as your body grips at him as though you donât want to let him go. The scent of you is thick in his nose, and he feels his stupid neural queue tingle in a way itâs never done before.
âAm Iâam I doing good?â You gasp. Youâre visibly hanging onto his every word and noise, responding with an eager little whimper every time he lets out a groan or grunt.
âSo good, baby,â He breathes, working himself back and forward just a single slow, hot inch. âSo good for me. So good forââÂ
Donât, he thinks wildly. Donât fucking say it.
You stare at him over your shoulder, holding his gaze like youâre urging him to say it out loud.
He gives in, resigns himself to the knowledge that heâs a pathetic, dirty old man.
âSo good for Daddy, FUCK!â He practically yells it, curling his fingers into the couch cushions so harshly that his fingers tear through the shitty thin fabric into the stuffing.
You gasp, and he feels you clench down like a vice on him. Oh, you like that, he can tell by the way you squeak, how you go tight and gushy, how your lower lip quivers. Â
âNasty old man,â You hiss, though your ass arches higher to give him a better angle to fuck you with even as you grind your words out.
He gives a harsh, grinding thrust into you, and you promptly give up on looking over your shoulder at him as your elbows give out. You end up face down in the couch, your little fingers grasping at the grungy cushions.
He nearly slips out as you fall, and he quickly moves both hands back to grab onto your hips and hold you steady with a low, âFuck.â Your hands are left to scrabble at the cushions below you, searching for purchase but failing to find it, and as he watches, a bit of drool slides from your mouth along with the helpless sounds being pushed out with each of his thrusts.
âWatch that mouth.â He warns, though he knows he doesnât sound as harsh as he wants to. Heâs sure that youâve felt the twitch of his cock inside you in response to your name-calling, though thatâs not something heâs willing to examine.
âOkay,â You wheeze, wriggling a little under him. It takes a moment for him to realise that youâre trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock. âIâll be good, daddy.â
His head drops to your shoulder with a punched-out groan. Shit. He should have known calling himself that stupid name would bite him in the ass â hearing it come from your mouth might just be the hottest thing heâs ever heard.
 âFuck.â He says, his voice gravelly and rough and more honest than he intends to be. âCanât fuckinâ handle you calling me that, kid.â
Heâs aware that heâs being a hypocrite, considering it was him who had said it in the first place, but he hadnât considered the effect it would have on him. Itâs been a long time since heâs gotten his dick wet, even when he was human â longer than heâs willing to think about. So to have a pretty little thing like you hanging off his dick and whining, calling him daddy as tears rolls down your cheeks, is pushing him right to his limit.
âOh yeah? Is me calling you daddy gonna make you cream early, old man?â
Fucking hell. Heâs always liked that smart mouth of yours, but right now he thinks itâs going to kill him.
He smacks his open palm against your ass, and the âcrackâ of it echoes in the shitty little tech hub. You wheeze out a surprised gasp and rock forward with the force of it, but he can feel the way you clench down hard on him.
He adjusts himself so heâs fully over you, enveloping your body from above as he watches you take cock way too thick for you. Youâre still trembling, glancing over your shoulder to watch him with glassy eyes, one of your hands reached between your legs so you can rub at your own clit.Â
Quaritch drags his cock back, his eyes practically rolling back in his head as he feels your impossible tightness clutch at him, before pushing back experimentally. A little noise leaves your mouth and he canât help himself. He does it again, slams back in â harder than he meant to.
Youâre rocked forward, your hands grasping at the armrest of the couch in an attempt to grab some stability as you yowl. All that rigid tension and exhausted irritability has melted right out of you, to be replaced by desperate pleasure as youâre filled to the brim and pushed beyond your limits.
And then â he canât help himself. Heâs ruthless, fucking you so hard that youâre wailing with it. He canât fit his whole cock inside you, youâre too small, but the part that he can get into you feels like itâs wrapped in buttery velvet, gripping him so tight.
Youâre crying out for real, now, but youâre so wet that obscene, slick sounds are filling the room and itâs all he can hear. If he listens, he can make out some of the half-formed words falling from your mouth - âplease, Daddy, please, please, feels good,â and so on and so forth like the best melody heâs ever heard. His ears twitch relentlessly, trying to pick up on every single sound you make, determined not to miss any of it.
He wants to leave you ruined, to leave you red and aching. Unable to walk without thinking of this, of himâ of this whole encounter with him, of the way he has you used and crying on this dingy couch.
You reach back blindly as he fucks you, your little body taking him so well, and sink your nails into his thigh as he pistons his hips into you, your upturned ass making the angle so easy.
âShit,â He hisses through his teeth, glancing down to see that your sharp little nails have drawn thin lines of blood from his thick blue thigh. âYouâve got fucking claws.â
You just whine in response, your face pressed into the couch as he ploughs into you, your legs twitching. It seems like youâve sunk your nails into his thigh just so you can keep a grip on something.
The springs of the couch are squealing so loud that Quaritch has a brief, fleeting thought that the whole thing is going to collapse underneath the two of you. Between the grating noise of the springs and the gasping and babbling spilling from your lips and the soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock bullies its way in and out, he almost doesnât catch the sound of the door opening.
But even though his senses are dialled up to eleven and directed at you, heâs still got enough situational awareness to realise that thereâs someone standing in the doorway watching with a slack mouth.
Itâs your co-worker. Tom. Or Troy. Something like that.
He barely spares the energy to send a glance his way, though he canât help the sharp, smug grin that spreads over his face when he realises that your little loser co-worker is watching him fuck you with an expression of horrified and shocked fascination.
Quaritch has never been into voyeurism, but thereâs a sense of bone-deep satisfaction that runs through him at the knowledge that this man, this challenger, is watching him claim you so thoroughly. His tail lashes as he humps into you, all hunched over your arched back so that heâs caging you beneath his big arms, and he glances over to the deadbeat in the door and bares his teeth at him.
Quaritch reaches under your belly to rub at your clit with one hand, using his other one to grab your hip, the flesh firm but supple and such a pleasure to squeeze, so he can fuck you harder and faster still. You cry louder for him, and he canât tell whoâs worshipping whom. Itâs pure ecstasy, even despite the little worm watching you both in disbelief.
âJust for me, huh?â He snarls in your ear, his big fingers curling into the soft flesh of your hips. âThis perfect fuckinâ pussy, mine. Fuckinâ mine.â
Beneath him, you make a soft, desperate sort of noise, drawing every gaze in the room to you â and you look nothing short of obscene. Your eyes are teary and unfocused, your face is flushed, your mouth is open and your lower lip bitten red, your pussy is wet and just this side of swollen. Quaritch dwarfs you in every way, and being above you like this, forcing your body to let him in and take him, is a sight that he suddenly feels grimly possessive over.
âYes,â You sob, your finger scrabbling against the dingy couch cushions. âY-yes, Miles, fuckâ!â
Suddenly, heâs not so smug about someone else seeing you like this at all, especially not when itâs your loser co-worker that doesnât take no for an answer thatâs watching you with an open mouth and flushed cheeks.
The hiss that tears out of his mouth surprises even him â itâs born of pure instinct, a base urge rising out of the depths of his brain to get this motherfucker away from here.
Tom-Troy-Tim-whatever staggers back, eyes wide and frightened, before he promptly turns on his heels and flees, letting the door shut behind him again.
Below him, you donât even seem to notice that thereâs been a witness to your little rendez-vous. Youâre too busy drooling as his cock carves out a space for himself inside you, mewling all soft and sweet as he strokes your clit.
âPerfect,â Quaritch says half-deliriously, âPerfect little slut. Doinâ so well, baby.â
He knows youâre a smart girl, and maybe thatâs why seeing you all dumb and fucked out on his cock is so hot. Itâs like all that sharp intelligence has been fucked out of you, replaced with nothing but the desperate desire to come as he pounds into you with your ass up in the air.
Liquid fire spreads from his loins, and he knows heâs close. It feels too good. He would open you up and crawl inside you if he could, just fuckinâ eat you from the inside out.
You glance over your shoulder, your eyes heavy-lidded and your lips shiny as you watch him fuck you from behind.
And then you speak, your voice throaty and teasing despite your dishevelled state. âGonna come inside, daddy?â
And thatâs his last straw.
His orgasm almost takes him by surprise, even with how long itâs been building. He holds you by the hips so tightly that itâll be a miracle if you donât bruise, and he snarls like a goddamn animal as he comes, emptying his balls deep inside you. He holds you there for a long, long moment, letting your tight, tight cunt squeeze around him for just a moment longer before the feeling starts to edge into something bright and oversensitive.
He starts to pull out, the head of his cock already sensitive, but youâre just so enticingly wet and soft and messy that he canât help but thrust against you once more, his breath hitching.
Youâre gasping softly yourself, sniffling and half-lifting your head from where youâd dropped it on the couch as he pulls out, but Quaritch doesnât let you so much as get a single word out before he sits back on his heels.
He uses his hold on your hips to flip you around, so fast that all you can do is wheeze in surprise as he throws you onto your back beneath him. Then he pulls you up so that your pussy is right in his face, pulling a shriek out of you as he licks right over your clit and dripping wet cunt.
He mouths at you with a fervour, savouring the way your sweet-spicy taste mixes with his seed and bringing you to full-on sobs in between your moans. Thereâs something feral about his movements now, his thoughts clouded from his release â his arousal hasnât yet abated, as though heâs still holding out for your release.
âMilesâoh fuck, itâsâI canâtâplease!â You cry, and Quaritch just flicks his tongue over your clit and lets your words dissolve into nothing.
Some part of him recognises that heâs not usually so generous with his partners. Heâs never been selfish; he always gets his partners where they want to be, always leaves them satisfied, but heâs never felt this all-consuming urge to leave his mark on someone like this before.
Youâre a mess, squirming all over his face as though you canât decide whether you want to move closer or further away. He holds you as steady as he can, not letting you get away as he suckles and licks relentlessly at you.
You cry out his name as you come, your pussy clenching around nothing and your hips rocking helplessly back against his face. It has his spent cock twitching from where itâs hanging heavy between his legs, his eyes practically rolling back in his head as he tastes your salty-sweet release on his tongue.
He presses one more kiss to your clit, just to make you choke on a small squeak of a sound, and then he pulls back to let you both catch your breath. Once he remembers how to move his body properly, he lays you back down and follows you, laying his body on top of yours on the pathetically small couch, mindful not to crush you.
âJesus Christ.â He rumbles out, his sweaty body heavy and numb from all the activity. âYou okay, princess?â
âPrincess.â You repeat breathlessly, snorting. âThought I was a little slut.â
Quaritch smirks against the soft skin of your collarbones, tired but immensely satisfied. He loves the mouth on you, that familiar snark raising its head as you recover from your exhaustion, but itâs important to keep you in your place.
He swats at your ass, right over the same spot he had smacked before, and you jolt, squealing.
âFuck!â You squeal, legs kicking. âThat hurts, asshole!â
âYou liked it before.â He points out, his ego and male pride swollen.
You grumble, but turn your head to hide your face, obviously embarrassed. Quaritch takes the opportunity to let his eyes wander, uncaring whether you catch him staring or not. Minor muscle tremors run through your calf muscles even still, and your skin is still damp from perspiration.
ââm not gonna be able to walk fâr days.â You mutter, though you donât sound upset about it. Unless Quaritchâs ears are deceiving him, you sound pleased.
He just grunts, too preoccupied with basking in the feeling of bonelessness that comes after a good orgasm.
Thereâs a beat of silence, then you say, smaller this time, âThat was⊠good.â
He snickers, amused by your sudden shyness. He strokes a lazy hand down over your flank, relishing the softness of your skin.
âMmâŠâ He hums in wordless agreement.
Some of that somnolent satisfaction thatâs been weighing you down has begun to fade away; he can feel you begin to fidget beneath him, and then you dart a look towards the door.
âToddâs shift starts soon,â You say, and now he can hear a nervous edge in your voice. âWe shouldâwe should get up before he gets hereââ
His tails coils, curling around your lower thigh. He doesnât move, and heâs too heavy for you to shift his weight off you.
âShh,â He hushes you nonchalantly. âHe ainât cominâ.â
You pause, a frown furrowing your brow. âWhat dâyou mean?â
He just grunts, unwilling to explain.
âIâll have a little chat to him tomorrow,â He says instead, his face still lazily tucked into your neck. âAbout doinâ the damn job thatâs been assigned to him.â
He snuffles at your neck as though your scent is a drug, then sucks at the tender flesh of your throat. Youâre no doubt already covered in bruises â he was rougher than he should have been â but adding another few along your collarbones makes some deep instinct in him settle.
âYou donâtââ You start to say, your breathing somewhat jagged as his teeth scrape over your throat. âYou donât have to do that.â
He doesnât bother responding. He thinks itâs obvious by now that he doesnât do anything he doesnât want to. He strokes one hand down your body, curling it beneath your ass just so he can squeeze gently at the crease between your bum and your thigh.
You settle, relaxing with a somewhat confused little sigh. Heâs still curled over you like a stupid big cat, and the resemblance irritates him, but not enough to move away from you. Youâre not snapping or teasing him right now either, which heâll take as a win.
âThink of it as repayment,â He drawls out, âYouâve been such a good girl for me, sorting out all my little technical problems. Least I could do, huh? Besides, Iâve never liked a deadbeat.â
Then he grins lecherously, and he squeezes at your ass again. âBut if youâre that grateful, you can always show me how much you appreciate it.â
You groan and reach up to push at his face, but your weak little hands donât shift him and youâre doing a poor job at hiding the little smile on your face.
âYouâre such an old pervert,â You grumble, as grouchy as ever as you curl into him from underneath.
He huffs a snort in response, unoffended. He knows how it looks; he may have a nice shiny new blue body and all the perks that his new âyouthâ has to offer, but that doesnât change the fact that he is, in essence, a dirty old man pawing at the sweet young little thing beneath him.
âYouâre gonna let this old pervert come to see you again though, ainât ya?â He says, a low mocking tone in his voice. âGonna let me come bang you in this shitty office again tomorrow?â
Heâs just prodding at you, mostly. He knows youâre not going to be able to take him again tomorrow. You had done such a good job taking him tonight, but that doesnât cancel out the fact that heâs big and you had confessed yourself that you were inexperienced, that it had been a long time since you had done anything with a man. Heâll be impressed if you can walk tomorrow.
You yawn, your little pink mouth opening wide like a kitten. âYou gonna sort out a nice new office for me too?â
He thinks of fucking you in a bright new shiny office, with a comfy new couch and space to spread you out and take you apart as leisurely as he wants. Itâll have to be somewhere out of the way, so you can make all those pretty noises of yours and not get interrupted. Maybe close to the Recom sector â heâs sure he can come up with some sort of excuse for why they need increased tech support.
He wonders idly if heâll be able to get away with it without General Ardmore catching wind of it, then decides he doesnât care.